I woke up today feeling extremely distressed.  This past week, I had to interface with doctors twice — once for dental work and once for some scary symptoms following that dental work. As part of these interactions, I once again got to see the dark side of the health care system.  Nothing extreme, just your garden-variety insensitivity and carelessness that leave me feeling emotionally anxious and physically in pain.

I also had to get bodywork for the post-dental work symptoms.  In these sessions, I experienced some boundary violations that left me quite upset.

So this morning I was just feeling so sick of everything — the pain, the major limitations on my life, the judgments, the struggles, the isolation, the financial insecurity, all of it. Things were feeling bleak, and I just wanted it all to end. I called my mom for help. She ended up pushing her own agenda and upsetting me more. So I called my best friend, who was helpful at first but then started pulling her own craziness on me as well.

So I hung up the phone, did a little bit of blogging (despite my eye pain), then danced.  And danced and danced and danced. For an hour and a half.  Within minutes after starting, I was already smiling.  By the end, I was leaping in the air, my pain levels drastically reduced or altogether gone.  About half an hour into my dancing, I even took off my ankle brace. Physically, emotionally, and spiritually, I was transformed. It is truly magic every time it happens.

Through dancing, I came back to faith in my path, to an understanding of where I am heading: Perhaps I cannot change the entire system or even specific practitioners.  I can, however, offer an alternative for chronic pain patients in need and for healthcare practitioners who are open to a different way of doing things. I can use every single fucked up experience to be that much more aware, sensitive, and competent in my own work – creating truly safe and healing space and teaching others how to do the same.

I can commit and recommit every time to being that much more courageous, bold, and self-loving in my own interactions with the health care system. I can juice every experience as material for this blog, offering an alternative voice and vision to those who have had similar experiences and need the validation.

As one of my meditation teachers says, “Trust yourself and keep going.”

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I plan on buying some canvas and spray painting my own tailored affirmations on them – action words to feed my brain, soul, central nervous system, and body, reminding me of who I am, where I am, and where I’m going:

1. Believe
2. Create
3. Dance
4. Dare
5. Embrace
6. Invite
7. Meditate
8. Practice
9. Renew
10. Trust

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Layers upon layers upon layers.  How can I tell my story, when it is so overwhelming.  When people choose judgment over compassion, looking not at the system that creates unnecessary suffering, but at the individuals who have been victimized by that system.

Being victimized does not mean being a victim.  We do not have control over the universe. Part of being a powerful person is acknowledging the limitations of our power and reaching out to others, to create a loving environment together.  We are inter-dependent beings.  When you step on my foot, it will hurt.

I am exhausted.  I am angry.  And I’m tired of having to deal not only with the experience of injury, and not only with the experience of doctors who exacerbate my pain through careless behavior, and not only with the experience of my life shrinking and shrinking as a result, but also with the condemning, heartless accusations flying around, under the guise of self-empowerment — i.e., that it’s my body’s fault or my mind’s fault, that something is wrong with me.

It’s so simple: You have a cut, you put alcohol on it, you put a Band-Aid on it, it heals.

But what happens when you have a cut, but you are told — by the people who control the alcohol and Band-Aid — that you do not in fact have a cut.  You are told to you are crazy for thinking you have a cut.  You are repeatedly refused the alcohol and denied the Band-Aid.

Time passes. The wound festers and gets infected and spreads.  Other parts of your body are affected.  You develop hypersensitivity because of the spreading infection.  Your life changes, revolves around the limitations caused by the infected areas of your body. 

The medicine gatekeepers begin asking why you didn’t get the wound taken care of before. When you tell them that other medicine gatekeepers denied you access, they close ranks and decide it was your fault, that you must be a belligerent, difficult patient. They do get to know you. They do not question the system. The increasing frustration, depression, fear, and anger you feel is used against you – proof that you have caused the situation.

You become  desperate for help but terrified of the people in charge of administering it. The more you turn for help, the more you are physically and emotionally traumatized. The larger the story becomes. The more people don’t want to touch it, don’t want to touch you. You become isolated. That too is seen as your fault.

The Law of Attraction is a convenient way of shirking responsibility for personal and communal accountability to those around us. It’s heading for the hills when the town is burning, leaving the children, elderly, and sick behind, engulfed in the flames. It’s all good. They brought it on themselves.

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I have just discovered Net Flix. A dear friend of mine recommended the service to me. She’s got crazy pain most of the time and was like, “No way in hell am I going out to Blockbuster.” Plus, as she pointed out, Netflix is wicked cheaper than Blockbuster.

I couldn’t get off their website tonight. It’s the chronic pain movie buff’s dream! Not only will I never again have to go beyond my apartment complex (which has both an in and out mailbox – hurrah!) to get a movie, but the service has this “smart” feature where you rate movies you’ve liked, and it determines what other movies you’ll like as well. As with Napster, it’s a great way to discover new talent!

Check them out at Netflix.com

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As I have progressed in my journey managing and healing from chronic pain, I have come to understand that natural pain relief is a path, a practice, a conscious lifestyle. It is a deep holistic approach to healing the sum total of our lives — our minds, bodies, spirits, and hearts.

It requires giving attention to and transforming the dynamics of our family relationships, social behaviors, eating habits, sexual beliefs, physical activity, sleep patterns, and every other aspect of our lives. It calls for healthy love and supportive community, which comfort our bodies and nourish our souls.

It necessitates an inner dive so deep that we are willing to risk everything and everyone, in pursuit of manifesting our most evolved, honest, authentic, and greatest selves. And so it directs us to some combination of storytelling and activism – a willingness to unleash, speak our truths, and inherently challenge everything from the medical system to gender constructs to family secrets.

Things that seem obscure or esoteric in relationship to chronic pain actually prove to be essential components of healing it. The energetic is physical, the personal is political, and everything ultimately proves to be inextricably intertwined with our experience of pain.

And so I have surprisingly come full circle, to where I was in my twenties – where my personal mottos included, “There is no limit” and, “Our bodies are the physical manifestations of our souls.” I embraced possibility, refusing to be defined or constricted by the limited thinking of others.

I danced, sang, and howled with rage in the streets, smashed bottles in my backyard, and spoke my mind, even in the most uncomfortable situations. I demanded full access to life and refused to hide my emotions behind the closed doors of my house or soul.

This approach to life all went underground, when I got entrenched in chronic pain. How could I kick and punch kick bags or even pillows, when I’d end up unable to walk or use my hands, because of the pain those movements caused?

How could I yell from my gut – releasing the sound to the winds – when my vocal chords were compromised by a major dental botch, leading me to have laryngitis at the drop of a hat? How could I go for walks alone in the middle of the night, when I could no longer risk the possibility of having to physically fight off an assault?

I worked my edge for years. And years. And years. It has now been well over a decade of struggling and seeking. I have developed new ways of being fully engaged in life, and through my healing, I am now re-accessing ways I used to be engaged. I have a lot of wisdom, insight, and stories to share from this path. I also have a lot more exploring to do on it. That’s where this blog comes in:

At its core, this blog is a forum for my own transformation — taking on every aspect of my life, breathing healing into it, and releasing the experience and words into the universe, where they can move forward and work their magic. Some of my posts may seem obscure when it comes to natural pain relief, but if you follow closely enough and long enough, you’ll begin to connect the dots and see how it all comes together at the end of the day.

Some of these posts may seem directly relevant to and helpful with your experience. Others may seem completely off topic or downright annoying. As they say, take what works for you, and leave the rest behind. On that note, if you have something positive to say, feel free to write a comment. If you have something negative to say, kindly spend your precious time on another site instead of getting your panties up in a bunch about mine.

I do post constructive comments on my site, and I hope they promote dialogue between readers. I generally cannot afford taking the time to respond to individual comments, given the time and energy I need for my own living and healing. I do respond en masse, however, by posting an article on a particular topic about which several readers have emailed me.

Thank you for your interest in my blog. I hope you find in my words inspiration, validation, comfort, and hope.

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