It’s hard to believe I haven’t blogged on here since August. Brandy in August was full of vim and vigor. I was doing Whole30, exercising 5 days a week and getting ready to celebrate one year with the boy!
But then, in late September, I woke up one Sunday not feeling well. Splitting headache. General sense of blah. I took my temperature, and it was 102.7. Which is pretty high for me. So I popped a few ibuprofen and headed to Urgent Care. They gave me a flu test, which came back negative, and sent me on my way with a prescription for an antibiotic which they said I could “take if you want.”
Not super comforting.
I took to bed where I pretty much stayed for three days. On Wednesday, still running a fever, I went to my primary care doctor. He proclaimed it viral, and told me to keep alternating ibuprofen and Tylenol for the fever.
My mom came for a pre-planned visit, and I tried to power through. But I was exhausted and could barely make it through the day without needing a nap.
(I’m betting a good half of you have already diagnosed me. Congratulations, you’re WAY faster than my doctor).
I won’t drag it out, but after two weeks, a bunch of blood tests, and 16 straight days of a fever, I was finally diagnosed with the Epstein Barr virus. AKA, mono.
Go ahead, get your kissing jokes out of the way. I’ll wait.
Long story short, I was sick for weeks. The virus attacked my liver and I had to have weekly blood work. I napped in my car over lunch. I gave the boy a wide birth (since we didn’t know if he’d had mono before, I didn’t want to infect him). Oh, and then I went on a trip to Brazil, because of course I did!
How does that tie into my long silence here?
It’s hard to write on a blog called “Healthy & Whole” when you feel nothing but sick and broken.
I went from working out nearly every day to napping nearly every day. Cooking healthy meals gave way to eating comfort food. And then, even as my body grew stronger, I felt more and more discouraged. I had lost so much ground. I got dizzy when I finally went back to the gym and had to lie in the floor while my trainer elevated my feet. I couldn’t run for more than a few minutes at a time.
Then the fear came.
What if I gained all of my weight back. What if the boy didnt’ like me anymore. What if I was permanently broken.
I was in a bit of a spiral.
But now, here I am, a walking cliche, back in the new year.
I’m slowly starting my workouts again. Trying to meal plan and cook more. Go for walks. Curb the snacking.
I’m trying to be healthy and whole again. Because I’m not the person I was 75 pounds ago. I’m not broken.
And the boy has assured me he’s not going anywhere 🙂
So here’s to 2017. A year of new beginnings!