A lot of folks dread the heat.
I prefer the colder temperatures myself. Get to channel my inner polar bear.
However, there is a part of me that relishes the chance to get outside. Just to feel sweat running down my face as I walk briskly down our hill. Or maybe do some chore. Work out in the sun.
My reason? I want to warmly welcome a season, I used to hate.
A part of my brain, when I was young, didn’t function properly. My hypothalamus. The primary symptom was that my body temperature was all over the place. When I got too hot, I couldn’t cool down. In fact, sometimes I just got hotter.
Weird.
When the heat came, living in Arkansas, the only outside activity I could enjoy was swimming. That made for summers that were not your typical running around, enjoying bike rides or camps kind of summers. I read a lot. Played piano. Spent time with friends, as long as they had air conditioning. Could play outside for short periods of time.
But had to go inside and cool off.
Sometimes my body wouldn’t cooperate. I remember being packed in ice.
I understood the rules. I railed against them a lot. My mother worried about me constantly.
During the hot months of school, everybody wanted to sit by me. Schools weren’t air -conditioned back then and I had to have big fans hitting me all the time. Sort of a strange popularity. At least for a little while.
I grew out of this completely by about age 18 or 19. Other symptoms decreased as well. Stopped taking the required medications.
I got to grow out of my illness.
There are so many people that don’t.
Either physical or mental, they deal with painful or draining symptoms all their lives.
It is lonely. Even well-meaning people forget how hard it is to make life work in a wheelchair. Manage the mood swings of recurrent depression or the nightmares of PTSD. Cope with the fears of deterioration in muscular dystrophy. I could go on and on.
My own experience taught me how hard it is to be different from others. To feel out of control of your body. To have to learn to manage an illness.
Please be aware of those around you. Maybe you yourself deal with chronic illness.
It just takes a little looking around. Noticing. Saying something when it seems appropriate. Helping when you can.
I know that I am as guilty as the next guy of forgetting. I am going to try harder.
When I go to reunions, inevitably someone will come up to me. “Do you mind if I ask you something? What was wrong with you back then? I just knew you left school a lot. Are you still sick?”
“No”, I smile, as I am standing with them under some big tent.
Just out of the hot summer sun, a little sweat running down my back.
Dr. Margaret Rutherford is a clinical psychologist who has been practicing in Fayetteville for over 20 years. She began blogging in 2012, coining the term “NestAche” for her empty nest feelings, after her son left for college. She is now the Mental Health Columnist for Midlife Boulevard and is a featured contributor to the Huffington Post, BlogHer, Boomeon, and here at Arkansas Women Bloggers. You can find her on her own website: Dr.MargaretRutherford.com or on Twitter @doctor_margaret.
Would love to hear your thoughts. And thank you for reading!
Nicely done!
I have a dear friend who was always cold and loved August the best, when she would sit on the concrete porch after lunch, to keep warm while her body used up what little heat she had, to digest her lunch. We’re all different; that’s for sure.
People who know us well can help us. When I have a migraine, my husband knows it is coming before I do! He reads the signs better because his head isn’t foggy then, and mine is.
Different and unpopular are not fun. I was too tall and thin during childhood. Another friend of mine was too rich. Kids ridiculed us both. But we were just people.
Thanks for opening up such a real topic! 🙂
You are welcome Katharine. And boy, are we different, with such various perspectives and truths. Thank you for commenting!
I’ m glad to hear you outgrew that problem. As someone who developed several food sensitivities in middle age, I’ve learned what it’s like to be different, to feel self-conscious about having to be “fussy” about what I eat, but the consequences, especially early on, were dire enough that I had to do it. I learned (or hope I did) to say as little as possible and when I had to speak of it, to make of a joke of “being delicate.” It seems that my staying away from certain things has helped alleviate most of the problem, for which I am grateful However, I still have to be careful. I know it’s tiresome to those who can eat and drink anything. But I also know, it could be worse. This is something I can live with!
Food allergies can be deadly, as I understand it. You must really miss being able to eat whatever you liked. I hope your friends understand that! Thanks Dorothy for commenting and reading.
Glad you grew out of it! I had asthma as a child and I too grew out of it, mostly. Anyway, I was sick a lot too. So I know how you feel. Thanks for sharing!
You are welcome. Glad it was the same for you. We are lucky aren’t we? Thanks so much for commenting1