I’ve realized something big:
Hypothalamic Amenorrhea is something I can’t turn my back on anymore, and if I ever before needed an incentive to “get better”, well it’s time I focused on getting my period back. Along with this comes all the other things; weight, happiness because #grounded #present, running freely, swimming, biking, bar dates, less fear.
The source of focus is to minimize stress.
It’s taken me a long ass time to come to this realization, approx 7 years (same amount of time I’ve been period-less). It’s taken me that long to realize that not having a period is NOT normal, and not only my bone health depends on getting better.
I’ve realized that my symptoms are all uni-sourced: stress.
- IBS (basically a blanket term for stress, expressed by the vocally wise and intolerable gut)
- feeling ungrounded
- no period
- inability to sleep in past 5:30AM
- low energy
- nails falling off
- stress fracture
- muscle soreness
- low stamina
I’ve felt like I’d be entitled if I focused on de-stressing. My stress is self-inflicted, albeit, but I don’t care anymore. I don’t need to hurt myself anymore in order to “deserve” to focus on minimizing my stress. My cortisol levels are high as fuck, my set-point of functioning has become malignantly reliant on such a high level of hormone exertion that my anxiety runs at a constant fight or flight level. I’m running myself into the ground and I’m 26 years old. I don’t deserve this, and I am accepting my own hand in my recovery focus. I’m blessed as hell that I’ve got a good home to support me. This isn’t a joke, this idea that I’m needing to “deserve” not to slowly kill myself as I’m doing.
So fuck that shit, I’m focusing on my recovery: minimizing my stress levels.
Because I deserve to be alive, and to one day have children, and feel free, have boobs, rest.
P.S. As I’ve “turned on” this decision, feelings are coming back. Literally unblocking the wall – like, yesterday, I ate #allthepate at dinner (a portion I’d expected to last like, a week….which isn’t that much, coming from a restrictive standpoint…). My body’s talking, and I can finally hear myself. The difference is that now I’m willing to accept my own love.