Traumatized

There are things that you don't want to do in front of your 6-year-old child OR your 66-year-old mother. Things that might be embarrassing or inappropriate or anything that might be in the least bit frightening. Needless to say, after this morning's incident, both of my roommates - my young son and my mature mother - are both keenly aware that something is not quite right with me. And perhaps a bit scared, too.

I was in the kitchen, drinking coffee when it hit. "It" is a sharp pain, almost a spasm in my low abdominal area. "It" feels like childbirth. Times twenty. "It" strikes without warning. "It" takes my breathe away; makes me see stars. "It" is unlike anything I've ever felt before. "It" brings me to my knees. Today "It" brought me to the floor. With a blood-curdling scream.

Ben looked up from Tom and Jerrry. My mom rushed in from the front room.

I tried to speak - to say anything - that would articulate what "It" was doing to me. But there were no words.

There was one thing I knew to do and that was to push back into Child's Pose and breathe like I teach: sloooowwwwwlllllllyyyyyy.

"It" started to go away. I got up off the floor. I think that the impact of the event hit my mother harder than it hit Ben. He eventually went back to Tom and Jerry but she didn't go anywhere.

I explained to her - as best that I could - that T3 and T4 hormones are your "fire" or your "agni," as we call it in yoga. T3 and T4 get you out of bed in the morning, they tell your metabolism to start its daily burn, these are the hormones that prompt your body to digest each meal, each snack, each stolen piece of chocolate and to move fluids through, as well. This power of this dynamic duo cannot be under-estimated. I read that when low levels of T3 and T4 go untreated, that major feelings of apathy, depression and even psychosis start to emerge.

"It" is one of the really ugly parts of having no digestion to speak of. The littlest thing can set my system off and "It" comes out, showing his ugly, demonic self. I'm lucky that so far, each episode has occurred in my own home.

Lest you think that I am shedding pounds and pounds of weight with all this going on, let me say that I could go on a water only diet and still gain several pounds a week, at this point. I went through the disappointment and the being so-pissed-that-I-threw-a-few-things-at-my-bedroom-wall-while-trying-to-get-dressed-phase and now I'm much more at peace with it. I'm even pretty zen. I have a ton of clothes a la Crossroads and my friend, Michelle's Swap event, that I could care less about what's fitting and what isn't. Seems there are bigger things to worry about.

Like not letting "It" come around when Ben and my mom are here. No doubt, I've totally freaked my mom out but I think I've saved Ben. For the moment.

Stay the fuck away, "It." Or at least don't come back until Ben is in school and preferably when my mother is out shopping. That's all I ask.