I Wish Someone Told Me
Rotting Meat & The Waves of Healing
I thought I was going to vomit into my mask in line at PJs. The rotting meat smell that has taken over my life was acutely and surprisingly pungent in this cramped hospital coffee shop.
I wanted to get something sweet to help wash down the bitter numbing spray the Ear Nose and Throat (ENT) doctor had just sprayed into my sinuses (and sweet is the only safe taste at the moment).
For the past month my sense of smell has been dramatically altered. Just about everything I smell or taste has the strongest flavor of rotting meat.
Take a moment to let that register.
When I first noticed this lingering stench, I thought there must be a rogue piece of chicken rotting at the bottom of our oven, or maybe some grease had seeped into the pores of our pans causing everything we cooked to reek. I spent about ten days berating my husband, convinced this awful smell was because he just didn’t know how to wash the dishes properly. Ugh- men!
But then the smell followed me to restaurants, it escaped from fresh bags of chips and lingered on food from other people’s kitchens. I couldn’t ignore it any longer- the call was coming from inside the house.
A month after noticing this nonsense, I finally got a medical professional involved (because I am VERY good at honoring my body).
In the ENT waiting room, I found myself praying the doc would randomly find a lone bacon bit lodged in my nose. I would rather be a confirmed gross person than live another day with this nauseating sensation. A piece of actual rotting meat in my nose felt like the best and most immediately fixable diagnosis.
Probing For A Solution
The nurse nonchalantly came in with a camera the doctor would use to look up my nose. It was a snake looking device casually about 18 inches in length. Why was the nurse so chill as she set that foreboding instrument on the counter next to me? Pardon, is that whole thing traveling into my face? Guess what. That whole thing travelled into my face.
At the conclusion of the procedure I kid you not, the doctor literally showed me pictures of my VOCAL CHORDS. I just really need you to sit with me in this- the camera entered through my nostrils, and took up-close pictures of my vocal chords.
Okay. We can move on now.
Well much to my dismay, there were no rotting steak frites taking up residence in my nose. Everything looked “unremarkable.” The most frustrating thing to me about this clean bill of health was we still didn’t have a solution. That night’s nachos were still going to make me queasy.
Sure, we had a map of next steps- a CT scan and MRI to rule out the tragic diagnoses. But at the end of the day, I’d probably just have to wait this one out. The solution might look like retraining my senses by smelling certain foods over and over, or regularly rinsing out my sinuses until this weird symptom saw itself out.
Isn’t that just how healing works though?
I WISH SOMEONE WOULD’VE TOLD ME
Gosh healing can feel painstakingly slow sometimes. The “prescription” for our pain or trauma is rarely the quick-fix we want it to be. Instead, we have to take the time to retrain our senses, flush out the junk and ultimately wait it out.
I wish someone would have told me a few months after I was assaulted that healing comes in waves. That would have kept me from optimistically believing I was “all better” when I “felt totally fine” a few months later.
I wish someone would have told me when I started reeling again, it wasn’t because I did something wrong, or I was beyond healing.
I wish someone would have told me the nuances of my pain would pop up in new and surprising ways.
I wish someone would have told me I might numb out when I really probe into my pain. And that doesn’t mean I’ll feel numb forever.
WHAT’S ROTTING?
Examining our emotions and trauma responses can feel daunting- like looking at an 18 inch snake camera, and then at our tiny little face, and then back at the 18 inch snake camera. But how?!
With the right tools and the proper guides, we can do it. It might feel slow or hopeless or exhausting, but nothing is forever. In hindsight I bet we remember the growth more than the pain.
So take a quick inventory. Are there things rotting in you that you are blaming on those around you? All growth starts with honesty. If you’re not sure what’s going on, get a professional involved, stay the course and when it feels hard…. just be thankful your comfort food doesn’t taste like rotting flesh.
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