As 2024 comes to a close, I have spent the last several weeks reflecting. It is no secret that I have had a difficult few years. I’ve shared openly about my health struggles, but the small bits and pieces that are shared publicly genuinely do not make a dent in the impact my health has had on every aspect of my mind, body, soul, and just life in general.
At the beginning of 2024, I was fairly used to the ups and downs of these flare ups from Chronic Lyme disease. However, I wasn’t so aware of how it would continue to impact me moving forward. I hadn’t quite grappled with the “chronic” part of my diagnoses, operating under the assumption that these ailments were only temporary.
Because typically when we speak of “illness” it is in past tense. We talk about it as something that was overcome, survived. We speak of it as if there is an almost guaranteed non-permanence; to every illness, injury or disease. As if who we were before is the golden standard, and if we don’t make it back to that person, we are somehow… less.
I can say this because I’ve experienced it. I’ve spoken this way to myself. And, I’ve seen others speak this way to me, about me, and about others very dear to me. It’s not ill-intended. There is no malice.
But, at least for me, there is: denial.
Or, rather, there was denial. That is what a lot of 2024 has been about for me. Processing, accepting, and moving on along (I was going to say moving forward, but honestly… I don’t always move in a forward direction. Do any of us, really?).
I don’t tend to make New Year’s Resolutions, as I usually let inspiration and goals strike and flow naturally. (I simply don’t do well with rigidity.) However, last January—out of absolute necessity—I vowed that “grace” would be my word of the year. I knew I had completely and totally overworked myself last holiday season, and I spent months and months paying for it. It became crucial for me to self-inflict moments and thoughts of grace into my everyday life.
With my energy levels utterly depleted, I forced myself to reframe. To adjust. To adapt. To give myself grace.
I reminded myself daily that “being is doing”. And, that my worth is not defined by my productivity.
“Normal” things (like: keeping typical work days/hours, working out regularly… or at all, being a “morning person”, taking walks, thinking and speaking clearly, going to the grocery store, etc.) are not quite so “normal" for me. In fact, they may be downright impossible at times.
So, I slowed down. Grace. I said no. Grace. I scheduled breaks. Grace.
But the breaks turned into days, weeks or months in bed.
I became frustrated. Distraught over my lack of “keeping up”, my inability to help my husband around the house, and my lack of energy I’d tried to “store up” to play with my son.
No matter how long the scheduled rests would be, it was never enough. My body needed more, more, more.
I began to grieve. If I’m honest, I still am grieving.
Grieving for:
the body that once was so capable,
the capability that allowed me to grow into a hyper-independent woman,
the independent woman who feared nothing and no one,
the fearless woman that caught criminals and thrived on long shifts, little sleep & never-ending nights of problem solving.
I grieved, and continue to do so, for the version of myself that I spent years working towards, achieving, and then abruptly leaving.
Gone is the woman who donned a uniform proudly, responded to calls for service, & almost always found the bad guy that dodged her for whatever sketchy (often, stupid) reason.
Gone is the woman who traipsed through city streets, neighborhoods or desert dust in search of the robbery suspect, the shooter, the missing kid, etc.
Although it’s been over three years since I wore a uniform, the grief seemed to just now (over the past year) creep up on me.
It wasn’t just because I missed the job of being a police officer, but it was the comprehension and the finality that I never would be returned to my old self. The one who was capable of being a police officer.
Not only had my career first been taken away from me due to a series of unfortunate events related to sexual harassment, retaliation, etc., etc. (if you’re a woman, I’m sure you know the type of sordid tale)…
But in the realization of the “chronic” part of my illnesses, I realized I would never again be cleared to work in law enforcement. Prior to that sudden awareness, I was content with my decision to start anew with my bakery business; but I always held in the back of my mind that if I chose to do so, I could go back to law enforcement in a flash.
It was my first love. My first real dream. I never wanted to leave.
I adapted because that’s what I do. And, I do love what I do now.
But to say that I am living my dream is simply not a full truth.
I have gratitude for so very much in my life. But coexisting alongside that gratitude and appreciation is frustration, heartache and affliction.
Two things can always be true.
And, for me, that is what 2024 was: a lesson into the duality of life.
At any minute, I may feel equally parts grateful as I am sad. I have moments, hours, days, weeks of exceptional elation. And, similarly, exasperation.
I feel eternally vexed by my body’s vulnerabilities, and, undoubtedly indebted to it for its ability to persevere.
Confused? Tremendously.
And yet, through the complexity of this duplexity, I have grown.
Maybe not in the most obvious of ways. But certainly in ones that I will forever be thankful for.
Oddly, I feel lucky to have learned these lessons so early in life. (Especially so early in my son’s life.) Sure, at times I may have an internal pity party for my thirty year old self—because, hello! There are 85 year olds with more mobility than me at times—but, I quickly snap out of that.
Because—though I’m still learning, of course—I have an appreciation of things that some never learn. And, likewise, I have much in this life to be grateful for that is not afforded to others—for one reason or another. A family, a healthy and stable marriage, incredibly supportive friends, a home, a car, a heart full of love, optimistic perspective, determination, endless amounts of wit and sarcasm (if I do say so myself), etc.
As a first responder, I certainly saw my fair share of heart-wrenching circumstances. But the ones that always got me the most were the elderly men and women who had no one in their lives. Not a single friend, relative, son, daughter. No one to be there in times of need. When a heart attack struck and their dog needed fed during their hospital stay. When they forgot where they were going, how to get home, how to unlock their doors, or to eat all week. When they were no longer capable of maintaining basic hygiene, nutrition or housekeeping…
It’s easy for many in LE to say, “this really isn’t a police matter, why are we responding?” But, when theres no one else… whose matter is it?
Heart. Breaking.
It was this—along with my husband proving to me that good men do exist—that shifted my mindset enough to decide to bring a child into this world. And to know the love of a child… well, for that, I am forever grateful.
And so, my priorities will always lie with those I love.
Even in the most depressing of circumstances over the last several years, I have never been truly “depressed”, because I have been surrounded by endless amounts of love.
I have been able to see and find joy, because there is no shortage of it, in the face of my angelic two year old. There is no limit in it, hand-in-hand with my husband. There can never be an absolute absence of joy, when I have friends & family who can always cheer me up.
At least for me, this is how I survive. How I thrive. How I persist.
Alongside those I love, and who love me dearly in return.
When I say I value the connections I have made over time, through baking and before, this is what I mean.
By pursuing Carbs & Coffee Co., I didn't know what I was really pursuing was connection in a time of need. A joy-filled hobby led me to a lifetime of connections, fulfilling interactions and a way to stay motivated, passionate and forever grateful.
So, carb lovers, thank you for being here. Thank you for offering words of kindness, of joy, of inspiration, and of love over the last several years. There have been many a market that I have barely made it to, but I did, because I knew those connections would provide me the fuel I needed to press on.
To wrap 2024 up with a tidy little bow…
Grace—granted to myself in times of physical stagnancy—brought with it the dichotomous relationship of Grief and Gratitude, which, in turn, allowed Growth to show its face in ways most unexpected, and, peculiarly serendipitous.
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