It’s 11:13 a.m. on a Friday. I’ve been at this newsletter for 30 minutes now, and have deleted every version since the moment I sat down. For every paragraph, I’ve written the last sentence, then said “NOPE” out loud.
I’m determined not to delete this version. Deep breaths. I can do this. Here we go.
Happy November, Friends. Writing this month feels a little like swimming through mud because it’s been eight weeks since my last newsletter. Newton’s law of motion has never felt so real to me—objects in motion stay in motion unless a force acts to change its speed or direction.
In my case, that force was the dumpster fire that was my October.
When I last wrote, I was higher than a kite, coming off of a trip to South America with my family. I was in the process of launching a 20-week creative program with a friend, I was running and going to yoga and seeing friends and working very long hours.
While all of that looked nice from the outside, my insides were pissed, and decided to let me know as much. And by insides, I mean my mind and my body.
The build up to The Big Fat Creative Hootenanny was tremendously fulfilling, but when we didn’t get a lot of sign ups and decided to rejigger the program, my mind decided I was a big Fat failure (and a lot of other things I won’t write publicly) and shut me down mentally. None of these thoughts had to do with the reality of the program, the amount that I truly love my collaborator or the fact that we will redesign the program to be amazing and successful.
The thoughts were the demons in my psyche coming out to play that hadn’t had a voice during the creative process. That were mad that I was getting healthy enough to go after something I was that passionate about, and were thrilled when it didn’t go as originally planned. The gang that is those voices decided it was a good idea to descend on my brain and shut it down.
The night of a big event to promote the hootenanny, I woke up at 2 a.m. with food poisoning. I was scheduled to give a talk I was honored to give at a very public venue in San Francisco the following day, and had to cancel, something I didn’t want to do.
Two weeks later—two weeks of still going full steam and trying to deal with what I was feeling but not doing so great at it but trying anyway and listening to as many self help/loving kindness podcasts as possible—I woke up on the floor of my bathroom.
I’d passed out, hit my head and had a seizure. No, this has nothing to do with the hootenanny. It has everything to do with the fact that I have a low blood pressure condition, and when I experience severe pain (level 10), my body is not able to handle that pain and it forces me to pass out so blood can properly circulate, and, well, keep me alive. The whole thing is violent and shitty and hadn’t happened to me since my early 30s, so I thought I’d grown out of it. In this case, my pain was related to menstrual cramps.
Waking up on the floor that day was, well, a wake up call. For the record, Tyler was there and took care of me, and no, this is not life threatening, and yes, I am seeing all the specialists, and no, I’m not looking for medical advice of any kind.
So why am I sharing this deeply personal thing with all of you?
Because all of us have our shit, and many of us don’t feel the permission to talk about it. Every one of us has stuff we don’t share in certain company for a variety of reasons. In no way am I saying that we should spill our guts to every person. In some instances, doing so is simply unsafe. But I’ve decided to keep it really fucking real in this newsletter because it works for me and is part of my process of being healthy, so here you go.
The fall in the bathroom resulted in a massive bruise on my forehead and bruises on both of my eyeballs, so noticeable it looked like I’d been beaten up. Fun times. I cancelled most of my meetings the following week (although it was Halloween and I looked very much on-trend, so maybe I should have kept them), and thought about how to move forward with my health.
It’s interesting. As someone who hasn’t always had a healthy connection between my mind and body, this thought process is not at all intuitive. I am someone who pushes myself in all areas of my life, and thrives on that pushing. In some cases, it is OK. In other cases, it isn’t. I feel tremendously grateful that none of my health concerns this year have been life threatening, and that I even have the time and the privilege to think about the connection between my mind and my body.
But since I do, I’m on it. And my family and friends are helping a ton. In the wise words of my gorgeous Mother:
“Your body will give you whispers when it wants you to slow down, Katie, and then it will yell at you to stop.”
My body has spoken and I’m slowing down. Instead of mentally slamming myself for going so hard for so long and getting into an internal blame tornado, I’m listening to my family and friends, who are giving me love and acceptance. Thanks to my dear friend Sweta, I’m listening to the awesome podcast
Daring to Rest, and it is healing my soul. I have people checking in on me regularly, and am practicing the art of receiving, which I am also learning doesn’t come naturally to me. I’m asking people to check in on me, which feels hugely weird, but loving at the same time.
I’m also pulling back with work, putting boundaries up where I need them, and taking a nap here and there. Of course, I’m no pro at this. It’s a learning on an hour-by-hour basis, and I “fail” a lot (I was about to write “fall on my face,” but that seems…well, yeah). I’m hoping I’m going in a positive direction, and that by being healthier and taking the space I need and not saying yes to every fucking thing that comes at me, my body can start to trust me, and I can start to trust it.
My incredible friend Dessa’s saying,
“Say no, so you can say yes,” has never felt more nourishing and real to me.
