Dorothy Zbornak and I have something in common
Who knew a two-episode arc of Golden Girls would hit me so hard?
TLDR: I talk chronic illness
+ sharing a few thoughts on ’s gentle but powerful article
Morning darklings,
I have been watching Golden Girls since the end of last year. We watch a few episodes a week (sometimes more). I’ve been blown away. Some of it hasn’t held up at all, but some is still so relevant that my heart hurts. How are we still like this? I think that more often than seems normal while watching a show that’s pilot episode aired before I was born. Kind of harrowing.
One of the few multiple episode arcs we watched recently had me in tears—for more reasons than one.
Dorothy Zbornak (played by Bea Arthur) was feeling ill. She was exhausted, unable to move sometimes, hurting, depressed, and she knew something was wrong. For a whole episode, she bounced from doctor to doctor. Each told her there was nothing wrong with her, that she was fine, that this was what age looked like, that maybe she could change her hair up to make her feel like a new woman.
The second episode, she almost gave up, gave in. But Rose (played by Betty White) urged her to keep seeking help. It was such an earnest moment.
At this point, it didn’t matter what a doctor said.
I was Dorothy. Moving from doctor to doctor, being told I was just a hysterical female who bleeds, and that’s what’s causing everything that’s ever happened to me ever—probably even the trauma and assaults. Vapors, they implied. It was all in my head (not biologically, just psychologically making things up).
Dismissed.
But then Dorothy meets a doctor who knows what she has. It’s fairly new in the 80s: Chronic Fatigue Syndrome.
Probably sounds a little dramatic if you aren’t aware of it. Like, wow, aren’t we all fatigued from living and working and the news and dealing with people and their shit? And yes, you are. Yes, we are. But not in this way.
Hearing Dorothy’s validation was incredible, then sad. In the 80s, there were doctors stepping up, there was popular media pointing out how many doctors (especially male) treat certain symptoms, and we’re still like this.
But it’s fine... It’s okay. I handle my shit.
The thing is, I was almost certain I had CFS (Chronic Fatigue Syndrome). I’d been discussing it with the hubs only the night before we watched the episode.
It felt like a sign. What are the chances?
I saw my doctor the next day. I presented her with my new symptoms.
The number of days I woke up only to go straight back to sleep then wake to be depressed that I was losing my life was more in two weeks than it had been in the previous months. I was in more pain than usual, cried more often, couldn’t focus, didn’t care about much. It wasn’t my typical depressive dip nor was it fibromyalgia or Ehlers-Danlos Syndrome. It just wasn’t my usual flare. It felt different.
We did blood tests and found out no, iron wouldn’t fix it this time.
So I guess the chances were pretty good. They turned out to be better than good, actually. My doctor told me that it was Chronic Fatigue Syndrome after looking at the results.
What could be done?
Pacing.
That’s it. That’s what might make me feel better. Doing less or the same amount but slower or taking a ton more breaks along the way. No matter how I chose to pace, it needed to happen.
After seeing on one of my health charts that someone diagnosed me with this in 2017, which was the last time I felt similar to this, I was shocked and realized this could just be a relapse from something someone forgot to tell me I had. If so, then I can “go back”. But should I? Should I risk this again, knowing that I cannot pinpoint anything I did to cause this? Knowing that this relapse might have started out of my body’s declaration that it’s time to reset the pace?
And so, I started the arduous process of replanning my life—of which I’m still doing.
I’m looking at how long it will take me to write a book from now on (one more month, two?). I’m deciding what projects should wait until next year. Or figuring out a way to get some extra help so I don’t have to push them out.
I’m rethinking things, and it’s good. I see the positivities that come of this. I don’t think too much will change once I figure it out. I just need to keep my head up, focus on the Little things, and give myself the grace I give people around me.
I’m currently existing
My sister-in-law is here this week, and it’s going wonderfully!
Turns out I can’t quit hot chocolate…
And I’ve been thinking about
’s articles a lot. Almost all of them hit me in some way. I find that I have a lot to say in response to them. This article on being gentle and powerful elicited so many emotions—especially this bit:When I think of what it would look like to truly be both powerful and gentle, the first thing that comes to mind is a tree. A redwood tree. A redwood tree is a being that stands tall, that is unapologetically alive in the world. It is immovable, it is persistent, it is even competitive. And yet a redwood tree is nurturing, it is giving and silent and patient and sturdy. It is flexible and cyclical. It provides generously for other beings.
My thoughts came out in a gush: I believe we, as humans, should try to be more like nature as a whole. The scents, the colors, the textures of the earth and trees and leaves and flowers and rain are all so effortlessly, perfectly imperfect. They don’t put filters on or beg for attention, they merely exist. I think if we just existed, slowed down for a moment, we would find ourselves more powerful, be more gentle, and find that effort is more exhausting than we realized. We, too, could be perfectly imperfect. We could be happy with the knots and rot that come with age and the holes dug by animals that clawed at us while we tried to thrive. We could see those as mile markers, as a life well-lived. Or not. Maybe we just can’t do that.
And wow, okay, I can’t believe it’s the last Friday in February. I can’t believe it’s 2024. I can’t believe it’s been almost 4 years since COVID lockdown. I can’t believe time moves so quickly. I am clearly grappling with Big Feelings about that, and about how much time grief took from me. Also how much time I have left and what beautiful things I can do with it if only I allow myself to not grind or pound the pavement, to learn more about this pacing thing, and focus more on this grace thing. I think I’m just thinking.
And you? How are you existing this week?
Until next time, harness the Little darknesses and embrace the Little things.
I see you. I’ve been doing the pacing thing for the last 7 years or so. For most of that time, I had little guidance on what it meant. I googled my way to the cardiac rehab protocols that are sorta helpful, if you’re careful—but mostly not, for us in the ME/CFS crowd, as the long-COVID folks are sadly learning.
Recently I came across some actually great advice explaining *how* to pace. The presentation was called something like “Pacing for Endurance,” although I can’t track it down. With apologies to its author, I’ll share the outline because it has been huge for me and may interest you and your readers:
1. Divide to-do lists into HIGH and LOW energy tasks
2. Add in BUFFER TIME
3. Focus on a DAILY RHYTHM, not a schedule
4. Have a BACKUP PLAN
Incidentally, I’ve used this in combination with Jessie Kwak’s creativity practice guide, with good results :)