Find What Feels Good: Nicaragua

I walked briskly around my gate at the airport, unable to be still. My mind was racing… honestly I cannot even remember a single coherent thought. Just… “I need someone to pray for me.” I took a photo of my airplane and posted it to Facebook as quickly as I could so many would see and perhaps say a prayer for me. For my safety. 

Dad took this photo of me as I went through security. I was crying.

Photo of my plane

For a split moment, I looked back from where I came and thought, “I am going to run out of this airport as fast as I can.” I looked back at the line of passengers waiting to board our airplane. “No, no, no, no, no. I can’t do that now. I’ll never forgive myself. You’ll be fine. Get in line.” I walked up toward the front, cutting in line, trying to get myself onto the plane as quickly as I could. 

I made my way down the narrow aisle of the plane and found my seat. I was here now and there was no going back. 

“If you need to disembark the aircraft, this is the last time.” 

“…but what if —- Shh.” 

“The cabin doors have been shut.” 

“Okay, I’m doing this.” 

The thoughts dissipated and I just accepted. I was on my way to Miami, then to Managua, Nicaragua. My first international trip and I was alone, though I didn’t feel alone. I frantically purchased the on board wifi so I could send messages to my family throughout the flight. “What if I get nervous? Anxious? What if I feel unsafe?” I thought that perhaps just telling them how I was feeling would ease my frenetic mind. 

Earlier that morning, I had woken feeling oddly confident. I felt ready to conquer some fears, to trust that all is well. I say that as often as I remember, “All is well.” For months and months prior to this trip, I was tormented with anxiety. The fears, the what if’s, the irrational thoughts, and the never-ending racing of my mind. For most of my life, I thrived on my alone time, but for the last 6 months, being alone was a source of stress, anxiety, and panic. I lied and manipulated just so I could feel safe and minimize my alone time. This trip was a test. It was a step of faith. It was a great healing journey. 

The flight was smooth as glass. God held the airplane in His hand. I don’t remember a single bump. I began to feel excited. A friend was waiting for me in Miami. We landed gently and I exited the plane. I already started to feel excited and less lonely. Sarah was waiting for me at my gate.

Sarah waited for me at my gate and took this photo as soon as I appeared 

Sarah and I on our flight to Managua, Nicaragua

The flight to Nicaragua felt so short. Sarah and I chatted the entire time. I had known Sarah for a couple of years, but we never met in person. She is one of those people who I want to be like: she’s beautiful, kind, genuine, sweet, nurturing, gentle, creative, nerdy, with a touch of goofy. She’s one in a million. A beautiful wife and an awesome Mom of two. (I cant sell her enough). She doesn’t know how much I needed her this trip… how God blessed me with her. 

Sarah, my inspiration

I felt safe. I felt protected. When we arrived, Sarah and I walked confused around the airport, nearly forgetting that we couldn’t leave the airport until we went through customs. Once we stepped out of the Managua airport, the impossibly hot, sticky, humid air hit me in the face. A nearby storm was darkening the sky. The airport felt so small. The buildings nearby were short, the houses were open shacks made of aluminum. There was color everywhere. 

Sarah and I were on the noon pickup along with a big handful of other ladies, all headed to the same place: Maderas Village. During the first hour and a half, all of us were so overstimulated, eyes wandering everywhere. From horses, carriages, cars weaving in and out of traffic, colorful school buses, greenery as far as the eye can see. A deluge overtook us on the drive. Lightning flashed in the distance and the day of travel and flights began to wear on us. We all grew very quiet and fatigued. After 3 hours of driving, and a transfer to a truck in order to climb the rocky dirt hills to the village, I realized how far away I was from the normal ‘civilization’ with which I was comfortable. “But what if something happens…” … “Not now. There’s no time to think that way.” 

All in all, I didn’t feel so far away from home. It was about 6 hours of flying, and 4.5 hours of driving. I felt that, “Well if something were to happen to me, at least my family will be able to make it here… But, what would happen?! TRUST.” 

When we finally arrived at Maderas Village, I remember feeling a sense of uncomfortable acceptance. I had to just accept - I made it here. Im not leaving for 6 days. Just take it in. “Take it all in. Trust. trust. trust.” What a pleasure and an honor it was to meet new people, to see faces again that I hadn’t seen in a year, and even finally meet people I had talked to online for years! The first thing I did was walk down the rocky hill to the beach. Although cloudy and a bit drizzly, I didn’t want to waste time. I wanted to see and touch the Pacific Ocean. (It feels the same as any other ocean, Im sure). The tide was powerful. The rocks on the beach were colorful and vibrant. It was still quite rainy. 

Trying to sleep was a struggle. Thank goodness for wifi. I watched Bob Ross’s The Joy of Painting on Netflix to help me sleep. With the time difference, I knew my family was already sleeping by the time I went to dinner. I couldn’t reach out and it was okay. I knew I was safe. I woke every morning sometime between 3:30-4:30am to the sounds of unfamiliar birds and howler monkeys. Although I was very tired, I enjoyed it. I awoke that first morning with a nervous eagerness. 

Yoga Space

“What if you pass out and die during yoga because it’s too hot?! — Not now.” 

I felt oddly nervous during the first morning yoga class. “Oh no, if I’m feeling anxious during yoga, Ill probably feel it the whole trip. What if I have a meltdown? Who can help me? — NOT. NOW…God, thank You for this opportunity. Thank You for this experience. Thank You for this gorgeous place. I know I’m safe. I trust You.” 

“…” 

Thankfulness quiets it all. 

My favorite moments on the trip were the times that I just sat in the main house talking to my fellow retreaters. I recognized some of their names; some I didn’t, but learning about them was a blessing. We all came with stories, baggage, insight, beauty. These people felt like my tribe, my family, my community. I felt like I belonged. Part of my aversion about the trip was, “Im going to be the only chubby, meat eating faux yogi there.” And, I wasn’t the only person feeling that way. Some admitted, “I thought everyone would think I was a fraud. I’ve only done yoga for a few months and only a couple times a week. And I love beer.” 

Sweet Lindsey hugged me and said, “We were on the same flight from Miami and when I saw you, I thought, ‘She’s so open. I don't measure up to her.’” It was these things that changed me this trip. We learned so much about each other. We all have our trials and shortcomings and none of us are above or below them. We all have pride and all need to humbled in some way. We’re all so similar, and more than we think. 

Then, I got sick. I left the beach one afternoon and as I was walking back, I felt like I was going to faint. My stomach was in knots and I felt weak. I managed to make it back to the room - by the grace of God - and I was down for the count. One negative thought turned into a catastrophe… a snowball into an avalanche. “I’m dying of a weird Nicaraguan disease. What if I need a hospital?! Ill die before I even reach one!” 

It was then that I began to miss my family and want to go back home. “Oh gosh… so many days left… how can I handle this?” The next morning, I was so weak. I knew that a yoga class was impossible for me, so I stayed in. Once I felt the strength, I managed to lay out my mat in the small yoga room upstairs in my communal casa and stretched for about half hour. Everyone was at the yoga hut up the road. It was the first time I was really “alone” since I arrived. Usually a source of panic for me, I was able to ignore most of the irrational thoughts. The, “You are unsafe by yourself” thoughts. I knew I had to just take care of myself. I laid on the porch of the casa and read for awhile. A friendly dog and cat of Maderas Village came and rested next to me. 

Walk to the beach

Beach day

Gentle morning stretch

When I appeared at lunch, I learned that others were feeling ill too. I was given water, a packet of powdered greens, and some tea. Within minutes, I started to find my energy. I felt safe. My roommate Sarah (bless her heart) is a nurse. She gave me some tips to stay hydrated and gave me her ginger tea. 

Later that evening, I was feeling well enough to join the group in a short (but insanely uphill) walk to the neighboring hotel for “Taco Tuesday.” As I journeyed up the hill with my comrades, I was hoping that I had the strength in my body for it. Nervously walking up one foot in front of the other in the hot, humid sun, it occurred to me… an epiphany of sorts: “I’m here for a yoga retreat celebrating my practice while walking up a steep hill. Yet, it’s thanks to yoga that I am even ABLE to climb this hill.” I walked a bit faster. A bit more pep to my step. I walked to the front of the group. That evening, we danced and sang. I was not myself at first - (in all the videos of me from that night, I have my arms crossed while dancing: obvious sign of protecting myself) - but I loosened up a bit later. 

Hulakai Hotel for Taco Tuesday

Dance Party

This was the first trip where I felt like I didn't have to force myself to do anything. I could finally just be. If I wanted to do something adventurous, I could. If I wanted to do something uneventful and silly, I could. I finally felt like I could just be… and no anxious thoughts could distract me. 

On our final morning of yoga, I remember the devastating feeling that I wouldn’t see that yoga space again - perhaps ever or for a long time. I looked into the lush jungle surrounding the space and tears welled up in my eyes. “I needed every moment of this place.” The tears came and I just let them come. If there’s something I learned in my yoga teacher training, it’s that we are so boarded up. We apologize for crying, for venting, for feeling a certain way, but we are being genuine. Open. We should be bearing our souls to each other. I believe that this bottling up, being closed, and allowing walls to be built so high is a symptom of our pride. We can’t be weak, we can’t be emotional, we’re better than that. It’s a plague in our society. An epidemic. 

The final afternoon and evening of the trip, the retreaters and I traveled in a yacht up the coast of Nicaragua with Costa Rica’s shadow behind us, a looming volcano in the distance, a high surf, spying the disappearing beach every time a wave rolled in. I’ve always been frightened of deep water where the bottom can’t be seen. And I actually swam in the ocean, unsure of the feet of water beneath me, and actually felt safe. Next time, I want to swim out farther. I can be brave too! 

Volcano

FWFG NICA on a Yacht

Sarah and Me

Adriene and Me

San Juan Del Sur

Me, Adriene, Sarah

My tribe

I couldn’t sleep that night. Anxiety from the next morning's upcoming flights and trips was gnawing at me. I was up all night. I kept washing my face in the bathroom, convincing myself that all will be well. "All is well." I watched more Bob Ross and finally dozed off. I was happy to be on my way home. I missed my family, my boyfriend, my own bed. I was sad to leave Sarah in Miami. My dear friend - a Godsend. My security blanket. 

Nicaraguan jungle

I left Maderas Village at 7am and made it back to my home at 1am the next morning. I slept like a baby. I woke feeling different. I was different. I was changed. 

I was happy to discuss the trip with my family, but I began to feel down. The down lasted for weeks. I felt low. I thought I was sick, but now I know, it was post-trip depression. I realize after being in Nicaragua, even for such a short time, I hate the way we live here. We are closed off, private, uncomfortable around our neighbors, unfriendly, and GOD-FORBID the doorbell rings. Everyone fights over who isn't going to answer the door. In the village, I knew what was going on with everyone: who was anxious, who was homesick, who needed alone time, who had traveler's diarrhea. This openness among the village, with people who truly just want to wake up every day as a better person - THIS is what I want for my life. I want openness. I want freedom. 

Sure, I have struggled with anxiety since I got back home. The thoughts still happen. The fears still gnaw at me. I have moments where I can't sleep, where driving alone is uncomfortable, where I can't figure out why I'm nervous. But - I talk about them. I'm open about them. "It means you're growing when you feel fear." -Hillary Larson 

I must REALLY be growing. 

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

"Hear my prayer, O Lord;

    listen to my plea!

    Answer me because You are faithful and righteous.

Don’t put Your servant on trial,

    for no one is innocent before You.

My enemy has chased me.

    He has knocked me to the ground

    and forces me to live in darkness like those in the grave.

I am losing all hope;

    I am paralyzed with fear.

I remember the days of old.

    I ponder all Your great works

    and think about what You have done.

I lift my hands to You in prayer.

    I thirst for You as parched land thirsts for rain.

Come quickly, Lord, and answer me,

    for my depression deepens.

Don’t turn away from me,

    or I will die.

Let me hear of Your unfailing love each morning,

    for I am trusting You.

Show me where to walk,

    for I give myself to You.

Rescue me from my enemies, Lord;

    I run to You to hide me.

Teach me to do Your will,

    for You are my God.

May Your gracious Spirit lead me forward

    on a firm footing.

For the glory of your name, O Lord, preserve my life.

    Because of your Faithfulness, bring me out of this distress.

In your unfailing love, silence all my enemies

    and destroy all my foes,

    for I am Your servant.”

Psalm 143,

Written by King David 

The Butterfly in my Throat : Fear & Hope

Learning New Things.

That summer, I decided to live on campus after the school year ended, yet again. I was working, taking music lessons, and still lived alone in my small dorm apartment. The disease was ever on my mind. I was reminded of it multiple times a day. Symptoms here, anxiety there. The drive to feel normal kept me going. I was still learning new things about my disease and how it affected other parts of my body. I remember a pretty severe dizzy spell that lasted for a few weeks that summer. It was simply seasonal allergies, but it was a first for me. My body responded differently to things. 

I was well enough to take a vacation in the summer before school. I flew to Michigan to visit a friend. One day, we traveled to Chicago and planned to stay the entire day. By 2pm, I started feeling strange, weak, faint, and despite all the fluids I took in, I felt overwhelmingly dehydrated. We left early and I learned later that I felt sick because I was in the sun for too long. Somehow my medications reacted strangely when I had been exposed to too much sunlight. 

I still did not understand that I was suffering with an autoimmune disease. I still did not understand what was physiologically happening in my body. I did not understand the correlation between the physical aspects of Graves' disease and mental health. I never knew what to expect. I did not know what was a symptom of the disease or a side effect of medication. I felt I couldn't trust my doctor because she was fiercely negative, difficult, and argumentative. That summer, I switched endocrinologists.

The Visual Symptoms. 

Before school started up again, my hematologist (a blood specialist) released me, saying I was, “too healthy to continue in his care.” It was a magical moment. I walked out of that office so full of joy that my skin tingled. No matter how healthy or unhealthy, when you struggle with disease and a doctor says, “You’re too healthy,” you've basically won the lottery. The crushing weight of fear on my chest became a bit lighter. 

His office was located inside a large cancer center and his practice was shared with an oncologist. Despite all the frustrations and personal issues I dealt with, I was always humbled by walking into that building. Every person in that building, including staff, was visibly sick. 

Graves’ is a disease that bubbles below the surface. It can affect nearly every system in the body in some way and make you feel ceaselessly sick, but it is not noticeable. One will either lose or gain weight, the throat will look swollen (goiter), the eyes bulge out (Graves’ ophthalmopathy), one will appear tired and will fidget often, and sometimes one can develop a rash. These are not striking visual symptoms. Walking into a cancer center with a full head of hair, a swollen neck, acne, and slightly larger eyes made me feel like I was bragging. 

(Google image "Graves' Disease" and I promise you'll either laugh or have nightmares for days) O_O

Control.

In my senior year of school, I lived with two of my friends in a dorm apartment. Living with others certainly helped distract me from my fears and gave me some peace of mind. 

Sometimes, I tried to be apathetic and not allow the disease to bother me. “I have no feeling in my fingers or my lips today. It’s just part of the disease. Let it go.” Many times, I was overwhelmed and afraid. “I have been seeing spots all day. Am I in danger?” I always felt unsafe because there were so many unknowns. Familiar symptoms appeared randomly. New symptoms manifested themselves. I had a new specialist but still never felt any doctor was thorough enough with me. Experiencing these new things and not understanding symptoms or side effects made me feel very out of control. More than anything, I just wanted to feel normal. At the very least, I wanted to be accustomed to what I was feeling and know what to expect. 

Whenever I caught a virus, I felt so relieved. Normal, healthy-minded people would be discouraged, but I felt a sense of freedom. I could EXPECT all of my symptoms. I thought, “Thank goodness this is not some weird unknown part of the disease." Once I recovered from a virus, a small part of me started to feel nervous again. Back to the unknowns. 

A psychologist told me years later, "You are afraid to be healthy because you expect to be sick. You learned to be comfortable in feeling sick, because you expect what you are going to feel." Expectations were in my control. 

Fear.

My hypochondria convinced me that if someone had a disease, I was weak enough to also contract that disease. If someone fainted, I assumed I would faint. If someone had a heart attack, I assumed I would also have one. My mind was a constant whirlwind of fearful torture. I was busy constantly, but it kept me from collapsing under the weight of my fears. 

My prayers were not acclamations of love and praise, but the cries of a beggar. A person pleading with their attacker, “God, please don't kill me. Please don’t kill me. Please keep me safe. Please don’t let anything happen to me. Please, please, please.” 

I remember the morning God spoke to me through a Psalm... 

Psalm 91

Safety of Abiding in the Presence of God

1

“He who dwells in the secret place of the Most High

Shall abide under the shadow of the Almighty.

2 

I will say of the Lord, “He is my refuge and my fortress;

My God, in Him I will trust.”

3 

Surely He shall deliver you from the snare of the fowler,

And from the perilous pestilence.

4 

He shall cover you with His feathers,

And under His wings you shall take refuge;

His truth shall be your shield and buckler.

5 

You shall not be afraid of the terror by night,

Nor of the arrow that flies by day,

6 

Nor of the pestilence that walks in darkness,

Nor of the destruction that lays waste at noonday.

7 

A thousand may fall at your side,

And ten thousand at your right hand;

But it shall not come near you.

8 

Only with your eyes shall you look,

And see the reward of the wicked.

9 

Because you have made the Lord, who is my refuge,

Even the Most High, your dwelling place,

10 

No evil shall befall you,

Nor shall any plague come near your dwelling;

11 

For He shall give His angels charge over you,

To keep you in all your ways.

12 

In their hands they shall bear you up,

Lest you dash your foot against a stone.

13 

You shall tread upon the lion and the cobra,

The young lion and the serpent you shall trample underfoot.

14 

“Because he has set his love upon Me, therefore I will deliver him;

I will set him on high, because he has known My name.

15 

He shall call upon Me, and I will answer him;

I will be with him in trouble;

I will deliver him and honor him.

16 

With long life I will satisfy him,

And show him My salvation.”

I had spent the previous night like most nights: worrying, fearing, doubting, but this Psalm crushed my fear. From the moment I read it, I knew this disease would not kill me and I was not in danger of dying. The words were life to my body, my mind, and my soul. These words are my treasure. I prayed these words. I read them constantly. I kept them so close to my heart. They give me hope, strength, courage, and peace. 

In my senior year of college, I wrote a three movement string orchestra piece based on verse 7 of this psalm, called “In the Shadow of the Almighty.” The live performance is here, if you're interested: 

"Under the Shadow of the Almighty"

(My apologies! The recording got wonky and stopped for a few seconds at 12:47). 

Hope.
Sometime in the spring, I was taken off my medications. I don't remember exactly why; whether it was a trial and error thing to see what would happen, or whether my endocrinologist thought I didn't need them anymore. Either way, it felt amazing and liberating to be off medications.

I graduated in May 2009. I remember the morning of my graduation, my parents gave me a necklace that said, “Hope." It was so special to me. It reminded me that with hope, I could overcome anything. With hope, there's a vision, there's purpose, and there's a future. 

I went home that summer to prepare for graduate school in the fall. Despite everything my doctors said and all the fear that had convinced me otherwise, I went into remission.

May 2009

Be blessed and be well,

J

The Butterfly in my Throat : It Sinks In

Hypothyroidism.

I’ve only ever experienced hypothyroidism (under-active thyroid) for a month. With Graves’ Disease, the thyroid is overactive. A person with Graves' develops hypothyroidism after a major treatment to kill the thyroid. I’ve met many people with thyroid conditions with unstable blood work results: one month, their thyroid is overworking, the next month it's underproducing. A constant roller coaster treated with too many pills, too few pills, frustrated doctors, and a slew of new symptoms every month. My condition was almost always hyperthyroidism, with periods of regulated thyroid hormones.

I was in college in January 2008 when I tried to eat better and exercise occasionally. It’s really hard to live a healthy lifestyle in that environment, but I tried to be proactive. I started losing my appetite and started gaining weight. I gained 20lbs that month. I remember I loved Nature's Path Organic maple brown sugar pop tarts. I could eat one and be satisfied for most of the day.

"A thyroid condition is just another great challenge. It makes a difficult process even more difficult." -  Bob Greene, Oprah's personal trainer. 

Mild depression started to sink in, I found myself feeling anxious, I moved slowly, and there was never a moment when I wasn’t tired. I was still Vitamin D deficient. My doctor lessened my dose of antithyroid medicine and although nobody expected it, my thyroid levels did eventually balance out. 

Fearing death. 

From Winter to Spring 2008, the disease and the T.I.A. completely sank in. Despite having decent blood work and feeling as good as I probably could at the time, the “what woulda, coulda, shoulda,” was ceaselessly on my mind. Fear began to creep in slowly and then like an avalanche, wholly consumed me. 

Being alone was traumatic. My thoughts began to race, anxiety started to build up, and I inevitably was on the phone with my parents crying. I didn’t want to die alone. I didn’t tell anyone at school because I was embarrassed. I didn’t want anyone to know that I laid in bed every night, alone in my apartment and prayed, “God, please don’t kill me tonight. Please don’t let this disease kill me tonight.” When I woke the next morning, I was filled with relief. I had survived. 

Whenever friends came over, I relished the fact that I had people with me. A few times, I fell asleep while friends were in my apartment because I felt truly safe. A couple times, I slept in my friends’ dorms because the fear was so powerful. Still, I never told them that I was so frightened. I was plagued with nightmares. There were nights when I wouldn’t get a single second of sleep. There were nights when I would sleep for hours, missing all of my morning classes, sleeping through alarms. 

Whenever I went home to CT, I went to all kinds of churches, prayer meetings, and deliverance prayer services, hoping and praying for a miracle. Often, I left the meetings and services feeling better and hopeful, but soon after, I'd start to feel sick again and fear would set back in. Total disappointment. Sometimes, I left the meetings and services feeling frightened and nervous.

Doubt was my best friend, fear was my boyfriend, hope was a distant friend, and health was a celebrity I would never meet.

Obsessive-Compulsive Hypochrondriac.

Every symptom I experienced sent me over the edge and to the hospital. If thyroid levels are balanced, it's still possible to feel sick, weak, malaise, etc. There's also side effects to the medications as well. Problem was, I couldn't accept any symptom or side effect as a simple part of the disease. Everything had a reason and the reason was, "Death is coming." I became an obsessive compulsive hypochondriac.

One day, I was having trouble breathing and I drove myself to the hospital. I remember that drive begging God, "Please don't let me die. Please don't let me die." I sat in the waiting room and pulled out a notebook. I wrote, "All I ever do is wait." That became my reality. Waiting for health, waiting for a doctor, waiting for God, waiting for a miracle, waiting to sleep, waiting to relax, waiting to die. In reality, I had a chest cold developing and couldn't inhale fully, which caused me to have an anxiety attack. The idea that an anxiety attack put me in the hospital was ludicrous. I honestly and truly believed that something more serious had happened.

I remember this one time... I was at an appointment with my second endocrinologist. I said in a frustrated tone, "I keep getting a shooting pain in my neck. I thought my blood work was normal?" I expected a scholarly answer. He looked at me and said, "Uh. Yeah. You have a disease. It's all part of it. Deal with it." I was certainly humbled, though frustrated that my doctor didn't have the exact reason. I needed a reason for everything.

My 21st Birthday.

My 21st birthday - the mother of all birthdays, finally came. I had an appointment with my endocrinologist that day. It was a frustrating appointment. I had been slowly losing trust in my doctor. We didn’t connect at all and any of my questions or concerns were met with her quick biting comments. There was always something to be concerned about and bad news about the future. “If you don’t do what I say, you’ll get really sick…” I was diagnosed with Graves' for 10 months at this point and I still felt just as confused as the day I was diagnosed. I was still trying to figure out how to live with it. 

Once I left the appointment, I got into my car and cried in the parking lot. I said, “I can’t believe I spent my 21st birthday at the doctor. I hate this disease. Is this my future?"... Basically. 

Later that evening, I went out with friends for dinner. I wasn’t feeling great, but I pushed through it and tried to enjoy myself. All of my 21+ year old friends ordered a drink except for me. I wasn’t able to drink alcohol while taking my heart or anti-thyroid medications. I always felt this need to explain myself: Why I couldn't do something, why I felt a certain way, why at the last minute, I had to miss a get-together. It made me feel less human. It made me feel like an inconsiderate pest. 

We don't choose to get diseases. They happen for a million reasons. Diseases can either break us down to nothing, or they can make us exceptional superheroes. 

My 21st Birthday

Be blessed and be well,
J