Everybody doesn’t have a champion in their lives. And everybody doesn’t have a cheerleader. And should we be blessed enough to have one of the two, sometimes, we’ll still have to look inside ourselves to get the ultimate cheerleading and champion song that we really need and desire.
The last half of this year, for me has been flawlessly inspiring. I have a vision for what my purpose in life is. And I have run with it. It’s like a little fairy buzzing around my head at all times, and I’m grateful for it and thankful for everything that happened to frame it in my mind.
So I’ve been meaning to blog over the last month or so and haven’t been able to. However, my last 8 weeks of action have provided me the perfect content to sew into my own personal mission to write and love myself through every single run in the jungle with life.
We’ll start with the rash.
Y’all. Listen. I’ve been to About four doctors over the last 6 weeks or so trying to see why my skin launched an itch attack over my whole entire body with hives. And I don’t mean a little rash. I am talking about a rash that made me look like a butterscotch brown crunch bar. (you ever want to see your husband panic, step out of the shower with a neck down body rash. It’s beautiful)
So yes, I have experienced a bit of medical arrogance as each doctor I went to told me they were sure I had a totally different condition than the previous doctor I’d seen. After testing, skin samples, etc I was finally given a diagnosis of chronic hives and treated for it and I am a lot better today. The first doctor told me I just had a contact dermatitis from some source of my own doing/eating/or touching. They gave me a tube of cream to slap on my body, I put it on from head to toe, And the same night I woke up with a reaction of whelps all over my body…I Went back the next day and was sent to an allergy doctor who looked at me and said, “well this might be scabies” (husband looks at me with the worried face). The doctor continues to tell me and my husband not to sleep in the same room for the next 10 days in case I really have it. (I didn’t have it, but all I heard was scabies, and I went a little off the deep end). I ended up throwing away about four bags of clothes, some towels, kitchen mats, some bath rugs… all because I was afraid skin mites were attacking my soul. I went back to the doctor A day after this as well because my skin was continuing to get worse. I was referred to another skin Doctor Who told me that I didn’t actually have scabies, but that I had a mean case of hives from an allergic reaction to something. This is when I started to get actual treatment for allergic reaction hives/chronic hives and having follow ups to make sure it got better.
During all of this, I was overwhelmed with the uncertainty of what was happening to my skin. I was anxious. I couldn’t really sleep at night because the itching was so intense at night. I stopped talking about it after a few weeks when I’d get phone calls or text because I wanted it to stop taking up my mind-space. I could not concentrate at all. At all.
I realized that I had all of these champions and cheerleaders(husband, mom, sister and friends) worried about me, encouraging me and checking on me through this, but it wasn’t very impactful because I wasn’t cheering on myself. I was pitying myself, and I was mad about it. My mood was “why me”
Why me is ok sometimes. But should my hives attack again, I won’t bathe in the “why me”
During this experience, the buzzing fairy of purpose I discussed in the beginning of this blog couldn’t really be heard. I didn’t want to do anything but get better, and getting my skin back was more important than what I was in that moment. So I let myself go in a way. I abandoned self-love talk and affirmations for a little while because my skin was in the way of all those positive things I love to write and say.
I started to let my mind roll over all of the people who were terminally ill, people who were living missing limbs, people with life altering diseases…and I was grateful during the awareness of this thought that I was still breathing okay and walking around.
I bring up the rash because this was the unexpected life experience that happened, got hard, and kind of scary without my permission. Everyone’s unexpected rash, circumstance, distress, or experience might be different. But, the bottom line is the same.
We part ways with loving ourselves well when we can’t control our narrative, our bodies, or other people. We have painted ourselves neatly in a frame, and when something is edited inside our canvas we consider leaving the frame altogether. We get so overwhelmed in life’s hard shifts that we don’t stay around to paint flowers, to fill in spaces or to add something better to our edits. We believe that unplanned circumstances somehow make us less worthy of the love we could freely and happily give ourselves if we were in the shape we imagined or the situation we wanted.
But self love isn’t like that. It’s action on our own behalf, especially when it gets rough. So I’ll end this by saying let us never abandon ourselves more easily than other people are cheering and championing for us. May we remember that our thoughts are listening and our bodies are feeling every ounce of love we give or take from it. There is a river of love inside of us all that is specifically for our own selves and we shouldn’t leave an ounce of it unused in our only life.