On choosing to heal

and walking away from recovery

(This voiceover is an audio version of the newsletter below. It’s unedited, and today you might hear Ben walking around in the background, on a phone call - the joys of both working from home! If you like/need to listen to these posts I hope you enjoy it regardless!)

My aspiration, on a roadside rubbish heap in Whitehorse, Yukon

If I had to sum up the past six months in one word, it would probably be “healing”. I’ve offered myself a lot of it. I’ve focused a lot of energy on it. And, thankfully, I’ve also done a lot of it.

I’ve ummed and ahhed about how much I should share here (in what is a beautifully supportive, communal, but ultimately still public space) and settled on an amount that feels vulnerable, but that also feels processed.

It was either Brené Brown or Liz Gilbert (or maybe both) who said when asked about how much they share publicly, their rule is to only share what they’ve already made peace with. I like that. It feels human and healthy.

If you listen to our podcast, you might know that I had my thyroid removed in September last year. The months before and after surgery were really challenging, and, from a surgery perspective, I feel like I’m just now truly coming out the other side. On top of that I’ve been dealing with other as-yet undiagnosed conditions that are (probably, possibly, no-one is willing to fully commit) related.

Depending on the day, I might deal with things like severe fatigue and brain fog and joint pain – each of which swing wildly across their own spectrums that span anywhere from merely annoying to activity-limiting (which is a succinct way of saying it stops me from doing things like working, exercising and other normal stuff I should be able to do). It can affect my sleep, mood, relationships, self-esteem, capacity to write and so many other elements of life, and some days I really struggle with it.

And yet, despite this, I feel stronger than I have for years.

(Full disclosure: I write this during a stretch of good health, which means I feel positive and well – something I both love and fear because I never know how long it will last: A day? A week? A month? Maybe it’s my new normal? If I were to write this post in a dip, it would probably sound very different.)

Part of feeling stronger is empowerment. I finally have some understanding of what’s going on in my body and why, and have been reassured to learn that it’s not all in my head. (Anyone who has had to navigate the medical system with complex conditions will likely know the frustration and self-doubt that comes from being not believed over and over).

Another part of feeling stronger stems from acceptance.

I’m learning to accept that my body does not work the same as it did a few years ago.

I’m learning to accept that I need to balance my energy in different ways. I prioritise rest. I try to listen to the cues my body gives when it’s reaching capacity, and instead of pushing through like I used to, I accept (often begrudgingly) that I have to stop. Even if it’s inconvenient. Because while it might be inconvenient to leave a task half finished, it’s a lot more inconvenient to be laid out for a week, unable to do much of anything.

I’m learning to accept that there is so much we simply cannot control. I used to be so angry that I was “doing everything right” and still found myself getting sick, stuck in bed, my health sliding, my brain foggy, my life impacted. Now, I try to focus on what I can control (my choices and actions) and let the rest fall where it will.

The magnificent rose garden in Portland, Oregon. I know I’m a garden nerd, but this place is gorgeous.

But the final part of feeling stronger, I think, is because I’m choosing to heal, rather than trying to recover.  

According to the Merriam-Webster Dictionary, to heal is, “to cause an undesirable condition to be overcome”. Whereas recovery means, “to get back” or “bring back to normal condition”.

I don’t know if it’s splitting hairs, but to me these feel like very different things. To heal is to move forward, while to recover is to go back or return to a former state.

I used to think about my health in terms of recovery. As in, “If I work hard enough, if I focus on wellness for long enough, if I’m disciplined enough… I’ll recover. I’ll get back to what I once was.”

But now I don’t believe I can return to a former state. And, I’ve been surprised to discover, I don’t think I’d want to. The state I find myself in today is hard fought and well-won, a constantly evolving lesson in patience and permission. It’s built on layers of learning and growth and acceptance.

So in that way, I don’t think I will recover. I have scars – visible and otherwise – that will remain no matter what. I can’t go back to what, or who, I was before.

But I can heal. I am healing. My heart is healing. My scars are healing. My brain and body and spirit are healing. Moving forward. And as a result, I’m getting stronger.

It’s slow, no doubt. And some days, it’s annoying. Ironically, what seems to help is looking back, seeing how far I’ve come. And I don’t just mean looking back to yesterday or last week. If I look back a month, two months, a year, I can see that the trajectory is one of improvement, of healing.

Gretchen Rubin once wrote, “The days are long, but the years are short,” and while I think she was writing about parenting and I’d absolutely agree with that, I’d also suggest it applies to any long journey. Healing, recovery, discovery, learning. We can get lost in the day-to-day weeds, the ups and downs that are big in the moment, but that form only a small part of a large whole over time.

So here’s to feeling stronger, slowly.

Brooke xx

PS. Just a reminder that I’m taking a break while my kids are on holidays from school, so I won’t be responding to comments as quickly. I’ll be back online in a few days though, and will get back to you then 💚