Monday I was back at the doctor’s office. More tests. More talking. More trying to figure out what exactly it is that is going on with me. I’ve aged into some health problems. Or probably more accurately I’ve aged into being aware of some health problems that have been problematic for years but I just didn’t know I wasn’t supposed to feel this way.

Combine intense anxiety with lethargy, disinterest in life, weight gain, and a global pandemic and it turns out you can’t always tell what is physically and medically wrong with you and what is emotionally and mentally wrong with you.

Well, me. In this case, we’re talking about me. Why am I always putting this shit on you, dear reader?

As I sat in the exam room on Monday my doctor came and sat in the chair next to me. She showed me numbers that had gotten worse over time. Explained medical facts. We talked about how I was feeling and then she said “Medicine is an art and a science, we’re going to make this work.”

She also cursed like a sailor. So you know I was super comfortable in her hands.

So now in addition to all the other little quirks and eccentricities I’ve learned to navigate with my mind and body through the years, we’re adding an underactive thyroid to the list. And I’ve begun treatment.

It’s early. It’s super early. Two days on medication early. So how this is really going I have no idea. But I can tell you that when I got up this morning there was a spring in my step. I was calm, I was energetic, and I felt okay.

I never feel okay. I always feel old and tired and achy.

This morning I popped out of bed, had a dance party in the kitchen while I fed my cat, made my breakfast, unloaded the dishwasher, and then sat down for a couple of hours of deep work time during which my concentration didn’t falter.

My partner and I went on a nice little walk to get our heart rates up.

None of this felt normal. All of this felt… good. My normal is not this good. My good is rarely this good.

Halfway through the day, about 8 hours after I took my daily dose of new meds (which I’m fairly certain is ground-up unicorn horn packed into a pill shape and shipped off to those who need a magical boost) I started to flag. As I write this post I feel my body settling back into what has been my normal for longer than I can remember.

It doesn’t upset me though. I have a plan. I have instructions on moving forward. I have a doctor who sees me and sees what needs to be made better. And for a change, I have hope.

Hope and unicorn magic… that shit goes a long way.