Chapter 8: True love

“You go through highs and lows,” he told me, drawing a comparison with bipolar disorder. I knew this on some level. But I had never heard it, and certainly never said it. I would go away from our talks completely exhausted, usually with a headache, and go home to process what had just happened. Then the next time, another idea would drip into the cracks of my defences. “You don't feel like your life is your own. It takes you by the hand each morning and leads you through your chores, then takes you to bed at night. Are you happy?” No, I found myself saying, I am not happy. “Do you want to be happy?” No, I found myself thinking, I do not want to be happy. Why on earth not? I was sitting on a chair in his office, the other side of his desk, with my legs crossed, trying to maintain external composure whilst I felt like my insides were writhing with snakes. Why would anyone not want to be happy?

The months went by and I was carefully guided through realisation after realisation and my walls crumbled down, revealing the pitiful being who had been hidden away inside. She was hideous to me: weak, lonely and childish. And without my defences I became depressed. I spent the summer in a blur, feeling spent and absent.

I still couldn’t understand why this guy was helping me out. He had his own family, his projects, he had his life all sorted out. Sure, he had been addicted to drugs and alcohol, but he had turned his life around now and what did he want to waste his time with me for? I felt uncomfortable receiving help without offering any payment in return. But that was part of the magic. And finally I started to realise that maybe I was worthy of support just because I am. In the same way that I like to help out my family and friends, maybe they like to help me out too. And maybe the gracious thing to do is to accept that I need their help and thank them for it. What a relief.

Then at some point I realised that having an autoimmune disease was something in my past. I was no longer afraid of having a relapse. The illness was no longer relevant to my present circumstances. I wasn’t fatigued, I wasn’t foggy, I wasn’t in pain. I wasn't a patient any more, I wasn't a person trying to “live well with autoimmunity”. I was coming into wholeness.

At first I decided to take some distance from the whole story. I stopped talking about it completely. I needed a break from identifying as someone who was dealing with chronic illness. I needed a break from thinking that I was obliged to somehow heal all of the autoimmune disorders in the world now that I had healed my own.

Then as I shed that old skin, the next one started to shed, and the next and the next, and all these layers of falseness that shrouded my being were falling away. And I was falling in love with that real little me on the inside. I was casting light onto the small, dark little girl who had been cowering in the shadows. She wasn't scary, she just needed to be loved and seen and understood.

My heart seemed to be pounding out of my chest, such had it expanded with love and affection. I could feel it beating in my chest everywhere I went. I also felt this huge grief and I cried often. One day for the first time in my life I allowed myself to bawl and sob like a child. My whole body trembled, my pain erupted from the depths of my being in a mournful moan, and the relief was spectacular. I started to make space for my feelings and let them out without judgement or fear. I stretched, I ran, I shook, I danced, I cried and cried and cried.

One morning I woke up and felt different. My skin was glowing, my hair was shiny, my shoulders had dropped, my tongue looked healthy, and I had gained strength and flexibility overnight. In spite of having slept just 4 hours a night for weeks, I felt energised and looked great. The old, fake version of me had died and I had finally stepped into the driving seat of my life.

So there I was, aged 38 and just starting my life. And I didn't have a clue how to live. I tried new ways of interacting with people, new ways of moving about, new ways of talking. Truths were coming out of me. Someone asked me how my summer had been and instead of my usual trope, I said “I think to be honest I've been waiting for it to end so the kids can go back to school and I can work on my projects.” Oh damn.

I kept realising yet more uncomfortable truths about myself and I started to want to escape from my life again. I tried to break up with my husband, I tried to get a job, I tried to get away from myself by changing my circumstances like I had always done. Thankfully my husband was more aware of my inner workings than I was. He pointed out that I’m always trying to change tack, always looking for a dramatic redirection. He refused to accept that we would be better off apart, and I felt so confused. I didn’t understand why he would still want to be with me now that I had revealed my true self. I had been so convinced that being the ‘real me’ meant not being loved by those closest to me: that I had to choose between being whole and alone, or fake and loved.

The day that I realised that maybe, just maybe, I could be myself and my family and friends would still love me, I cried tears of relief and happiness. My heart was so full. I was in the kitchen and my husband noticed me looking teary and gave me a hug. I allowed myself to be hugged and loved and it was so beautiful. My kids came and joined in and we had a family hug and all told each other we loved each other. I thought I would burst.

And now I could start to see what was going on inside me, and start to make different decisions. So I stayed and I looked, and I saw that I had acted selfishly and I saw that I had treated my loved ones as pawns in the game of my life. I saw how controlling I had been. And I saw that I had done it because I hated myself. But now that I love myself I can be more considerate, more compassionate, more responsible and more loving.

I have so much to learn. But at least I'm not parading through life wearing a mask, trying desperately to stash the unacceptable aspects of my being into the depths. The dark beast within has been unleashed, and you may be disappointed to learn that she's just a normal person with a husband and kids who wants to be loved and accepted like everyone else.

Contact

anna@autoimmunerecoveryproject.com

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