A couple of days ago, I was sitting in the jacuzzi at my gym, when a woman on the other side crossed over and was about to walk into me. “Look out,” I said, “You’re about to walk into me.”

The woman paused, looked at me, and proceeded on her collision course. What. The fuck. I curled up into a ball and scooted sideways, to avoid getting banged into. That in itself caused pain in my shoulder and knee.

It was a no-win situation. Once someone takes it upon herself or himself to be careless with my body space, all I can do is damage control. I’m proud of myself that I used my voice, though — instead of going mute, in a stupor of disbelief, as has happened before. I hope there is not a next time, but if there is, I plan on causing a commotion.

Share with others:

With my move looming ahead, it feels like the month before Passover in my kitchen, and then some. Instead of getting rid of leavened products only, I am racing to finish off everything. I refuse to stick jars of spaghetti sauce, packets of shredded coconut, and cans of kidney beans into a U-Haul truck.

In raking through my cupboards, I have come to realize that I have bags and bags of nuts: walnuts, Brazil nuts, pistachios, Macadamia nuts, and cashews, not to mention whatever is lurking above and beyond my reach at this time. I kept buying nuts, because they are a fast food that is easy to tote around, an amazing source of protein, and in most cases, an equally amazing anti-inflammatory nutrient.

But they are also, in my opinion, not terribly exciting on their own, and too clunky to use in most of my recipes. Pressured to use them, and fast, I realized that if I grind them up (in a wrist-friendly contraption), they can go with pretty much everything - stir fries, steamed vegetables, salads, soups, you name it.

That realization in turn has left me eating a lot more healthy these days. In search of a quick protein, I used to turn to cheese — a great source of calcium and protein, yes, but dubious with regards to its impact on the body. In my case, milk products leave me craving lots of food, which in turn leaves me imbalanced in my eating habits.

I need to eat protein every four hours, or my energy crashes, and I end up fatigued — since my body is using up energy 24/7, fighting pain. By adding ground nuts to fresh vegetables, I can have a simple salad, without worrying about adding another dish to get that all-important protein hit.

Yay nuts!

Share with others:

There are people who believe that our thoughts create our reality. I find that belief to be both simplistic and immature — stemming from a desire to see ourselves as the center of the universe, as having total control over our environments.

I do believe, however, that our perceptions and attitudes dynamically interact, or dance, with the many other forces at play in the universe at any given moment. To that end, I actively have been investigating where I may be getting in the way of my own healing.

This journey began a few years ago, when I realized that my ability to heal was compromised by the anger I held at the various people who had injured me. Through my own inner dive over the next few years, and through external validation from various mind-body medicine practitioners I encountered during that time, I came to believe that there is a profound psychology to natural pain relief: Our entire being must be in alignment with healing, so as to manifest it.

In my case, I have found that there are broken places where I am not in alignment — stemming from many experiences, perhaps most significantly, those that date back to my childhood. (As cliché as that might sound, it’s true.)

I heal emotionally through writing, so I want to work those experiences out of my system by writing about them. There is something about the process — releasing my thoughts, feelings, and experiences to the Universe and to G-d/dess, perhaps also having witnesses — that frees me. So much so that once I have written about a traumatic experience, I completely forget that it happened, until I read my writing years later. And then it seems like a distant dream.

To me, writing is something akin to standing bold and powerful, naked and raw, authentic and true, without shame, regret, or apology. So it makes sense that as an integral part of my healing journey, I would turn to writing a blog post, a magazine article, or some other form of publication to heal my wounds — whether emotional, physical, or some dynamic relationship thereof.

Here’s the dilemma:

How do we navigate writing about trauma, when it’s been at the hands of other people? When we write about friends, doctors, or strangers that have hurt us, we can change their names yet still identify their roles and significance in our lives — “my orthopedist,” “my boyfriend,” “this woman I encountered at a restaurant.”

But what happens when the hurt came from someone in our immediate family? Naming their relationship to us is essential to writing about the dynamic that happened. Violence at the hand of a stranger, for example, is worlds away from violence at the hands of someone we depend on for food, shelter, love, and guidance when we are children.

I recently read an essay that spoke to this dilemma: “I am teetering on a borderline between so many things,” the author wrote, “between honoring the people I write about and disrespecting them, between healing through truth and revealing dirty secrets…”

The dilemma becomes more complicated when the people we need to write about have not done their own healing; when their entire being is invested in the false narratives surrounding their behaviors; and when they have a public image they are trying to protect. So I am left with questions swirling around my head:

If I speak the truth about childhood trauma, will I shatter the life of the person who hurt me? If I don’t speak the truth about, and therefore release, that trauma, will I ever fully heal? When love is defined as protecting a lie, will I be seen as being hateful when I speak truth? Regardless, if I know that writing will help me heal, am I willing to sacrifice my health for someone else’s construct of reality?

Share with others:

I am researching conventional and complementary medicine for natural pain relief - specifically, methodologies with scientific studies backing up their effectiveness. If there is a particular methodology or tool that has been successful in treating your pain or that of someone you know; if you are familiar with reputable studies that back up particular natural pain relief techniques; or if there is a specific individual you think I should speak with about this matter, please let me know by leaving a comment below or sending an e-mail (comments@dancingwithpain.com). Thanks!

Share with others:

As I prepare to move from Northern California to Southern California, I am reminded of the importance of location for living with chronic pain. Here in the Bay Area, I live in a vibrant suburb, on a quiet, tree-lined street, where my home office is surrounded by trees and flowering ivy growing on the windows.

There are California poppies, a flowering blackberry bush, and other wildflowers right off my front steps, not to mention a lemon tree, two plum trees, a rosemary bush, and another flowering blackberry bush in the backyard.

I have windows everywhere; my home is full of light; and I have views of trees and hills on the east side and lots and lots of trees on the west side, not to mention a view of the horizon just above the San Francisco Bay — which translates into gorgeous sunsets. So even when my pain levels are jacked up, and it’s hard to get out, I am surrounded by nature.

I live on the second story, so I feel safe enough to leave my windows open at night (which is a must, given a certain medical condition), without having too many stairs involved in my daily routine — stairs being the enemy of my ankles and knees.

And I’m just half a mile from downtown — where both my gym and BART (the subway system connecting the entire Bay Area) are located. Add to that the fact that the farmers’ market and health food supermarkets are all within biking distance, and I rarely have to get in my car — which I try to drive as little as possible.

Did I mention that this place has a jacuzzi tub? Filled with scalding hot water, a soak in the tub melts away my pain before I go to bed at night, making it possible for me to sleep.

I also had a great setup when I lived in North Tel Aviv from 2003-2005, meaning I was able to lead a full, vibrant life within the comfort zone of my limitations — even though I was in bad shape back then. I was in a gorgeous apartment on the second floor — again, high enough to feel safe and low enough to make it up and down the stairs without excessive pain. I set up my office on the balcony, which was enclosed by sliding glass doors 3/4 of the way around the room.

Not only did my balcony face a neighborhood park (a total find in a country where you’re generally looking right into someone else’s living room, across a narrow street), but there was a palm tree and some other frilly tree right in front of my balcony, with the leaves reaching inside when the glass doors were open.

Despite the fact that I was glued to my computer 12 hours a day, I always felt as if I were outdoors. And if I didn’t get enough fresh air, I could bike to the beach, which was just seven or eight blocks away.

I was making a living as a journalist, writing for top periodicals like Rolling Stone, Self, The Washington Post, Seventeen, and BBC News. I conducted most of my interviews on the phone or by e-mail, enabling me to travel the world from the comfort of my ergonomic office chair. So although I could barely walk two or three blocks before being stopped by excruciating pain, I still felt connected to the global pulse.

As if that setup wasn’t cushy enough for someone with chronic pain, I was half a block away from Bazel Square — a four-block radius with a…

• health food store
• pharmacy
• kosher butcher
• produce market
• juice bar
• two medical centers
• video store
• bakery
• general foods market
• homeware store
• ambulance center
• three 24-hour convenience stores
• two flower shops
• stationery store
• several boutiques
• too many cafés to count — including one of the only two smoke-free joints throughout the city

What’s more, while my apartment was on a relatively quiet (there is no such thing as quiet in Tel Aviv) side street, it was about three blocks from each of the two main drags - Dizengoff and Ibn Gvirol. If I couldn’t find what I needed just outside my door, I certainly could find it a short bike ride or, on the days that my knees and ankles were strong, walk away. Not to mention that all the markets and supermarkets in Israel deliver packages, so I never had to carry anything heavy into my apartment.

I’m feeling some anxiety about relocating, even though it’s a short-term move for work that I love. Given my special needs, and the cushy setup I’ve got going on here, I’m finding it hard to leave this place.

Share with others: