Meet Alexandra: Part Two- This is What Battling a Medical Illness Taught Her About Avoidance, Fear + Self-Love

by @AlexandraIngold

Hi! It’s been awhile. If you haven’t read Part One to my story, you may want to do that before reading Part Two, otherwise things might not make much sense.

Remember when I told you that healing takes time?

I really meant it.

It’s been exactly two years since I was hospitalized for Mono, Pneumonia, and a sinus infection--the result for having taken immune suppressing medication that was keeping my Ulcerative Colitis in check. But it’s been within this second year of recovery that I feel as if I’ve become a new person.

Newsflash: Opportunities to change yourself can happen overnight--if you allow them to.

As the months passed after I had shared my first update with you, I began walking down a very fine line in regards to my health. I felt myself fighting for the life I had before getting sick. Fighting for a life that didn’t even exist anymore. I began slipping back into old coping mechanisms--over eating, over exercising and going on copious amounts of dates to distract myself. I looked left and right for validation from other people, and ignored the nagging voice in my head that was desperately telling me to rest.

Iin late February of 2019, I did what I thought was going to “fix me.” I bought a ticket, hopped on a plane, and flew to Vancouver for a week on my own-because surely, running to a completely different place would help me, right? And all while battling the negativity running through my head, I was battling the symptoms of a very serious medical condition. By that point, I had been off my medication for my Ulcerative Colitis for one year, and all my former symptoms were coming back quicker than ever.

For anyone with IBS/IBD, you’ll know the havoc this disease can cause on your body. My body began rejecting everything I put in my mouth. My stomach constantly hurt and became bloated, sometimes by just drinking water.

But I ignored it.

I ignored everything. Because I didn’t want to admit to myself or anyone around me that I was sick.

Sick again.

I’m good at ignoring reality, so I did what I knew best. I ignored. For that week in Vancouver, I ate whatever I wanted, kissed a lot of boys to help me ignore my body more, and continued to do whatever I wanted. And though I do not regret taking the trip, I look back on that week now and honestly don’t know how I made it home alive. Out of all the risky things I’ve done, that was the most dangerous and careless week of my whole life.

Somehow, I made it back to Ontario. Somehow, here I am. But after that week, my health plummeted to an all-time low. I was going to the bathroom 5-7 times every day. I started losing weight quickly, and my body felt weak. I ended up having to get a blood transfusion because my iron levels dropped to a dangerous level. I began getting regular iron infusions after that, and continued getting them on a weekly basis for the next three months. But, I told everyone I was fine.

“I’m fine!” I screamed, mostly to myself.

My GI doctor started to worry, informing me that we had to find an alternative medication to get me back on track-and find one that wouldn’t suppress my immune system. Except I told him that I wanted to try a more holistic approach--which he didn’t like. I can tell you that no doctor wants to hear their patients say they’d like to try taking herbs instead of Western medication.

Since it felt right for me to go down that route, I found a holistic healer to help me and I began her protocol. I began a new diet, started getting weekly reiki treatments and began taking a whole new whack of supplements. Within the first month, I started seeing improvements. I felt like I was getting stronger. Until- I went off track again. I’d like to point out that the outcome was in no way at the fault of my healer. Unfortunately, I could not stick to the plan. Even after reaping the benefits, after feeling and seeing improvement in the way I felt, I couldn’t seem to do it.

The reason? Truthfully, I don’t think I was ready to heal at that point (and if deep down inside, you’re not ready to heal, I don’t think any method will work for you).

The work always begins with you. You have to be 100% all in and ready. And I just wasn’t.

By May of 2019, I was in trouble, and by the end of June and into July, I was bedridden and going to the bathroom 7-10 times a day. My stomach was so uncomfortably distended, I couldn’t even lay down without feeling like my belly was about to burst. It felt as if someone was going at my organs with a dull chainsaw. It was an indescribable amount of pain.

I’m unclear as to why I waited so long to get help. But that’s what happens when you avoid the unavoidable. I was so painfully in denial that I was somehow even able to ignore intense pain.

By the end of July, I had an appointment to see my GI doctor. I knew things were really bad. I knew that I couldn’t avoid things any longer. My doctor took one look at my extended stomach and sent me by wheelchair down to the ER. He was concerned that I had an obstruction (and if I had, I would need emergency surgery that night to remove my colon and have a bag attached to my body which would become my new method of pooping. Yup!)

I’ve had my life flash before my eyes before, but nothing compares to how I felt that night.

I started thinking about all the horrible things I had done to my body that year, and all the actions that I DIDN’T take. Everything was about to blow up in my face, and now I’d lose my colon over it.

After multiple scans and a series of blood tests, it was concluded that there was no obstruction. I didn’t need emergency surgery. But I was still clearly very ill, so I was promptly admitted to the hospital, and I found myself back in an all too familiar spot. Lying in a hospital bed, with one of those scratchy blue gowns, chained to an IV post. Back where I started. Or so I thought. And test after test, doctors stood by my bed, telling me they were very confused. I had all these symptoms, yet nothing was really wrong? How could this be? My doctor even approached me with questions about whether or not I was dealing with an eating disorder. He told me I was extremely malnourished. Yes. And I can admit to struggling with body image dysmorphia, I can admit to having dealt with binge eating, but I can confidently tell you that I have never experienced a full blown eating disorder.

I was malnourished because I was going to the bathroom upwards of TEN times a day.

I was malnourished because my body rejected everything I put in my mouth.

I started feeling like no one was listening to me. I had fallen into this deep, dark hole with no way out. I began questioning everything I had done in the past.

How did I let myself get this sick again?

How come the doctors couldn’t tell me why I was feeling the way I was feeling?

And so a week into my stay at the hospital, my doctor told me we had to do a scope, so we could see what was really happening inside.

Sidenote: I need to go a bit off topic here, because this next bit is very important. Over the course of my hospital stay, I believe I experienced a whole lot of magic. And if you’re not into the woohoo stuff or you struggle with understanding spirituality, you may have a hard time with this next part. But it’s the most important part of this whole story, and I can’t leave it out. I believe that I had to experience staying in a hospital again. You know, I thought I was back where I started, but I wasn’t. I wasn’t at all. During my second stay in hospital, I wasn’t intubated, and I wasn’t fighting for my life in the intensive care unit like I was a year and a half ago. I had a voice this time, and I was able to communicate how I felt to my doctors. Which I did, especially after being accused of having an eating disorder.

For the first time in my life, I started advocating for myself, and standing up for my health.

I stopped ignoring what I was feeling.

And on top of all that, I was receiving the most love from the people around me that I’ve ever received before. And I was embracing it, which I had never been able to do before. I had no idea just how many people cared. I started getting phone calls, text messages, and surprise visits from people I hadn’t talked to in a year. Not only did my family 100% show up for me--as they always do, my friends and complete strangers showed up for me. And seeing other people show up forced me to show up for myself.

So here’s where things get spiritual. The night before my scope, I placed my two hands over my stomach and I repeated these words to myself, over, and over again:

“I’m healing, I’m healthy, I’m loved.”

I didn’t allow any negative thoughts in. Anytime I felt negativity knocking, I visualized myself politely shutting and locking a door.

“I’m healing, I’m healthy, I’m loved.”

And before I knew it, I was waking up after the scope, with my doctor standing by my bed looking nothing less than dumbfounded. He informed me that my scope showed significant improvement than the scope I had six months prior. He told me that my Ulcerative Colitis went from severe to mild. I started on a course of antibiotics, and in one weeks time, I was released from the hospital with minimal symptoms.

Magic, I tell you.

That night was pure magic.

And since that night, I have improved every single day. My stomach flattened out, I started being able to eat food without experiencing pain, and I’m no longer running to the bathroom ten times a day. My doctor chalked it all up to a very bad “stomach bug.”

;All the while I have chalked it up to avoidance, fear and a lack of self love.

I left the hospital that summer with a fresh mindset. And I’ll be honest, these past few months haven’t been easy for me.

I continually remind myself every day to slow down, to rest, to love myself, and to love others around me.

I’m still healing. But these days, I’m healing more than my physical body, I’m healing my mind, my belief system, and my values. The story isn’t over, but today, I’m able to recognize my strength and my resilience. I won’t give up on myself this time around.

I know I’m capable of achieving the life I deserve.

Meet Alanna: How Running Led Her Back to Herself

Hi. My name is Alanna. I first came to know about Move to Heal just under a year ago and was immediately compelled to get connected. The mission resonated with me because movement has healed me and it has also become a huge part of my daily self-care practice.

Here’s why:

In my late teens, I developed anorexia and lost much of my youth, mental energy and vitality to the disorder. I spent my senior year of high school in a hospital. My delicate physical and mental state meant a local university choice was the only option my parents were comfortable with. In hindsight, it was the right choice as I had to drop out of my first semester to get back on track after relapsing.

I spent the better part of 3 years not exercising at all.

Perhaps yoga here and there but definitely nothing to stress my cardiovascular system. As my weight stabilized and I was healthier mentally and physically, I began to introduce running back into my routine. I always did cross country as a kid, played soccer growing up and was always noticed for being able to “run forever and not get tired”.

Because of my history I started running in secret. I knew my parents and health care providers would strongly discourage it. They said it was “Too dangerous” or “It’s a slippery slope”- but at the same time I knew I absolutely loved running and it made me feel good. After years of hating so much about myself and, if I’m being honest, being completely lost, I was desperate to find something that made me feel like Alanna again.

So I started small. I hit the track at Ryerson university and ran for 20 minutes at a time. There was a lap counter on the wall there and I used to see how many laps I could fit into the 20 minutes I gave myself to run. It became something I looked forward to. I quickly began to notice the mental benefits of incorporating running back into my routine, in a healthy way.

Running became (and still is) like my therapy. It is something I have to show up for, something I have to fuel my body for, something I have to respect my body to do and something that reminded me who I was.

Flash forward to today and I’ve had the privilege of moving my body through many 5ks, 10ks, half-marathons, marathons, triathlons (even a half Ironman!) as well as some personal upsets, family issues and many low points in my life. Running is my outlet- and being able to run in a healthy body is one of my greatest accomplishments.

So, finding an online space like The Move to Heal Project that focuses on movement as an adjunct to therapy- it spoke to me. It is, in my non-medical opinion, why I’m here today. If I can play a small role in helping others know they are not alone in whatever they are going through, it would be an absolute honour.

My purpose here is to share some of the ways I’ve incorporated movement and mental health awareness into the corporate setting in which I work. Before diving into that, I thought sharing the why behind the column would help you better understand the motive behind it.

Looking forward to sharing more with you!

Meet Theresa. This is her Story.

“She’s had enough!”

“Oh my God don’t give her anymore.”

“You look huge in that, go change your clothes.”

“Doesn’t THAT girl have a beautiful figure.”

I can remember from as young as 3 years old, people trying to curb my food intake. I was never small but never fat, larger than the other girls but not enough to be obese. Went through puberty the earliest in my class, had an exaggerated womanly shape by nature at age 10. You might think, wow you’re lucky! But no, just no.

Not when you are told every single day of your life that you are too big. Too wide. Too busty. You eat too much. You don’t dress right. When you are made to feel completely ashamed of your innate, natural appearance by those closest to you, it takes a toll on how you view yourself.

Oh and to top it off I had a horrible case of acne from about 8 years old till present day, and endured intense bullying in middle school. After years of the same daily looks, comments, and attempts to put me on one diet or another, I was deeply, immensely hurt. Sad. Beaten to the core. Wounded. Exhausted.

“They must be right.”

“You are disgusting.”

“If I lose weight then they’ll like me better.”

“If I looked like her I’d be pretty.”

“I am worthless.”

Or so my mind would tell me all day, everyday.

And so I began to sneak food. Eating alone, with no one to tell me no was completely freeing, but also a trap. I would have to hide what I was doing for fear of punishment, sometimes that meant to eat normally in front of others again, despite being completely stuffed, so they wouldn’t know what I had previously done. When I was stressed, I ate. When I was alone, I ate. I see now that food addiction and binge eating is completely wrapped up in a feeling of not being able to be fully myself. Being made to feel shame about who you feel you truly are, the things you want to be and do, you cover it up.

You dull yourself down to match how others view you.

I hid in plain sight with food and weight gain. This goes hand in hand with the depression and anxiety I coped with since my early teen years. I discovered yoga in 2004, and felt immense relief every class. I began to go often, and even volunteered at a studio just to be there more and receive unlimited classes in return. I was able to curb my anxieties, my thoughts and mood felt more balanced, and I was able to cope with stress more effectively. I felt good for the first time maybe ever. I wanted to keep that feeling so badly and share it with others that I went for my Moksha Yoga Teacher Training in October 2010. I taught for just over a year before not even yoga could help me keep a handle on things.

After being active in childhood through sports and later with yoga and fitness, right before marriage, my bingeing started to spiral out of control. After our wedding, I became more depressed and anxious than ever. I changed my work schedule to be able to see my husband more, and ended up with a lot of alone time.

Depressed, on my own, and anxious, I ate and ate and ate.

I was trying to hide something, trying to mask emotions that I didn’t want to deal with. Trying to hide myself. My yoga practice became infrequent as I was soon pregnant and life just bounced all over the place. I became angry, hurt, and resentful that my life was changing so rapidly while it felt like much of my husband’s life, and my friends’ lives remained the same. I gained around 40 pounds in as little as a few months even before my pregnancy. I began to feel desperate to lose weight but once I found out we were expecting our first son, any extreme dieting behaviour I would have engaged in in the past was out of the question.

I am 5’4” tall, and for most of my adult life, my weight hovered around 145 pounds, wearing a dress size 8. Fast forward this dark time with depression and anxiety, plus two kids later, my highest known weight was 235 pounds, dress size 18. I haven’t recognized myself in the mirror for 7 years, and with limited time for self care as a work at home mom, my yoga practice has been almost entirely non existent. I did no formal movement or exercise during this period of time, while my children are so small and so demanding on me.

When my first son was born in 2012, I most certainly had Post Partum Depression and Anxiety.

Breastfeeding was off to a horrific start with him, which marred the beginning of our time together from the start, and only reinforced my negative emotional state. I felt that I couldn’t get my footing as a mother, I had a baby who constantly wanted to be held, and I couldn’t do anything except play with him or suffer through his crying till I gave in. I felt guilty for taking the hour for yoga, let alone a shower on top of that. So I just didn’t do it. I was in such a dark haze that even doing the dishes was an immense task to me. I was stuck between being consumed by motherhood while also my baby was the only thing keeping me going. I wanted to take care of my child and do the best for him, and that meant putting one foot in front of the other. Getting up and pushing through the anxieties instead of giving in.

My second son arrived with much less fear and anxiety. I had grown used to a low mood and anxious thoughts being part of my everyday.

But I was so uncomfortable in my body. I think mostly, I was just tired. Tired of putting myself last. Tired of a lifetime of self loathing. Tired of the comments and tired of listening to others’ opinions of me. I was so done with the shame.

After being knocked down and counted out so many times because of my appearance, I decided to do something radical — I decided to accept myself, and just go from there.

The first step was getting to an exercise class. Pushing through the nearly debilitating anxiety that had tripped me up for almost 7 years. Everyone would judge me as soon as I walked in the room. They would think I was too fat for this class and should just go home. Or they’d somehow know that I have avoided looking myself in the eye for so long because I couldn’t bear to face the truth.

When you step on a scale and know you should weigh 100 pounds less than you do, it’s a tough pill to swallow. If people said I was “too big” when I was a size 8 for most of my adult life, what does that make me now? The weight of it (literally) would send sheer panic throughout my entire body and freeze me in my tracks, preventing any significant change from taking place. I was literally stuck.

I got to that first Zumba class back in the fall because even if I couldn’t really do yoga or many other exercises (it was simply too physically uncomfortable and frustrating with the extra weight) I knew I at least loved to dance. The first few classes I was so awkward but slowly got my groove back, and actually started to feel kinda good. I’d lose myself in music and just be present. The anxiety slowly began to lift, which is nothing short of miraculous. I recently took the plunge at becoming certified to teach Zumba. Even though I’m still very very overweight and not completely ready, I pushed myself to go. I’m thinking I might find something on the other side of that fear, maybe even me again.

I’ve avoided speaking about it directly, worried that those who know me but don’t know the full truth would be hurtful and judgemental. But the truth is, they’re probably already thinking that anyway. I can’t stay silent.

As part of my experiment in radical self acceptance, I began documenting my fitness progress and journey into overcoming food addiction and anxiety on Instagram over on my account @agirlhasnoblog. My hope is that there might be someone out there that my experience and words can comfort or help. Like Cayla, the founder of Move 2 Heal-

I believe we are stronger for sharing our experiences, stories and showing our hurts. I feel the time is here to shed all that no longer serves us.

By speaking openly about it, it kills the secret and likewise strangles that monster that once had supreme control over me. I’m learning to ignore that constant feeling of lesser-than; but instead stand in myself, exactly as I am.

I’m grateful for my experience because I’ve begun to get more comfortable with the uncomfortable.

I have learned that I need to trust my own inner voice more than the voice of any other, no matter what place they have in my life.

I know what’s best for me, I know what moves me, what feeds me, what nourishes me. I’m no longer interested in dulling myself to let others feel brighter.

We are all amazing, unique and beautiful, and to tear someone else down is a sign of your own internal doubts.

I’m not out to compete with other women, I’m only out to compete with myself; To keep the big monsters of my anxiety and depression away by channeling and releasing them through movement.

Daily exercise through Zumba or now also the Tracy Anderson Method has become irreplaceable and a non negotiable. I used to feel so guilty about taking time for myself, but my kids have gotten used to seeing me do the exercises and engaging in more self care. I am most motivated by a desire to model for them what was never shown clearly to me: the power of standing firmly within yourself, and allowing yourself to transform as many times as you need to get there.

How to Combat Negative Thoughts: U-Turns

How many of you have had days where you are overwhelmed by your own negative thoughts?

Sometimes I have my moments. Sometimes the moments last hours. Sometimes the hours turn into one day, or two, or many. When I was younger I used to think that these days would just 'diminish' as I moved into adulthood. What I'm realizing now is- maybe these days and thoughts don't diminish (necessarily); we just get better at navigating our way through them; at working it all out.

As I'm typing this I am reminded of something very honest my friends mother shared with me. After her daughter- my friend- passed away, she described how, when she was shopping, she would naturally go to the girls section to buy clothes for her. Or, she would reach out for her favourite kind of cookie, or find herself going towards the phone so she could call her. She told me how she now lives her life U-Turning. She is still out of habit moving in that direction and going to do those things but now has to U-Turn back.

I find this story so heartbreaking on so many levels (partly because I adored my friend and I love her Mom so much) but I also find it quite profound when applied to something like negative thought patterns.

I grew up as my own worst enemy. I had no idea what self-care looked like, never mind self-love. I had never given thought to activities or things that made me truly happy. And most important, I had absolutely no idea how to speak kindly to myself. In trauma therapy I came to learn that the large, overpowering voice in my head that was mean, terrible and rude was not my own. It was a combination of voices that I grew up around all rolled into one- and I heard that voice (those voices) so often I believed it was my own. (Has this happened with you?)

When I tell people now about completing trauma therapy and the biggest changes I have made in my life, I often talk about how my days are FILLED with U-Turns. Filled with them. My mind still defaults to "I'm not good enough", "I'm useless", "I'm not strong enough", etc. but the difference is now when those thoughts occur, I catch myself after and I U-Turn it in a different direction.

Something I've been doing recently is writing down the opposite of what the negative thought is, putting it on a piece of paper and then carrying the paper around with me all day. For example- if the negative thought for the morning is "I am useless", then I write down "I am worthy, capable, and powerful". Then I read it over and over and over and over and over and over. Sometimes I get pissed off and throw my pen at the wall. Sometimes the negative thought wins in that moment. But I'm trying. And the more I do it, the louder my internal, true voice gets. WHICH I LOVE!

I was reading the book 'You are a Badass' (JEN SINCERO I LOVE YOU) and she also talks about how we mentally beat the shit out of ourselves every day. So we should write down a ton of positive affirmations and read them out loud even if we feel like they aren't true. Because you know what? The other negative stuff we are telling ourselves isn't true either. So if we are gonna tell ourselves something it may as well be Positive.

Anyways- point being. I want to encourage you today to pay attention to your internal dialogue. Can you catch yourself? Can you send your thoughts in a different direction? Can you show yourself some love and kindness? How can you U-Turn today?

Let me know how it works out for you. Lots of Love xo