\n<\/p>\n
First Lady Eleanor Roosevelt often gets credit for the line, \u201cDo one thing every day that scares you.\u201d The correct attribution may go to\u00a0Chicago Tribune<\/em>\u00a0columnist Mary Schmich who used that line in a\u00a0graduation speech<\/a>\u00a0she penned for young students. Included in her list of advice was:<\/p>\n Don\u2019t be reckless with other people\u2019s hearts. Don\u2019t put up with people who are reckless with yours.<\/p>\n Floss.<\/p>\n Don\u2019t waste your time on jealousy. Sometimes you\u2019re ahead, sometimes you\u2019re behind. The race is long and, in the end, it\u2019s only with yourself.<\/p>\n Remember compliments you receive. Forget the insults. If you succeed in doing this, tell me how.<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n The point of doing something that scares you is to move past the comfort zone which can be like bubble gum on your shoes if you stay in it too long. It\u2019s also a reminder that you are so much stronger than you ever gave yourself credit for. At least that\u2019s why I try to stretch myself every now and then by doing something that triggers heart palpitations. Like swimming\u00a04.4 miles across the Chesapeake Bay<\/a>\u2014starting at Sandy Point State Park and finishing at Libby\u2019s Coastal Kitchen on the Eastern Shore.<\/p>\n I have swum the event before, but I\u2019m guessing not for the same reasons endurance athletes run marathons or compete in triathlons. I could care less about my time. I am merely after a fresh reference point to help me tackle suffering \u2013 a visual to inspire perseverance in those white-knuckle moments when I want more than anything to throw up my arms and say, \u201cNOT POSSIBLE.\u201d\u00a0<\/p>\n In these harder hours I envision myself between mile marker two and three, where I am most vulnerable to sinking, and I say to myself: \u201cDon\u2019t you dare look at Libby\u2019s. You know you will get discouraged if you do and find yourself on the kayak of remaining bodies after the awards ceremony. Put your damn face in the water. One stroke at a time. Concentrate only on getting to mile marker three. The world could be over before you reach mile marker four. Stay in between the spans of the bridge so you don\u2019t get disqualified. And eventually, I swear to you, all of this will be over and you\u2019ll be on the beach smiling for your victory shot.\u201d<\/p>\n There was more significance this year attached to my crossing the finish line. The swim commemorated my decision three years ago to shift health philosophies in managing my chronic conditions \u2013 from a biochemical model that aims to treat illness to a holistic approach that promotes long-term healing of body, mind, and spirit. As I ambled unto the beach of the Eastern Shore, I celebrated the remarkable health gains I have achieved as a result, including a peace that I didn\u2019t know was possible for a person who has struggled with depression since age eight.<\/p>\n People who have lost a loved one sometimes describe their grief as a disintegration of the self. They don\u2019t know how to access their own person detached from the one with whom they have shared decades. For them the loss feels as if it has penetrated their very DNA, provoking a search for their identity in things both old and new. Everything looks different. Everything is different.\u00a0<\/p>\n I haven\u2019t mourned the passing of an actual person in recent years. But I am familiar with this shattering of the self on a cellular level and the efforts required to rebuild whoever is left into a new creation. Enough loss occurred in my health over the last six years to make me question health philosophies that I had espoused\u00a0since I was 19<\/a>\u00a0and promoted for 20 years\u00a0in my writing<\/a>. While I have definitely benefited from traditional treatments for depression during stretches of my life, in the latter years they\u00a0created more problems<\/a>\u00a0than solutions,\u00a0adding to my suffering<\/a>\u00a0more than subtracting from it. Despite this established pattern, I kept trying one\u00a0medication combination<\/a>\u00a0or\u00a0neurostimulation intervention<\/a>\u00a0after another until I nearly exhausted the arsenal of psychiatry.\u00a0<\/p>\n Life coach Tony Robbins says that \u201cChange happens when the pain of staying the same is greater than the pain of change.\u201d My version: The seeds of courage often sprout in the soil of desperation. The day arrived when I knew I had no choice but to leap into the unknown and explore a new paradigm of wellness. So I made a bold move. I reached for the helm of my health and secured it tightly in my hands. I allowed my intuition to have a say in the decisions I made \u2013 filtering the recommendations from my physicians, therapists, and mentors through a set of instincts I had honed in my 40 years of navigating health challenges.* Forget about crossing the bay. This process of trusting my own wisdom is the scariest thing I have ever done in my life because I have always doubted myself, looking to other people for the answers.\u00a0\u00a0<\/p>\n There was plenty of sweat demanded here, but even more nerve. I attempted to uncarve and redirect neural pathways of distress that had been set shortly after I was potty-trained with\u00a0original techniques<\/a>\u00a0not presented in any office or book. Each day I worked at replacing narratives of illness I have been told my entire adult life with\u00a0messages of hope and possibility<\/a>\u00a0that don\u2019t show up when you google a health condition. My strategies were\u00a0simple<\/a>\u00a0and unscientific \u2013 not the kind of evidence touted in a double-blind placebo-controlled clinical trial. And yet they led me to a calm I had yet to experience by following the protocols of mainstream medicine.<\/p>\n Augustine of Hippo defined a sacrament as \u201can outward and visible sign of an inward and invisible grace.\u201d In this sense, crossing the bay this year was indeed sacramental. As I maneuvered through the temperamental waters of the Chesapeake, I recognized the loving arms of God carrying me across the turbulent passage from the sands of unsuccessful treatments to the shore of sustained recovery, providing me rest from an uncompromising current when I most needed it.\u00a0<\/p>\n I am, at heart, an insecure person. Only by the grace of God did I conjure up enough courage to tell my physicians that my story wasn\u2019t found in their data. And I certainly couldn\u2019t have done it without the support of a dedicated side walker\u2014a loving husband who supplied me, along with my espresso each morning, with a dose of the reassurance I needed to get through each 24 hours: \u201cYou are doing so much better. Stay the course.\u201d<\/p>\n Eleanor or Mary was spot on in prescribing us to do one thing each day that scares us. You don\u2019t know what you\u2019re made of until you do.<\/p>\n *Please note that I made all medical changes under the supervision of a physician. I do not endorse making medical changes apart from the care of a physician.<\/p>\n I am getting ready to launch a series of inspirational quotes that emboldened me to trust my own wisdom and be guided by faith, hope, and love in my health and life decisions. I will be featuring them on my\u00a0<\/em>Instagram<\/em><\/a>\u00a0and\u00a0<\/em>Twitter<\/em><\/a>\u00a0handles and on my\u00a0<\/em>Author Facebook page<\/em><\/a>. Follow me there if you\u2019d like to receive them.<\/em><\/p>\n<\/div>\n\n
Out of chaos came creation. That\u2019s how the Bible begins.<\/strong><\/h3>\n
Eleanor also said, \u201cDo the thing you think you cannot do.\u201d<\/strong><\/h3>\n