Katya’s Story: A Lesson on Language

I am surrounded with people in medical professions. I am personally quite knowledgeable about health; let’s say a very well educated lay-person. So how I got so deep into my own health problem before I sorted out what was going on with me is mystifying. I can only conclude that there are culture-wide headphones that drown out the language our bodies are speaking. Somehow I came to interpret my physical experiences and moods mostly in terms of overwork, emotional and psychological stress, and relationship challenges. I did not know how my mood changes related to what I ate. I did not know how they were a reflection of exhaustion, particularly of my adrenal glands. I just didn’t recognize the language.

At Suppers meetings, we all help sort out each other’s mysteries by sharing how we feel. We talk about what we ate, how food changed our outlook and energy levels. We learn that our bodies are constantly speaking to us through feelings and sensations that give important data about what’s going on inside if we would just listen.

How many times have I dismissed a message my body was trying to communicate by saying, “Oh, it’s just stress. I’ll do more yoga.” “Just stress” was having a profound effect not only on my body but on my relationships as well. I am not a constitutionally crabby person. But I visited crabbiness often enough that it affected my work life. Visiting irritability once is cute and forgivable; it’s out of character. But being visited frequently by waves of irritability – fine one minute, bitchy the next – is relationship-destroying. I mess up my loving not realizing the role food plays in my ability to feel.

When a perfectly nice person like me is suddenly impatient and cutting people off, it’s data. When I think my boss is fine one minute and an idiot the next, it may not be her at all! It may be my body saying, “You aren’t giving me the right fuel.”

Skipping meals, not getting enough protein for my personal needs, eating too much gluten or convenience food, and not resting enough have taken a toll on my adrenal glands, the part of my body that acts like shock absorbers. It’s so simple to read: If I can role with the punches, absorb the small hits, land on my feet and go on my merry way, my adrenal glands are probably OK. If I’m frazzled, sensitive to sensory input like light, touch, or sound, if I’m snippy to my boss who was fine five minutes ago, it’s data. There’s something going on with my fuel supply, and my personal shock absorbers are not what they should be. The signal is loud, but not articulate. It is up to me to ask myself the right questions:

Am I getting enough rest? Have I been skipping breakfast again? Did I slip back into coffee? Have I been eating out of packages instead of preparing real food? Have I accepted help from my willing friends?

And here’s one I just learned: Are the foods I’m eating more like saber toothed tigers or meditations? I didn’t know that some foods stress my system just like saber toothed tigers or fire alarms. They are inflaming. Other foods, real whole foods, reduce inflammation and keep me even. I didn’t know that inflaming foods whip my adrenal glands and age me more rapidly. Or that whole foods promote good moods and stable energy.

Now that I trust that how I feel is data, I have a whole new relationship with my body. Its messages are no longer falling on deaf ears. And now that I’m not projecting my snippy moods onto my boss, her attitude has really improved.

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