So sick this weekend. Actually it started on Thursday. By Friday morning, I called in sick to work, and then slept for 16 hours. And felt sick all weekend. As I do right now, right here in this moment.
But it's not the "sick" of the past year and a half. This is different. Like a weird case of the flu, but with no fever. Most likely it's detox, a healing crisis, what my body is going through as it begins to process out the funk stored in the fat that I'm losing (down 10lbs so far), and begins to clear itself out now that it doesn't have any incoming funk to deal with, and is supported by the influx of clean, vibrant nutrition it's been getting the past two+ weeks.
I'm living on green smoothies. Now ramped up to four or five a day. Not much else, though each day I seem to want something solid as well. Roasted broccoli is still in constant rotation. I crave it.
I'm having a difficult time writing about this. Still. I don't know why. I created a sub-blog so that I could do a dump of all the things I've tried, list what I did, and why, and how it failed. But I couldn't even bring myself to put up a single post. Why? I don't know. Just that it felt wrong. And I've been blogging long enough to know that if it feels wrong, there's a good reason for it, and so I don't even bother to push.
Maybe it's that I still feel so fragile, so dang vulnerable. And often so scared. Being sick and alone triggers deep sh*t in the psyche. But I trust the "alone", and on a basic level I trust the "sick" too.
I know that I'm not unique in how sick I've been, how I still am. Our food supply is so f*cked, and so many of us are horribly sick, with our brains so hard-wired for salt, sugar, and fat that it makes it almost impossible to navigate, to get well. And our current health care system doesn't deal with any of it in a realistic way at all - just pharmaceuticals to manage the symptoms, surgeries to lop off the body parts as they decay and break down.
I also don't think that I'm particularly unique in setting off on a solo path to find healing, but I have found there aren't that many of us, not that make it through successfully. And folks who are doing it on their own, without buying into someone else's "plan"? Very rare. Because it's really hard, really, really difficult.
Which is why I'm so grateful. I'm fortunate that I don't have much money, because it keeps me focused on What Absolutely Works, and away from a huge portion of the ocean of bullsh*t that's out there. I'm so very blessed that I've been so sick, because it's forced me to stay the course, to not give up, even with as difficult and painful and expensive as it's all been. If I had a choice, I wouldn't change any part of what I've been through. But even saying that, stating that truth, I'm so focused right now on healing, on facing the past that's stored in my physical body. Until I cross this barren f*cking desert of Unwell, I don't get to go any further on this journey of Waking Up. My digestive system right now is my compass. And I've discovered it's very, very accurate.
Maybe I'll never feel healthy and whole again. Maybe something vital in my body will irrevocably break down and I won't be able to recover. But there's a chance that I can heal, I can feel it, like the promise of sunshine in this painful dark night that's lasted for so incredibly long now. It isn't hope, this isn't about hope. It's that no matter how long the night feels, dawn is coming. I might die before daybreak. That's a possibility that I face every single day. But I just might live to feel the sunshine in my body again. And how can that not be a reason to do all I can to stay alive?