It Is What It Is

So I usually write about some existential shit where I make it all about us as humans, but this one’s at least starting with all about me. If you happen to know me personally and find me a colossal bore, move along or skip to the part where I’m probably gonna get philosophical and weird and include everybody.

I’ve been sick.

Not in a “cough and cold” kinda way. No. In a way that makes a person pause and be sure her paperwork’s in order and she’s wearing nice underwear at all times because it may be on display to some hot ambulance guy kinda way.

It started a couple months ago I suppose, but sometimes stuff happens in a way where the steps down are so incrementally tiny that I just didn’t notice right away. I also happened to be in the eye of a hellstorm stress tornado and we like to blame the stress for all of our issues, right? Especially us Americans. We really enjoy the whole notion of pulling ourselves up by our bootstraps and sucking it up and going the distance, and our absolute favorite is forcing ourselves to do shit we don’t feel physically well enough to do because being sick is for wussies.

I started losing weight and feeling exhausted.

Like, exhausted all the time. Like, when I was completely comfortable and cozy in my Vibrant Health persona. Vibrant Health was my thing. Vibrant Health was a big part of what defined me. Vibrant Health and me were buds.

I didn’t even notice the weight loss at first. That hellstorm stress tornado had distracted me until it got to the point where I’d put on a pair of jeans, button them up, and they’d fall right back down my legs. My bras stopped being useful as bras and I was just putting them on as a nod to the boobs I once had.

So being a member of the Bootstraps Pulling Club, I did what anyone would do. I bought smaller jeans and smaller bras and blamed the tornado.

I only took that shiz seriously when I started passing out. Like, regularly. Like, without warning.

I took myself to the neighborhood Immediate Care because as an American, I can count on seeing my primary care doctor once or twice a year and only if I make my appointment 4 months in advance and my American insurance says “yeah, she’s sufficiently in need enough to warrant getting what she’s spent years paying into us covering”.

When they put me on the scale to weigh me I burst into tears. It was bad. It was mortifying I didn’t notice my own self at this level of unhealthy weight loss. They checked me out as much as an Immediate Care can and suggested I eat an entire spiral ham and chase it with several gallons of mashed potatoes.

I was in the emergency room less than 24 hours later.

They did all the emergency room things and admitted me right away and hooked me up to IVs and EKGs and kept me for a few days because I was so gross and pitiful. And started trying to figure out what the hell was going on.

And now I’m on that journey. The WTF Is Up Journey.

For the most part, I’m still good in the eyes of western medicine. My blood looks pretty good, the way I live my life is applauded, the way I’m taking this shit seriously and not letting one single solitary person dismiss this is being respected. But they’ve found enough to where I’ve heard various speculations like malabsorption maybe and auto-immune diseases maybe. I can see this will be a marathon instead of a 100-yard-dash to the finish line. But as of yet no Big and Scaries have been unveiled and I’m still here.

If you’re in the Jenn Is A Colossal Bore Camp and you’ve chosen to skip to the part where I get jiggy with philosophy, start here.

When we go through a crisis, we truly realize who we can count on to be there for us, right? It’s crazy who we can. And it’s crazy who disappears.

For me, I was able to “just in case, no judgements, no questions asked” give my absolute rock of a closest girlfriend my weirdo hippie-dippy final wishes without her batting a beautiful eyelash and she is decidedly not hippie-dippy whatsoever. My family takes me to my appointments and hangs out with me in the hospital. They and my core group of female friends check in on me daily. How are you? How do you feel today? What have you eaten? What do you need? Flowers and well-wishes and concern and love. It doesn’t seem like a huge deal when we’re giving all that, but to be on the receiving end of it? It’s everything. It’s freaking everything. Being looked after by our spouses. Having our kids be extra-careful to not be too teenager-y.

Lifting the heavy load for each other when we need it is gosh-dang-freaking everything. And for females, having other females in the forms of moms and sisters and cousins and girlfriends who literally form a circle of protection and love around us? Shit. It means everything. I wish and hope that men do that for each other but I suspect it may just be a sisterhood thing.

It’s fucking everything.

When we see another human who is down and out and scared, we have a choice. We stay or we flee. We storm the castle together or we individually decide to turn tail and run. Either choice has a reason. Either choice has meaning behind the choice.

Reaching out or snatching our hand away. Choosing to swallow our own needs in order to cater to the needs of another human…in need. We do that or we might say “oh crap, this is too real and I’ve got my own shit going on and it’s Too Much For Me”.

Why?

For me in this particular situation, I have both and at first I struggled to understand the latter. But a lot of rest and reflection and a whole bunch of meditation later? I think I get it a little more.

I think both are an expression of love in the eye of the giver. People who choose to stay and tough it out? Well, it’s obvious they’re in for the long haul and it’s definable and feelable and they have the intrinsic need to express it in that real, human way. And the ones who flee? That’s definable and feelable and they also want to express it in that real, human way. It may seem crazy, but in my case, I know the people who are suddenly not around still love me. I think they feel they’re respecting my time and my privacy and my need to rest.

Humans, ALL humans, just want to be understood. Even if it’s in a way that’s at first not understandable to the human on the receiving end. So much unnecessary pain comes from us not seeing things from anywhere but from where we’re standing. From one human misunderstanding the intentions of another.

I know my people. I know they love me. It’s not up to me how that looks. It’s not up to me how they choose to express it. It’s not up to me to decide they SHOULD make time or they SHOULD be this or that. It’s up to me to meet my people who I love where they are no matter what.

We can take these personal moments of crisis, which every human goes through, and make our decisions. I know I’m a fighter and I’ll fight this big-or-small thing that’s going on in my life with my army of love. I’ve got the ones who stay and take each step with me. I’ve got the ones who check in from time to time or who ask me to just let them know if I need anything. I’ve got the ones who flee for the hills and will maybe probably come back when the coast is clear.

We’ve gotta feel the love from all of them no matter which choice they make because all of those choices are rooted in love. It’s not up to us how other humans show their love. We can for sure have our preferences and our opinions on how we like to receive love. But we’ve also got to meet people where they are. Most decisions people make are made either out of love or fear, but even that fear can be steeped in love. Fear of what will happen to the person in need. Fear of their own response to the crisis. Fear of not being enough, giving enough…so the choice is to retreat. We’ve gotta feel the love from all of it because we’ve gotta meet each other where we are no matter what that looks like.

Is it delusional to have this point of view? Maybe. But from where I’m standing and with what is currently going on with me right now and to be in alignment with who I truly am, it’s what I choose to believe. Why not? People are part of our inner circle for a reason. And we can’t decide how other people react to any situation. We can only meet them where they are.

I choose love. I choose to see love however my people express it.

And I choose to fight like hell until I’m back to good again.