Hello my friend, I really hope you are well and had a lovely week. This is The Beautiful Chaos - my personal journal of our smallholding, unschooling and sovereign-seeking life. I write about things that are important to me: women’s health, Naturopathy and herbs, holistic wellness, organic growing and raising happy kids and happy animals. I am sending out this week’s publication - a supplemental note free for all subscribers - a day early so as to keep Father’s day on Sunday clear for us to celebrate and remember in our way and so that it keeps me away from a busy inbox ;). No trigger warning, just a heads-up, today I discuss themes of loss and how I am steering my process of grief. Please reach out if this essay touches you. As always I only write what is in my heart.
Of course I have not been feeling my most vibrant. In the lead up to Dad’s passing my family succumbed to the usual winter and early spring bugs and viruses but I did not. I stayed energetic and alert and on-call.
But now my body is going through a massive detox. A purging of weighty toxins and emotional burdens. I have had a recurrent cold that refuses to budge, swellings on my thyroid, a constant brain fogginess and an angry red rash on my chest that is not responding to my usual skin regimen. It gets to 9pm and I can barely keep awake. I am still zonked at 8am and would actually sleep longer if I could. I have very little energy and every step feels like I’m wading through oil.
There are things I need to do, work commitments, family and home duties plus the everyday stuff of our smallholding life.
None of this is being helped by my recent sugar and carb cravings. I know these foods are actual poison to me and do not agree with my perimenopause changing body and health and yet I gravitate to them like comforting big warm arms holding me, stroking my hair and telling me everything is going to be ok.
Effort is needed to drag me out of this fog - I want to build up a bit of strength first then will go into a water-fast to reset things in a few weeks time; a practice I know well and which I swear by for kickstarting keto-adaptation and autophagy, but for now I still wallow.
I know this picture of ill-health comes from a knackered nervous-system compounded by fluctuating hormones, stress and grief. What a mix!
Grief affects the body like nothing else and I wish more people knew this. Physically, there can be symptoms such as fatigue, changes in appetite, and disrupted sleep patterns. It feels physically draining, as if all my energy has been sapped away. This exhaustion can stem from the emotional turmoil and the mental energy required to process it all. And other somatic symptoms are not uncommon - headaches, tightness in my chest, and muscle tension, all reflecting a body's response to stress and emotional pain. I feel my shoulders are tense ALL THE TIME.
The immune system is often compromised during periods of intense grief and autoimmunity can be triggered through the shock of losing someone close. The stress hormone cortisol is often elevated in individuals who are grieving, which can suppress the immune response and make the body more susceptible to illnesses. Chronic stress associated with prolonged grief can lead to more severe health issues, such as heart disease or high blood pressure. It's not uncommon for grief to exacerbate existing conditions, as the body struggles to cope with the emotional burden.
It’s a new level of exhaustion that I haven’t experienced before. The times when I need to put on my happy girl face feels particularly TRICKY as the effort to ‘be happy’ takes such a long time to recover from.
And then the guilt.
It was my birthday this week and my family made a big fuss. I should be happy I should be grateful - look how loved and cared for I am.
And yet still this feeling is right here in my belly all day long. Sometimes it feels sicky and I wish I could just throw-up for some temporary relief, but mostly it just feels like a massive weighted blanket smothering and holding me down.
I don’t want to socialise, I literally just want to be at home with my family and chickens. Whenever I am in London it’s an onslaught to my nervous system. Every sound, smell, sight feels too intense, too much.
At the IPM last week I was demo-ing the Healy resonance and scanning myself as an example of how it works. The same local stimulation programs kept showing up for me again and again. This particular group of programs are numbered not named (for compliance reasons of course). When I had a bit of a break between visitors I decided to check which program it was that Healy so desperately wanted me to run.
It was the Depression program.
Of course.
I know depression is near. It is a tangible thing - like a bubble positioned somewhere to the left of my head. I can see it and feel it often. But do I want it to go away? I mean it would be nice if it wasn’t there but it’s there for a reason right? It tells me that I am going through a catastrophic loss. It tells me that my DNA has been affected as 50% of my genetic make up is no longer alive. It tells me that life is forever changed and I have to make adjustments to this new normal. It tells me that I had better watch myself and start to take more responsibility for my health and wellbeing. It’s a reminder of my fragile nervous system and is there to help inform me as to what I need.
So although I’d rather it wasn’t there, I see how completely necessary it is and how it is shaping my emotional body right now. If I were to go to my GP I am sure I would be prescribed anti-depressants. I would be offered a pill to soften all these feelings away.
But that’s not for me. I don’t want the feelings of losing Dad to be numbed away. I am in a deep era of grief and for me it is absolutely crucial that these depths of parental loss are felt. It should be felt, all of it. My Dad was a total legend and such an important man in all our lives. Why should I try to avoid or deny the grief that comes from his passing? I know that it is always better to go deep into themes rather than avoid them, go in, explore, process then emerge. And I always, always feel better after a good cry :)
That said, some (better) choices that I am making to support myself at this time include smothering myself in tallow, eating a lot of fats, wrapping up in soft and warm fabrics, unapologetically lighting the wood-stove in the evenings, running Healy Depression program - ha!, Star of Bethlehem Bach Flower remedy, Passiflora incarnata (passion flower), Echinacea purperea (echinacea) and Avena sativa (oat) tinctures daily, lying on the grass in the sun, drinking endless cups of nettle and rose tea and cuddling my chickens.
And over time the hurt will soften, my body will feel stronger and I will feel less emotionally fragile. I know the human body is an extraordinary healing machine but I also believe allowing it to feel the breadth of the experience with compassion plays a big part in this healing.
With love, Izzy x
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I’m sorry to hear of your recent experiences. Emotions can be like wading through oil! Something that helps me through is knowing I’m not alone. Regardless of your belief system I hope you can find comfort in this “Jehovah is close to the brokenhearted; He saves those who are crushed in spirit”