Transition: The Middle of Transformation

Change is good and vital to growth. To arrive at the other side of change, though, we all go through a period of transition. That's what gives us the most turmoil, sleepless nights, stress, worry, and frustration. My question is, does this troublesome transition period have to be that way?

To illustrate what I'm talking about, this post is about the transition I'm experiencing now. One of the key drivers of this transition was my inability to heal, get rid of, or understand destructive habits that impacted my physical body. Food choices were anything but healthy. I pushed myself to work past the point of tired thinking that working hard was productive. Then I'd relax with a bottle of fine wine or aged whisky. I often ignored pain, both emotional and physical. In fact, the only things that stopped these destructive habits were serious illnesses: pneumonia, pneumonia with complications, pneumonia as a symptom of a more serious disease, autoimmune disease, and then a more serious and potentially deadly autoimmune disease. In my first book, I called this pattern of pushing, ignoring, then suffering consequences, “The Reaction Cycle”. Here's my description:

The list of things to do exceeds the time you have, so you try to pack more things into your limited timeframe. Your energy level decreases, and there’s none left to care for yourself. Maybe you’re an emotional eater and don’t pay attention to how you’re feeding your body. You feel stressed because you’re lacking in several areas (financial, interpersonal, business, purpose, direction, etc.) and your busy work/personal life wears you down. You can even hear yourself saying, If I could only finish this project or get to that milestone, then I’d have time to figure things out. Then I’ll care for myself.

Our bodies are so wise and give us early warning signals when something needs to be examined, or a change is imminent, no matter what I have on my plate. The first signal my body gave me was a feeling that something was off. I couldn't pinpoint a symptom, but I knew disease had entered my body. Well, it's flu season. I probably have whatever's going around. When the symptoms changed to spike headaches, coughing, loss of energy, and rapid weight loss, I thought my prior autoimmune disease was kicking in again. An MRI of my lungs ruled out that possibility.

Frustrated, I told my doctor that maybe I should go to the dentist because my jaw was so sore. I was living on soups, smoothies, and anything that didn't involve opening my mouth very wide or vigorous chewing. That was the last piece of the puzzle. My doctor pounced on that clue and ordered a biopsy for GCA (giant cell arteritis), another autoimmune disease. In just over two months, I had a diagnosis and treatment could begin.

Medical intervention is a good step forward, but not the only step in my transition to health. As a client of Gabor Maté, questions:

What if, rather than being cast out and defined by some terminal category, you were identified as someone in the middle of a transformation that could deepen your soul, open your heart?

Gabor Maté and Daniel Maté, The Myth of Normal: Trauma, Myth, and Healing in a Toxic Culture (Alfred A. Knopf, 2022), 107. Kindle.

Exactly! Being in the middle of a transformation is the best definition of the transition period. Transitions are periods of new ideas born out of a struggle with what's not working. They signal something is about to change, but rarely divulge what form the struggle will take. This disease gave me the opportunity to learn how to eat for my health. Since the medication for this disease threw my blood sugar out-of-whack, the first food I needed to ditch was bread, or anything with wheat in it.

The scent of bread fresh from the oven floated through my nose, taking me back to my prairie home when my mother would have fresh buns and homemade jam ready for us to eat after school. Bread was the scent of happiness then, and the source of spiking glucose readings now.

This transition taught me to evaluate whether the memory of fresh buns and homemade jam was as good for my body as I remembered it being delightful for my tastebuds. Could I not get the same rush of pleasure from food that didn't spike my blood sugar levels? Of course I could, but it would take the work of eating and testing, struggling with salt and sugar cravings, and trying new combinations of food that didn't send my sugar readings into the stratosphere. It took dedication, medication, and insulin daily.

My transition period is ongoing; however, there is progress, and my body is registering its approval with increased energy, possibly from losing forty-four pounds to date. I still need a nap during the day, and by the end of the week, I'm not as bone-tired. Brain fog is a thing, still. I've halted the publication of my book again, as my brain is not entirely up to the steps left to do.

As Gabor Maté's patient states, she was “... someone in the middle of a transformation that could deepen your soul, open your heart.” I have opened my heart to the possibility of eating foods that nourish my body and taste exquisite. My soul, dubbed the Master Integrator, speaks in subtle ways and seems to be involved in helping my body's cells heal. I have no proof, yet as I listen, I am encouraged and uplifted. Can any of us discount the soul's ability to uplift our spirits and dispense wisdom that leads us to courage? Can we discount further that our soul's uplifting ability is healing?

That question is as far as I can go in this transitional period. Transformation is ongoing, and I will see it in my body and attitude toward health and food. I will see it in my commitment to stay the course through this serious autoimmune disease, listen intently, and learn as much as I can.

A prophetic statement jumped out of the pages of my first book as I reflected on my first autoimmune disease, dubbed the “epic bootcamp”. The terrifying and unusual events of that disease in 2017 caused me to ask myself hard questions and left no doubt that another one might prove fatal. I couldn't have known how true that statement was. GCA is a serious disease and could have killed me, but it didn't. At least, not yet ....