In which I change my life. Again.

I must have been a dozen people in my life –  I even have a despairing name for myself, Miriam Myriad.  I can adapt to pretty much any group of people until I’m bored, which sounds as an imperative similar to the Voice of God, whereupon I slip the harness and splash off in search of the next collection of interests.  I do not believe this to be strictly ethical, though I will myself to not hurt anyone. It is a privilege not granted to many women without a lot of money, which I do not have, so I am profoundly grateful to a world where I can be so indulgent.

What tethers me to the earth and remains a constant is my body, temperamental, hyper-sensitive, tending towards exhaustion.  I have a  hyper-vigilant immune system, which I am always moderating with some kind of nutritional supplement or crazy-ass health program.  To a pretty good result.  I still have the ailments of a kid, still look young, no wrinkles, lines or folds.  I can climb a mountain and swim the circumference of a small lake.  This after years of exhaustion from working in the cities, clogged with dirt, dust, chemicals, and people.  London, Paris, New York, Toronto, wherein I spent my time when not fighting for survival, figuring out how to get the hell out of Dodge.

Twenty years ago, I moved to the country in part because my body could not handle life in the cities.  I live in a meadow, crossed by creeks, in front of a forest which hasn’t been touched for about 40 years. My water is from a well 200 feet deep and artesian.  It is so alkaline, I could sell it.  It has all the right minerals in all the right proportions.  There is no cell coverage in my meadow and forest, my smart meter is 100 yards from the house.  The house is rammed earth, materials with minimum off-gassing were used in construction, no dry-wall or paints.  Wood stains were enviro-certified. It is a healthy house, as these things go, with geothermal heat and green roofs.  With all this accommodation of my sensitivities, I was able to work hard, became reasonably successful, met a charming man who lives with me now, and thought it was over, I’d done it.  I had turned myself into a normal healthy woman.

Then I relapsed.

I developed a form of Chronic Fatigue about 25 years ago.  After years of flailing and studying, I healed myself with a bounty of nutritional therapies, homeopathic doses of three pharmaceuticals and an entire circus of other things. To date, only 6 or 8% recover using conventional medicine, but almost 65% recover using alternative medicine.  I thought I’d nailed it but now I was sicker than before, so sick hospitalization lay in my future.  So I buckled down, and it took almost a year but I recovered from the relapse, returned to my usual diet, punishing work and an active social life.  Another relapse.

OK, fine, I get it. Once I got over the sheer grief of it, I turned to juicing and even more herbs and adaptogens – more on those later.  But mostly, juicing.  My last line of defense is always juicing.  There is a great deal of evidence on the benefits of juicing in moderating illness without poisoning the patient.  I have a slow or masticating juicer, and I started taking from 24-48 ounces of juicing a day.

Within three weeks, I woke up like a flower, opening to the day, lit by the sun. I felt light even transparent, and about twelve years old. Head clear, body somewhat tempered and easy, and even some actual energy.

More, as they say, later.

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