Escaping Crazy

Last week, Tyrel and I finally did something very adulty: we scheduled our physicals. Together. I know, romantic, right?

Now, if you’ve met my husband, you know he has this long-standing belief that the emergency room is an acceptable stand-in for a primary care physician. As there have been some more recent health issues in both sides of our family I was able to convince him to see an actual doctor, to get the baselines established. One that Zandyr and I have affectionately dubbed Doc Hollywood. Picture a younger guy, fresh from California, now practicing medicine in the middle of rural North Carolina. If you’ve seen the movie, you get it. If not, just imagine a guy who looks like he’d be just as comfortable surfing as he is holding a stethoscope.

Anyway, I had a few things I wanted to talk to him about—like the tailbone I bruised when I fell down the stairs in December (still hurts), and a shoulder issue from CrossFit (still sore). A few creaks, a few tweaks. Nothing major. Just enough to make me feel like a beat-up action figure.

Tyrel, of course, walks in like the picture of perfect health (insert eye roll). He’s got a few things going on too, but somehow the conversation took a very different turn for me. Doc Hollywood looks me square in the face and says, with total sincerity, “Well, you’re just getting older.”

Older. As in aging. As in ma’am, this is just what happens now.

Let’s pause here to remember: I am five days older than Tyrel. FIVE. DAYS. And yet somehow, I’m the one who gets the “your tendons are less stretchy now” speech while he gets off scot-free?

Listen. I’ve been told I couldn’t or wouldn’t my whole life. I’ve been underestimated more times than I can count. Teachers once said I wouldn’t amount to much because I came from a single-parent household. (Spoiler alert: they were wrong.) People have misunderstood my energy, my weirdness, my quirk, and assumed I wasn’t capable or serious. So I collected degrees. I climbed ladders. I built a business. I proved them all wrong.

And now… Doc Hollywood? With all due respect, sir, I’m going to prove you wrong, too.

I’ve been leaning back into the carnivore diet recently. Not just for the weight or the energy, though those are great side effects. It’s because this way of eating genuinely heals my body. When I fuel myself like my ancestors did, everything clicks: my autoimmune issues quiet down, my joints stop aching, my energy returns, and my mind feels clearer. I’m more present. More grounded. More me.

We even discussed weight loss medication, and while I’m grateful for the option, the idea of months of nausea and diarrhea didn’t exactly sell me on the experience. And honestly, I know what works for me. I just have to stay consistent and intentional.

Which brings me to the book I’m reading right now: The One Thing. It’s all about simplifying your focus. Cutting out the noise. Being present with what matters right now. In a world that glorifies doing all the things at once, this book reminded me that real change comes from doing the right thing; the one thing, with intention.

So what’s my one thing right now?

Eat in a way that fuels healing. That’s it. Not because I’m vain. Not because of a number on a scale. But because when I eat this way, I thrive. And when I don’t, my body instantly lets me know that I’ve gone off-course.

So here’s the deal, Doc Hollywood. We’ll check in in six months. And when we do, I won’t be just another 40-something woman with “aging joints.”

I’ll be thriving. Proving, once again, that I’m not just getting old.

I’m getting better.