I have always been the biggest believer of the statement.
People show you who they are.
You just need to believe them.
That actions speak louder than words.
How people behave, react, and treat others says so much more about them than when they
tell you with words who they are.
Who they believe themselves to be, rather than who they actually are.
What happens if I take this idea and use it to reflect on the ways that I show up for
myself in the world?
How do I show myself who I really am?
Mmm, what a dark web this proves to be.
So intricate.
There are many events that happen in my life that are not explosive in nature, but end
up feeling as though they are because of what it shows me about myself.
Things that happen that I look at and go, what?
This episode is a result of my experience in seeking help while on my travels in Wilcox,
Arizona, when I was feeling extremely unwell and suspected I might have pneumonia.
But this is not an isolated incident, and as I sit here to discuss this, I really take
note of that.
It's said that those in healthcare make the worst patients, for a number of reasons.
We don't want to add to the workload.
The system is burdened.
We don't want to show up for silly, nonsensical things.
Do you see what I did there?
I minimized my reality.
I gaslit myself, and I tried to diminish my experience for the convenience of others.
Ouch.
Tanner landed on Halloween, two days into what was likely the common cold.
A sore throat, stuffy sinuses, a cough.
That wasn't going to stop him from seeing me, and I didn't want him to cancel either,
as long as he felt well enough to drive to the airport and was allowed to board the plane.
I guess the world is really over the pandemic scare.
He boarded, and he got here safely.
I wouldn't let a silly thing like a cold stand between me and my person as we reconnected
physically, hugging, kissing, snuggling, making up for a lost time, so much closeness.
It was a much needed thing to indulge in.
Long distance is really difficult when human connection extends past simply communicating,
and has needs and requirements that translate into the physical realm.
November 3rd, I came to the realization that I had caught what he had.
The second I woke up, I was coughing, constantly clearing my throat.
I think you're sick too, babe, he had said, to which I responded.
I just haven't drank enough water, and it causes me to wake up with a dry throat.
We already know I'm stubborn.
The next day, we'd plan to hike, but I felt like garbage.
My sinuses were pressured.
I felt in my body the sentiment of, I don't want to, I just wanted to cuddle up.
We had to move the trailer, so we drove two hours and got settled into the next campsite.
I'm pretty sure it was the day we spent the afternoon napping.
I really needed it.
I had slept like crap the night before.
My throat was itchy, but it wasn't anything major.
We loaded up on cold meds that we shared between the two of us, and made the most of our time
together.
By the time he left, I had a slight cough, but I was feeling like things were looking
up.
I had an emotional hangover from him leaving, needing to move, wondering what the next little
while would look like for me, but I tried to stay positive and look forward to some
of the hikes that I had mapped out.
My first full day in Lake Havasu City on November 8th, I told myself we're going to chill.
I had a therapy session, I spent the day reflecting and working on projects.
I had a dry cough, but it wasn't worse, just that annoying tail end of things that seemed
to linger a little too long thereafter.
The next day, I headed out for the hike, same symptoms as the day before.
I was so excited to get out there.
It wasn't overly hot, but I decided since I was still fighting something, I would avoid
the trail that required the rappel.
I was disappointed.
I hoped to conquer something that scared me, but I told myself you can just come back if
you're truly dead set on it.
I just needed a lower key hiking day to just get out but not overdo it.
Jokes on me though, because I did not realize the elevation spike of the surrounding trails
as a result of bypassing the canyon, so it was a heart rate spiker for sure, but absolutely
stunning.
By the time I reached the lake, I realized I'm spent.
I felt really hot.
It was 20 degrees, but direct sun and hot desert.
I didn't think it was a good idea to sit around and sightsee, so I headed back.
It ended up being an 8 kilometer hike.
I had drank a lot of water, I snagged on some carbs, and figured I might like to go sit in
a restaurant journal, upload some podcasts, and take it easy over a nice meal.
By the time I reached the truck, blasting myself in the face with air conditioning, I said,
wow, I feel like shit.
I wasn't able to regulate my temperature, and I stayed feeling hot.
I had had a coughing fit that I couldn't get out of without reaching for my inhaler.
Shit.
It had started as a dry cough, a tickle, but I had a fit in the parking lot that I just
couldn't control.
People were starting to stare.
Normally, when I require my inhaler, my chin gets itchy, I can feel the wheezing building
up in my lungs.
It's a rare occurrence, and it doesn't start out how this did, but I felt better after
I took it.
I ended up grabbing a ton of medications from the grocery store, and went to self-soothe
in the AC in the trailer.
I was taking the next day off to recover for sure.
I shouldn't have hiked.
I overdid it when I wasn't feeling well enough yet.
I started using dayquil, nightquil, for the Tylenol, the cough, Vix was an added measure,
and I started my steroid inhaler that I brought just in case.
My throat and my lungs were burning, but I could still breathe.
It just felt like fire.
The next day was much of the same, except I entered two nights of little sleep, interrupted
with long stretches of uncontrollable coughing fits.
It was dry, but in the morning I was coughing up green phlegm, but in small amounts.
I just needed to clear, I thought.
I headed back through Arizona and landed in a random state park for the night, another
night of little sleep coughing, self-consciousness, being worried the entire campsites experience
was being inconvenienced by my uncontrollable symptoms.
At this point, though, whenever I took cough medicine, I seemed to feel worse.
I was so hot, so uncomfortable, I was flushed.
I'm not like this.
Normally I struggle to get warm.
The Tylenol didn't ease the feeling hot at all.
Shit.
I wondered if maybe I was reacting to the cough medicine.
I tested myself for COVID.
I was negative.
It just so happened that I had a long day of driving ahead of me, 9 and a half hours
to get to Amarillo, Texas.
When I woke up, I became scared.
I told myself, you'll be fine.
You have to get through this.
It's just a cold.
You need to cover a good amount of ground today.
Gathering my courage, I stood up to do dishes, and I fell back.
I was woozy and I felt weird.
I couldn't stop coughing.
I was so hot.
I couldn't focus.
Shit.
It would be impossible to focus on driving the trailer and all that was needed to get
through this.
Never mind uncoupling to get an oil change the following day.
If I don't feel better by tomorrow, I'll rent another night in Amarillo and I'll
go to the hospital.
This is what I told myself.
When I told my dad, he told me, stop being unreasonable.
If you have any thoughts of going to a hospital, you should be going now.
I was surrounded by small towns, knowing full well I'd be headed into the desert with only
gas stations for miles and miles before hitting any large city.
I decided to head to a gas station, telling myself I'll consider going to the ER if I
don't feel better by the time I reach the station.
I had gotten ready and hopped into my truck wearing my cheetah print bathrobe.
That's not like me at all.
But I ignored it.
As I said, I'm stubborn.
I looked down at my watch, heart rate 110.
I looked back at the last few days.
My average was well above 100 for baseline, unless I was sleeping.
I started getting really nervous.
This presentation is concerning if I would be thinking about anybody else.
A productive cough, a fever unmanaged by Tylenol or Advil, and a heart rate above 100, sick
for over 11 days.
Shit.
Thanks to luck and the kindness of strangers, I was able to make it work.
I found an RV park that had a spot available and the owner helped me back in so I could
go to the hospital.
After all was said and done, it was determined I did not have anything big going on.
But suspected of bacterial, low grade infection had set in.
I was given antibiotics, reassurance, and headed back to the trailer for two days of
rest before deciding to go any further.
At least I now had peace of mind that I was okay.
I was just really struggling through this.
But I had felt not okay.
I had felt really unwell, and had I been on the outside looking in, I would have pushed
for me to get seen a few days ago.
Instead I kept telling myself I was fine.
When I called the insurance company to start a claim and asked the RV resort owner for
a last minute spot to get help at the hospital, each of them independently told me, wow, you
don't sound good at all.
It hit me all at once how ridiculous this is.
I'm on a quest to show myself love, compassion, to build myself worth, and yet I'm not treating
myself in any of these ways.
I was neglecting myself.
I would think, well, it could be worse, at least I'm not XYZ.
Why is it that I need to do this to myself when I encourage others to get the help they
need when they need it?
What is wrong with me?
I am just as worthy as anyone else who is allowed to need help, to have bad days, to
require support.
I just haven't been treating myself that way.
The reality is, even if I wasn't dying, needing oxygen, or any variety of worse, I was not
well.
For myself, I was not a baseline.
I was unwell and not functional.
This should have been enough to know that I needed to stop and pay attention.
But I just kept saying to myself, you're fine.
That wasn't fine at all.
Why shouldn't I also deserve peace of mind?
Why should I wait until I'm septic before I decide to seek help?
Another very obvious example of this was when I was trapped in the elevator of the condo
I was staying at.
When I was halfway to my floor, the power shut off to the building and I was stuck.
The emergency backup system was not hooked up, didn't come on, and I couldn't get out.
I had requested help through the emergency phone button in the elevator and was told
it would be well over an hour before someone could drive from another town and let me out.
I sat down, ready to wait.
I mentioned it to my co-worker who also lived in the apartment at the time.
She lost it.
She called the fire department, who got me out in 20 minutes.
Can you believe that I felt bad that they would have to come and get me out of an elevator?
There was a dozen people, fire trucks surrounding the building, and I felt embarrassed and ashamed.
I had been willing to wait for someone to come let me out so that I didn't inconvenience
anyone.
I was stuck in an elevator.
Meanwhile, if anyone else had been stuck, I would have been calling for help to get them
out sooner too.
This is a really strange place to be with regards to recognition.
I still don't know what it is that makes me feel so small, as though I'm not worthy,
as though I'm an inconvenience.
And these are both very valid situations and absolutely call for help from others, and I
am absolutely worthy of getting help for.
In some ways, I'd probably be suffering a lot longer, or perhaps I'd even still be
stuck in that damn elevator had I not learned to objectively assess the situations and experiences
that I lived through.
I have to say, I wonder if this isn't related to my fear of judgment from others, which
would actually translate into my own judgments of myself.
It's likely that people aren't sitting there thinking what I'm thinking, things like,
what if people think I'm someone who run to the ER for something small and unreasonable?
What if I'm fine and I'm just being a big baby who can't cope?
I think a lot of this is wrapped into the judgments that are passed around like a hot
potato while working in an environment such as the emergency room, where we are hungry
for adrenaline inducing cases and traumas, where anything less than that causes comments
and judgments to escape out of the mouths of those around us.
Are they seriously coming to the ER for this?
I recognize that my history of working in the field really affects my decisions in this
way, even though I know enough about medical conditions that I should be able to determine
when I need help for my valid symptoms, where I know I have at times judged others, but
in the end can reason that health care is a service that every single person deserves
and variables come into play all the time that explain the reason why a seemingly stable
patient is seeking care when they could or possibly should go elsewhere.
This doesn't explain the elevator situation, but I'm starting to realize that the fear
I have deep inside of judgment is a lot more expansive than I had thought it to be.
Here's what I want to learn to believe for myself.
You are worthy of love, care, and support, no matter how severe or simple the experience
you're living appears to others or even to yourself.
You need to start listening to yourself and trusting yourself.
Remember we talked about this?
I know we still need to keep doing it, to solidify, but you need to trust and listen to what your
body is telling you.
It knows a lot more than you give it credit for, and sometimes even when you don't understand
how it knows so much, you just need to have trust in it.
It's trying to keep you safe, to make sure you're going in the right direction, and
doing so in a healthy and safe way.
Even if other people go through worse, it doesn't change that your experience impacts
you in a way that is worthy of attention.
Downplaying your situation and your needs is not heroic.
It doesn't help in self-preservation.
It's a habit that goes against all you've worked so hard and continue to work so hard
towards.
It's a boundary you need to set with yourself.
You come first.
If you're uncomfortable, you're uncomfortable.
If you're sick, you're sick.
It doesn't matter how sick or not sick you are.
You are not your best self in those moments, and you need to consider this as your only
perspective going forward.
If you find yourself struggling to keep this in mind, remember, you are your best friend.
You are your number one advocate, your number one supporter.
Step outside of yourself and imagine you are standing beside a friend.
What is it that you say to them?
What would you be thinking?
We both know that it would not be these judgments and diminishing of experiences that would
be spilling out of your mouth and into their ears.
One step at a time, acknowledging these things, is taking steps in the right direction to undo
all the patterns you've come to recognize as being unhelpful and unhealthy.
You matter.
I love you.