A Bag of Onions
Not even two weeks ago I was writing here on my very own /now page about how excited I was to be going back to school. This Monday, my doctor (Clinical Psychologist, to be precise) suggested I medically withdraw from school once again. At first the news was shocking and disheartening. After careful consideration with my own intuition as well as some trusted pals, I began to see it for what it was: inevitable, and a blessing.
School had been hard already, in not just in the ways it typically is. Beginning to heal is messy. Attempting to socially perform at the level I was used to/is required in academia was exhausting, and I haven't even started therapy.
(In the past I would have continued to let myself believe that simply being in therapy was going to help enough it would all balance out, but time is a finite resource.)
Part of why he suggested withdrawing in the first place--on top of me struggling to be honest with myself about the extra toll it was taking--is that instead he thinks I should begin pursuing social security. I'm still not 100% sure what that means, but I do know who to ask for help, so I've started there.
Honestly I know very little about how social security or disability work in general, because I hadn't even considered it as an option. Over the course of this week I spent some time mulling over why that may be the case.
My age plays a factor; at not yet 30, that just isn't really on my radar. I think a deeper root cause of the issue could be a struggle to ask for help, or to even admit to myself when help is needed.
Things have been hard because of my epilepsy and FND for much longer than I've had my diagnosis. Even that took longer for me to get than is ideal. Sometimes I'm completely oblivious to my own struggling until it's too late; other times I'm well aware that things are getting extra hard, and I'm to ashamed to admit it to anyone who could help me. I'm glad to be beginning to realize this, even if that doesn't fix it right away.
My system ran off of guilt, internal pressure and adrenaline for a long time. . . right up until it started giving out. Shame is still the language I find myself speaking internally. When I decided to write this piece, all the titles I came up with were self-deprecating at best.
I want to focus on the positives of finally putting my health first, though.
Even if it took someone with a PhD to convince me to do so. We all need the help we need, and I'm glad I took the steps to get myself in front of somebody who could compassionately tell me with all of their expertise to pump the breaks.
Before my doctor even mentioned that continuing to take some time off from school may be the best plan for me, I was blabbing to him about how stressed it was beginning to make me. I knew the path I was going down had serious health consequences, but I was so used to simply plowing through I couldn't quite get there on my own.
As we spoke, he asked me to list some positives I had in my life helping me through this difficult time. I mentioned my husband, a new support group that was starting soon, and other friends and mentors. He gave me a moment, and mentioned that all those things are great but I hadn't listed myself at all.
He went on to affirm some positive qualities he saw as strong attributes in this uphill battle while I cried like a baby.
What a shame, to not make your own list. What a gift to be given the time and energy to remedy that.
Right before class was starting I was at the grocery store and asked myself absentmindedly if I was "there yet" in terms of buying a bag of onions. As my health started declining even things like cooking I used to enjoy that also helped my body regulate felt out of reach. At first I noticed a few onions would have green tops before I could finish the bag. Some amount of time later, onions were beginning to make their own soup before I'd gotten to half. No more bags of onions, message received.
For awhile, I stopped cooking entirely. More recently I'd been buying a handful of produce at a time, cooking when the inspiration struck and doing what I could think of with the leftovers. No elaborate recipes, just a few ingredients that sounded good and a general sense of how spices work.
It gave me a huge sense of accomplishment. Every once in awhile a meal was so good I felt like Link in Breath of the Wild when he makes an extra tasty dish.
At the time, I had decided no on the bag of onions. An honest choice; I did my best to continue cooking while back in school, but there were more than one instance where I felt like Link after making Dubious Food. Soul crushing. And expensive, when money is already tight, which starts the shame loop.
Food isn't the only thing that will be able to get my full attention that wouldn't have otherwise if I had stayed in school. Plus, learning happens wherever curiosity leads. Teaching is a constant learning experience. I'm also proud to say that art feels like a natural extension of self to me now, and it's hard to imagine what could keep me from creating it in some form at all times. . . especially now having a digital space I actually feel a sense of ownership over.
The process of withdrawing from school is already mostly over, and I've begun setting up appointments for Everything Else. My only other priorities in the immediate future are to
- give myself permission to slow down, and
- see the value in what I'm already creating (like blog posts!)
There's an obvious temptation to fill all this newfound time back up right away. And there are worthy things to fill it with, like finding community outside of school. Hence permission to slow down. It makes me genuinely uncomfortable! But it's an important part of how the healing happens.
The day I went to school and began the withdrawal process, I bought a bag of onions. This week has been hard, but the onions are almost gone and my belly has at least been full.
I guess what I'm saying is when life hands you onions, let yourself cry while you make yourself something hearty and remember how good that can feel.