Stress Balloons

When my Mom was 40, she was diagnosed as a Diabetic. Following which she was diagnosed with Hypothyroidism, Rheumatoid Arthritis, and Cancer.  In just over 14 years, her 4’11” frame was hit by one health attack after another.

I’m almost 38 and I am terrified. Every time I don’t feel well, have a stomachache, have weird and random pains, I think “This is it. I’m getting the Judi package.”

Just like I do every January, I stare in the mirror on the 1^st day of the year and try to motivate myself to do better for myself. When everyone flocks to the gym to undo the prior year’s indiscretions, I’m thinking: “THIS is the year I make it count.” And then I don’t. It feels a lot like denial. This is probably because it is denial. And yet knowing that it is denial and fear, I still retreat instead of attack.

Right at this very moment, I’m kind of sick. I look fine, give or take bags under my eyes and the occasional pimple. My illness can’t be seen, but my goodness can it be felt: STRESS. Served up often, and always piping hot.  I cannot shake it, no matter how many naps I take, hugs I give my dog, and wonderful times I spend with my boyfriend, friends and family. Stress owns me.

My stress levels in 2011-2012 were so high, that my digestive system is now in defense mode. This means that on some days, I can’t even digest a glass of water without having pain. I don’t have a Gluten problem: I have a problem with channeling stress so it doesn’t attack my stomach.

When I feel sick, my self-esteem plummets. It feels hopeless to try and get better, because “I’m just going to get stressed out about something and then I won’t feel well.” So I stopped going to the gym, and I stopped going to Yoga. I just didn’t feel good all over, inside and out. And that just made it worse.

Over a week ago, I woke up and decided to stop letting stress win. Any time something stressful entered my mind and body, I pretended it was a balloon, and I let it go. This may seem silly, but I had the picture in my mind of me as a scrappy little kid, holding a big balloon, and letting it fly up into the sky, watching it fade until it was the size of a speck of dust. I clearly was not prepared for the ensuing feeling of awesome, and the impact of it was so immense that one of those times I ended up crying in the bathroom at work (Oops!). It was new to not feel the anxiety and anger build up in my gut. I owned my gut, not stress.

Suffice it to say, that feeling was enough for me. I’m seeing a Naturopath to help me figure it all out, and I’m checking out different fitness possibilities to keep my mind and body healthy and awake. Because really, I’m almost 38 and I can’t live like this anymore.

So here’s to no more stress. And here’s to drinking a glass of water without feeling sick. And truly, here’s to my Mom: The fiercest warrior I ever knew. I hope I can kick ass as well as she did.