I initially wrote the below as part of my healing process in dealing with an autoimmune disorder called achalasia. Writing is something very therapeutic for me - seeing all my thoughts and feelings down on paper (physical or virtual) is a big release.

I was physically healing from surgery but I was also healing from something much deeper. The inherent sense in me to hold all my pain in during the most difficult time period of my life, not wanting to take up space with complaints, and ultimately not asking for help or emotional support until I was overwhelmed. 

How many of us are hesitant to ask for help? Hesitant to be the complainer? Hesitant to take up space? Even when we are challenged past our limits, many of us are unable to reach out for the support we need because of our broken belief systems

I don’t like the phrase, “everything happens for a reason” because some really terrible things happen to people who don’t deserve any of that heartache at all. However, I do believe that "There are always flowers for those who want to see them" - Henri Matisse.

This doesn’t mean that you can’t feel down, sad, upset when hard things happen. This means that when you have gone through the darkness and feel ready, there is so much goodness to live for and what you have gained from adversity will be your new super power.

Originally written on September 21, 2022

Achalsia: a rare disorder making it difficult for food and liquid to pass into the stomach resulting from damage to nerves in the esophagus, preventing food from entering the stomach and may be caused by an abnormal immune system response.

As I approach the one year anniversary of my surgery that has helped me live with achalsia more comfortably, I can’t help but reflect on all that has transpired.

Looking back, it started with some acid reflux and weird digestive issues. I was assured this was like a rite of passage to your 30s and nothing a bottle of Tums couldn't handle. And let’s not forget that the pandemic was rough on everyone so stress was at an all time high, right? The pandemic created some bad habits like drinking more than my fair share of seltzers, eating more processed food than usual, and somehow working more hours than ever, and this fed into my belief that this was temporary. This small thing was something a 3 day juice cleanse from a local health food store would cure along with my recommitment to actually use the Orange Theory classes I bought.

But then it got worse. The tightness in my chest grew so painful some days I had to sit down, I could not swallow food without it coming back up, and after one particularly tumultuous weekend, could not even keep down water. I sank into a great sadness that was foreign to me, this condition turned me into a vessel of little energy due to the couple hundred calories I could try and force down per day, all in liquid form that made me lose weight rapidly. This time period felt like a major paradox to my typically extroverted and lively self, and it was hard to comprehend how I got here. No one medically had answers that felt sufficient and tests were progressively pointing to an irreversible disorder

When I look back, my biggest mistake during this time period was trying to act tough because that is what is bored into your head from a young age, no one likes a complainer. I didn’t dare share anything with my job and continued working the long hours. I hardly shared with friends and my Instagram was a masterpiece in masking the reality with fun, surface level snapshots of summer.

I finally had to break down and let myself cry, give myself the grace to grieve because that is what I would do for a friend and why was I treating myself less than? I knew it was time to show up for myself because I still had so much in my life to be grateful for and so much love to receive from those who had been kept in the dark.

Of course I wish I never had achalasia at all, and I still sometimes get a feeling of despair in imagining that I will be dealing with this for life. On the flip side, it really did serve as a launch pad into so many beautiful discoveries over the last year. The opposite of pain and darkness is joy and light — I chose to start leaning into these because even when we have very little, we have the power of choice, always. I began starting my days by writing down what I was grateful for and this slowly turned into an exploration into meditation, breathwork practices, journaling, somatic therapy, healing my inner child, and a renewed sense of purpose to connect with my friends and family.

If nothing else, a year of achalasia has brought me a deeper sense of what it means to tap into your soul and live out the choices that will surround you with the most love and beauty your circle of life can muster. The journey has been expansive and abundant, and these words were not even in my vocabulary a year ago so I guess this flip side must be working.