“Success is often achieved by those who don’t know that failure is inevitable.” ~ Coco Chanel.
I used to ask healthcare practitioners if they thought I could heal. I was so lost, so overwhelmed, so bombarded, running around the seemingly never-ending chronic pain maze, desperately seeking the exit, that I just needed some reassurance that yes, the exit door did in fact exist, and yes, I had the capacity to find it.
From my vantage point now, asking someone else whether I can heal seems silly. Almost dangerous — handing over some of my power, allowing someone else to determine my capacity.
I think people with chronic pain want some kind of a guage on where we are in life and where we are heading and how to manage our expectations. But seriously. What the fuck does anyone else know? Airplanes and email and running water and antibiotics. They said it was impossible. But it wasn’t. They said the inventors were crazy. But they weren’t.
I remember reading a story a while back, something I really held onto. Something that changed my thinking and opened the door to me taking charge of my healing and deciding that yes, I’m going to heal 100%, despite the fact that the medical system is actively thwarting my efforts and no matter what anyone else tells me.
I’m fuzzy on details about the people involved, but the story goes like this: A patient with some chronic condition asks a doctor, “Doctor, do I stand a chance at healing this?” To which the doctor replies, “If you were a prisoner in a concentration camp, would you ask the prison guard, ‘Hey, does anyone ever make it out of here alive?’ Or would you just go for it?”
When I was a little girl, we had a family friend who was in fact a prisoner in a concentration camp in Germany. When she herself was a girl, the Nazis loaded her and other starving Jews, naked, onto a cattle cart, packed like sardines. Then the Nazis fed them. Candy. To make them even weaker and sicker.
At some point, days into the trip to the death camps, this girl, with whatever strength was left in her, jumped off the train and ran and ran and ran deep into the forest. Not knowing if she’d be shot to death. Not knowing if she’d starve to death. Or freeze to death. Or come across Nazi sympathizers and be thrown back into the camps or gas chambers. She just leapt from that death train and went for it.
She made it. All the way to California, where she got married and had two kids and lived in a beautiful home.
So who is to say, whatever the diagnosis, however grim the prognosis, that you won’t make it as well? Keep looking. Keep searching for your portal to wellness. For your healing nectar. Get educated. Read books on self-healing. Listen to CDs on guided imagery. Watch DVDs on how to maximize your health through nutrition.
Just you go, chronic pain mountineer. You go as far and as fast as you can.