I wanted to go to an event tonight, but getting there seemed like a colossal pain in the ass. Despite the fact that it was five miles away. First, the logistics: I knew I wouldn’t be able to eat anything at the potluck, given my uber-pure diet, so I had to make dinner before going. There’s an hour right there. I’d just returned from a walk, and it was 5:15 pm when I got home. So between settling in, cooking, and sitting down to eat my food, it was damn near 7 pm when I was ready to think about leaving.

Then there was all the anxiety: Big crowd. Would I get bumped into and end up in pain? Would it be too noisy? Would I end up with shots of nerve pain in my ear? What about all the social awkwardness – not shaking people’s hands, not wanting to deal with their questions why. Asking them to speak more softly, or plugging an ear or two when they speak.

It’s awkward. It’s anxiety-producing.

So instead, I called my mom and asked her thoughts. She advised me to begin preparing the night before when I want to go somewhere. Then I asked my Tweeples – friends on Twitter – what they thought. I got all kinds of validation about what a pain in the ass it is to go out when you have invisible disability or illness.

Plus I got numerous suggestions. Here’s what I put together at the end:

1. I berate myself for spending so much time (lots) on Twitter. But here’s why I do it: It’s real community. It’s people who get what I’m going through. For reals.
2. It is genuinely a pain in the ass to go out to events in the able-bodied-oriented world. Those who have some kind of disability do in fact end up feeling like oddballs in some way or another, which in turn leads to social anxiety.
3. I cannot hold myself by the standards I had before all the crazy that left me dealing with chronic health issues. Yes it’s true I used to be a social butterfly, going to the party, the after-party, and the after-after-party. While that’s still me in spirit, however, circumstances have changed. While it feels dorky to have to spend lots of time preparing for a simple outing the next day, it’s what I need to do to kick my social life into gear.
4. I need to give myself permission to get out of any situation I get into. In other words, if a crowd is too overwhelming, I can leave. That’s a real pain in the ass from a time management perspective, especially when it saps energy to go out in the first place, but that permission is the only way I’ll ever get out.
5. I need to accept that, depending on my physical wellness on any given day, I may or may not be able to go through with my plans to attend an event. And that’s ok.

Mostly, what I got from the conversation was this: My life is my life. As it is today. With all the crap I have to deal with. And I’m going to not only accept that, but embrace it. Instead of holding some unrealistic 1994 standard over my head, and always feeling like an idiot for falling short, I’m going to apply the Dancing with Pain method to my social life: I begin where I am; I flex whatever social muscles (as one of my Tweeple put it) I can at any given time; and I celebrate whatever I can do – filing that space with love, light, and healing.

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Here are five songs about dance. What other songs do you love that are about dance?

•  ”Let’s Dance,” by David Bowie
• “Just Dance,” by Lady Gaga
• “Safety Dance,” by Men without Hats
• “I Hope You Dance,” by Lee Ann Womack
• “Dancing in the Street,” by Martha Reeves & the Vandellas

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If you are unsatisfied with where your body and/or life are right now, do yourself a favor and draw yourself a roadmap for healing your pain and transforming your life. The process goes like this:

1. Figure out point A: Write down what is working in your life – in terms of your body, living situation, finances, relationships, occupation, sleep, diet, all of it. Also write down what is not working in your life – same categories.
2. Figure out point B: Write down where you want to be in your life, in each of these categories.
3. Figure out your toolbox for hitting the road: Write down your skills, talents, and resources (money, property, personal and professional connections, complementary and alternative medicine network, etc)

Put on your creative thinking cap and figure out how to get from point A to point B, using the tools in your toolbox. You might even use some of your tools (like really smart friends) to figure out how to use your other tools.

Just remember this: No matter how fucked up your body and life are, chances are there is at least a little something you can capitalize on. Start from there.

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As you loyal followers know, the Dancing with Pain company was off to a soaring start last summer, until it got waylaid in August — when a nasty auditory injury messed up my head and life for the next half a year. I am now ready to pick up where I left off, and I invite you to participate in making the Dancing with Pain method accessible to people in pain across the globe.

I am going to share with you my vision, then let you know where I’d like your input and participation. At the end of this blog post is information on the teleconference I will host on Monday evening, where we can all gather and share ideas about how to get this puppy on the road!

My Vision:

1. Travel around the world, teaching live programs – including the physical dance method and lifestyle management program (for people living with chronic pain) and the healthcare training seminar (for practitioners treating people in pain).
2. Offer multimedia programs — audio and video classes, webinars, and teleconferences – with the same content as live programs.
3. Travel around the world, speaking at conferences – sharing my story and that of my students, to inspire others in their own self-healing journey or in their journey working with pain patients.
4. Publish a book and articles teaching the concepts taught in the live and multimedia programs.
5. Launch formal clinical trials on the dance method, so as to procure quantifiable data.
6. Offer merchandise with inspirational slogans based on the Dancing with Pain method, to cheerlead people in pain and remind them of their self-healing power.
7. Launch the Dancing with Pain Institute — offering certification programs for dance method teachers and healthcare practitioners, as well as annual conferences for the chronic pain community.

Would you like to help me figure out how to make it all happen? Let’s talk on a conference call, this Monday, President’s Day Holiday, at 5 pm PST (California time), 8 pm EST (New York time). Call 1-712-432-3030. When prompted, enter conference code 126988.

Questions? Email dancingwithpain@gmail.com!

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It’s shocking how one single event can turn one’s life upside down, creating a ripple effect of challenges for months or years to come. Prior to the auditory injury that ousted me from my apartment in Los Angeles, I was living without pain, and I was starting my path back to becoming athletic. I started jogging again, and I took a yoga class for the first time in years, for example.

Then my whole life came crashing down. It’s been half a year, and I am still recovering. Among other things, the constant struggle for survival has shifted my focus from one of calm, centered, internal healing, to one of externally-oriented fear – hustling the next gig, to pay the rent, for example. Then I had an infection that required antibiotics, which caused a severe reaction including cognitive dysfunction, and just as I was recovering from that, my dad got hospitalized with pneumonia.

Since then, it’s been a rocky and emotional road interacting with my dad, whom I had only seen once in 20 years, before seeing him at the hospital. Some things about him are different. Others are exactly the same and just as hurtful, especially as I teach him holistic healing methods, send him healing energy, and otherwise give my attention to helping facilitate his recovery. The relationship is very complicated, and I don’t want to repeat patterns of being the caregiver, when my own needs are being compromised.

Here’s my special concern: In three weeks, I will have another ultrasound, to see if the possibly cancerous nodule on my thyroid has shrunk. To date, my response to the nodule has been a radical change in my diet. But for a number reasons – including financial and health-setback related — I did not end up actively doing other things I’d hoped to, such as guided imagery, meditation, prayer, and body work.

Now I’m scared. Three weeks. The clock is ticking. I cannot be doing things, engaging in things, that compromise my healing at this time. I need to be centered, positive, focused on healing thoughts for myself. I need to be surrounded by light. But how do I balance that essential need with other needs, like finishing my book proposal, finding the work I need to survive, and dealing with my dad’s ongoing struggle with pneumonia and the implications of that struggle’s outcome?

To add to matters, my apartment complex is doing tree cutting and pruning from this coming Tuesday through the first week of March. Meaning, I cannot be in my home and home office for the next couple of weeks, except in the evening hours. Which in turn means my ability to function, especially work, will be undermined. While I can take a few hours of cafe writing here and there, I really need an ergonomic office setup, so as to avoid getting all messed up from pain.

Regardless, I am redirecting my attention to one of self-healing. I am looking for accountability partners to help me stay disciplined on a few matters – daily dance, meditation, singing, exercising outdoors, visualization, and reading of self-healing books and affirmations. I need to keep bringing my attention back to what I can do, and do it.

I ask for your loving thoughts and healing energy to support my journey forward. If you are in Jewish prayer circles, my misheberach is “Loolwa bat Naomi.” Thank you.

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