The Talking Trellis

Internet surfing for various random topics can sometimes be dangerous. Dangerous in that- look out you may discover something you need to know but don’t want to face- sort of way. The other day, I set out to back up a silly non consequential fact and ended up discovering a major set back in my well being: physically, emotionally and conscientiously.

Over a year ago, after much kicking and screaming, I was tested and diagnosed with hypothyroidism. The result made sense and answered a lot of questions the “collective we” had concerning my health and, interestingly enough, the state of my physical body. This should come as no surprise to anyone who has been with me and this blog from the beginning, as one of the reasons I started this blog was to discuss and navigate through this diagnosis with the feeling of a cyber support system cheering me on. Whether or not this was real or imagined, the cyber support system, made no difference to me- it was and is what I need to keep present and mindful about what is happening. However, somewhere along the way I stopped writing about this topic, and in truth, ceased writing as regularly as I envisioned I would be. Life happens, now is not the time to beat myself up about that.

After my diagnosis, my DO and I had a discussion. She advised me to cut out eggs and cheese and take fish oil pills. I shared with her that those two foods were not on my staple list whatsoever and asked if there was a vegetarian option for fish oil. She asked me what my diet consisted of and when I shared with her my staples, she gave me the same look everyone gives me when they learn I am a Vegetarian or see/hear what I eat. It is that look of, “you should really not look the way you look if that is what you eat- so clearly you must be lying.” My diet consists of mainly cruciferous vegetables, soy and roots. This has been so prominent in my life for over the twenty three years I have been a Vegetarian that my father once told me if I didn’t tell him what I wanted for my birthday he was just going to give me a pound of broccoli! A gift that suited me fine, as broccoli has always been my favorite food. My DO then amended her advise to state, “Yes- eat as much broccoli, cauliflower, leafy greens, spinach, tofu as you can and throw in a ton of flaxseed for good measure.” I ran with it. I was working on my trust issues with the medical industry and by all accounts this advise sounded just.

Turns out, after a night of frivolous internet surfing, I shouldn’t have been trusting. I should have followed my gut and kept researching and questioning, for that advise was not sound, medically or otherwise. If one is diagnosed with hypothyroidism, one needs to stay away from goitrogens- which are comprised of two major categories: Cruciferous Vegetables and Soy Related Products. Cue brain explosion and tears! In addition, omega threes are essential to introduce into the body, especially DHA and EPA- flax seed contains ALA which can sometimes be converted inside the body to DHA & EPA as long as one is incredibly healthy, not obese hypothyroidic red heads named Shawn Marie! Can you hear the bombastic Cosi Fan Tutte measure that is vibrating through my brain? Surely that is loud enough for everyone to hear, right?

I spent the rest of the evening in a shock with tears off and on as I found more and more data to back this up. Evidence states that one with hypothyroidism should avoid goitrogens, especially in raw form, eat foods high in iron and enjoy lean meats and seafood as their staples. Did I mention I have been a Vegetarian for almost 24 years? I spent the next day in denial and avoidance, losing myself in En Vogue videos on youtube. I spent yesterday coming back into the awareness while simultaneously doing tasks that took me away from thinking about it, and researching what to do about it all now. I received lots of advice after posting my dismay on facebook and from phone conversations with my parents: Mom, “That’s easy- Just add seafood.” Dad, “I wish it were easy to just add seafood.”

Therein lies the crux of the issue for me. I can get over accepting and following bad advice. I can even try to stop punishing myself for doing so. I can regroup and move forward. There are lots of ways I can approach this and even ways that do not mean I have to stop being a Vegetarian. I know this, and yet I still feel as if I made a wrong turn in the guise of following my conscience with, what was to be believed, healthy side effects. This has me shaken to the core. I am a Vegetarian because I believe in its merit and rippling good efforts, actions and outcomes. I have not ever been a preachy one, I have always known what works for one may not work for another, yet I have been a tried and true Vegetarian all the same. I have the knowledge to back up what is good and right and just about being a Vegetarian, for the individual and the world at large. I simply never thought it wasn’t good for me. And this has me heartbroken.

There is still processing to be done. I can see a better health coming my way, I can see this as an answer to so many doubts and concerns, I truly can. Yet, right now, I am still sad and need to allow that time to ruminate and churn and eventually become something less sad, something a little more optimistic. I will get there, and I will keep you posted, for now though- I am introspective about a huge part of myself that perhaps was never meant to be. And nothing about it is easy.

A few weeks before I started working for a certain Jewish named discount store predominantly for the mature woman, when I went in to retrieve an application in fact, I wandered through the store and saw a dress. I am infatuated with dresses, though I rarely wear them. I want to wear them, all the time. I have a few in my wardrobe that sadly do not get to see the light of day, let alone a night on the town; an actuality that doesn’t stop me from looking at dresses and dreaming up scenarios to wear a dress. The dress that caught my attention was a snazzy a-line made from a geometric patterned material in earth tones and trimmed in black. I was immediately drawn to it and could see myself in it, smoothly moving from day to night. It was in my size and on the sale rack. However, when one is looking for a job, a frivolous purchase, such as a dress- no matter how marked down it had become from its original department store price- is a no go. When I first saw the dress, it was twenty dollars, which may not seem a high price, but twenty dollars, when you are unemployed, may as well be a thousand! Also, at the time, it represented food for a week (yes I am that frugal). So, I smiled at the dress and thought- if I get this job and you are still here after a few pay days, maybe kid, just maybe…

I got the job, after what I have come to call the ‘texas wait and see’ period of a week or two- just when you resign yourself to not getting the job- the offer call comes and makes you shake your head. Each shift I worked, I would walk by the dress, say hello to it and see if it had come down any further. I got paid, and, of course, the money went to bills and survival. This continued for weeks, until one day, as I headed back to climb the stairs to clock in by way of the dress- it was gone. The dress was no longer there. I shrugged and consoled myself with the fact that it clearly wasn’t meant to be and it was still out of my price range anyway- even with my discount. Days and weeks and probably a month went by before I found myself behind the register during a fourteen hour sale. The lines went back to the end of the store. I was in a boxed off cage of sorts, happy to be busy so the day would go by fast, when what should land on my counter top- but the dress. It had been in the middle of a pile of clothes placed there for purchase by two sisters who were delightful. We had been joking about something inane as I rang up their choices, and then my hand fell upon the dress. I asked them where they found it and was regaled by it being the only one on the rack like it and how one of the sisters looked great in it and how they were going to Vegas so they needed something fun to wear. The sister it was for wasn’t super excited about it, yet she figured it would do, especially after her sister’s insistence. I tried to dissuade her, she wouldn’t budge, I rang it up only to discover its current price was two dollars! Ouch. On top of that, seeing as it was on clearance, it was further reduced. Which means, she got my dress- that she didn’t even want- for one dollar and forty cents!

Sure, one of the shapes in the pattern was filled in with a color I really shouldn’t wear. Okay, I wasn’t in a place where I would have an occasion to wear the dress. True, I never even tried it on. But there it was and it was gone. It was my fault. I should have been more diligent in looking for it when I didn’t see it that day. I should have put it on hold. I should have come up with a clever reason why they couldn’t buy it. I should have just bought it in the first place. And if you still think this is about a dress- you were like me- and hadn’t been paying attention. I got the wake up call when the same set of sisters came back into the store to tell me how nice I am and how great the dress worked out and how I should just be their personal shopper. Forget that all I did was ring up their total and bag the items for them after taking payment and that I was serious when I tried to talk them out of buying the dress. Their pure adoration for me struck the cord that I needed to hear, even if perhaps I didn’t want to hear it- None of this has been about the dress, nor any other dress, for that matter.

I have become so comfortable with helping others and making sure things stay or go smoothly for everyone else- that I forgot to do the same for myself. This has been going on for years, yet really came into all encompassing full force this last year. I can easily spend hundreds of dollars on other people’s desires, though will have buyer’s remorse before I buy something for myself. Sadly, this applies to almost all areas of my life as of late. In making sure everyone else is taken care of and happy and comfortable, I have become a shadow- diminishing, complacent and slowly loosing my voice. My love has been whispering in my ear about this- and now I finally see it. What’s more, is that I feel it. This awareness is heavy. It requires a change, a shift in attitude. A special introspective lens will be needed to discern why I let it go this far, get so bad, that I wasn’t even worth the frivolity of a silly little dress- let alone making my dreams, and therefore, my life come true.

Yes, perhaps there was a dress first- but it isn’t any longer. As I allow my dreams and goals and wishes to come forward once more, my wardrobe shall be stocked with all kinds of real, metaphorical and imagined dresses to clothe me- inside and out. Moving forward, I will be back in step and gosh darn it- every now and again, come first.