I'm Sorry Honey, You've Got Really Thick Walls

"I'm sorry honey, but you've got really thick walls," said one of the lab nurses yesterday.  She kept having to poke the needle further into my vein in order to get enough blood to flow out and fill up the vial.  The vial that will be sent off to be tested, along with the cup of my "afternoon pee" to find out why I'm so fatigued, losing my hair, and having chest pains.  This after the hour and a half's worth of questions and brief examination from the doctors about my history of cold sensitivity, easy bruising, early stray gray hairs at 24 that have mysteriously not progressed, recent numbness/tingling, chin hair, brain fog, irritability, and so on. 

In a week, hopefully we'll have an answer and a possible solution.  Because I don't want to be dying or continue to go on living feeling as though I'm about to.  I've done the research, so I know from the "questions" that this could be a number of things-HIV, polycystic ovary syndrome, hypothyroidism, excessive stress, diabetes, excessive androgens due to female hormonal imbalance, chronic fatigue syndrome, or perimenopause.  I don't really care what it is (well, except maybe the HIV thing-but even that's not an automatic death sentence these days), I just want to be able to "fix" it.

Yeah, I've got "thick walls," alright.  So thick that I keep fighting against something that I can't change, instead of changing what I should or what I can.  Stubbornness-perhaps I got it from my "former self," one of my parents, from enduring early lifetime suffering, or because it's a trait that I either need to conquer my series of life lessons or to overcome in order to realize my main purpose.  I've got "thick walls" when it comes to people too, including knowing my own self.  Ironic, because high sensitivity sees through all that and works to get rid of them.

I was going to write yesterday, but I was too fatigued from the blood draw and developed a headache that lasted into the morning.  I almost couldn't get up for work, but I made it.  6 am instead of 5:30, but I still made it.  Besides the crying, the worrying, the fear, the deep breaths, and the massive amounts of multivitamins, B12, and natural "anti-stress" remedies I'm pumping into my body, all I can do is wait.  All I can do is try to breathe through the intermittent chest pains, fight the fatigue, and listen to a few wiser voices than my own.

Like my mother's that says no more school for at least a year.  The voice that's been there since I was small.  The voice that's made some mistakes, but whose heart has always been in the right place.  The voice that made the same mistake and ended up in the hospital last year, suffering from a mini-stroke, because she kept trying to fight against a wall that she just needed to walk away from.  The voice that doesn't want to see the same thing (or worse) happen to her oldest daughter.

Like that calm voice that often comes out of nowhere, when I'm busy ruminating in silence.  No one can hear it but me, but it's always very loud and clear.  Today it came over me while I was listening to one of my Amy Grant Christmas cd's on the drive home.  I was crying and worried again. Christmas makes me think of happier times.  It makes me think of childhood, freedom, magic, and togetherness.  Amy's music somehow always lifts my spirits-even if only for a moment or two.

The voice said I was going to be ok-there's a solution and I'm not dying.  It said, what is this getting you to pay attention to?  What have you learned?  What do you have to change?

I think I know.  I think I've known for awhile now, but I keep failing to take complete action.  Until I do, the lesson will keep repeating.  The number four rules my life path, according to numerology.  I don't know if I fully buy into the spiritual practice, but I can see how I need to let go of the idea of stability. 

Thick walls may give you the illusion that you're safe and protected, but they certainly don't allow you to breathe in the life that exists beyond their confinement.  A confinement that can be torn down, washed away, or broken through at any given moment.  Even the strongest steel can be melted and withered away by a hot enough fire.  Thick walls don't protect anything, because nothing is truly static.

The one thing thick walls will do is prevent you from becoming a part of what's changing outside of their imaginary existence.  And that is certainly not a life that one could call a "worthwhile dance."