I had the best of intentions.
Back in August 2014, I started what I planned to be a series about my healing process. That series ..uhh...didn't really materialize. It was a combination of things. I was still experimenting with new supplements like gelatin (quite successfully). I was overwhelmed by the task of trying to accurately assemble names of brands and foods that have proved helpful. I felt inadequate to express all the information that I'd learned about gut health. Combine that with a slew of big life changes, and here I am in 2016. Ready for a reboot. My desire is to share what I've learned about my own health in order to hopefully help others.
As a health history refresher, I've always had stomach and sinus issues as far back as I can remember. Removing lactose from my diet and avoiding environmental allergens in childhood seemed to help. In high school (1995), I got a severe case of mono that required steroids. After that, I was never quite the same, and in 1998, my family discovered black toxic mold in the air of our home. We had to leave everything behind, and my health was badly damaged in the process. I was unable to get enough sleep and often could not function to go to school because of the body aches and extreme fatigue.
Once I left that environment, I felt better and was able to go to college, but during the transitional housing and dorm living, I was routinely exposed to pesticides that caused severe and worsened symptoms. My mold exposure had led to multiple chemical sensitivity. With some careful planning through disability services at college and managing my living environment at home, I successfully completed my engineering degree.
In graduate school, I ate poorly, was under tremendous stress with little sleep, and got sick. I took antibiotics, cold medicine, and inhalers to try to keep myself going, but instead I collapsed one morning at church in 2005. I was never able to truly function after that. I was completely disabled and stuck in bed. After meeting with a cardiologist and doing a tilt-table test, I was diagnosed with POTS (Postural Orthostatic Tachycardia Syndrome) which is a type of
dysautonomia. I also suffered from chronic fatigue-like symptoms,
severe irritable bowel syndrome, severe circadian rhythm disorder called
"non-24," and ongoing multiple chemical sensitivities (along with asthma and
allergies).
From 2005 - 2010, I attempted to manage my symptoms based on western medicine. I drank Gatorade, ate pretzels and salty foods. I wore compression stockings. I took Florinef and a beta blocker which worsened my constant dizziness. I had a horrible experience trying birth control to suppress my awful, painful periods. Nothing worked. I only felt miserable. I couldn't sit up for meals many times. Forcing myself to walk or exercise just left me exhausted and needing to recover for days. I was incredibly discouraged and felt my life slipping away. I was often awake at night and slept during the day. After hoping and training for a career in medical research, I was now stuck at home, watching TV, and when I had enough mental energy, trying to figure out what had gone wrong with my body and how to fix it.
My turning point came in 2010. I looked online to see who treated chronic fatigue syndrome, and I found an integrative health MD who did just that. My first meetings with her were not what I had anticipated. She kept wanting to focus on my intestines and suggested using a pretty potent anti-fungal medication. I didn't understand this because my symptoms were cardiac and neurological. I agreed to try the least risky of her treatment suggestions, an extreme change in diet. I temporarily cut out all sources of simple and complex carbohydrates (grains), processed food, and sugar. No desserts, juice, cereal, pasta, popcorn, bread, or any of those comfort foods I clung to like life preservers.
And an amazing thing happened. After a couple weeks, my dizziness stopped. Chronic, unrelenting, disabling, 24/7 dizziness was suddenly no longer dominating my life. I was in shock. The extreme diet change of lean meat and vegetables had opened my eyes, and although it was not sustainable due to weight loss and nutritional needs, I was on a new mission. I was going to figure out exactly what this connection was between diet and POTS.
~.~.~
I'm not sure exactly how I will do these new posts, but I have a lot more confidence looking back now. I've come much further in my healing. I have a good grasp on what works for me and what doesn't. I've narrowed down my remedies to simpler and easier fixes. I've experienced the gradual renewal of patiently practicing these remedies over years.
Monday, January 11, 2016
Friday, October 30, 2015
A Dystopian Tango
A few weeks ago, I was watching Dancing with the Stars for switch-up week. A contestant named Alexa had blanked on part of her performance the week before, suffering a dip in scores, and she felt discouraged when her partner Mark kept telling her she might be eliminated. But she got a new partner (Derek) for the switch-up, who told her she could overcome her fears. She believed him, and with his help, scored the first perfect straight 10s of the season.
This kind of thing happens often over the seasons of the show. Some troubling event will spark a contestant to fight back and perform beyond what they dreamed possible. What made this particular dance so meaningful to me? Why did I watch it at breakfast the next day with tears in my eyes?
I asked myself those questions as I kept replaying the song in my head. The lyrics of Pompeii by Bastille go like this:
Even from the first 2 lines of the song, I felt it echo words I've used for years to describe chronic illness - the long days on the couch or in bed, the helplessness and the powerlessness, the failed attempts to soothe my aching soul with things of this world. And the walls of my family that kept tumbling down as my grandma slowly deteriorated, as my dad fell away, as the process of waiting for God to miraculously fix our trauma caused my hope to grow dim.
But this is where the lyrics and the dance came together to move me to to tears. As I watched Derek move Alexa around the dance floor, I thought of all the times I "closed my eyes" - either in despair, or exhaustion, or prayer - and it was another step in my complex dance with Jesus. As I'm watching Alexa hanging on, Derek calling out where to go, guiding her as she's thrown down, lifted back up, I'm thinking, through all of this pain, God has never changed. He's the same gracious, merciful God, slow to anger, abounding in steadfast love and faithfulness. And although I have not yet received that "miracle moment" I hoped for, we have moved far beyond the "baby-faith" I had when this began. He moves; I hang on. He moves; we separate and return. We move together.
As the dance ends and a few other dancers embrace and circle around them, it mirrored the very thing that had happened to me. A handful of understanding and compassionate people came around to walk with me as I stepped forward.
So I smiled through the tears of knowing an aching joy, that Jesus has been leading me through a broken city that I loved, great clouds rolling over, and me thinking, "how am I going to be an optimist about this?" in so many terrible circumstances. And I realized how far I have come to be married, to be healing, to be coming out of a long, dark, and lonely place with my love for Christ having been battered and thrown and tested at every stage.
Just like Alexa heard the message that she might be eliminated, I too battle the fear that I don't measure up, that I should freeze and not try to move forward because I might fail or it might hurt too much. But when I recently read in the Bible about Nehemiah's struggle to rebuild (coincidentally) the "walls of the city that he loved," I recognized how intricately the work of evil is tied up in fear. Fear is the tool of evil, like a hot poker, trying to imobilize me, trying to make me back down from what I'm building for God.
But fear has no ultimate power over someone who loves Jesus. Can things we fear happen? Yes. The walls can come down. People can block our progress. We can get sick and even die. But with Jesus leading us through, we will finish well. Don't give up whatever justice you are fighting for. Don't give in and sit down and give up because of fear.
As Vaneetha Rendall says in The Loneliness of Suffering:
Continue to dance with Jesus, even if you need to just collapse into his strong grip and let him carry you forward.
"Greater is He who is in you than he who is in the world."
1 John 4:4
This kind of thing happens often over the seasons of the show. Some troubling event will spark a contestant to fight back and perform beyond what they dreamed possible. What made this particular dance so meaningful to me? Why did I watch it at breakfast the next day with tears in my eyes?
I asked myself those questions as I kept replaying the song in my head. The lyrics of Pompeii by Bastille go like this:
I was left to my own devices
Many days fell away with nothing to showAnd the walls kept tumbling down
In the city that we love
Great clouds roll over the hills
Bringing darkness from aboveBut if you close your eyes,
Does it almost feel like
Nothing changed at all?
And if you close your eyes,
Does it almost feel like
You've been here before?
How am I gonna be an optimist about this?
How am I gonna be an optimist about this?
Even from the first 2 lines of the song, I felt it echo words I've used for years to describe chronic illness - the long days on the couch or in bed, the helplessness and the powerlessness, the failed attempts to soothe my aching soul with things of this world. And the walls of my family that kept tumbling down as my grandma slowly deteriorated, as my dad fell away, as the process of waiting for God to miraculously fix our trauma caused my hope to grow dim.
But this is where the lyrics and the dance came together to move me to to tears. As I watched Derek move Alexa around the dance floor, I thought of all the times I "closed my eyes" - either in despair, or exhaustion, or prayer - and it was another step in my complex dance with Jesus. As I'm watching Alexa hanging on, Derek calling out where to go, guiding her as she's thrown down, lifted back up, I'm thinking, through all of this pain, God has never changed. He's the same gracious, merciful God, slow to anger, abounding in steadfast love and faithfulness. And although I have not yet received that "miracle moment" I hoped for, we have moved far beyond the "baby-faith" I had when this began. He moves; I hang on. He moves; we separate and return. We move together.
As the dance ends and a few other dancers embrace and circle around them, it mirrored the very thing that had happened to me. A handful of understanding and compassionate people came around to walk with me as I stepped forward.
So I smiled through the tears of knowing an aching joy, that Jesus has been leading me through a broken city that I loved, great clouds rolling over, and me thinking, "how am I going to be an optimist about this?" in so many terrible circumstances. And I realized how far I have come to be married, to be healing, to be coming out of a long, dark, and lonely place with my love for Christ having been battered and thrown and tested at every stage.
Just like Alexa heard the message that she might be eliminated, I too battle the fear that I don't measure up, that I should freeze and not try to move forward because I might fail or it might hurt too much. But when I recently read in the Bible about Nehemiah's struggle to rebuild (coincidentally) the "walls of the city that he loved," I recognized how intricately the work of evil is tied up in fear. Fear is the tool of evil, like a hot poker, trying to imobilize me, trying to make me back down from what I'm building for God.
But fear has no ultimate power over someone who loves Jesus. Can things we fear happen? Yes. The walls can come down. People can block our progress. We can get sick and even die. But with Jesus leading us through, we will finish well. Don't give up whatever justice you are fighting for. Don't give in and sit down and give up because of fear.
As Vaneetha Rendall says in The Loneliness of Suffering:
Read the Bible even when it feels like eating cardboard. And pray even when it feels like talking to a wall.
Continue to dance with Jesus, even if you need to just collapse into his strong grip and let him carry you forward.
"Greater is He who is in you than he who is in the world."
1 John 4:4
Friday, July 24, 2015
The Wound
Years ago, while pet sitting for a friend, I received a nasty dog bite. I still have a faint scar in between my middle and ring finger where the tooth sunk in, deep. I ran water over it right away to rinse the area, and at the ER, they had me soak it and bandaged me up, sending me home with an antibiotic.
However, when I followed up with my doctor, she unwrapped the gauze to reveal an ominously swollen, pink hand, knuckles lost in the rapidly advancing infection.
In spite of the fact that the sides of the skin had come together, there was still bacteria deep down inside, causing pain, pressure and growing rapidly. The surface appeared to heal, but I still had to address the deep wound.
As I've progressed in my physical healing journey through slow, deliberate diet and lifestyle changes over several years, I have gained new ground. Now I can go out to do multiple errands. I can plan a wedding. I can attend special events. Rejoining society in this way is complicated. I have been through deep, lingering darkness that made me rethink where I derive my worth, purpose, and identity, suffering that exposed my utter inadequacies and left me completely, excruciatingly dependent. I've also experienced rejection and isolation, loss of relationships so dear that I felt the grief of gradual death, though the people I mourned lived on.
So last Thursday, as I drove along the highway to the salon, the sunshine streaming in, the radio cheerily celebrating my new level of functioning and stamina, I felt in that moment as if I'd suddenly resurfaced where my head went underwater 10 years ago. It's as if nothing has changed on that same route I used to drive to college, and yet, everything has changed.
Though I appear no different, I'm not the same person I was before the fainting and the chronic dizziness, before the caregiving and the loss of my job, home, safety, grandparents, and father. But all that life experience is now trapped like an infection in a wound I don't know how to heal. The two sides of skin look the same and have come together on the surface, but the puncture of this last decade has profoundly altered who I am.
I write not with any answers or insight, not with any scripture or prayer. I write simply as an expression of how I'm processing these changes taking place, and the ambiguous path of living with one foot in the sick world and one foot back in shopping malls, restaurants, social chit-chat, and grocery stores.
Who am I now that I've been out of the workforce for so long? Where is my place? What is my purpose with some new energy? When I marry, what will this new life look like? How will I continue to help my mom as she struggles with ongoing problems?
I don't have the answers, so I keep looking to God with a dim, fragile hope that he will restore and redeem what I still cannot fix.
In Daniel 11, a detailed vision about the future presents many kings that rise and fall, leading to the end of days. Reading it is like reading a soap opera of characters that all try to exert their will and power to obtain something of meaning in this life. I scanned it with lazy eyes and reluctantly studied the scholarly notes attached.
In the small print, I found a kernel of encouragement for this time of confusion:
"Pious Jews would readily fall into bewilderment: how do these circumstances display God's concern for his people, and how will God ever use his now-insignificant people to bring blessing to the whole world? The vision is therefore reassurance for the faithful."
There is a way forward with the promises of God. Elsewhere in Daniel, I see that it's possible to get thrown into a fiery trial and come out not smelling of smoke. It's also possible to get thrown into a fiery trial and pass away. Regardless of what comes to pass here on earth, we have a God who knows the end from the beginning, and he, more than anyone, knows both the pain and the redemptive nature of deep wounds and scars.
However, when I followed up with my doctor, she unwrapped the gauze to reveal an ominously swollen, pink hand, knuckles lost in the rapidly advancing infection.
In spite of the fact that the sides of the skin had come together, there was still bacteria deep down inside, causing pain, pressure and growing rapidly. The surface appeared to heal, but I still had to address the deep wound.
As I've progressed in my physical healing journey through slow, deliberate diet and lifestyle changes over several years, I have gained new ground. Now I can go out to do multiple errands. I can plan a wedding. I can attend special events. Rejoining society in this way is complicated. I have been through deep, lingering darkness that made me rethink where I derive my worth, purpose, and identity, suffering that exposed my utter inadequacies and left me completely, excruciatingly dependent. I've also experienced rejection and isolation, loss of relationships so dear that I felt the grief of gradual death, though the people I mourned lived on.
So last Thursday, as I drove along the highway to the salon, the sunshine streaming in, the radio cheerily celebrating my new level of functioning and stamina, I felt in that moment as if I'd suddenly resurfaced where my head went underwater 10 years ago. It's as if nothing has changed on that same route I used to drive to college, and yet, everything has changed.
Though I appear no different, I'm not the same person I was before the fainting and the chronic dizziness, before the caregiving and the loss of my job, home, safety, grandparents, and father. But all that life experience is now trapped like an infection in a wound I don't know how to heal. The two sides of skin look the same and have come together on the surface, but the puncture of this last decade has profoundly altered who I am.
I write not with any answers or insight, not with any scripture or prayer. I write simply as an expression of how I'm processing these changes taking place, and the ambiguous path of living with one foot in the sick world and one foot back in shopping malls, restaurants, social chit-chat, and grocery stores.
Who am I now that I've been out of the workforce for so long? Where is my place? What is my purpose with some new energy? When I marry, what will this new life look like? How will I continue to help my mom as she struggles with ongoing problems?
I don't have the answers, so I keep looking to God with a dim, fragile hope that he will restore and redeem what I still cannot fix.
In Daniel 11, a detailed vision about the future presents many kings that rise and fall, leading to the end of days. Reading it is like reading a soap opera of characters that all try to exert their will and power to obtain something of meaning in this life. I scanned it with lazy eyes and reluctantly studied the scholarly notes attached.
In the small print, I found a kernel of encouragement for this time of confusion:
"Pious Jews would readily fall into bewilderment: how do these circumstances display God's concern for his people, and how will God ever use his now-insignificant people to bring blessing to the whole world? The vision is therefore reassurance for the faithful."
There is a way forward with the promises of God. Elsewhere in Daniel, I see that it's possible to get thrown into a fiery trial and come out not smelling of smoke. It's also possible to get thrown into a fiery trial and pass away. Regardless of what comes to pass here on earth, we have a God who knows the end from the beginning, and he, more than anyone, knows both the pain and the redemptive nature of deep wounds and scars.
Friday, April 3, 2015
A Friday that didn't seem "Good."
During the month of April, I'm reading Rachel Lundy's new 30-day devotional called "Hope for the Hard Days." (Click on the link and download it for free!)
Today is day 3, and the topic is about hope. Rachel is familiar with chronic illness and expressed the difference between "hope" that is a wish for better physical days and biblical hope in God that is certain to provide both spiritual growth on earth and an eternity of health and joy.
I thought about how it's my everyday circumstances that really challenge my faith. I see and experience injustice that goes on and on. Even when I feel like God could or should intervene, he just doesn't, and I don't know why. I wish for my situation to change, and in some ways, it has improved greatly. But there is still the root of betrayal and persecution that has left a gaping, painful void of grief in my life. This pain reverberates and affects everything I plan and do. How do I maintain my hope when God doesn't act in the way and in the timing I wish?
To be honest, it has been brutally hard. I have struggled with limited energy and motivation to study God's word, and I have days when my Bible remains closed. I have pushed forward with bursts of prayer but then slacken when I feel as if nothing I say matters or is getting through. Today, I had some quiet time to read through Habakkuk. It's only 3 chapters, but it contains some of the most powerful questions and answers in scripture when it comes to why God appears silent.
Habakkuk questions where God is, why he permits arrogant, evil people to destroy his own people, and why God allows this injustice to keep going.
By the end of the book, God has promised that if Habakkuk will wait, he will see the incredible plan of justice and mercy God is going to unfold. Habakkuk says: "I will quietly wait for the day of trouble to come upon people who invade us." God will indeed act.
Habakkuk looked back and saw God's pattern in history - of vindicating those who trust in him. "The righteous shall live by his faith," God encouraged him. If we maintain our sure hope in who God is, if we look at what he created, if we look back at his character and the cords of his plan woven through history, we can trust he is at work in our own lives in the same way.
Good Friday is the best time to remember that our hope is in a living God, not circumstantial highs or lows. Jesus, perfect in all respects, was falsely accused, condemned, beaten, and hung on a cross as a completely innocent man. When he died, circumstances told his followers and friends that there was no hope. Death was the final word in human thinking. But God's plan required waiting until Sunday.
Often I feel the weight of living in that Friday state of grief - watching injustice happen, seeing wrong judgments made, being powerless, wondering where God is. But the knowledge that God resurrected Christ from the dead gives me the boldness to hope in something more than what I see or experience. It gives me certain hope in God himself.
If you are living in Friday grief, remember that Sunday is coming and don't lose hope. He is the God of all comfort. We can trust in him.
Though the fig tree does not bud and there are no grapes on the vines,
Though the olive crop fails and the fields produce no food,
Though there are no sheep in the pen and no cattle in the stalls,
Yet I will rejoice in the LORD,
I will be joyful in God my Savior.
The Sovereign LORD is my strength;
he makes my feet like the feet of a deer;
he enables me to go on the heights.
Habakkuk 3:17-19
Today is day 3, and the topic is about hope. Rachel is familiar with chronic illness and expressed the difference between "hope" that is a wish for better physical days and biblical hope in God that is certain to provide both spiritual growth on earth and an eternity of health and joy.
I thought about how it's my everyday circumstances that really challenge my faith. I see and experience injustice that goes on and on. Even when I feel like God could or should intervene, he just doesn't, and I don't know why. I wish for my situation to change, and in some ways, it has improved greatly. But there is still the root of betrayal and persecution that has left a gaping, painful void of grief in my life. This pain reverberates and affects everything I plan and do. How do I maintain my hope when God doesn't act in the way and in the timing I wish?
To be honest, it has been brutally hard. I have struggled with limited energy and motivation to study God's word, and I have days when my Bible remains closed. I have pushed forward with bursts of prayer but then slacken when I feel as if nothing I say matters or is getting through. Today, I had some quiet time to read through Habakkuk. It's only 3 chapters, but it contains some of the most powerful questions and answers in scripture when it comes to why God appears silent.
Habakkuk questions where God is, why he permits arrogant, evil people to destroy his own people, and why God allows this injustice to keep going.
By the end of the book, God has promised that if Habakkuk will wait, he will see the incredible plan of justice and mercy God is going to unfold. Habakkuk says: "I will quietly wait for the day of trouble to come upon people who invade us." God will indeed act.
Habakkuk looked back and saw God's pattern in history - of vindicating those who trust in him. "The righteous shall live by his faith," God encouraged him. If we maintain our sure hope in who God is, if we look at what he created, if we look back at his character and the cords of his plan woven through history, we can trust he is at work in our own lives in the same way.
Good Friday is the best time to remember that our hope is in a living God, not circumstantial highs or lows. Jesus, perfect in all respects, was falsely accused, condemned, beaten, and hung on a cross as a completely innocent man. When he died, circumstances told his followers and friends that there was no hope. Death was the final word in human thinking. But God's plan required waiting until Sunday.
Often I feel the weight of living in that Friday state of grief - watching injustice happen, seeing wrong judgments made, being powerless, wondering where God is. But the knowledge that God resurrected Christ from the dead gives me the boldness to hope in something more than what I see or experience. It gives me certain hope in God himself.
If you are living in Friday grief, remember that Sunday is coming and don't lose hope. He is the God of all comfort. We can trust in him.
Though the fig tree does not bud and there are no grapes on the vines,
Though the olive crop fails and the fields produce no food,
Though there are no sheep in the pen and no cattle in the stalls,
Yet I will rejoice in the LORD,
I will be joyful in God my Savior.
The Sovereign LORD is my strength;
he makes my feet like the feet of a deer;
he enables me to go on the heights.
Habakkuk 3:17-19
Thursday, January 22, 2015
The Glory of God
Sometimes I get so caught up in my own little world, my own pain, my own questions and doubts and fears that I lose sight that God is ruler over all the earth. When he stretches beauty like a canvas across the cold January sky, I look up and remember who created me, who stretched out the heavens, who is really in charge, and my heart can rest for that moment in wonder.
"Holy,
Holy,
Holy is the LORD of hosts.
The whole earth is full of his glory!"
Isaiah 6:3
"Holy,
Holy,
Holy is the LORD of hosts.
The whole earth is full of his glory!"
Isaiah 6:3
Saturday, November 22, 2014
Not Home Yet
Ever feel like you don't belong? Feel like having faith is sometimes just too hard? I have been tempted to give up on faith, and in fact, I had drifted away from God when a study on Hebrews started at my church this fall.
I made excuses. I said I was tired of filling in the blanks on workbooks. I said I was behind in my personal Bible reading. I said I didn't want one more commitment, one more semester of homework that seemed like school. But the first lesson, the first verse of Hebrews 2 called me back. Like a boat that had pulled out into the current, I suddenly felt the tug of the rope back to my anchor.
"Therefore we must pay much closer attention to what we have heard, lest we drift away from it."
And that's when my study began to be more than filling in spaces on a worksheet. It became personal. Jesus was at the center of this book written to the Hebrew Christians about Old Testament history, and the call to hold fast and persevere while under pressure was unmistakable.
How will you remain encouraged when all hope seems dim? How will you keep believing when God doesn't answer your prayers for years?
Remember you are a stranger in this world. There is something better coming. We get glimpses of heaven here. When your spirit gasps in awe at beauty, love, exquisite detail, and delight, for that split second, remember the power of God which overcame death in Jesus. He swallowed up death forever and will wipe every tear when we reach our rest. We wait for him, and he is our very great reward.
These all died in faith, not having received the things promised, but having seen them and greeted them from afar, and having acknowledged that they were strangers and exiles on the earth. For people who speak thus make it clear that they are seeking a homeland. If they had been thinking of that land from which they had gone out, they would have had opportunity to return. But as it is, they desire a better country, that is, a heavenly one. Therefore God is not ashamed to be called their God, for he has prepared for them a city.
Hebrews 11:13-16
I made excuses. I said I was tired of filling in the blanks on workbooks. I said I was behind in my personal Bible reading. I said I didn't want one more commitment, one more semester of homework that seemed like school. But the first lesson, the first verse of Hebrews 2 called me back. Like a boat that had pulled out into the current, I suddenly felt the tug of the rope back to my anchor.
"Therefore we must pay much closer attention to what we have heard, lest we drift away from it."
And that's when my study began to be more than filling in spaces on a worksheet. It became personal. Jesus was at the center of this book written to the Hebrew Christians about Old Testament history, and the call to hold fast and persevere while under pressure was unmistakable.
How will you remain encouraged when all hope seems dim? How will you keep believing when God doesn't answer your prayers for years?
Remember you are a stranger in this world. There is something better coming. We get glimpses of heaven here. When your spirit gasps in awe at beauty, love, exquisite detail, and delight, for that split second, remember the power of God which overcame death in Jesus. He swallowed up death forever and will wipe every tear when we reach our rest. We wait for him, and he is our very great reward.
These all died in faith, not having received the things promised, but having seen them and greeted them from afar, and having acknowledged that they were strangers and exiles on the earth. For people who speak thus make it clear that they are seeking a homeland. If they had been thinking of that land from which they had gone out, they would have had opportunity to return. But as it is, they desire a better country, that is, a heavenly one. Therefore God is not ashamed to be called their God, for he has prepared for them a city.
Hebrews 11:13-16
Friday, October 24, 2014
The Healing Process (Step 1: Avoiding Triggers)
If I go back to the root of my health problems - the aching muscles, the incapacitating fatigue, the brain fog all started with toxic black mold. You couldn't see it. The water damage was hidden in the walls of my childhood home, but when the air was professionally tested, the results meant we had to leave everything. It was too dangerous for us to keep living there, breathing there, too dangerous to keep our possessions. I walked out, not realizing it was for the last time, holding only a trash bag of clothes.
My symptoms improved when I lived with a friend, but the damage to my body had been done. When I attempted to return to my summer office job, I began to appreciate that air quality would be something I'd be conscious of for a long time to come. Though I'd previously worked there without issue, I found that I now couldn't think straight during my shift, couldn't remember short-term details, couldn't concentrate or multitask in that office. With tears and embarrassment, I had to ask for a transfer, demoting myself to manual labor.
My first semester of college, I faced repeated pesticide spray applications to all the buildings and dorms. Like one of the bugs, I became so ill that I was ultimately driven away from that school for good. On medical leave, I transferred to a college that would work with my disability, but it was not easy avoiding multiple buildings with serious air-quality problems, especially when one of them housed the department of my major.
Avoiding environmental triggers has become a lifestyle for me. It's an awareness I take for granted because of 16 years of experiencing reactions and learning what "innocuous" products can set off a negative response of neurological, gastrointestinal, and/or flu-like symptoms. Something as simple as a neighbor's lawn being sprayed for weeds can have a serious effect on me.
With the discovery of intestinal permeability, I have also come to understand why these environmental triggers overload an already overly stressed body. When the liver and the kidneys and the immune system are already working hard, fighting a war within, the added insult of chemical exposure from without can be the tipping point between functioning and being incapacitated.
Before healing can begin, it is often vital that environmental triggers be identified and avoided.
Triggers I try to avoid:
Take a look at the ingredients in the personal products you buy. Do you want to absorb those ingredients through your skin? Please read what is burning in your candles. Do you want it in your lungs? Test your house for mold if you sense any damp or musty smells, see brown stains in the ceiling, or have a history of water damage. Check out your work environment if you are employed. Do you feel better when you are away for a few days? Is your time spent in a basement? Do your eyes burn? Do your lungs feel tight? Do your ears crackle? Does your face feel hot after leaving? Do you feel kind of "spaced out" but can't figure out why? Think of mold. Think of pesticides. Ask questions.
The bottom part of that list, medications like antibiotics, birth control pills, steroids, and NSAIDs are all common causes of worsening intestinal permeability. I've been prescribed all of these. If you have taken them and suffer chronic illness, read about how your intestines may have been affected.
The main message here is that avoidance is possible and necessary for recovery. Can I avoid all of these things perfectly? No, but I'm continually trying to educate myself and find alternatives. The process of healing chronic illness is not one dramatic change. It is a series of small choices that add up. Avoiding harmful triggers is one of the best things you can do for your body to begin the healing process.
My symptoms improved when I lived with a friend, but the damage to my body had been done. When I attempted to return to my summer office job, I began to appreciate that air quality would be something I'd be conscious of for a long time to come. Though I'd previously worked there without issue, I found that I now couldn't think straight during my shift, couldn't remember short-term details, couldn't concentrate or multitask in that office. With tears and embarrassment, I had to ask for a transfer, demoting myself to manual labor.
My first semester of college, I faced repeated pesticide spray applications to all the buildings and dorms. Like one of the bugs, I became so ill that I was ultimately driven away from that school for good. On medical leave, I transferred to a college that would work with my disability, but it was not easy avoiding multiple buildings with serious air-quality problems, especially when one of them housed the department of my major.
Avoiding environmental triggers has become a lifestyle for me. It's an awareness I take for granted because of 16 years of experiencing reactions and learning what "innocuous" products can set off a negative response of neurological, gastrointestinal, and/or flu-like symptoms. Something as simple as a neighbor's lawn being sprayed for weeds can have a serious effect on me.
With the discovery of intestinal permeability, I have also come to understand why these environmental triggers overload an already overly stressed body. When the liver and the kidneys and the immune system are already working hard, fighting a war within, the added insult of chemical exposure from without can be the tipping point between functioning and being incapacitated.
Before healing can begin, it is often vital that environmental triggers be identified and avoided.
Triggers I try to avoid:
- mold/water damage - A Beginner's Guide to Toxic Mold
- pesticides - alternative: WHY Spray or homemade MomsAWARE recipes
- herbicides - alternative: Natural Lawn Care
- bug spray - alternative: Badger Anti-Bug Balm
- scented candles - alternative: soy or beeswax based candles
- perfumes - alternative: chemical free options exist, but consider going without
- air fresheners - alternative: Herbal Sachet or essential oils
- scented laundry soap - alternative: Tide Free and Gentle or Make your own!
- commercial hand/body soaps - alternative: Just So Soaps
- Teflon pans - Orgreenic, stainless steel, cast iron
- plastic food storage - Pyrex
- antibiotics - alternative: Olive Leaf or Oil of Oregano (only under doctor supervision)
- birth control pills - alternative (period relief): gelatin, diet changes (under doctor supervision)
- steroids - alternative (nasal): Seagate Nasal Spray (only under doctor supervision)
- NSAIDs - alternative: New Chapter Turmeric Force (only under doctor supervision)
Take a look at the ingredients in the personal products you buy. Do you want to absorb those ingredients through your skin? Please read what is burning in your candles. Do you want it in your lungs? Test your house for mold if you sense any damp or musty smells, see brown stains in the ceiling, or have a history of water damage. Check out your work environment if you are employed. Do you feel better when you are away for a few days? Is your time spent in a basement? Do your eyes burn? Do your lungs feel tight? Do your ears crackle? Does your face feel hot after leaving? Do you feel kind of "spaced out" but can't figure out why? Think of mold. Think of pesticides. Ask questions.
The bottom part of that list, medications like antibiotics, birth control pills, steroids, and NSAIDs are all common causes of worsening intestinal permeability. I've been prescribed all of these. If you have taken them and suffer chronic illness, read about how your intestines may have been affected.
The main message here is that avoidance is possible and necessary for recovery. Can I avoid all of these things perfectly? No, but I'm continually trying to educate myself and find alternatives. The process of healing chronic illness is not one dramatic change. It is a series of small choices that add up. Avoiding harmful triggers is one of the best things you can do for your body to begin the healing process.
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