I'm Not Sick, But...
My friends and family can attest, I am far from a hypochondriac. I am also not a wimp. Sick has never felt like an option for a type-A personality who doesn’t know a speed other than full throttle.
My late husband used to joke that if someone broke their leg, I’d still tell them to keep running. I held myself to that standard. Once, I ran a marathon with the flu. That was the peak of my pushing.
So, when something started to feel off, I didn’t dramatize it.
And it wasn’t dramatic.
I went in for a full physical. Everything came back normal.
I found a small lump and immediately had a biopsy. Completely benign.
I should have been reassured by all of this. I wasn’t.
Beyond the lump, I had no clear symptoms. I couldn’t explain what felt wrong. I just didn’t feel great. And I kept going anyway, like I always did.
At some point, out of curiosity and probably frustration over my lack of language for what I was and wasn’t feeling, I made an appointment with Dr. Lu.
His clinic is in Ann Arbor. He’s also a bit of a local legend in Toledo, which is just a short drive away. I knew people who had seen him. So I booked the appointment.
Seeing Dr. Lu didn’t feel like a leap.
I majored in East Asian Studies. I lived in China during college. At one point, I could speak the language well enough to get around and read the newspaper. Those skills faded over time. I wish I’d held onto them. Like playing the piano. Every time I see one, I wish I could still play.
I was introduced to acupuncture in high school by my first Chinese teacher, Margaret Wong, another legend. I was too young and didn’t “need” it back then, but the experience stayed with me.
The wisdom of ancient Chinese teaching has always resonated with me. Partly because of my time in China. Partly because of my academic advisor in college, who I adored. He was the living embodiment of Confucius and an incredible professor.
So, walking into Dr. Lu’s office felt familiar.
When Dr. Lu finally spoke, he said I had liver qi stagnation.
In simple terms, the energy in my body was blocked. Like a logjam in a river.
In Traditional Chinese Medicine, liver qi is responsible for keeping energy, emotions, and bodily processes flowing. When that flow is disrupted, it can feel like being stuck mentally and physically.
The signs are subtle but familiar. Irritability. A sense of tension. Digestive discomfort I had long blamed on the occasional iced coffee. Hormonal irregularities, including lumps, swelling, and breast tenderness.
That last one landed hard. Recall the benign lump?!
The stagnation, he explained, is often linked to chronic stress, emotional suppression, and a sedentary lifestyle.
“I can help your body,” he said.
“But you need to understand what’s causing this.”
Given the amount of movement in my daily life, the solution wasn’t going to come from doing more. It was going to require uncovering years of stress I had normalized and emotions I had learned to override.
I had spent years doing exactly that.
Pushing through.
Reframing discomfort.
Hiding issues.
I had been living with shame for so long it had become like an internal organ I fed daily. (I go deeper into that in my last EDIT. )
My body wasn’t broken.
It was responding honestly to the life I was living.
Once I saw that, I couldn’t unsee it. I couldn’t unknow it. I couldn’t hide from it. I had to face it.
Pausing
The irony in all of this is that this was the work I was teaching at my yoga studio. Supporting others on their path to personal liberation while I was stuck deep in my own shit.
In my mind, I had already done the work. I had attended countless training programs that demanded accountability. Journaling. Sharing. Exploring patterns. Limiting beliefs.
Clearly, my body didn’t agree.
The rocks still existed.
As one of my most beloved yoga teachers once said to me,
“You are a mountain with no top.” Thank you for that, Paige.
Clearly, it was time to begin the climb again.
This climb required no movement. Just stillness. Time to listen in and learn what was hiding beneath the layers I had been ignoring. Those discoveries revealed things I didn’t want to name.
I finally put them on paper. Scary. True. And a necessary purge. I’ll share them in Sunday’s EDIT.
What remains and what to do
I don’t think the body holds secrets in a mystical way.
I think it remembers what we move past too quickly.
Mine started offering subtle clues, asking me to notice. When I still wasn’t paying attention, it formed a lump, as if to say, wake the fuck up. It’s time to deal.
Something needed to change. I needed to heal.
What are the tools?
They’re obvious. And often the ones we want to ignore.
Aside from acupuncture, which I crave and love.
If you’re in Naples, visit Deanna. She’s amazing.
It’s been a journey. As life tends to do, it’s added more hurdles along the way. Roadblocks. Bumps, not lumps. Some more shattering than others.
But here’s the thing. No matter how big or small, they all need to be addressed. The body does, in fact, keep score of every little thing.
Take the time.
Some understanding doesn’t arrive as insight.
It arrives as recognition.
And it only comes
when you pause long enough
to notice it.
I’m always happy to share tools that have worked for me. Message me and I’ll send along the ones I’m leaning into these days.
Forever climbing the mountain,
