Me and eight thousand goosebumps.
Fall fell two weeks ago. I’m not sure where I was, or what I was doing, but I missed the memo. One day I was working on my tan trying to remember to hydrate. The next, leaves covered the deck and all my okra plants wilted out of distress.
The sun shining down this past Saturday afternoon could have deceived even a weatherman though. It was beautiful.
Warm? Not so much.
Nonetheless, paddling days were limited, so I set out on my weekend long kayak session as usual, hoping to skirt the whole lake in under three hours (because there were chores today and, well, three hours is a LOT of paddling. I get a little bored by the time I reach the last cove.)
About 7 minutes into my paddle a wind joined me. She didn’t help push me along to artificially decrease the time it would take to make the trip, and thus artificially increase my kayaking ego. She was whirling leaves and splashing water droplets in every direction except one they might benefit me.
But she did gift me with eight thousand goosebumps on my legs alone… because, of course, I was still sporting my strappy sleeveless yoga top and shorts. A quick calculation of the bumps per square inch of my thigh, multiplied up to cover about the size of my outstretched hand, then again to estimate how many hand-widths were needed to cover my entire leg… multiplied by two… gave me this number. (Like father like daughter.)
I chuckled at myself for how ridiculous and useless my mathematical endeavor was, internally shrugged an “oh well”, and resumed my stroke cadence. I didn’t want to return home for a jacket or stretchy pants. It was just cold; it wasn’t going to hurt me.
I passed into a shadowed area in the first big cove, and the hairs on my arms stood up to salute the eight thousand goosebumps. “How hilarious!” I thought to myself at the little narrative I was scripting as I listened to the radio and working my way around the bends.
But then it dawned on me- I was choosing to be cold! I couldn’t be bothered to do anything about it, knew it wasn’t gonna hurt me, and I’ve learned that cold exposure can make you more resilient through hormesis, which (if you read my post on resilience, you know is something I value a great deal). Moreover, though, the chill was to be expected- it was 60 degrees out, the water around 50, and with a cold breeze blowing. And the normalcy of this kind of cold brought a feeling of satisfaction and accomplishment.
For most, the notion of being cold on purpose, or ignoring a bit of shivering, might seem kind of messed up. But not for me. I’ll tell you what is really messed up…
My struggles with food and weight manipulation started so far back, few life memories don’t include sad turns. For many years it hurt to sit on benches or chairs without a cushion. I couldn’t kneel whatsoever without causing bone bruises on my knees and taking a bath hurt my tailbone so badly I went for years at a time only taking showers.
I was used to my thin, dry hair, flaky skin, and sunken cheeks; I simply tried not to pay attention. And I sat on a cushion even in the car. But I couldn’t escape the cold. It pierced deep into my core and froze every part of my being.
Fortunately the same type of clothing that covered my emaciated frame and protected me a tiny bit from the gawking stares also helped keep me warm… if I layered (which also added perceived bulk to my frame). But no socks or gloves were thick enough to preserve bloodflow to my fingers and toes (which routinely sported the hue of a Smurf) while still allowing movement and not irritating my skin since I’m allergic to about everything but cotton. And even long-johns and silk undershirts didn’t truly take the sting out of the chill deep into my bones.
Starting in August I worried about the winter. Space heaters helped to save on bills and warm rooms that lacked much insulation, and I used the oven daily, rarely to cook, but to stand over the open door and thaw out my hands that were too cold to hold a spoon or type.
I perished hot water bottles one after another, using boiling water with disregard for the instructions. And the skin on my stomach and legs were routinely blotchy from thermal burns. But no one ever saw them under all my layers.
The return of warmth (for me at that point not until May) brought tears of relief from months of pain and shivering.
This is the cold of anorexia.
But it’s also the cold of stress. Of under fueling. Of over-exercising. Of low carbohydrate diets. And of illness.
At first pass, you would be correct to assume that insufficient body fat fails to properly insulate the body’s organs and tissues. But this is only part of the equation.
Counterintuitively, plenty of athletic individuals have a low body fat percentage (granted not by any means as low as some with anorexia) but don’t feel this effect. And healthy-weight women struggling with hormonal imbalance are often burdened with frigid feet and numb, cold hands. Furthermore, anorexia doesn’t discriminate by size- not all who suffer from anorexia are at a subpar weight. But most will know firsthand the meaning of cold with unparalleled acuity.
The body produces heat through a process called thermogenesis.
Thermogenesis is defined as the dissipation of energy through the production of heat and occurs in specialised tissues including brown adipose tissue and skeletal muscle. The term comes from the Greek word ‘thermos’ for heat. All metabolic processes produce heat as a thermodynamic inefficiency or byproduct. In general, however, thermogenesis refers to the process of heat generation in relation to metabolism and the heat expended in direct response to the food you eat.
But if there isn’t enough energy created by the body to be dissipated, excess to inefficiently exude, or enough fuel to cause heat to be created through its digestion and assimilation, no heat is created. The result? Obviously cold.
At the control center (picture a tiny version of you upstairs in your brain steering the construction and demolition machinery of your body through buttons and lever controls), is your hypothalamus. If it ain’t happy, ain’t nobody gonna be happy.
** I can’t take credit for this image. Whenever I would be “head hungry” but stuffed at the same time and rightfully confused, my husband would move his fists forward and back in front of his chest chanting “Give me more food! Sashi wants more food!” **
I spoke about homeostasis in a previous post, but left out detailed physiological discussion on how the body achieves this. Principle to this process is the intricate relationship between the hypothalamus and the thyroid, which regulates metabolic rate, and as a result, thermogenesis.
I’m certain you have heard of “hypothyroidism” in your travels. True hypothyroidism is when, often stemming from autoimmune disease, hereditary conditions, or inadequate iodine consumption, the thyroid gland fails to produce thyroid hormones needed to activate all cells in the body. The result is a slow down of all bodily functions.
But what is not often talked about, and grossly under-appreciated, is when the thyroid actually functions fine, but the brain decides that, due to stress or perceived danger, it needs to down-regulate and slow various functions in the body as a way to preserve energy for vital functions.
In this instance, it’s common to see any of the following scenarios:
1) The hypothalamus decides not to send signals to the thyroid, so as to temporarily “quiet” it, and stop it’s production of inactive (but capable of being activated) thyroid hormone t4 (which, when activated, converts to active t3) as well the small amount of active t3 it makes.
2) The brain increases activity of certain deiodinase enzymes throughout the body that convert the circulating active thyroid hormones into inactive versions (t4 converts to an inactive “reverse t3” instead of active t3),
3) Lastly, and only recently discovered, a third mechanism of protection exists at the cell level itself! To be biologically active, the thyroid hormones (t4 and t3) must cross the cell membrane into the target cells. This transport is energy dependent in itself. So any ailment that reduces available energy (reduced/inadequate caloric consumption both acute and chronic, illness, excessive energy expenditure/output beyond intake, insulin resistance, increased cortisol, and even anxiety and depression) will result in decreased entry of thyroid hormones into the cell and cause cellular or “tissue level” hypothyroidism.
Rarely are any forms of low thyroid status in the body detected, apart from congenital or autoimmune, which are both deemed “primary” in nature, and cause the brain to send out extra, measurable, messages (Thyroid Stimulating Hormone, or TSH) to the broken thyroid in attempt to wake it up. When TSH is high, it means the thyroid isn’t working well and the brain is working overtime to get it to join the party!
These other forms, resulting from down-regulatory processes initiated at the brain level are referred to as “secondary” or “tertiary”, depending on which step in the process is hung up.
In the down-regulatory forms of reduced thyroid hormone activity, the blood levels often look “fine”, because hormones once intended to flow through the entire process from thyroid to cell become “stuck” in transit. Furthermore, the brain does NOT put out extra TSH because it doesn’t want the thyroid to make more energy creating hormones… that’s the whole idea. Determining whether labs taken as a snap shot in time of our metabolic activity do indeed reflect an ongoing process, or merely “pooled” hormones that aren’t getting to where they need to be is nearly impossible except in laboratory studies at this stage.
Basically, just because your labs look “normal” doesn’t mean your metabolism and thyroid hormones are working as they should. If for any of the reasons I’ve mentioned, including nutrient deficiencies and emotional stress, are the cause of your body’s attempt to slow down, no amount of exogenous thyroid (doctor- prescribed or otherwise) are gonna fix the problem. The body is smarter than that and wants you to wise up and listen, not try to manhandle it into cooperation.
The good news is that, unlike (in most cases) primary hypothyroidism, these secondary and tertiary versions are extremely reversible… with time, and once you figure out why your brain is angry and trying to get your attention. Cold hands and shivering in the summer isn’t normal!
It took me several years, and every combination of thyroid medication protocols conceivable (including dried pork thyroid glands… yep!), with none ever making any difference for reasons I’ve explained, for me to finally understand what was happening and actually start to correct the real issues. If any of this sounds like you, know that I’ve been through the ringer on this one, leaving 6 stumped endocrinologists in the wake. I’m on the other side, nearly thyroid support free, and would be thrilled to help you find your way out of the mess as well!
So now you understand why for me to be normally cold, with normally resulting goosebumps, on an autumn day deemed chilly to normal people was in fact a really big deal. It commemorated years of milestones now in the rearview.
As it were, that Saturday was “Fall Fest” for our community. While paddling my way around the lake I was passed a dozen or more times by lake patrol pontoon boats shuttling passengers, warmly bundled in jackets and sweaters, back and forth across the lake as part of the festivities. Amused neighbors and community members waved at the crazy girl kayaking out in the cold.
Delighted to be on the water in mid-October, still working on my tan but without the summer concern for hydration, me and my eight thousand goosebumps waved back, all smiles. Then I pulled up to the beach, got out of my boat, and plunged fearlessly into the cold waves. When I surfaced, I looked up into the autumn sky and thanked God for how far I’ve come since those days standing by the oven to warm my hands in summer.
