Of course, just because things are all warm and fuzzy here doesn’t mean that’s always true beyond the blog. Again, I consider myself a pretty happy-go-lucky-go-running-go-spinning person. I like to laugh and smile and make others do the same.
What’s my point? I swear I have one, and I’m getting to it.
I didn’t want to blog yesterday because I didn’t want to write a total downer post, and I was having one of those, “I feel like a miserable, worthless failure” days.
Oh yes, I have those days.
And unfortunately, lately, I’ve had quite a few of them.
I knew something was up last Thursday. I had a friend in town and I was attempting to be a good hostess by blowing up her air mattress and trying to find where Brian and I had unpacked and stored our massive stash of extra blankets.
I had the chills, which was weird. The windows in the apartment weren’t open, and no one else seemed bothered by the temperature in the room.
I didn’t think anything of it, but I was aware that I felt off.
And then the night sweats came.
Nothing drastic. I wasn’t soaking through any sheets — which is good because those suckers are brand-new and perfect — but I was definitely sweating, which isn’t normal for me.
Then Saturday came. Double Spin Saturday. My new favorite day.
It took me more than an hour to get out the door and down to the gym, and once I was there a spent a decent amount of time in the locker room bathrooms.
I assume you know where this is going, right?
All weekend my stomach was off, but I kept telling myself I was just eating poorly and not getting enough sleep (I don’t know why not getting adequate sleep would leave me keeled over in the bathroom, but go with it). Yes, I’ve been exceptionally excitingly busy lately, and no, I don’t handle my stress well, according to Therapist Brian.
This is Therapist Brian in action. We went on a little roadtrip this weekend, and he analyzed my life for an hour while I cried. Also I forgot to make a Roadtrip Mix. Best travel companion ever? I think so. And yes, those are Brian's riding sunglasses…not his real, everyday use ones.
Yesterday I was excited to go for a run. Ever since my little running hiatus, I’ve grown to really appreciate each run I get to go on, especially the ones that are totally pain-free.
While yesterday’s run was shin-and-hip-pain free, it wasn’t entirely devoid of pain…or rage.
I couldn’t leave the apartment for way too long. My stomach was a mess, and the all-too-familiar symptoms — let’s get graphic here, the blood in the toilet — were back.
I had to stop three times over the course of a 7.5 mile run. I was livid, angry and defeated.
The parts of my body that hadn’t cooperated for so long finally got back on board — just in time for the rest of me to break down…again.
I ran again today — 6.25 miles — and when I was running, it was amazing. My paces were ones I was happy with, but I had to take multiple walk breaks or “stand completely still so something terrible doesn’t happen” breaks. My route was basically just circling the bathrooms in the park. Did I appreciate even being out there? Definitely. I’m so happy my leg and hip seem to be calm. But I’m furious that my stomach is being a bitch, and that I’m just playing a back-and-forth game of unhealthiness lately.
Yes, I know it’s mostly my own doing. I know stress leads to flare-ups, and I know I need to take it easier on myself.
This weekend I’ll be traveling to Charlotte for my best friend’s wedding. After that, the search is on for a new doctor who can hopefully do something more for me than just throw me on steroids, which I pretty much refuse to ever go on again. Remember the ‘Roid Rage? I’m pretty sure if that happens again, my BFF Brian will be out the door faster than you can say, “But Crohn’s disease is sexy!”
I need to be better about managing my stress. I like to have a lot on my To Do list at all times, but lately I think it’s gotten a little out of control and the word “No” hasn’t made its way into my vocabulary. I take on a lot, I try to please everyone, and as a result my health is, quite literally, in the toilet.
Crohn’s jokes are hilarious.
I want to do my best in every area — I want to be the best Maid of Honor, the best friend, the best daughter, the best aunt, the best chocolate eater and the best I can be at my job, which, by the way, has been nuts lately.
I cannot complain about my job, though, because sometimes I get to spend days in DUMBO at photo shoots with the Broadway cast of Newsies.
Oh, I’ve also been keeping busy with these ol’ things:
Step 1: Unpack the boxes and assess the piles.
Step 2: Begin folding. Pretend you are having fun.
Step 3: Finish all the folding. Sort by size and color. Be excited about it.
Half the shirts are in the mail today. The other half are going out tomorrow.
And there are more for ordering coming soon. Stay tuned. (I think I say “Stay Tuned” a lot. I’m sorry.)
It’s hard not to get discouraged when it seems like this entire year so far has been a struggle with my body. Yesterday I got a bit of perspective when I was leaving Central Park after a mildly miserable run, and I ran past a three-legged dog.
That dog had to go and show me up.
I have both my legs. I have my arms, I have a roof over my head and I have wonderful friends and family all by my side no matter what I’m going through. I also have a tiny new nephew who needs his Auntie Ali to be fun and awesome, not sick and exhausted.
I can't hold my buddy if I'm in the bathroom. I mean, I COULD, but I don't think my brother would approve.
I know the biggest factor relating to my seemingly-deteriorating health lately is stress and my inability to handle it very well. Some days I can tackle my list of tasks like a pro and still have time to blow dry my hair. Other days, it’s just too much, and I get into the habit of beating myself up if I don’t “do it all.”
(More on “doing it all” another time. I have a lot to say on that little topic.)
That dog in the park only had three legs. I don’t get to complain.