Living Healthfully: Welcome to Puberty {again}

I couldn't button my size four pants.

And, in the midst of a hectic-Tuesday morning, I promptly had a mini-meltdown, tears of hot frustration running down my face, there in front of my bedroom mirror.

All of this, I'd cried, would be much easier to swallow if my body were pregnant, growing out of my jeans for the sake of growing new life and crying tears of emotional roller-coaster pregnancy hormones instead of just ones of crazy highs and lows.

But I knew better. I knew I wasn't expecting.

In my moment of meltdown, I text messaged Kerry, an integrative medicine doctor who has recently begun working with me on a genetic, biochemical level and nutritional level, and explained the situation.

To which she replied, "Welcome to puberty ... again."

I groaned.

Then I cried.

And then I laughed.

Because actually that's actually much closer to what I'm feeling these days -- like I'm a teenager in the throes of life changes rather than an expecting mother.

I guess I should back up a bit because I've been extremely quiet about my health and what's been happening the past few months.

I haven't shared lately about my health or about Kerry for a few reasons; I've been to so many doctors, all of whom have helped, yes, but none who seem to have ever completely gotten down to root of what's going on inside my body that has been causing such imbalances.

Have I been battling a gut yeast overgrowth? Yes.

Are my hormone levels really out of balance? Double yes.

Was my body detoxing? Yes to that, too.

But all summer long I've had this persistent and lingering feeling buried deep in my gut that there were other issues underlying -- mostly, I felt like something wasn't right at a deeper level. I mean, I've been having neurological problems that affect my balance and my speech and a smattering of other functions, too, and one can only detox for so long and attribute such abnormalities to the detoxing process before something has to give ... before the body has to brought back into a state of symbiosis.

I walked into Kerry's office at the end of August hope swelling in my heart; I knew her as the doctor people turn to when they've seen every specialist, the doctor who turns stage four cancer patients around.

But for as much hope as I felt, just as much confusion and skepticism ran rampant. I think I sweat through our entire 1.5 hour session.

When I left her office? I could barely fathom all of it really.

But, too, when I left her office, I felt like she could. She really seemed to understand what was happening inside my body {as best as a human mind can understand.}.

I mean, despite Kerry being really, really smart {she is a former trauma surgeon and a biochemist who focuses on genetic expression, nutrition and how the body functions at a cellular level and who has written a diagnostic program with MIT to help her read bodies at such levels, so you know, just your average everyday genius}, she has a gift for explaining complex, detailed things in a way that is sort of graspable.
Sort of.

The terms auto-immune disease, hormonal imbalance, neurological chaos and genetic mutations were all part of the conversation.

But also part of our conversation were her bold words of promise.

"Ninety days," she told us. "You should feel like a new person by then."

I left there hopeful but if I'm going to be honest one thought lingered long beyond the rest.

"Guard my life and rescue me; do not let me be put to shame, for I take refuge in you. May integrity and uprightness protect me, because my hope, Lord, is in you." Psalm 25: 20-21

Now here I am at 30 days with that same lingering hope in the Lord, but also hope that perhaps she was right -- that He had given her insights to help me really heal.

My energy returned, headaches mostly gone, digestion completely restored, food sensitivities mostly resolved, most of the neurological senses improved vastly, I really do feel different.

This second puberty stuff? It's a sign that my body is deep healing and rebalancing {though I wish I could do that while wearing size four jeans! Demin and bras are expensive!}

And I don't know -- maybe the vast emotions, the unbuttoned pants, the ever-evolving bra size really are signs that I am a women expecting; it's just that right now it's not the kind of expecting that ends with a new life wrapped in the bundle of a baby.

Rather, it's the kind that seems to be more of a rebirth of vibrancy, a rebirth of who I was and who I am and who I'm fast becoming both heart and body, mind and spirit.

He says He makes all things new

in His time

and maybe this time

His time

is finally my time

to be the molded shaped clay to which He's been busy giving new shape

in more ways than one.

Linking with Kelli today for the Healthy Mom Series she's hosting.

Bigger Picture Moments: For the Worse

It's been hard for him.

These past nine or so months have grown him, too.

I haven't been the only one who feels as though I were stretching outside of my very own skin's capacity.

Though it seems like I've been the one whose been forced-chosen to ungrasp my clenched knuckles from so much, we've both let go of a lot.

Time together as a family, as a couple.

Opportunities and weekends away.

Small pockets of late-night connection as I've slept and he's battled a strong-willed toddler.

Two tiny babies from inside my womb.

And sometimes I feel like he's sort of lost the woman he married while in the thick of all her spontaneity and fun-laced ways, found himself left with someone who has a list of nos that run the trunks of century-old trees ... someone who can't even go out to dinner on a whim anymore because she must first scout out the contents of the menu.

But in the loss, in the for worse of what seems worlds away from the better, roots have been established.

We stood tall through the beautiful times of our engagment and job changes and births of babies, and now, too, we've sunk our roots into firm Soil and weathered storms of illness and loss and grief and anxiety and time spent growing together while being apart.

There's nothing flashy and romantic about the protruding of roots creeping into Solid Ground while the skies rage.

There have been days where we've come together only to utter prayers before tired eyes close, succumbing to sleep. Moments of deep-seated frustration in the boiling over of pots and helplessness in the melting of a crying, shaking body falling into open arms. Exhaustion in digging deep to find more of yourself to give to rambunctious little boys when her arms can't even hold the shovel.

But after the pounding of the rain softens and the thundering of fronts breaking the apart air fade to rumbles in the distance and the whipping of the wind gives way to soft breeze there is a beautiful calm that emerges in seeing that the tree is still standing strong-armed with thick branches and budding green with new life.

There is a growing peace found in the roots of abiding, together.

Share a picture, words, creation or list; just come to the table with the beauty in the simple moments of the week.. 

Live.
Reflect on the blessings that were apparent to you this week.

Capture.
Harvest them!

Share.
Link up your gleaned moment this week at Alita's! Please be sure to link to your post, not your blog. Your post must link back here or have our button in your post or the link will be deleted.

Encourage.
Visit at least the person linked before you and encourage her in this journey we call life.

Living Healthfully: On More than Makeup

As I lathered the soap, spread tiny bubbles across my hands in the dim light of a chic restaurant bathroom, I glanced in a side-view mirror and I wondered for a second who had met my gaze -- slim curves, flushed cheeks, pinked skin, smiling eyes with only hints of tired in the soft creases. 

I'd thought I was alone.

I almost didn't recognize her -- the reflection of my own softly-lined caramel eyes and dark hair straightened, cascading down my back.

I almost didn't recognize me. 

This afternoon was the first time I've brushed a light shimmer of soft violet across my eyelids, swiped a line of pale charcoal along my lashes -- the first time in almost 12 weeks of a cleansing and rebuilding diet meant to eradicate a candida overgrowth that I felt well enough to wear any kind of makeup.

And, it's true, too, that my hourglass shape looks less defined and much more subtly curvy now than it did nearly three months ago.

But it wasn't just my reshaped frame, the makeup and the fixed hair that made me double take as I rinsed the bubbles under warm water; rather it was my entire day spread out across my relaxed face, my rested body.

I mentally added up moments I'd spent, well, living today, and I realized for the first time in months I couldn't count them all.

All I could do was marvel at the fullness of my day -- one where sleep wasn't at the center of exhausted thoughts and the couch was only something I cleaned beneath instead of something into which I'd melted for more hours than not.

I returned to our table, unsure of when I'd turned the corner into the final lap of this long, narrow journey toward healing my body, my spirit, my mind; I mean, there I was -- out to dinner with my sister and my mother -- at 7 p.m. and my mind was fully engaged in the conversation, my eyes wide awake and body centered comfortably at the table as we enjoyed our dinner and each other all while wearing makeup.

There I was actively living life and enjoying it instead of just wishing I could fully engage.


I've had moments, even hours, like this during during the brief respites of cleansing cycles but not groupings of entire consecutive days.

Well, not until now.

That's not to say there aren't still moments where I'm still not feeling quite up to speed.

And that's not to say all of my symptoms are gone; some still linger.

And that's certainly not to say that while at the restaurant I ordered off the regular menu without giving a list of nos -- sugar, gluten, dairy, vinegar, alcohol, mushrooms -- that made the waitresses head just about spin off her shoulders.

But today loudly sang a song of healing I've spent months feeling like I might never hear.

Today, wrapped heavy in His mercy and covered completely in His healing grace, I saw stretched out before my eyes what seems like a finish line looming in the distance of this cleansing and rebuilding journey.

Today, I logged another mile and made it to a goalpost -- and I wore makeup as I passed.

To God be the Glory.