Last week was a terrible week.
I was tired. I was moody. I didn’t want to be a mother. I wanted my kids to go far, far away. My husband could stay, but only if he was taking care of my every single need every minute of the day. While smiling. And looking hot. (Oh, sorry, I was channeling Mrs. G there for a minute!)
But, you know what I mean. I wanted a break!
I needed a break.
I was having bedspins, and was dizzy when I woke up or moved quickly.
I was a blobbery mess and could tell that my adrenals had gone into the toilet.
Have you ever had fried adrenals?
Your adrenal system regulates stress and sleep. When it’s fried, your sleep is all off (wide awake at night, light sleep, wake up not feeling rested) and your response to stress is all off (super edgy and impatient).
It’s like my engine is running all wonky.
A request for another piece of toast is enough to send me into a tirade.
Origami paper strewn about the house is so overwhelming I have to leave the room.
Or in the early evening, I am sitting at my computer having some “down” time, and I feel despair so keen I begin to cry. Then a bit later, I am hyper and silly, dancing and chanting around Rom. The kids laugh, but I can see that Rom knows something is off.
And it is. I feel like I am falling down inside. Over and over.
Here’s a story…
We got married on Lummi Island at my parents’ house. The day before the wedding we had planned a great big BBQ. Rom and I drove to the other side of the island to buy shrimp from Lon.
Lon was about our age, red-faced with white-blond hair. A fisherman who took us out back to a great big barn-type thing full of tanks full of shrimp. His teenage son hopped up, balanced on the edge of one tank, and used a net to scoop out shrimp for us from an upper tank.
The barn-type building was new and not quite finished. Lon was telling us about his plans when the wet metal pole of his son’s net made contact with a open wire hanging down from the ceiling.
We all jolted to attention. His son steadied himself, still standing on the edge with his net held high.
“Dude!” he turned to his dad, his eyes full of amazement and laughter. “I’m all wobbly!”
We said that line for years. Dude! I’m all wobbly.
That’s how I feel inside when my adrenals are fried, minus the amazement and laughing. It’s as if my every interaction were an electrical shock, one that leaves my insides falling down, and my outer body reaching for balance; I’m stunned into momentary nonfunction, and totally disoriented.
So I went my doctor. I learned that the dizziness is from a recurring inner ear infection. The dizziness isn’t that bad, but the overall fatigue as my body fights the infection is. The doctor gave me a homeopathic remedy, and the dizziness went away.
My adrenals are another story. The supplement I’ve been taking helps [the adrenals have been an issue since before Mica was born], but I’m not better enough to withstand even the smallest stressors, such as, too little sleep + ear infection + writing + two kids.
Anyone have a room of my own I can move into for a few days?
[Sigh. I didn’t think so…]
So I do the next best thing… I hunker down. I go to bed at nine pm and don’t get back up until morning. I stop eating sugar. I ask Rom for all the time off I can. I take out anything that is not necessary to the smooth functioning of our family and home.
And then I wait until I feel more at ease; and soon, though I may not be laughing, I can at least handle auditory and visual input without overwhelm.
Then I wait some more, until I regain that ever-important inch of remove, the space in which humor and wonderment and flexibility reside.
And then, though I may still be teetering on the slippery, narrow edge just inches away from a new shock to the half-built home I find myself in, I am able to see this balancing act for exactly what it is: A Balancing Act.
I can balance with ease sometimes. I cannot balance with ease other times.