Episode 2 (Part 2) OVERWHELM & ACCEPTANCE

"Beginnings are usually scary, and endings are usually sad, but it's everything in between that makes it all worth living." - Bob Marley

Receiving a negative health diagnosis can be profoundly overwhelming. It triggers fear, uncertainty about the future, and a flood of medical information to process. Coping involves emotional support, understanding the condition, and adjusting daily life, creating a significant challenge to one's well-being and sense of stability.

Transcript

Welcome to Inflammation Superhighway. Well, I'm Claire Tierney. I live in Australia. I'd like to pay my respects to the custodians of this saltwater-encircled country, where this podcast is being recorded. I honour the elders, past, present, and emerging. This is, and always will be, Aboriginal land.

Hey, you bet it's Claire Tierney, and this is Inflammation Superhighway. Thank you again for joining me to cruise the highway, as we return in Episode Two, Part Two. We are talking overwhelm and acceptance.

I would like to reiterate again that the material in this episode is sensitive in nature and could potentially trigger emotional distress or discomfort. If you find yourself triggered or overwhelmed by any topics covered, please reach out to a trusted friend, family member, or a mental health professional for support. Your wellbeing is important to me, and I want to ensure that everyone listening feels safe and supported. Thank you.

I want to pick up where I left off from Part One. So, I'm going to do a quick recap. I had been diagnosed with multiple sclerosis at 28. I took on board the diagnosis and chose to ignore the prognosis, which was pretty distressing and extremely negative. I kept the diagnosis as a reality in the back of my mind. I talked about the stress it had caused and my initial reaction to the diagnosis. I also talked about a university relationship that had lasted on and off for about eight years and the stress that leaving that relationship had also brought me. The timing of my diagnosis being at the end of that extremely stressful time. I also spoke about the diagnosis making no sense, as I was super fit at the time. I also spoke about the life I was living after that, with my then-new partner and the entrepreneurial life I had with multiple businesses, which I loved. I loved working hard and fast, and I was, as I said, strong, fit, and healthy. But they were my businesses, and therefore the buck stopped with me, which was an underlying stress in a different area. I also spoke about the travel; my long-term relationship partner and I traveled all through South America for quite a few years. We bought a car and traveled from the bottom of Chile all the way up through Colombia to Venezuela and into Ecuador. We regrouped there with a job and then saved money and got another job, which took us to Spain on a two-year contract. We'd finished the first year and were back from a holiday in Morocco when I found out I was pregnant.

And I will pick up my story in Part Two with my return to Australia to move to Far North Queensland with my then-partner of 16 years I was really aware that with MS, vitamin D plays a really big part, and the further away you get from the equator, the less vitamin D absorption. So, I was really aware that Melbourne was way too far from the equator. 

So, when I got back, I followed the sun again and moved to Cairns. And when my partner returned to Australia, we moved from Cairns to Port Douglas with a job and bought some land in Mossman. The town was extremely friendly, and we made a lot of friends really fast. Because I worked for myself, I got to hang with my son every day, all the time. I mean, he did do a day a week at daycare and he did go to kindergarten a couple of days a week when he was older, but we hung; we had our feet in the dirt, we had our feet on the beach, we had our bodies in the river and the ocean, and we walked in the forest. We were super happy, my son and I. Eventually, when he was five, he was off to school. I was really happy in my job, in my business. I was really loving the events that I was running, but they didn't bring in a great deal of money, and unfortunately, that became a problem for my partner and me and was causing quite a lot of stress in our relationship.

It seemed that the stressful aspect of the relationship was causing me to circle in my mind, going around and around and around and finding no solution to the issues that I thought we had. At the same time, I was starting to get these symptoms that were not going away this time. So, I'd lost the capacity to write with my right hand, and I don't know why. I was just starting to feel really embarrassed about the future and my symptoms. I was limping, and therefore, on certain days, I needed to use a cane, and all I was ashamed, which is bizarre to say that you're embarrassed about an illness or some symptom of an illness that's been placed on you. I was fiercely independent and bold, and I was very public in my job, and I needed to be fit for my job. It wasn't all just the mental side of it; I was putting up marquees and moving boxes and sets around and fitting up stalls and stages and doing photo shoots, and I just didn't feel like I could risk anyone knowing that I had a debilitating illness because that would equate to a lack of confidence in a potential employer or a contract. I was also really bad at asking for help. Now, that's something that I want to design in on because asking for help and receiving help from those that offer it is really important for your mental wellbeing with this rollercoaster ride that we're on. I felt like I didn't want anyone to feel sorry for me, again, my projection of how I felt people would think when they saw me or but when you think.

It's really crazy—the stuff that you think about for yourself, you don't think about for others. So if somebody else was struggling with a health issue, of course, I could help. "Here, let me help you." And yet, if somebody offered to help me, it was like, "Oh no, it's okay, I'm fine, I'm fine." But I was trying really hard to not fit the mould of victim, and I didn't want to be incapable. I was scared about the prognosis, seeing now that some of my symptoms weren't going away. Obviously, I was progressing.

At school, I'd been captain of tennis and won all the athletics. I said before I was a brown belt and rode my bike instead of having a car. Where we lived, I was diving, and when we were overseas, I was hiking mountains. I think in the south of Chile, I was ice picking. I had jumped solo out of airplanes multiple times. My job was active. I was active. I was scared shitless of letting go of my character and my personality because I was so bound up with what I was doing, with what I did as a job.

I was starting to ask these really berserk questions that were going around and around in my head. It was like I was scared that if I started to lose my capacity to be active and fit and capable, my partner wouldn't be as interested in me. If I couldn't keep up my strength and do the work I'd always done, who was I going to be? What was I going to be doing? If I couldn't be silly and jump around at a party, be the life of the party, drink 'til dawn and dance, who was I? How was I going to stay appealing? Why would people find me interesting? If I didn't know who I was, how would anyone else know who I was?

These questions kept popping into my head, which is crazy because I was still absolutely fine and functioning. I was walking with a limp, I couldn't use my right hand so well, but how did I think that meant I wasn't me anymore? How did I think that these physical disabilities were going to stop people from being as interested in me as they had been? Why would I think that my son would change his opinion of me if I couldn't volunteer at the school, or if I became an embarrassment with my walking cane? I never thought that of other people, but I was thinking that people would think that of me.

So, I had to learn to be kind to myself. In and amongst all of these mental criticisms, it was really crucial that I stopped having harsh judgments on myself and learned to encourage myself. I really became quite aware that challenges are actually a part of your growth, and as people say, "Things happen for you, not to you." So it was really important that I replace the negative thoughts with positive affirmations of my self-worth and the progress I had made. I needed to spend time embracing self-care that nourished my mind and fostered resilience and positivity—a bit of mindset, basically.

So I was in my mid-forties, really proud of my son at school, and trying really hard to manage things at home. Unfortunately, something else was around the corner that nobody had told me about—menopause. Now, I knew menopause was coming. I mean, every woman is aware that menopause is coming, but nobody in this industry had ever broached the concept that menopause could do such a kick in the pants for MS and the symptoms. Holy fuck, sorry for swearing, but menopause knocked me over—just another of those invisible bumper cars that hit me.

This time, it didn't knock me sideways; it pushed me backwards, dropped me to the floor, spun me around, and spat me out. I was absolutely messed around by menopause, and no one had told me anything about how it might affect my wellness, mental or physical. But overnight, I couldn't handle the heat of the tropics. Now, I'd built a house and a life and a job and a pool of friends up in Far North Queensland, and I freaking loved it. I just loved it. It was the most freeing, enjoyable existence, and suddenly, I couldn't cope with it. I tried really hard—tried for years and years—and it got harder and harder. I got weaker and weaker, short-tempered. I said I was walking with a cane, losing control of my bladder, spiralling; my partner and I were fighting. I turned 50, tried really hard—I really tried—and then, one day, I snapped.

It was the weirdest thing—I literally packed a box, got in my car, and left. Just left my entire life because menopause had made me so unbalanced mentally. Nobody had said to me, "It's menopause that's happening to you," not a doctor or a specialist or anybody. No one had said, "Oh, honey, do you think this is just menopause?" I cannot believe how big an effect menopause had on my MS, and nobody had mentioned it. I think I had taken a little bit of oestrogen when I was diagnosed with potentially the first phases of osteoporosis when I finally got to Cairns after leaving my relationship, but for the four or five years prior, no one had said anything—not a doctor, nothing.

So, I spiralled out of control. I was 52 years of age when I left, and I took my son. We moved 80 kilometres away to a different town. We moved to the town where he was going to school. He'd been traveling to this school, but I moved into the town. I left all the people that I loved and found a gorgeous little apartment and tried to set up a new life. I firmly felt as I drove away from that life that just leaving was going to be the answer, the thing that allowed me to pull myself out of this spiral of symptoms and mental craziness in my head. I was going to recover, and within a year, I would have no symptoms.

When I arrived in the new town, everyone kept telling me how brave I was, but it was hard—really, really hard. After the first year, things didn't so much improve as slowly get worse in my body. I was at that point where I was becoming really sedentary. Even though I was swimming in the pool every day, every other minute of the day, I was sitting on my ass. I realized I was never going to play tennis again, hike, or go for a long walk. I wasn't going to be able to run a business or an event. I wasn't working; I was just watching life go by. Oh my God, I think now, looking back, I was so bored. All the stuff that I thought was going to happen for me wasn't happening. I realized at some point that I hadn't really dealt with my mental health.

I started to realize that movement was the only thing that was bringing me joy now, so it was time to up the ante on the movement story. I went to Melbourne over Christmas and stayed for nearly three months. I made a plan: when I got back, I was going to move more, create a whole regime for my mental health. About two weeks after I got back, COVID shutdowns happened all around the world, and everything stopped. My life that was fairly sedentary became the norm. People were freaked out about the things they couldn't do—go on holiday, go to work, see friends. That was kind of my norm.

What I did do was concentrate on what I could do—my mental health. So, I started watching everything. I'd been meditating for quite a few years, but I wasn't super good at it. I upped that ante, took a whole month of meditating twice a day, hours and hours a day. I read books, did online courses. I was really, really determined to get my mental talk down, the songs that would go around and around in my head, and I needed to get them out. As I was concentrating on my mental health, becoming better, my son started to express that the school he was at wasn't quite challenging enough to grow in the area he was hoping to fulfil for his chosen career.

He had gotten into the school he was at based on his application and audition for the drama stream of the school, and it was good, but he wanted more. I was still struggling with the heat, so he applied for a school in Melbourne, was accepted, and we took that opportunity to move away from the tropics and everything I loved, which was really emotional. Fortunately, I got to take my son with me.

I had been meditating and researching, trying to shift my mindset. I had been listening to a lot of Dr. Joe Dispenza, Bruce Lipton, Wayne Dyer. I discovered Brené Brown and Mel Robbins. I'd done more online courses, one with Dr. Joe and one with Tony Robbins. I really immersed myself in my mental health and wellbeing.

At the same time, my son had been accepted into a school in Melbourne. So, I grew up in Melbourne; it was pretty easy for me to move back there. I had a lot of friends and family. Sorry, suddenly there we were, packing up and moving to Melbourne, away from the tropics where we had been living for 16 years. I had left Melbourne over 20 years ago, and I was thinking, "Oh God, Melbourne. I love the tropics. What am I doing?" And, you know what? My body filled with joy in the colder climate, and my brain calmed in the colder climate. I was unhappy about leaving the warmth, but my body was super happy.

I decided to double down and give myself some joy, which is really important. I flew to Niagara Falls and immersed myself in a week-long Dr. Joe Dispenza seminar. I spent a week with 1500 people, all searching for answers on their own or their deliverers. I found peace and hope and a way forward. I don't know that I'm completely comfortable with who I am now. I can't tell you exactly how I changed or the minute or the moment that my brain stopped screaming at itself. But when I changed my focus from victim to soldier, and I'm still not fully there yet because I have down days, but I meditate every morning and exercise every day. My lifestyle is pretty clean.

So, meditation, exercise, movement, and diet—removing alcohol—were massive for me. And now I'm down in Melbourne and I'm single, but that's probably a discussion for another episode. I will say that when you are single with a disability and you're thinking of entering the dating pool, I feel like I'm a bit invisible. I'm still the same funny, bubbly, independent individual inside, but sometimes I have to travel from A to B in a wheelchair, and that makes me super invisible.

However, my takeaways from this podcast would be: maintain hope and agency regarding your potential outcomes and quality of life. If the diagnosis is overwhelming, cut yourself some slack. Cry, get angry, sleep, have a drink, crumble, take a shower, put on some clean clothes, and step out into the world. Go for a walk and move—nature is vital for your wellbeing, and movement is so important because MS doesn't kill you. It does affect your daily life and can throw a wobbly in your work, how you think about yourself, and how you present in the world, your personality.

But you still have control over that, so don't wait too long to look yourself in the mirror and tell yourself, "I love you, you've got this." Because if you tell yourself and all the cells in your body, "I love you, you've got this," you'll begin to forgive yourself for anything that you think you may have done to help this disease take hold. Also, out of the rollercoaster—it's long and it's hard, and you have to give up all sorts of things at times that made your life, well, made you, you. But you're here, and you're generally healthy. In fact, I am healthier—probably not fitter, but healthier—than I was in my twenties and thirties because of my lifestyle changes. I haven't had a cold for years and years and survived the COVID story.

But when you do get sick, I'll warn you: symptoms flare; that happens. But it's the sickness, like if you catch a virus, you'll find that it flares symptoms, but when the virus has left your body, you will return to where you were. So learn to accept help from wherever it comes, whenever it comes, and whenever it's offered—for two reasons: because you need it and because it's good, and because it brings joy. Well, the big—it brings joy, not just to you, but to those who are offering to help. Don't say no because if you say no, you're excluding them from fulfilling their quota of joy. They need to be involved in some way in your path, your journey, and your wellness.

Find the beauty in every day. It's a classic, corny line, but it's true: the smallest things, if you let yourself be in that moment, will allow you to realize that life is precious, and most of us don't live in a war-ravaged country. Enjoy the flowers, enjoy the person passing you in the street, enjoy the sliver of blue sky as it comes through the clouds, enjoy the warmth that you are lucky enough to have from the heater in your house, enjoy the comfort of your bed, enjoy the fact that you've got a beautiful meal in front of you.

Enjoy the simple things. And if you have children or family, enjoy the hugs and the closeness. And when you hit rock bottom, because you will at times, look up, look up, and try to smile. And when you hit the peak of any day, hold on, hold on, and enjoy the ride.

So, I think that's it for me today. It was a bit of an emotional rollercoaster, but I hope that you got something out of the episode today. I've got to end it there today. I want to thank you so, so, so much for joining me on this emotional, experiential exploration of what's probably the hardest part of the journey: the rollercoaster of emotions and the physical capacities that move and change on a daily basis. But you've got this. I want you to know that I love you, and all of you, and yes, I do tell myself every day, "I love you," I look in the mirror and tell myself, "I love you."

And I'm going to leave you with this: look up. There is an amazing poem, it's a Hawaiian practice centred around reconciliation and forgiveness, it's called the Ho'oponopono, and it emphasizes the belief that internal harmony leads to external harmony. It involves repeating these four phrases: "I'm sorry, please forgive me, thank you, I love you." It's a really beautiful process of taking responsibility for all of our experiences and relationships, and it aims to cleanse all negative emotions and promote healing. It encourages a really profound shift in perspective and helps restore balance in your life and your connections with others.

So my friends, I'm going to leave you here today. Please be kind to yourselves, and until we meet again on the inflammation superhighway, please, please do enjoy the ride.