My mind has been in a fog for nearly a year.
I haven’t written as much as I used to; the desire is there, but for the first time in my life, I don’t know how to put the words on the page – at least not the way that I am accustomed to. It’s been frustrating and maddening for a wordsmith who can’t seem to find words.
I found out yesterday that I have Hashimoto’s Disease, which is a thyroid condition. I knew that most of the women on my dad’s side of the family has this, and between The Fog and some other unexplained symptoms, I decided to get tested and see an endocrinologist.
I have answers to these symptoms now, and I found answers to a lot more. I found out that the miscarriages I’ve had were caused by this. And my heart breaks because of it.
Most people don’t know that chapter of my life, because I had to move on. Life, work, kids, divorce…it demanded me to move on.
Here’s the timeline: in 2008, I miscarried after a car wreck my then-husband and I were in. Complete devastation and depression. In 2009, I had Jackson. In 2010, my dad was diagnosed with melanoma, and we lost him in early 2011. In July of 2011, I got pregnant, and six weeks later, I miscarried. I miraculously got pregnant again in September, and eight weeks after that I miscarried again. More pain and grief compounded on top of existing pain and grief. I gave up getting pregnant, and on Thanksgiving Day in 2011, I realized my period was late; I took a pregnancy test, saw the positive result, and tossed it at my husband saying, “Don’t get too attached – we’ll lose it soon.” That positive test is now a sweet and spirited five-year old girl sitting in a Kindergarten classroom as we speak. And I am blessed for that.
Yesterday was the first time I got pulled back into that chapter of pain. All of the “Why, God?” questions were answered. And it breaks my heart.
That chapter of compounded pain was the thread that slowly unraveled my marriage and my life. I can’t let myself go down the rabbit hole of “What ifs” because I don’t think that is healthy or going to change the past. But I am sitting with my grief today – grief that I didn’t fully get to realize then, and grief for the years that followed, derived from that chapter of pain.
I’m frustrated that I can’t seem to articulate anything the way I want to. I’m frustrated that this once multi-tasking mom forgets to return text messages or emails for days. I’m frustrated that I didn’t push myself to find this out sooner.
If you are one of the people that have been on the receiving end of my fog, I am sorry. Between the jobs I juggle, the co-parenting schedules I navigate, and the semblance of a life as a woman and mom I try to maintain, my physical energy has felt depleted and my mental energy even more non-existent. As I move forward with the right course of medicine and focusing on rebuilding my body back to a place of wellness, I promise to do better and show up more.
I’m hopeful for my next chapter because I have answers now. The course can be charted, and I am looking forward to feeling more like myself – as a friend, as a mom, and as a writer. But today I’m grieving for the lost time, energy, people, and dreams the Pain and the Fog took from me.