Trust the Process

Taking time for yourself can be difficult. There’s a long and challenging process that involves first recognizing you need the time, and then choosing to take it. Then comes the practical reality: Are you financially able to? Does your employer support it? Does your family support it? Even if the answer to all of those is "yes," the struggle is far from over.

I had my follow-up with the autoimmune specialist, and the labs brought some good news: the progesterone is helping bring my estradiol levels down; from 190 to 105. She’s now added pregnenolone and chaste tree berry to see if we can safely raise my progesterone and cortisol levels—and boost my energy—without spiking estradiol again. Her concern is still whether I’m experiencing adrenal fatigue or nearing adrenal failure. Meanwhile, I’m continuing work with my acupuncturist and prepping for an eight-week liver detox program. Despite the improvement in estradiol, still taking handfuls of supplements multiple times a day, slathering myself in detox balms, and living life at a sloth’s pace leaves me constantly wondering: Will I ever feel "normal" again?

Given that I write so much about menopause and autoimmune struggles, I usually assume my readers are women—though if you’re a man reading this, welcome! The sad reality is that women often have to fight harder to hold their space in this world, especially women without a college degree. I’ve worked extremely hard ever since I was legally old enough to do so and I finally felt like I was in an amazing place; working for a great company with a wonderful boss and a comfortable salary. Then tragedy struck our family, my health slowly went to shit, and I ultimately chose to resign so I could focus entirely on healing.

Self-worth: it’s an interesting and complex concept, isn't it? The identity crisis accompanying this physical crisis has been crushing. Beyond wondering if I’ll regain my health, I’m haunted by what comes next. What will a 52-year-old woman without a degree be hired to do? I couldn't go back to what was—I resigned precisely so my team could find a replacement and not be left in limbo. As much as I need to focus on my recovery, I worry. While I feel deeply fortunate that my husband can support us, that’s not the point. I have never wanted to be taken care of. I’m a fiercely independent, bullheaded Irish-Aries (as I’ve mentioned before), and pulling my own weight isn't optional to me. It's mandatory.

"Trust the process." I’ve lost count of how many times my husband has said this to me in our 31 years together, but it’s what I’m desperately trying to do right now. I’m trying to find solace in the small victories, like decreasing hormone levels and stiffness. I take comfort in knowing I have a dedicated care team working to help me heal, and I’m grateful for an amazingly supportive husband and kick-ass tribe walking by my side on this jagged path. And, despite my impatient desire for everything to be fixed now, I’m trying my damnedest to trust the process.

Can you relate to this? If so, maybe we can work on trusting it together.