pain

  • Experiencing pain seems to be a requisite affliction of the human condition. While I remain intrigued about the myriad causes of pain, I’m especially fascinated by our ability to respond to it in such a wide variety of ways. We have so many choices available; all of them valid and useful at times. It’s my intention to choose the one that will offer the greatest healing.

    I’m quite adept at shutting down to avoid pain as well as at distracting myself from it. I’ve managed to tune out chronic low back pain for decades by reducing my ability to feel sensation in that area. I’ve numbed my heart to protect myself from further disappointment and rejection. I’ve even managed to create strong barriers that keep me separate from the anguish and hatred that exist in the world. While these strategies have indeed reduced the amount of pain I experience, they simultaneously keep me separated from the highs as well as the lows life has to offer.

    Given that I yearn to experience joy and peace and love, I’ve begun to challenge the above behavior. I’ve designed a full spectrum self-care routine that provides comfort during times of need. These are healthier strategies that support overall well-being, yet still attempt to create distance between myself and pain. While it is indeed important to be gentle with myself when facing upset, this is merely a step on the journey of healing, not the destination. So connecting with a girlfriend (or 7! Yup, it was a trying week), buoying my spirits with inspiring music or books, visiting my happy place in the woods, and seeking out the world’s best taco recipe are all helpful and uplifting activities, there is another layer of work to be accomplished afterwards to fully integrate my entire being.

    This is the layer where healing occurs. As difficult as it might sound, and as elaborate as our society’s rituals for avoiding this are, I’ve come to believe that it’s necessary to fully experience pain in order to heal it. Being completely present, vulnerable, and open-hearted is the path I’m choosing to take whenever I am able. This allows the energy to continue flowing and quite often the intensity of pain subsides as a result. It most definitely prevents me from burying it inside myself, only to have it emerge later on as disease or disability. And it absolutely enables me to connect fully with my humanity and become even more compassionate towards myself and others.

    Having access to unlimited, spiritually guided life-force energy in the form of Reiki is indeed a huge blessing. While I continue to use Reiki to ease a headache, to soothe a wounded heart, and to optimize my experiences on a daily basis; the support it provides for me while being challenged by pain is truly invaluable. Now that I’ve chosen the difficult path of going through the pain rather than around it, I’m seeking all the support I am able to muster. And bursting with gratitude that the power of Reiki is available at my very fingertips.

    If you’re interested in obtaining support on your healing journey, consider receiving Reiki treatments, or learning it yourself. While it isn’t the only means of staying present to what is true for you and allowing the energy to continue flowing (rather than denying, avoiding, or stuffing it down), in my experience it’s the most gentle and easily accessible route. Details may be found on my website if you’re interested in learning more.

     

    Choosing Healing

    Experiencing pain seems to be a requisite affliction of the human condition. While I remain intrigued about…

  • I’ve been experiencing intermittent pain in my left foot for almost a year now. It comes and goes mysteriously, aggravated by hiking, dancing, and bouncing- basically the types exercise that bring me joy. At first I tried to ignore it; after all it’s usually a dull ache, with short spurts of intensity, but generally tolerable. Obviously this strategy was a failure!

    For several months I’ve been using all my tools: anti-inflammatory diet, healing essential oils, ice packs, rest, elevation, and of course loads of massage and Reiki treatments. Nothing seems to have any lasting effect. A friend suggested castor oil packs, which did seem to allow for more mobility immediately afterwards, but now not so much. As summer is approaching, the idea of sitting still with my foot in a castor oil-soaked sock wrapped in a heating pad is decidedly unappealing.

    So what to do when all the healing techniques you know aren’t helping? It seems there are four basic answers for me, and I’m exploring them all with full gusto. First, get some help. Sounds obvious, right? Trading in fierce independence for a more balanced regime of giving AND receiving through interdependence is a big lesson for me. I am determined to keep practicing this skill. I’ve started receiving acupuncture twice a week to relieve pain and to balance the energy flow through my body.

    Secondly, can I accept that forces bigger than myself are at play? Can I acknowledge that I’m feeling frustrated at my seeming failure to heal myself and the resulting lack of mobility? And at the same time, can I investigate the possible silver lining? Can I react favorably to a forced rest period that allows me to read <gasp!> novels and to journal? Can I learn to accept that this is what I have to work with in this moment, and release all my attachments, judgments, and expectations that only increase my suffering? Although I’m not 100% there just yet, I’m convinced that yes, I indeed can do this.

    Thirdly, what is the message my body is trying to deliver? At first glance, asking for and receiving help and enjoying more stillness are answers that float to the surface. Yet I want to tap into the deeper layers. Yesterday during my acupuncture treatment, I asked my inner self, “What am I not seeing?” I had an instant vision of dense roots reaching up from the earth, trapping me in place. While I’m still contemplating the full meaning of this experience, it seems obvious that fear of moving forward, of stepping into my full potential, and rising above my current belief system has been tethering me.

    It’s tempting to be lured into the story of why, when, and how I got here; I have the tools to release fear and tap into my inner strength, purpose, and willingness to heal without intellectually understanding this ailment. That’s the beauty of Reiki; it is spiritually guided and I don’t need to know. Now that I have a goal of getting unstuck and releasing fear of the unknown that change is certain to bring, I can begin to appreciate the final answer to my question of what to do when nothing is working. Gratitude, mingled with trust. Clearly the universe has a plan in place for my growth and awakening that I am unable to see.

    For some reason, this chapter is a part of my journey. For now, I can accept this on faith and remain open to the lessons at hand. I’m also reminded of my upcoming role on a panel for Healthy Aging at my neighborhood holistic health fair. It’s a fantastic opportunity to share my knowledge about growing older while prioritizing health, recharging Ki (life force energy), and heeding pain as a messenger. This helps create a healthy lifestyle that cultivates wellness and vitality, regardless of the hand (or foot) we’ve been dealt.

    Ouch! That hurts.

    I’ve been experiencing intermittent pain in my left foot for almost a year now. It comes…

  • I’m really focusing on the somewhat radical belief that pain is a message, from our bodies or our spirits, indicating that something needs our attention. When we acknowledge it as such, and receive the message we can then make the appropriate adjustments. This acceptance and taking of responsibility may or may not result in the lessening or elimination of the pain, but will absolutely promote a deeper healing from within.

    I’ve been working with a client who’s recovering from an auto accident. She has both good days and bad days. On the days when she’s feeling pain, she will often take a muscle relaxer. Then she says she feels better and can do the things she wants to do. Of course, there’s nothing wrong with that. However, then she perceives a false sense of strength and well-being and tends to overdo. She thinks she’s feeling better, but actually she’s just feeling less. She’s missing out on the message from her body to rest or slow down or take it easy. Then that sets off a whole other chain of events as her recovery is set back by harmful activity.

    Over the course of the 60 minutes we spend together, she’s starting to see that overriding her body’s request to have down time for healing is actually creating a longer period of recuperation. She’s recognizing that forcing her agenda of returning to her former state of athleticism before her muscles and nervous system are ready is causing her to feel worse in the long run. She’s coming to the awareness that the pain she experiences is an important message.

    By no means am I suggesting that she stop taking the meds. Really that’s her decision and it’s not for me to know whether or not they are helpful. What I’m suggesting is that if she chooses to take them, to remember that she may have shot the messenger, but that doesn’t make the message itself any less important.  As she learns to honor the input her body is readily sharing, I have no doubt that her healing will progress much more quickly. She can  choose to feel less AND honor her body’s request. It’s just a matter of being mindful.

    Pain as a Messenger

    I’m really focusing on the somewhat radical belief that pain is a message, from our bodies…