I am ridiculously excited to say, "I am iron deficient!" I suppose I should back up.
I have been having a handful of funny symptoms for a while...some of them for a long-enough-to-get-"the"-look-from-my-doctor while. It got to the point where I decided, much like trying to avoid weighing in when I know I've made poor choices, not knowing what was going on in my body didn't change the fact that something was going on & I had to go get checked out.
I won't go into what the symptoms are, but I will say that some of the potential diagnoses had me a bit rattled for the last week--not because they were life threatening, but because they were self-worth threatening. Of my doctor's two primary theories, the first seemed implausible because I hadn't exhibited the primary over-arching symptom. While a little scary sounding, I just wasn't that concerned. Her second theory was a thyroid issue.
Many people struggle with thyroid problems & many of those are able to get treatment & be quite happy. Here was what had me shaken: What if I have a thyroid issue that would have caused me to lose weight? What if I lost my weight as a symptom of a medical condition rather than a symptom of hard work?
I was pretty inconsolable for a couple of teary nights. At first I was just beside myself at the possible explanation, but then I was upset for being upset. Had I really pegged so much of my self-worth on being thinner? Had I pinned all of my feelings of purpose on shedding pounds?
Not exactly. As I picked through my feelings & wiped up my tears I realized that it's not specifically about the weight as a physical thing, it's about the weight as an accomplishment. For years I was a can't-do kind of girl, a quitter. Tackling my food demons & reigning in my weight marked the beginning of an all-new can-do me. The success rippled into other areas of my life until I was trying cooking & gardening & re-purposing & exercising & running & racing & dancing &...
The cornerstone of New Sara is that I acknowledged that I have a problem after which I made & consistently executed a plan to fix it. What if the execution wasn't me at all? What if it was a wonky thyroid?
I'll never know how I would have actually responded, but I had gotten myself to a relaxed head space that was more ready to accept that there may have been a piece of the puzzle that was out of my hands but that doesn't change the other 99 pieces that I worked hard for. My thyroid didn't make me fill my fridge with produce.
Instead I have to take iron supplements--plain old, ordinary iron supplements! I also have to lay off the blood donation, so someone out there--yup, I'm talking to you--needs to start donating to pick up the slack for me for a little while. It only takes an hour & you know you've felt like you should, so do it already! Some kid in a car accident this weekend will thank you.
|Though admittedly awful, my best Popeye face.|