Different versions of me... Before I reach the best.

I guess Ive been a number of different people in my life so far.

Academically, Ive never struggled. Ive been the girl that was severely bullied from the age of 5 until the age of 18 as a result, and became overly tough to compensate. Which I guess created its own problems.

Ive been the cool girl too... I'm not overly sure who she was, a little bit of me and a little bit of the expected me.

There were glimpses of the real me, that quickly retreated into the shadows as I wasn't mature enough to rationalise the reactions of some particularly nasty people that I came across. Maybe they were acting out a persona too - as a result of their own environments.

Ive been the fat girl. Ive been the thin girl. Ive been the sugar addicted girl. But never the particularly well girl.

Ive been the fit and strong girl, and the sick girl.

Ive made good decisions, and Ive made bad decisions, but everything has led me to where I am now.

Where has that been for the past 2 years?

The most challenging but eye opening time of my life... and in retrospect I consider myself lucky that it's happened while I'm so young! Why? Because I was forced into a decision. That decision was whether to learn about and embrace 'the immense personal power that we have to determine our own health and fitness', or whether to accept an illness and a lifetime of deterioration whilst following and never questioning the generic medicinal routes (including side effects) of today that are accepted as the norm. And I still have a whole lifetime to learn about it and live as a truly well person!

So why am I talking about being bullied, or not being myself, or eating too much sugar, or even being thin? Because every element of that contributes to a person's overall 'wellness'. 

When I munched away on pick'n'mix and sherbet dib dabs, I was feeding disease. Whilst at my fittest and strongest, my body was a bundle of inflammation and stress; I was eating what my perception of healthy was because it resulted in me being slim, but I wasn't actually feeding my body with true knowledge about how to optimise its performance and prevent disease. (Which is happening!)

I lived on nervous energy and 4 hours sleep, little did I know about the actual science behind a good nights sleep. I got sick. 

I had developed such a strong persona  of 'me' that I had lost the actual real me, and the things that are fundamentally what define me as a person, and hadn't a clue about how this can influence your health.

Now I try to achieve a balance in every aspect of my days, I eat cleanly and specifically to reduce the inflammation in my body and brain. Meditation is not the hippy dippy humming that I once thought it was, and I don't waste every day worrying about being worried. As opposed to hammering myself in the gym, I have a very balanced approach to strength and cardio that is helping to build stamina and reduce fatigue. Instead of having the strongest 'career girl' image that I could, Im still doing a great job but challenging myself to talk about what is actually happening in my life and be myself. (That's what this blog is about!). I play the piano again, which is a defining part of me too.

Im not perfect. But I'm trying to learn as much as I can to be the best version of me. 

What frustrates me? When people talk about their illness, and aren't ready to help themselves.

Ive had it all, 'You can't be that sick to be able to heal yourself with food', 'You might be able to do that but I suffer from this, this, this and this and I couldn't do that because....'

Let's be clear. I spoke with a slur, had a droopy face, walked with a limp, lost my train of thought mid sentence all the time, and couldn't stand for long. I don't anymore...

But I do understand that society has taught us to accept this and to medicate, and that it is easier to accept our own excuses for fear of perhaps failing, than striving to do it the natural way. Illness can be all consuming. It's tough to take the first steps.

We are encouraged not to understand our primal abilities to work towards and achieve a supreme level of health. I've only turned the first couple of corners, but I'm excited about the rest of the way!

My neurologist is an absolute gem of a man, but he refuses to discuss the effects that nutrition has had on my MS. He is delighted at the lack of new lesions, he is astounded that those on my brain have reduced a little in size. And says that this is simply not possible without medication.

But I HAVE done it. I have plenty of hiccups on the way, but hate to think where I would be if I hadn't begun this journey.

I'm no longer slurring, and have a snippet of superwoman! 

When the time is right, and you are ready to give it a go... You CAN do it too. 

Feel it, Acknowledge it, and Open Your Eyes!!

The only way to describe Mary.... 

Is the stereotypical (although no less magical) image of a frail and ageing lady. Think of a Roald Dahl   masterpiece, depicting a frail and tiny little thing, shoulders slightly hunched, and so slight that when sat in an arm chair - she looked like a character from the set of Tom Thumb. Her legs dangling slightly from the chair, her face heavily creased with life, teeth slightly blackened and far fewer than there had been in her hay day. Her hair, wispy and barely there - but never the less -  combed to perfection. 

But the day that I met Mary, she wasn't sitting in the comfort of an Arm Chair.

Nor did she have the privileged life of a character from a story book. Stuck in London traffic with my boyfriend, we were crawling along, on a pretty bright and airy day. His attention had been
caught by something, and I could see his glance return repeatedly, finally saying that he didn't think the lady by the road was ok. I followed his gaze.... and there she was. That frail little character, with one huge shopping bag on her arm, leaning forward to step from the roadside curb, then her confidence failing her - leaning back to avoid taking that step. Again and again she tried and failed. 

Whipping the car out of the traffic, we set out to see if she was ok. 

Swiftly deciding that a 6"2 male stranger had potential to intimidate the  5" nothing little lady, I stepped out of the car and over to see that she was alright. She had tears in her eyes when she realised that she wasn't alone, and graciously accepted my help. Feeling how unsteady and seeing how weak she was - I gently told her that she could trust me, and that I would drive her home. I'm glad that she did. 

Only being able to describe it as scooping her into the car, strapping her in, (my boyfriend got out and went on his way to the shops) thats where our new friendship began. 

We both were keen to find out about each other! 

Mary was a real chatterbox, and my heart ached a little at her enthusiasm to take that opportunity to talk - despite how fatigued she was. We swapped stories of where we were from, how old, and within the space of 5 minutes she had told me that she was 89, and currently having chemotherapy. My jaw nearly dropped, and heart ached a little more at the way she swept her own challenges aside, and homed in on me! Saying that I was so sorry to hear that, she dismissed it and began asking if my health was good, expressing her greatest wishes hoping that it was! Faced with the aftermath of her most recent chemo, we realised that Mary had walked for nearly 2 miles with a bag that may as well have been a lead weight, was so exhausted she was terrified to step from the curb (did I say... she's 89 ?!). Yet she sat next to me chattering away in a mild cockney accent, and saying that she was alright, that I was what mattered.

Back to earth with a bang! 

That was me. Moments before, I'd had a (prolonged) moment of self indulgence. I was tired, had a cold, in the aftermath of the neuro flare up, and decided that I was fed up and going to feel that way. And with a bolt of magic - Mary appeared. Kind, struggling, and oozing empathy! Now Im a fan of a bit of self pity, its healthy to acknowledge it, wallow for a while, and I'm 100% not saying that you should never let yourself feel that way! What I am saying, and aiming to do, is to allow it, acknowledge it, but only if I consciously open my eyes at the same time.

Cup half empty or full... on steroids.

Allowing and acknowledging it, allows me start to process the 'it', the feeling, the worry. Literally letting me digest it, take the good that I can and get rid of the negativity! By opening my eyes, I may not always come across a self-less little character like Mary to bump me into the reality of seeing the positive things in my life, but I do promise that it lets me see some brightness, consider what I love doing, and absorb the lesson or positive of whatever challenge has had me feeling blue - shake it up with some reality, and results in a stronger (and happier) me. The more I practise, the more I see.

When I was still in London, I used to visit Mary for a cup of tea. She never ceased to amaze me, and made me laugh with her lectures to Alan about us not getting any younger. There were tears when we moved!

Maybe you have your Mary round the corner? Open your eyes and say hello. :)