I can't tell the future

   You never really know how things may turn out. I didn’t.

   When I was growing up, I was hungry and tired all the time. I had asthma, muscle cramps and headaches. While some of this was a result of stress and anxiety, the food we were given wasn’t sufficient, was fairly poor quality, and it was only well into adulthood that I realized I was also allergic to much of it. I remember one thing we often had was hamburger gravy, which was basically ground beef fried hard, then mixed with flour, water or milk, and some seasonings. It made me nauseous every time, but I didn’t know it because I was so used to feeling unwell after eating that I assumed it was normal.  All I knew was that the meat by itself was much more appealing to me. So I would sneak as much of the fried meat as I could before the flour was added, then eat as little as I could of the finished meal. The only food I remember really enjoying was fish, although it caused shooting pains through my entire body along with piercing headaches. I knew perfectly well this wasn’t normal, but it was the meal that I liked the most, so I suffered in silence.

   My health problems continued into adulthood. I didn’t have the ability to tell when I was hungry. Instead, I knew I needed to eat when I would feel mild cramps in my upper abdomen, dizziness, and have trouble regulating my body temperature or thinking clearly. I couldn’t tell that I was always exhausted because I had never felt really rested, so I would abuse my body to the point of collapse without realizing it. Things worsened steadily until a long car ride would mean debilitating pain, and I would spend whole nights sick and in pain, lying on the bathroom floor.

  About four years ago, I had the opportunity to take my son on a trip to California. At the end of the week, I was very sick. I spent the last night of the trip awake, drove two hours to the airport, two more hours home after the flight, and was incapacitated for almost two weeks. I realized that this couldn’t be normal and that I needed to figure out what was causing it. I began to experiment with my diet and have discovered that I need to avoid lactose and gluten, eat more meats and good fats, and that I was experiencing the after-effects of childhood traumas.

      It has been an amazing journey into greater health, both physical and mental, especially when I had not known that I was ill. When living the way I did, I didn’t see myself as sicker than other people. I thought that everyone else was better at dealing with things than I was. My body had always felt the way it did. Food had never been enjoyable and all activities were a struggle. I just assumed things were that hard and I needed to figure out how to deal with it. Mostly, the journey of realization has been gradual, but there are moments of almost spiritual epiphany, where the newness of sensation and ability is almost revelatory.

  I had taken my daughter out for a girls’ day about a year ago. We had been busy and active and I knew I would need to eat soon. While we waited for our table at the restaurant I began to feel nervous, knowing that it had been longer between meals than is good for me and that I was beginning to feel uncomfortable. I was expecting pain. But then it came over me that I wasn’t feeling any. I paused for a moment and “listened” to my body. There was no pain, no stabbing cramping. Instead, there was a warmth, a softness, and a desire for food, an ache that was almost a pleasure, knowing the food would come. I realized I was simply hungry. And I realized I never had been before. Tears of joy and relief sprang to my eyes, and I felt gratitude as I enjoyed waiting for my food.

   No one could have explained to me what that would have been like. No one could have told me what healthy hunger felt like or what it would mean to me to feel it. And I never would have thought that I would feel that way about it or that I would be able to experience the kind of health I have in my body. There are natural, reasonable assumptions we make based on our previous experience of reality. We make assumptions about our place in society, about the state of our relationships, about what we know about the universe, about our own bodies and personalities. But they can all be wrong. As we change and grow, as new opportunities and struggles come, we will see things we have never seen before, and see things as we have never seen them before.

   Today, I felt lonely again. I looked at the situation I am in and the patterns of experience that have repeatedly kept me in the situation. My heart was weary in the face of so much past. And then I felt a strength in my middle that had never been there before, I felt tired without being in pain, and I saw myself be patient through stresses that would have toppled me in the past. And I realized I can’t tell the future. I am always striving, always growing, always learning. And I have no idea what is coming. And I felt hopeful.