It is no secret I have fought hard not to let PCOS define me. It is no secret I suffered a SCAD heart attack while thin, causing me to be sent home during a said heart attack because “I didn’t look like someone having a heart attack.”
Fast forward to today. I get the gift of COVID while attending an outdoor music festival. This festival celebrated that I survived 17 units of college while working and being a mom to two kids, well, three by the end of the semester. I attended the festival to start my week off before summer school, and then a facial would end my week. No, instead, I’m writing this post and changing things.
I have done pretty well with my friend COVID. I have not had a fever since Friday am, and other than being tired, I was good. I received the call yesterday that my doctors want me on a prescription called Paxlovid. They said I am considered high risk. I have Fibromuscular Dysplasia and have a dissection in my neck right now. I figure, though, they assume I’m an untreated diabetic because I take metformin and Victoza. So this little visit from COVID now woke my body dysmorphia.
I wish I had the calm in me like those who accept their bodies for how they are. It would be awesome to feel good about my body like Lizzo. I am not anywhere near feeling good about my body. The previous judgment for either being thin or obese has shown me the judgment one can receive based on their body size or physicians not reading an individual’s medical history.
I write this because I don’t want to go to a dark place. I write this because I know I am not the only one who has felt judged by the medical field. I write this because I do not like my body today. I write this because these feelings are not facts. I will keep writing on my journey: the good and the bad. My hope is one day, I can be happy in my skin and not worry about judgment. It looks like it took a COVID medication to get me writing. So be it.
Did you know life and life’s ups and downs don’t stop because of a pandemic? True story. Yesterday and today I feel really sad. Letting go of what I thought would happen one day is hard. I cry when I think about it. Between that another situation I’ve said I’d let go I don’t know if my relationship will last for the long run. That’s being honest. Do I want to feel this when that person is someone I’m isolated with? No. The first letting go over time I can do but the second I’m not so sure. Time will tell and this sadness will pass. This is a total growth moment and ya know what? At least I’m forced to feel and work through it because I can’t run from my feelings by over doing it right now.
Yesterday I also took my final walk of the week with the boy. We took a walk each day he was with me. So nice to get out with no one else walking around and spend some time getting a bit of exercise in and the boy being able to scooter. Win/Win for us both. See some good too.
I notice lately I’ve been down more than up with my posts but come on, this isn’t a feel good time in history and this isn’t just hitting the United States. This is a worldwide pandemic and it’s sad. Just so sad. It will get better. That’s the silver lining.
My schedule for the week is ready, I’m focused on bettering me and it’s my alone week. I wonder the good that can happen. Let’s see. Until tomorrow.
She was smart, she was a CPA, she had beautiful eyes, she was a dog mother, people trusted her advice for their finances, she baked, she created food dishes, she was a sister, a friend, a wife, a step mother, a client. She used to be a runner, like marathon type. She played the piano since age three and had a beautiful singing voice, I’m told. She was a mentor, she ran a business for more than 20 years and to her dying day would receive referrals. She was a good person who deserved so much good.
She couldn’t stop drinking. She thought she could beat alcoholism. They told her she would die if she drank again. Her liver was compromised. She switched the type of alcohol she drank. She lied. She said she was sober when she wasn’t. She swore she wouldn’t drink again. False chips and never made it to a year. Received a real 30 day chip. She was drunk on my birthday.
She died. Alcohol didn’t care how much she meant to people. Alcohol didn’t care how smart she was or talented. Alcohol wanted her dead and alcohol won.