Fight the Spiral

“Patient appears overweight” is what I read in my doctor’s notes on my online health chart. This after spiraling for a solid two hours about certain test results that had already sent me for a loop. Don’t worry, all is fine. I think I’ve just reached that age when you go to the doctor’s with a check engine light on and then they find a problem with your timing belt or something. “Your weight is a little on the high side” she told me. “Yeah, I know, I think with perimenopause and everything my body has just completely changed.” I explained. “Well, do you exercise?” she asked. “Not really” I told her. “Well, then, you can’t blame it on perimenopause. Or Covid.” Well, what can I blame it on? I thought to myself. Instead, I just nodded and agreed. Yes, doctor, I am a little on the fluffy side of life.

I have about 5 years of therapy under my belt and can identify my brain in spiral mode fairly quickly. By Monday, I had eliminated all carbs and was considering Atkins and Keto. By Tuesday, I had settled on a hybrid of South Beach and Keto. By Wednesday, the day I had to be out for yet another ‘let’s check under the hood a little closer’ type of appointment, I had a splitting headache and had officially diagnosed myself with the “Keto flu”. Friday came with the crazy rain and ice, I sat inside and spiraled a little more by Googling whether or not a teaspoon of sugar in my coffee would “kick me out of ketosis”. The real issue at hand, however, was not my diet. So, I would alternate my googling about diet foods with searches about my test results that had come back. By then, I convinced myself that I was both overweight and dying. Then I got into a tussle with Mom over any one of us being on the roads during an ice storm and I cracked a beer. You say weak, I say “human”. Potato, potato. It was then that I decided that the advice I had received about being healthy Monday through Friday (afternoon) and normal Friday night, Saturday, and Sunday was very sage indeed.

Stress is an inevitable aspect of being human on this planet. Although I believe in my ability to “do it all”, I have to remind myself that I am merely a cluster of quivering cells on a stick while living on a spinning blue dot in space. I am infinitely small compared to the universe and, therefore, the worries I host within those quivering cells are really quite trivial. I could wring my hands over the doctor’s notes about my weight or google those test results until the answer comes back grim. However, with the therapy I have had and continue (yesterday being my most recent session), I have learned that these are the spirals that have brought me down in the past. I want my mind to elevate me not crush my soul; I fight those damn spirals instead. For those of you worried about what tests I’m talking about, please don’t. Like I said, I spiral and I am very pleased by my ability to recognize and admit that out loud.

The crack of that beer on Friday night helped me pivot and extricate myself from that pesky spiral. Do I feel mostly good? Yes. Do I eat and drink in moderation? Yes. Do I exercise? Not a lot in the winter but by summer I’ll be ripping out shrubs and trees with my bare hands and I’m sure I’ll do a dozen or so hikes. It’s all about balance, you see. I will go to my medical appointments and let the experts tell me I’m fine, make the healthiest of choices Monday through Friday, and (on the weekends) allow the joy of being human in the time of croissants to seep deeply into my soul. Most importantly, I will not fall into the death spirals that have caught me before. As a matter of fact, I am finishing an IPA as I finish this piece. Why? Because it’s still the weekend and the writing was just not flowing until I heard that beer crack in conjunction with the smell of Nag Champa incense filling my nose. I am who I am and love every single one of my cells, even the fat and abnormal ones. With that, I will begin this new week with confidence and without shame. As a matter of fact, I just ordered a two-piece bathing suit from Athleta and plan on asking my doctor to change her notes to saying “Patient appears overweight but is still buying a fuschia two-piece because #yolo.” How about that for the record?