When Your Body Forces You to Slow Down

Tonight has been one of those nights where my body reminds me that healing isn’t just emotional – it’s physical too.

For the past six weeks, I’ve been extreamly sick. Nausea, vomiting, and just an overall feeling of being unwell have become part of my daily reality. I finally have some answers as of this last friday – ulcers located right along my surgical incision sites – and while having a name for it helps, it doesn’t make nights like this any easier.

But it hasn’t just been that.

For months now, I’ve also been dealing with severe constipation – bad enough that I’ve had to go to the ER multiple times just to get things moving again. It’s exhausting, and it feeds into everything else. The nausea gets worse, the discomfort builds, and with it comes this overwhelming dread… that I’m never going to feel better.

On top of that, my body hasn’t been regulating temperature the way it should. I’m constantly under blankets or bundled in a sweater, and then out of nowhere I get these bone-chilling waves of cold – that last for hours at a time – that physically hurt. Those moments trigger my fibromyalgia hard – intense flares that make everything feel heavier, deeper, and harder to manage.

And all of this is happening while I’m still trying to fully heal from surgery.

It’s a lot.

Tonight hits especially hard.

I woke up in a panic, battling a severe migraine on top of everything else, barely able to make it to my nausea meds and the throw- up bag in time. The kind of panic where your body reacts before your mind can even catch up. I ended up waking Rish in the process, to help me get the meds and bag. Even though he didn’t make me feel bad about it for a second, I still felt guilty.

That feeling of “I’m sorry you have to go through this with me,” as well as “I’m sorry for waking you out of a dead sleep to take care of me.”

But the truth is… he’s been one of the biggest supports through all of this – both from a distance and especially during his time here with me. He’s talked me through the hard moments, sat with me when I didn’t feel okay, rubbed my back when I was sick, and done everything in his power to help me get through it. Having that kind of support, that kind of care, has meant more to me than I can fully put into words.

And even after sixx years together, even after he’s shown me this kind of love the entire time, I’m still not used to it. I’m still wired in a way that makes it hard to fully accept. But I’m learning… Slowly, and in my own time.

He even bought me these medical throw-up bags that have made things so much easier on me. They’re simple, but in moments like that, little things matter. Being able to take care of myself without added stress – it helps more than I can explain.

Tonight I tried to eat.

Just a few bites of diner – Slow cooked teriyaki chicken, baked broccoli, and rice. I even tried a little bit of orange fluff after for desert, hoping something light might stay down.

For the most part, I actually felt okay after eating. It wans’t until hours later that the nausea hit – and along with it, a severe migraine. That delayed wave makes it even harder, because in the moment you think you might be okay… and then your body reminds you otherwise.

I’ll be sharing the simple meals I’ve been able to tolerate – like tonight’s dinner and the orange fluff desert – in separate posts, in case you feel like making them they are bariatric friendly.

Some days that’s what progress looks like.

Not finishing a meal.
Not feeling “normal.”
But just simply trying.

Gummies have helped a bit – with the nausea, the pain, and even just helping me feel like eating is possible. It’s not a perfect fix, but right now, it’s something.

Living with chronic illness – and going through complications like this – forces you to redefine what strength looks like.

It’s not always pushing forward.

Sometimes it’s:
Taking your meds.
Asking for help.
Letting someone be there for you.
Giving your body permission to rest.

And sometimes… It’s simply getting through the night.

I’m still learning how to sit with that.
How to not feel guilty for needing support.
How to not be frustrated with my own body.

But I’m trying.

And tonight, that has to be enough.

Still healing. Still growing. Still rising – crowned in Scars.
~ Milli