They Blamed Everything But My Thyroid

For more than six months, my legs felt tired, heavy, and weak.

Not sore from a workout. Not the kind of tired where you think, Okay, I pushed myself yesterday; I need to rest today. This felt different. My legs felt heavy and lethargic, like I was dragging them around with me. Even climbing stairs felt like a challenge.

I kept trying to explain that, and time and time again, I was told it was probably because I’m a fitness instructor and my legs were sore from too much exercise.

But I know what exercise soreness feels like. This wasn’t it. I kept saying that. I knew something was wrong.

I had also gained 20 pounds. My weight doesn’t usually fluctuate that much, and I hadn’t been going on binges or changed my diet. That was in my chart, too. But the explanation I got was that this is just something that happens to a “woman of a certain age.”

At the same time, I was far more exhausted than usual, and my depression was cycling more rapidly than I was used to. Those symptoms were chalked up to my bipolar disorder. I understand why someone might look at those symptoms and think of bipolar disorder—but I was experiencing them alongside everything else that had changed. I needed someone to look at the whole picture.

So my legs were supposedly sore from exercise. My exhaustion and faster-cycling depression were attributed to bipolar disorder. And the 20-pound weight gain was waved away as an age thing.

Each symptom got its own explanation. Nobody seemed to be putting them together.

It is exhausting to keep advocating for yourself when you’re already exhausted. You start to wonder whether you’re explaining it badly. Maybe you’re being dramatic. Maybe you should just rest more, stretch more, or try harder to push through. And if you’re a people pleaser, it can feel uncomfortable to keep pressing the point. You don’t want to be confrontational. You don’t want to be “that patient” who won’t let it go.

But I kept bringing it up because I knew this wasn’t normal for me.

Finally—finally—they ran another blood test and looked at my TSH. It was higher than normal, and I was diagnosed with hypothyroidism, an underactive thyroid. I was prescribed medication and told it could take a few weeks to start working.

A few weeks sounded like a long time when I’d already been struggling for over six months. But I took the medicine religiously, on an empty stomach, exactly as prescribed. I wanted it to work. I wanted my legs to feel like my legs again.

Instead, my symptoms seemed to be getting noticeably worse. I got to the point where I called my doctor because I was trying to figure out whether I needed to go to the ER. He told me to keep taking the medication and suggested adding some B12 for a little energy support. Woohoo, B12 to the rescue; I was doubtful.

So I kept going. I kept taking the medicine. I kept teaching. I kept trying to explain what was happening.

And then, sometime in the last day or so, something shifted.

I climbed the stairs at work without stopping.

My legs felt lighter. Stronger. During a workout, I could move without feeling like I was hauling them along behind me. I noticed it, and then I noticed it again, and I almost couldn’t believe it. After a year and a half or more of feeling heavy and weak, my legs felt like they belonged to me again.

I can’t fully describe how amazing that felt. It was such a simple thing—climbing the stairs—but I had spent so long not being able to do it the way I used to. I had been teaching through this, trying to carry on while my body kept telling me something was wrong. To feel that difference was beyond incredible.

I’m four weeks into treatment. I’ll have another blood test in two weeks to see where my levels are and whether my dosage needs to change. I know this is still a process. But I finally have an explanation, and I’m starting to feel a difference.

When I looked through my older blood results, I saw that my TSH had been high going back several years. I can’t help wondering how long this had been sitting there while I was trying to explain that something felt wrong.

I shouldn’t have had to fight so hard to get someone to look at the whole picture. And no one should have to become an expert in their own lab results just to be taken seriously. But I also know how easy it is to doubt yourself, especially when you’re used to keeping the peace and not wanting to make anyone uncomfortable.

So I’m saying this for anyone who keeps hearing that one symptom is probably from one thing and another symptom is probably from something else. If something feels different in your body, keep saying so. Explain what has changed. Ask questions. Ask whether the pieces fit together. Look at your results. Bring it up again if you still don’t feel heard.

Advocating for yourself can feel confrontational when you’ve spent your life trying not to be a bother. But your health matters enough to take up space.

I knew it wasn’t the exercise. I kept saying it. I got my legs back.

I cannot tell you how good that feels.