It was June of 2013 when things changed drastically for me. I woke up one morning in a body that would continue to operate differently from that point on. I ended up seeing countless doctors and expected that through their wisdom they would be able to give me an answer to what was wrong with me, write me a prescription and send me on my way to heal. That was not the case.
As time went on, I began to lose hope. Day after day I woke up in a body that was failing me. I felt very alone, scared and unsure where to turn. I got to the point that I couldn’t get through any Doctor’s appointments without tears. The attention turned from what was happening to my body to you are suffering from anxiety and depression. I knew it wasn’t all in my head, but they certainly made me feel that way. I even began to feel my family wondering with so many attempts to find an answer, could the Doctors be right. After all they were watching me slowly fall apart.
At that point I was referred to a Psychiatrist who managed to put me on many different prescriptions. When I say many, I am not exaggerating. At one point I was taking eight pills in a single day. I did that for a good year, after all, maybe they were right? My Psychiatrist sat me down one day at what would be my last appointment and said, you are not responding to any of the medications. This is not what your problem is. I left there feeling completely hopeless and alone like I had never been before!
I knew it was going to be up to me to get answers if I was going to survive this. I was going to have to save myself. In some of the darkest times you must pull from within. You learn to draw from your own personal strength, often a strength that reaches a depth you did not know was there. So that was what I did. I knew I wasn’t crazy, something physical was happening. And that my friend, was where my journey began.
I began to read. Thank goodness for the internet! Everything was at my fingertips and that was my refuge. Things began to unfold, and one thing would lead me to the next. I began to have hope and found that there were others just like me who had seen many Doctors and were made to feel like everything was in their head. Where I had been raised thinking, doctors had all the answers, I was beginning to see a flaw. With that flaw came light!
The first thing I figured out was that they do not have all the answers, my fate wasn’t sealed! What I found was I had the power to incorporate changes and different modalities into my life. I opened my mind to things I knew nothing about through other people’s stories and successes. I realized that there were different kinds of doctors one could see, none of which were ever suggested to me by the standard Western Physician.
I read obsessively for hours upon hours. I was getting answers and becoming a sleuth to my own mystery. I was in a pitch-black cave wandering alone day after day. Once I saw that crack of light, it was up to me to make that crack big enough to pass through. I drew from strength I had in me. What seemed a curse would become a gift.
As I put together the puzzle pieces and aligned myself with the proper professionals I was diagnosed with autoimmune. It is something that started in my childhood and would be present for the rest of my life. One thing that I will never understand is why all those Western Physicians I saw, who kept saying it was all in my head, why they wouldn’t have led me in the direction of possible autoimmune.
That flareup was the worst one I have faced to date. It took me a year to come back and I have never been 100%. I have had to come to terms with my new kind of normal. When I do have my flares, they hit me hard but do not last as long as the one mentioned above. I know now what my body needs and how I must nurture it to get back to that new normal. Its lifestyle of sorts really. There is me and there is my autoimmune. My autoimmune is way more high maintenance than I am!
Cheers to Recovery!