Several months ago, I sat in a chair in a hallway outside my doctor's office, texting messages to several friends who were waiting to hear what all the previous months' tests, xrays, MRIs and bloodwork had shown.
Grateful that the diagnosis wasn't worse, I still felt overwhelmed by what the numbers indicated. Auto-immune ranges were way off. The rheumatoid factor was highly elevated. Indications of osteopenia in my hips "prominent for patient's age" and low, way too low, absorption of critical vitamins in my system.
I typed the words into the phone over and over again, "It appears I have rheumatoid arthritis." After years of debilitating pain, there was now a label for it. The label felt very confusing. But there was also a plan. That felt very good.
I love my general practitioner. She is a relatively young, beautiful, energetic, and crazy-smart physician. She laid out a course of treatment meticulously and firmly for me. It would include a one-month regimen of steroids. And from the very start, the goal was to taper it back to nothing within that month. The inflammation was out of control in my body and I could hardly walk. I wasn't sleeping much at all. I was (and still am) overweight, which just added to the symptoms of pain and general malaise. The steroids would help quickly combat the inflammation and get my body to a better starting point.
After that? My doctor urged me to fight these ailments nutritionally. She gave me a book. She encouraged exercise. I purchased isotopic vitamins (no junk added... just 100% absorption of what my body was critically lacking). And I was instructed to eliminate sugar from my diet.
That night, at home, I poured over the most comprehensive literature I've ever read about nutrition. Whole foods, grass-fed beef, cage-free chicken, Non-GMO, gluten, pesticides, the good stuff and the bad stuff all kind of piling together in one big heap of must's and mustn'ts. I took notes. I cried. I took more notes. I walked away from it. My husband cautioned me not to go overboard all at once. I think I yelled a little at him.
Over the next few days, I dog-eared pages of books. I gathered cookbooks from friends. I pinned. I read blogs and websites and attempted to make grocery lists.
I visited a health food store for the first time and walked around like I was a tourist in a foreign country. I haphazardly placed items in my basket that I recognized by name ("ooh, flaxseed, almond butter, almond flour"... in they went). I spent a crazy amount of money on a paltry pile of strange-to-me foods. My 8 year old son, who was with me, asked where the pop tart aisle was. I felt the burning glare of judgement from the health-savvy patrons around us as I attempted to laugh off his question too loudly and too awkwardly to convince anyone that he wasn't kidding.
Feeling overwhelmed and out of place at the healthy grocery store, I went back to the grocer that I know and love. But it was now strange and foreign, too. For years, I'd watched my weight by reading nutritional facts. Fat grams, fiber content, calories. Yet none of that seemed to matter anymore. Now, I wandered the aisles, pulling down packages and scanning the ingredient lists for the very first time. It took me 2 hours to shop, as item after familiar item had to be placed back on the shelves when I discovered it was full of sugar, high-fructose corn syrup, or a variety of preservatives.
I cried a lot over the next few weeks. I think I was actually grieving the loss of beloved fast-food runs, quick convenient lunches, and potato chips. Oh my word... the potato chips. But I tried very, very hard to comply.
For about a month, I ate well. Fresh vegetables and a small amount of fruits paired with lean meats that had been raised ethically and absent of antibiotics, hormones, etc made up my meals. I slept better, I felt better, I began to notice the pain virtually disappear. I also gave up drinking diet sodas during this time. While I continued to drink my morning coffee (black), the only other fluid I consumed was water.
After one month of clean-ish eating, Christmas arrived, along with the casseroles, sweets, and side dishes (mainly potato side dishes) that I adore. Not wanting to deprive myself of a happy holiday or make my hosts at various Christmas meals feel uncomfortable, I partook of the feasts with abandon.
For 2 weeks, it didn't seem to matter, so I continued to slide back into my comfortable old habits. But around 15 days into my "backslide", the pain came roaring back. Ferociously. I remember waking one morning, incredulous. "This is how bad that old pain was!?!?" "I can't believe I used to feel this way every day!"
But old habits die hard. And my old habits were going to take one last fighting stand. Although I was well-read by this point and had bookmarked and frequented many websites to continue to learn, I was being stubborn. Life in 2013 had been incredibly hard for our family. We lost my dad to a terrible rare disease in August of 2013. My son was having some major struggles that consumed both his and my constant thoughts and prayers. And the RA diagnose? Well, I just filed that under the column "Crappy Things That Happened To Me In 2013".
All the while, though, my prayers, encouragements from friends, and God's own leading through my daily Bible reading kept leading me back to Isaiah 43:18-19 (see above). I believe God is doing a new thing, because I believe His Word is true. I believe that in a macro-sense (God IS doing a new thing in this world until the day Christ Jesus returns). And I believe it in a micro-sense (God is doing a new thing in me because He is constantly transforming me to look more and more like Jesus).
And somehow, that new thing He's doing in my life? It needs to be reflected in how I treat this body. This vessel He has given me.
I want to be very respectful of my young son's privacy, but I will add that I am also convinced that many of the things he's dealing with may be related to a lack of nutrition in his body. My great motivation to begin a new thing nutritionally circles around more than my own needs. I am pulling that sweet child, his adorable little sister, and my already-amazingly healthy and inspiring husband tightly into God's promise alongside me.
I'm in a wilderness where the right choices are unfamiliar and the best foods are elusive. I'm trusting that God will make a way in this wilderness.
Where I once enjoyed a healthy lifestyle in my teens and early 20's, I look around me now at a wasteland of bad choices, saddening diagnoses, and a scale that buckles under the weight of it all. I'm trusting that God will provide streams of refreshment and healing in the wasteland.
I'm starting this blog to document what it looks like for a junk-food junkie to start from the beginning. I'm no expert but I'll be relying heavily on those who are. I'll chronicle the victories, the setbacks and the resources that I'm finding to help me find my way. And I hope this platform will hold me accountable.
Welcome to "A New-tritional Thing".
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