The Art of Gratitude

When I began writing weekly gratitude posts the idea of posting for 52 weeks scared me. I didn't think I could do it. And I didn't think I did gratitude well.

I was grateful. But for the big things mostly. And when I needed to be. It was something I was working on. Gratitude wasn't a mindset for me. But that's what it's become.

My first real lesson in gratitude came eight years ago when my health was suffering and I was desperately eliminating foods from my diet and cursing my body for the pain I was in every day.

During that time {although I always believed I would find healthy again} I realised I was much less than grateful for my body and not at all grateful for the {lack of} food choices I now had.

My amazing health practitioner suggested my body may  {most definitely would} digest food more easily if I gave thanks for it first. If I was grateful for food. This was an awakening of sorts for me - I realised that I often mindlessly ate, and I simply expected food to be available.

Slowly and mindfully, I changed that attitude. I began by eating my food slowly {one bite at a time}, and really tasting it. I gave thanks before I ate - offering gratitude not just for the food itself but for the nourishment it would bring to my body. I began to cook more mindfully too - conscious of choosing seasonal produce, conscious of the way I cooked my food and I became more adventurous with my cooking style as I steered myself toward whole foods, fresh foods and less grains.

And while this is probably where my gratitude journey began, it took taking part in the 52 Weeks of Grateful for gratitude to align with my heart.

Gratitude has moved from practise to habit to almost effortless. It's taken time. But it's now part of how I think.

And I've come to believe that gratitude is in every moment of every day. If we choose to look for it.

xx


Do you practise gratitude? What are you most grateful for today?

{Linking with the 52 Weeks of Grateful. I've posted and linked up for more than 52 weeks now. Each week I love reading the grateful posts. I've discovered such wonderful blogs and learnt so much about gratitude from this beautiful community over here. For that, I'm grateful xx}

{Oh and I'm creating a gratitude blog roll. So if you're a blogger who posts on gratitude or we've met via the 52 Weeks of Grateful, please let me know in the comments below or via Facebook. I'd love to add you to my list. Elisa xx}

One day it all changed. Everything. In an instant.

{image via}

Being a mum is ingrained in me. It's in my heart, it's in my skin, it's in my cells.

It wasn't always like this. It happened all of a sudden.

You see, I was happily doing the corporate career thing and loving it. I had money to spare and money to splurge. I could stay up late, and I could sleep in. I could save for holidays, and eat dinner at beautiful restaurants. I was my priority. My husband was my priority. New clothes were important. And handbags, new books, magazine subscriptions, soy lattes and brunch too.

I'm not saying I was a material-loving yuppie with no concern for anyone but myself. Far from that. But maybe a little that. Friends and family were high on my priority list too. What I am saying here is being a mum wasn't top of the list. It was something I was going to get to. Eventually. It wasn't a part of me. The way my husband, family, sleep, work and travel were.

And then one day it all changed. Everything. In an instant.

I can pinpoint the exact moments I realised being a mum was everything I wanted. It was the moment it was no longer a possibility.

I sat in the doctor's office ready and willing to take whichever drug was named to cure the gut-wrenching pain in my stomach that was seeing me curl under my desk at work, walk ever-so-briskly past my colleagues to the toilet praying I would get there in time, and then cry silent tears as I reached the toilet and the gut-wrenching pain intensified before ceasing and leaving me wondering, why me?

This was what I termed hell. I wanted it over. And I didn't care how. Just make it gone. And let me resume life as normal. I wanted boring, same-same, nothing-going-on-here, dullness. Anything but this.

So I waited in that doctor's room, and I said yes eagerly when the medicine was prescribed to make me feel normal again. I didn't want to hear the side-effects. "Because everything has side-effects," I joked.

But then in my daydreaming about life as normal, a body that functioned effortlessly, and a stomach that felt no pain, I heard words... fragments... pieces of information...

...And you will need to stay on this medication indefinitely.
And it's advised that you don't fall pregnant. The drug will cause serious defects...

Indefinitely. Forever? Defects. No babies. Forever? What?

...Because your comfort, and your body's return to natural rhythm is more important right now...

What?

...You will feel so much better. Soon you'll be back to normal. Plenty of people take this medication...

What?

...This is your cross to bear. Do you have any questions?

What?

I had questions. Mainly, "What?"

There has to be another way, I thought. I begged my head to think of something. I thought of nothing. I was overwhelmed, distraught, dumbfounded. And Instead, I made a list in my head: Gut-wrenching pain goes away. No babies. Medication forever.

I wanted to scream, "But I'm healthy! I was healthy! What is going on?" And as I sat in the chair, staring blankly at the doctor in front of me, my mind drifted in and out of consciousness. Thinking, thinking...

I was healthy! I ate healthy. Did I?
I had a good figure. That's healthy, right?
A good BMI. That makes me healthy {even if I don't exercise}, right?
So, I'm stressed. Everyone's stressed. That's today's world. Right?
That lady in the waiting room said I needed yoga {but I don't}. People who need to relax do yoga. I relax all the time. Wait, what's relaxing again?

I wasn't healthy. I thought I was. I didn't know what healthy felt like. But I did know that healthy didn't involve these gut-wrenching pains, and being such a frequent toilet guest.

And I knew I wanted a baby. I wanted to be a mum. In that instant, that was all {everything} I wanted. And I knew what I had been focusing on wasn't what I really wanted at all.

I wanted my devoted husband, my loving family and friends, and our house. But this fast-paced, workaholic, stress-induced, gut-wrenching, no-time-to-stop, productivity-is-most-important, don't-stop-when-you're-sick, no-time-to-listen-to-your-body, never-say-no-to-more-work manifesto? It was killing me. From the inside out. And it was killing my dreams.

And in that instant, I shrunk, I shrivelled and the outer layer of my perfect facade peeled away. I felt raw, ashamed and overwhelmed. I couldn't do it all. I'd created this frenetic life. And my insides were inflamed and bleeding because of it. Because of me. This is what I had become. I had done this to myself.

I had done this to myself. I pondered that. Was I being harsh? Or was I now seeing the truth?

All these thoughts in minutes, and there I was still sitting opposite the doctor. His arm outstretched handing me a prescription. I looked him in the eye, hoping I would find another way. He smiled gently. I took the prescription and walked out.

With a tear-stained face and blurry vision, I drove my car to the chemist and watched blankly as the pharmacist printed off a list of side-effects. I read them. This drug was effective. It would take away my pain. And it would take away my dreams.

I desperately wanted the pain to go away. Just for now, I thought. Just for a few weeks. Just to feel like me again for a few days. I cried big juicy tears onto that list of side-effects, but they didn't wash away.

I handed the list back. I left without the medication. And as I walked out, tears flowing, my whole body echoed with the words: You've done this to yourself. Your body has created this. My body created this.

The doctor had said this {ulcerative colitis} was an auto-immune disease. Auto-immune disease: when a person's immune system attacks their own body tissues. My body was attacking itself. My body created this.

Then, as I slumped back into my car, something snapped, unravelled, shifted inside me. Those words on repeat: My body created this. And then I felt a response: So, uncreate it. "Uncreate it", I said out loud. "You created it. Now, uncreate it." I said it again. This time louder.

In that instant, I believed my dream of being a mother was possible. I believed I could {and would} heal. I believed I would be healthy again. I didn't know where to start. But I believed I would find a way. Somehow, some way.

And in that instant, my whole body yearned to be a mother. It was in my heart, it was in my soul, it was in my cells. It happened all of a sudden.

Elisa xx


{I believe some of us are born mothers, and for some of us like me it takes a certain experience to get us there. Some of us become mothers in an instant. I believe having children isn't the only way to be a mother. We can be mothers to our sisters, to our friends, to our own mothers, to someone else's children. Sometimes we're mothers for a lifetime, sometimes for a few moments. And at some point as a mother you are someone's whole world. I believe sometimes mothering comes naturally, sometimes it's learnt. I believe sometimes all we really need is to be a mother to ourselves. I'm still learning mothering, and I'm okay with that.}

{This isn't the first post on my health journey, but perhaps it's close to the beginning. It's my first on auto-immune disease. Please understand I am no medical expert, and I don't intend to ever be. I'm writing from personal experience. This is one journey to better health, and there are many ways to get there. I'm writing for me, but deep down I do hope sharing my experience will help even just one other.}

{You can read more about what autoimmune disease is here}
 

And then life slapped me across the face

Starting from the ground and growing
up {to even better health}. 

I spent two days last week feeling like life had slapped me across the face, thrown me to the ground and trod on me. And then, right as I tried too early to get back up, it poked me in the eye.

Blah. That's the best word to describe it. Because at the time, I had no words. I took refuge in sleep. But even that wasn't enough to make the dizziness, aches and nausea subside.  

Eventually I stopped trying to work it {my body, how I was feeling} out. And I gave in, I let go, I stopped thinking about my body, and instead trusted my body to do its thing. And I slept a lot. 

But inside I was doing a bit of a blame game. Because health is a balancing act for me. A fine-tuned melody of rest, whole foods, water, meditation, exercise, calm and love. All of that with Grace and Eve. 

And when things aren't feeling hunky-dory, well I know I'm out of tune. And I know I should have been listening to my body's melody, instead of daydreaming into a life of Instagram images. 

So, today I'm making a commitment {again} to tune-in to the melody of me each day, and to share my health journey {past and future} here on the blog.

I will try to start my story close to the beginning. But I'm confident it will come out as bits, chunks and parts, slowly, as I see fit, as I feel comfortable {bear with me}.    

Sharing it feels right, but I'm nervous too. I've come a long way, you see. But parts of this journey {bumpy road trip?} I'm ashamed of. And parts I'm proud of too.  

I feel great, but I'm not saying my health travels are over {I don't believe anyone's are}. Because I will always be striving for {even} better health. Always. Because the one thing I know for sure is health is marvellous, wondrous and pure beauty. And I want more.

Elisa xx

{image via Stockvault}


What keeps you feeling healthy?