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My Miracle of Health

 by Jeanette R. Harrison, MPH

My back hurts. My neck hurts. My shoulders ache. I have to get up every hour to walk around. Not to get my steps in, although it does help with my step count, but to lubricate my joints so my body will not feel stiff. Even so, I am grateful for the miracle of both my physical and mental health.

Last year at this time, I was struggling. I was unemployed, about to start a new temporary job at an accounting firm, and worried about losing my home. Several friends prayed for me, and others reached out to help in different ways. I believed that once I started working, everything would be okay.

For a while, I was okay financially. But the stress of multiple eviction threats, combined with starting a new job during tax season, took a serious toll on my psyche and my body. As someone who lives with Complex PTSD, I am no stranger to how chronic stress affects physical health.

Chronic stress can affect digestion, heart rate, sleep, weight, and hormonal responses. It can also cause inflammation and muscle aches, as I mentioned earlier. Although the muscle aches I am experiencing today are more related to sitting in an uncomfortable chair, my body remembers what stress feels like.

When I first moved to Idaho, my stress level was extremely high. Using the Holmes–Rahe Life Stress Inventory, my score was well over 600. Last year, it was around 365, and it remains close to that level. A score above 300 indicates a high risk for a major health breakdown. I decided that was not going to happen to me.


The actual bus stop I walked to after recovering
from pneumonia. 

Not because I did not feel it coming, but because I did not have the time or resources for a major health collapse. I was trying to rebuild my life quickly. I had just secured a temporary job making slightly more per hour than I had before, but I did not have health insurance. I told myself I would be fine.

I was not fine.

My body was wearing down. I was gaining weight, which for me is almost always a sign that my stress level is out of control. That is one of the reasons I started walking several years ago, to help manage both stress and weight. I was working, barely paying my bills, overwhelmed, and profoundly alone. I did not have anyone to talk to, and when I tried, I was told I was "playing the victim."

What I have learned since is that the past five years have felt hard because they were hard. Fewer than one percent of people have overcome everything I have, including pulling themselves out of poverty in three years. I was doing it. I had a plan. I believed I would be okay.

Then one day, a man stepped into an elevator with me, visibly ill. He was coughing, and I could see sputum flying. I knew he had pneumonia, and I was worried. I had COVID two years earlier, and it had taken me a long time to recover. I did not need another respiratory illness.

But I got one.

It began with a mild cough, followed by a fever. I knew how sick I was. I called in to work and told them I could not come in, and I was informed that my contract had been terminated.

I went home, sick and panicking. With my healthcare training, I could hear the wheezes and crackles typical of pneumonia. My head was so congested I could barely breathe. I did everything I could to prevent fluid from settling in my lungs. I slept with my head elevated, used bedside humidity, stepped outside into cold night air to help open my airways, took hot showers, and used whatever over-the-counter medications I could afford.

I treated the symptoms the best I could, because I was no longer a temporary employee. I was unemployed and uninsured.

Some people might wonder why I did not go on Medicaid. In Idaho, it is not that simple. To qualify, a single person without children must earn under approximately $1,800 per month. Ironically, at the height of my illness, I did not qualify. I spent two weeks in bed thinking, "Oh my God. This is how I die. I'm going to die in Idaho."

I did not heal quickly, in part because I was completely alone. No one came to help me. No one checked on me. Only a few friends messaged to see if I was okay. When I began to recover, I rushed to find work because I had no income. I asked friends for help and they complained because they had just helped me a few months ago. They told me I "just couldn't get my life together" and that I seemed like I was always in a "continuous bind." I was told to "go on assistance." The assistance they imagined simply did not exist for someone like me. Most programs are designed for families, and as a single woman in her fifties, those programs weren’t available for me.

I called one temp agency after another until I finally secured a placement. I had no money and was still sick, but I had to work. Friends helped briefly with small amounts that at least got me to and from the bus stop. When that help ended, I could not risk losing the job, so I walked.

The walk to the bus stop was five miles, from Eagle to where Garden City meets Boise. My body was still inflamed from pneumonia, and I did not yet understand how much internal inflammation accompanies that illness. My joints screamed. My knees ached. My feet bled. I limped through the clinic each day and was lucky I did not fall. I woke up at 4:30 in the morning to get to work on time and went to bed as soon as I got home. Some days, I did not eat.

People at work acted as if I was exaggerating. Friends dismissed me. One woman, who was also a nurse, told me I needed to work more, even though I was barely recovering from pneumonia. She then invited me to join her multi-level marketing team.

I was exhausted, deflated, and beyond stressed. Eventually, I fell into a depression. For the first time in my life, I understood what it meant to wonder why I should get out of bed when no one seemed to care. Over the following months, fewer than ten people reached out to check on me. I alternated every few days between feeling like I should just give up on life, and then something would happen that would make me keep going. I worked alone in a basement office with a coworker who was rude to me every day, until she left. I worked alone in that office every day.  I kept going and did the best job I could.

In late September, I was transferred to another location twenty miles away. I could not take the bus and had no car, so I relied on Uber. It was stressful, but my body finally began to heal because walking was no longer required.

Today, I am grateful for the aches and pains because I lived through that entire experience.

Five Things I Am Grateful for About My Body and Health

  1. I am grateful for my legs that have literally carried me thousands of miles throughout my life.

  2. I am grateful for my brain that consistently figures out ways to overcome insurmountable odds.

  3. I am grateful for my lungs and how much they have endured over the past several years.

  4. I am grateful for my heart, which has worked tirelessly to carry me forward and continues to heal.

  5. I am grateful for my nervous system, which helps me manage high levels of stress while also recovering from PTSD.

One Thing About My Body I Want to Improve

  1. All of that illness and prolonged inactivity led to significant weight gain for me. The thing I most want to improve about my body is my weight.

Three Times in My Life I Felt on Top of the World

  1. I am grateful for living in New York because it felt like a dream come true, and I never stopped to question it.

  2. I am grateful for earning my master’s degree from the University of Iowa. I was told repeatedly that I was not good enough, but that degree changed the way I think and see the world.

  3. I am grateful for the recognition I have received as a writer. I went to New York because I wanted to be a writer, and now I am in Idaho living that same dream.

Ten Things I Am Grateful for Today

  1. I am grateful for my dog, Mosie, who is often my reason for getting out of bed.

  2. I am grateful for my ability to overcome obstacles that would destroy most people.

  3. I am grateful for my respiratory system and its ability to help me breathe.

  4. I am grateful for my healthcare knowledge and skills, which allowed me to care for myself when I was seriously ill.

  5. I am grateful for social media platforms that allow me to stay connected to people who live far away.

  6. I am grateful for my mental health and the significant improvement I have seen in my PTSD over the past few years.

  7. I am grateful for the people who helped me, even in small ways.

  8. I am grateful for my ability to advocate for myself.

  9. I am grateful that I have learned to ask for help when I need it, and I am grateful for those who responded.

  10. I am grateful that my back hurts, my neck hurts, and my joints are a little stiff, because that means I am still alive and still moving.

Inspired by The Magic by Rhonda Byrne, this gratitude practice has been adapted into a self-paced 28 Days of Gratitude course for readers who want a simple structure without pressure. An optional guided journal, Bragging About You, is available for deeper reflection.

👉 Learn more about the 28 Days of Gratitude course

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