The Road to Recovery

We’ve all got stuff.

You know, the stuff we picked up to keep us safe when we were younger. The stories. The survival strategies. The habits we still turn to, even though they don’t serve us anymore.

What did you learn to turn to, just to survive?

Mine is food - weight - protection - safety.

Maybe you’re familiar with that.

I’ve put on just under a stone in the last two months because of changes in my body and health complications that have been completely out of my control.

I’ve had to cancel walks with friends.

I’ve felt more docile.

Hormones have been running wild, old food patterns have crept back in.

Uncertainty around my health has left me unsure of what’s safe or helpful - even things like fasting to reboot my immune system suddenly felt questionable.

Healthcare providers have been close for the last 20 days, and on Wednesday, I headed into A&E. After a false start, I was admitted.

I’ve been told I’m fine, and five minutes later, told it’s really bad and I might need surgery (I've had a similar "you're ok, no your not" loop for a few weeks).

I’ve had meds pumped into me, hands all over me and inside me.

I’ve sat with my body. A lot.

I’ve questioned everything I know to be true, again and again.

I came home late last night. I slept.

And this morning, I woke up in a huge amount of pain - some from the procedures, and some from old, familiar aches tied to being immobilised.

I used to be nearly 21 stone, some of you knew me then. I used to not move. I used to hide. I used to hate myself. I used to scream to myself, “Of course you're in pain. You're fat and disgusting and you deserve it.”

It’s been a long time since I’ve been close to that voice.

This morning, I heard a whisper.

You’re in pain. Stay in bed. Don't move.

I looked at my body - swollen, blobbier. I felt weak. Useless.

Ah. Useless. Now that’s a voice I know.

The Way Through...

So I called in the troops (Fox 7) and Pip (5). I cannot put into words how grateful I am for their listening and wisdom. I explained what I was scared of and that I knew I needed to find a way to catch myself and hold myself accountable. That I didn't want to get lost. That I don't want to be grumpy. I want to be outside playing football with them and going on adventures. 

What I didn't share with them was the fear of being how I was before, when they were smaller, the version of me they may not remember. 

We looked at options, simple little choices to move in the direction I want to go. After discussions,

1) They got me having breakfast downstairs instead of bed.

2) They put on some music and we had a little wiggle before they left.

Fox suggested I went for a very long walk (!), I immediately said I can’t be doing anything like that. But, I’m starting to wonder if that’s my mind rather than my body. Maybe I am more capable and it’s fear telling me to stay small.

So we came up with a compromise, why don’t I walk to the small bridge and then see if I want to go further.

After they left I sat on the sofa and felt the pull to create a cocoon. The throbbing in my lower back and abdomen. The tightness in my head. My hands were puffy and stiff.

But I wrote a message into the New Pathways Whatsapp group. I wasn't necessarily going to send it - just knew I needed to write it out. It always helps me. It’s like clearing brambles from a path I know I need to walk. Helps me check my language. Was I using catastrophising words like “always”, “never”, “I can’t” again?

The Road to Recovery, this is what I did next...

• Messaged a friend I was due to call saying I needed to get outside.

• Got dressed - I put on proper knickers - the comfy snug ones that make me feel held - and clothes that helped me feel supported and ready to move.

• I did my teeth (nearly didn't)

• I put deodorant on (nearly didn't)

• I chose not to have my coffee, in case sitting down took away my momentum. 

• I put my hair in a bobble.

• I drank some extra water (nearly didn't)

• I found my headphones. Bluetooth failed. I felt that tiny rush of just forget it. But I didn’t. I breathed. Fixed it.

• I chose trainers over sandals, I had a stone in the left shoe so took it off and went again.

• I took a moment on the doorstep to listen to my body, now was not the time to push.

Yesterday I had low haemoglobin levels, low blood pressure, rising temperature, was in and out of sleep all day and was on very heavy pain relief medication. Listening was essential.

As I walked I kept listening. My body was slower. I could feel the shift of weight in my hips, offering a slight limp. My stomach pulled in weird directions. My head weighing forward.

So bit by bit, breath by breath.

Every few steps:

Heart supported by belly. Head supported by heart.

A gentle straightening and aligning of my body.

What if I didn't hold onto the pain (or the story of the pain)?

What if I soften to it?

What if I let it go?

What if I allowed movement to take me through the pain, the grief, the anger, the sadness?

So I walked to the bridge. And a little further. And continued up the hill. And just.. kept going. With love, not punishment.

I am strong enough. I am capable enough. 

And even when I temporarily forget - even when the stuff whispers again - I know how to find my way back.

More to come on this journey of recovery, I'm sure...

But for now, sending you all the love in the world.

Steph x