A New Perspective on Pain

Three years after major abdominal surgery to relocate a compressed renal vein as a result of a rare syndrome named after the Nutcracker for its “nutcrackering” or clamping down effect on my vein and 125 hours of transformational life coach training later, I successfully managed my cyclical pain without Western medicine this month! This is a big feat for me on so many levels. I’m no longer dependent on pills as my savior when I’m in pain. This summer I’ve been focusing on prevention and self-care before the pain hits, which involves whole-life changes and new healthier habits the whole month long, not just when I’m in pain. I have significantly reduced my intake of:

• gluten because of its connection with inflammation which is known to cause more pain
• soy because of its ability to increase estrogen in the body which increases blood flow and when you have residual varicosities from the Nutcracker Syndrome, excess estrogen is not your friend
• corn due to its links with inflammation and consequently increased allergies, which I’m learning are most likely a result of my body being so inflamed over a long period of time
• sugar—especially refined—because of its connection with greater inflammation in the body as well—this one is especially challenging for me and one I could reduce even more with greater discipline and practice
• dairy, which I had already reduced quite a bit due to gastrointestinal discomfort that started over 10 years ago but which I sometimes still doctored or put a bandaid over with a Lactaid pill
• caffeine because it constricts blood vessels and raises tension levels which can result in increased pain

It’s a big undertaking and that’s why I think it’s been possible for me because of my life coach training. Of course I trained to coach others but I also reap the benefits, and taking on major life changes like this are beginning to seem much more manageable with experience and the tools I’ve learned. I am also incorporating suggestions that my naturopath made a long time ago that I finally feel like I can take on and by adding these self-loving activities into my week, I build up my resilience to stress and my response to pain comes from a calmer place. I remember to breathe through it and not resist or tense up. Through quick morning meditations, lymphatic dry brushing, Epsom salt baths, walking barefoot on the beach, and massage and acupuncture, I am beginning to find regular ways to ground myself into the moment, into gratitude, into trusting. It makes a big difference. It also helps me consider that pain is in our lives for a reason; it’s a messenger and I’m grateful for its message to focus on showing my body move love and dedicate time to improving my health and well-being.

I Welcome Big Miracles Here and Now!

I'm tired of the thought pattern we're ingrained with about not deserving something horrible that happens to us or "deserving more." It's not a question of deserving. I don't believe anyone deserves pain or suffering. So when I hear myself asking why or how someone could deserve such an awful thing to happen to them, I need to stop and become aware that that thought doesn't serve me or anyone. Does that thought lift me up? Does it bring joy? Does it help anyone? No. It's not a question of asking why. I'm not even sure it's a question.

My dear friend, Jill, was so vibrant and joyous, so loving and with so much to share and teach others, so very full of life--the complete opposite of fatal brain cancer. It's incomprehensible that my buen amigo, Christian, whose laughter made everyone feel joyful around him, could die of stomach cancer in less than six short months. And my wonderful, devoted, fun-loving mom lost her own dear parents at the tender age of 16, was then cheated on and left with a rundown house and 5-year-old daughter to raise, and now has been put through such horrible suffering from a brain bleed last August, which is thought to have originated at the time of the car accident which killed her parents.

How do we make sense of these events? Or do we even try? What good comes to us or anyone when we struggle to "make sense" of incomprehensible suffering? I think the true answer lies in getting out of our heads and sinking into our bodies and opening up our hearts to find peace in our souls with what's happened. To cultivate faith continually through centering ourselves to the earth and giving thanks for even the simplest beauty we have been graced to witness during this life--the full moon, the blooming daffodils, the green grass, the giant all-knowing redwoods, ripe sweet fruit, purring kittens, and as Julie Andrews would sing, "raindrops on roses," to name just a few.

When we can get back into our bodies and out of our analyzing heads, I believe then we will begin to feel greater peace. It might not answer our mind's nagging questions, but it will bring openness back to our hearts and hopefully with practice through that openness, a growing connection to our souls where we can trust in a greater knowing, from within, from God, from the Universe, from our ancestors, from the angels, from the Divine, from positivity, from altruism, from your God of understanding, from your spiritual practice. Opening our hearts, when all we want to do is hunker down and close up shop, is in and of itself a daily spiritual practice that develops and tones our trust muscles. And the key ingredient is self-compassion. Gently returning to this practice when we go astray and not judging ourselves or others when this happens.

I welcome big miracles here and now!

Finding the Shiny Bits Underneath the Pain

My body always finds a way to slow me down and give me rest.

I can't say quite yet that I'm grateful for my good ol' monthly pain reminder--I think I'm not quite that spiritually evolved--but I can say that it has great power in forcing me to rest and try to relax, or the pain will be exacerbated. Yesterday I learned that my amazing mom would be transferred to a rehabilitation center today. I have been going to the hospital to see her everyday since that scary day nearly two weeks ago when she passed out. 

Many have told me, including my mom, to have some fun and take care of myself, but I really was at a loss for how to do that, even though I have focused this very blog on wellness and self-care-related topics for over a year now. So now as I sit here waiting for one of my mom's cats to come home, who is not cooperating, and feel that familiar annoying pain again, I am trying to stay in the moment, breathe, enjoy the much needed time to rest, be with my mom's other kitties and keep them company, watch an exciting 20-year old movie (Speed--can you believe it came out 20 years ago?!), and be patient. And funny thing, aren't those some of the key ingredients to taking care of myself? 

So as I learn to show gratitude even for the times when I am in pain, I also recognize some of the lessons hidden among the folds of pain. I learn over and over again to focus on the moment, focus on my breath, focus on the importance of resting and not overdoing it, focus on the love of animals and nature, focus on simple enjoyment, and focus on practicing patience. 

After reflecting on all the lessons available in pain, I am starting to warm up to the idea of feeling a bit of gratitude for this monthly reminder to focus on myself and my body and my good. This could actually be a helpful exercise when facing any hardship or frustration. Look underneath the obvious discomfort and find the shiny lessons and wisdom to be gained from the experience. And remember, once learned doesn't necessarily mean you'll remember the next time. This is an exercise, like gratitude, that must be repeated regularly. 

What shiny wisdom can you find underneath your pain or discomfort?

Dear Pain

I had the privilege to write for my surgery sister, Elizabeth Katherine's blog recently and I wanted to share what I wrote her as well. This post was part of a series of "Letters to Pain" that Elizabeth Katherine featured this past month. You can read more about her journey on her blog, These Next 6 Months.

Dear Pain,

Since your chronic onset several years ago, I have done all I can to avoid you and get rid of you and this past year after having surgery, try to block you from my mind and not to think about you as much. But lately I have been reading about leaning into all of Life’s experiences and I realize that just as much as I want to lean into joyous moments, I must also learn to lean into difficult circumstances as well, and show kindness and compassion to even my inner critic or anxious thoughts or scared feelings or stabbing pain.

It has taken me a long time and a lot of reading and a lot of reflection to get to this point, and I’m far from mastering the “leaning in” tactic. I still find myself resisting the pain I experience, generally and thankfully only one or two days a month now, but this can also be applied to emotional pain, painful memories, and the trauma of what I have been through—of the hell I visited with stabbing pain, chronic achiness, major surgery, and open wounds.  When I feel myself squinch my face up and tense my entire body up, I am more aware now that I’m trying to fight the pain I’m feeling. Which seems totally logical, doesn’t it? Why wouldn’t we want to fight painful feelings? I’ve been taught to fight back, not bow down and let something take me over.

But from reading more about vulnerability and self-compassion from the great thinkers like Pema Chodron and Brene Brown, I am realizing that surrendering is very powerful and has VERY powerful effects on pain. I heard once at a 5-day silent meditation retreat that I went to several years ago that we should welcome ALL feelings into our being, like guests, but also know that they won’t be staying forever. The Guesthouse by Rumi is a wonderful poem about this.  I also love the quote from Susan Ariel Rainbow Kennedy (aka. SARK) which reads: “I’m learning to hold the little hands of those scared parts inside of myself, and just sit with them. They love this.” I want to challenge myself to try this even with pain. Because pain, for me, is connected to fear.

Quite frankly, I am afraid of pain. Always have been. I don’t like it. I feel so vulnerable—there’s that word again. So maybe something to try is to become more comfortable with feeling vulnerable.  I have a sticky note on my computer screen which reads “Perk up and lean in.” I heard it at a 2-day mindfulness training I attended last June. I love the metaphorical image it creates in my mind. I picture my kitty cat leaning into me so lovingly. I picture myself leaning into my beloved husband, trusting him completely and openly. I picture my future babies leaning into me with all the love in the world. I want to get to the point where I can lean into ALL circumstances and feelings I experience. It will definitely be a challenge, but I think even baby steps towards this will slowly add up and begin to build up my acceptance of vulnerability and pain and fear.

I cannot tell you how much reading and research I’ve done in search of a way of getting rid of fear, only to find out that the secret is actually to lean into it and befriend it, or at the very least acknowledge its existence and hold its hand. It is quite comforting when I do this.

Now the trick is to remember this the next time I experience pain.  My husband does a wonderful job reminding me to breathe and showing me unconditional love. Sometimes holding my kitty cat and hearing her purr soothes me and reminds me to slow down my breath.  Sometimes I begin to pray and ask for help from the Divine.

I think I will remember to lean in during difficult, painful times if I begin to practice leaning in with uncomfortable feelings that are less painful.  I have several weeks to go before my pain will return to pay me its now monthly visit, so I think I ought to start practicing with some of Life’s daily annoyances now.

But I also want to and must practice self-compassion, because when pain comes, if I don’t remember to lean in, if I get angry again with the pain, if I don’t feel very mindful in those desperate moments, I can at least show myself kindness and not judge myself for not feeling very graceful under these circumstances. We do the best we can and I certainly wouldn’t yell at a good friend for crying out in pain, so why don’t I extend that same kindness and compassion to myself?  Self-compassion is definitely a daily practice thing as well, so taking little steps to show myself more kindness may help me remember to be kind in moments when I don’t feel very graceful.

May I remember to show myself kindness in challenging moments, in all moments for that matter.  May I remember to lean in and make all my feelings feel welcome, rather than tense up and step away from the pain.

Respectfully and lovingly,

Maret

The Guest House

This being human is a guest house.

Every morning a new arrival.

A joy, a depression, a meanness,

some momentary awareness comes

as an unexpected visitor.

Welcome and entertain them all!

Even if they are a crowd of sorrows,

who violently sweep your house

empty of its furniture,

still, treat each guest honorably.

He may be clearing you out

for some new delight.

The dark thought, the shame, the malice.

meet them at the door laughing and invite them in.

Be grateful for whatever comes.

because each has been sent

as a guide from beyond.

-- Jelaluddin Rumi,

translation by Coleman Barks

Recognizing My Wings

I went through an amazing transformation about 3 years ago, when my whole life--everything as I knew it--was flipped upside down by a surprise end to a 10-year relationship.  I look back on my healing process in awe now and how I literally came out of my shell and found my wings.  I followed a lot of great advice, followed my heart, gave my creativity time to thrive through regularly dancing and dancing in many different forms—zumba, belly dancing, pole dancing, burlesque dancing, salsa dancing, you name it!—spent a great deal of quality bonding time with friends for support, fun and inspiration, and grew spiritually, because I remained open to all the changes happening and I remained hopeful that one of my life’s most precious goals of becoming a mother and having a family would still happen, despite turning 32 when all this happened.  If I let the gremlins take over, as Brene Brown calls them, I would think that there wasn’t possibly enough time to meet someone new, grow as a couple, get married, and start a family before I got "too old."  But deep down, I KNEW in my heart and soul that it WAS possible and that I would be a mother and create a family.  And lo and behold, as my wings grew bigger and even more brilliant and beautiful, and my self-esteem thrived amidst my creativity and budding friendships, I met my future husband and father of my children. I believed it, and it happened.  We were married just 2 years after first meeting and have now been married 10 months.  We are hoping to start a family later this year.  My vision is becoming reality!

While dating and growing as a couple, we went through some very serious health trials—4 surgeries, one of which being major, abdominal surgery to fix a vein that had been compressed near my left kidney, and causing daily achiness and pain whenever I danced or walked—two of my most favorite pastimes and stress relievers. My husband, who was my boyfriend at the time, nursed me back to health, coming to my mom’s house where I was recovering to change my surgical wound’s dressings, because it got infected and was tracking, so A LOT of pain and suffering occurred after that surgery, but A LOT of unconditional love occurred too, both from my husband and my dear mother, who fed me and took care of me for a month after the surgery and then took turns with my husband changing my wound's dressings for several more months.  I knew without a doubt while going through that health crisis that I had found my soulmate and my future husband.  After my wound healed, we got engaged a few months later and were married 6 weeks after our engagement!  It was a truly magical time, filled with family and close friends, creativity and planning, and coming together to create the most love-filled wedding day.

Since then, we have been adjusting to living together, since we didn’t move in together until after our wedding, and learning about each other at a deeper level.  On a personal level, I have still not fully recovered emotionally from all the health crises I went through two years ago.  All of last year, physically, was dedicated about regaining my strength and energy, but I struggled constantly to keep up with my old ways of dancing regularly and walking all the time.  I can dance and walk now.  But I don’t do it as regularly as I used to or as much as I’d like to.  I think I have a lot is fear of feeling pain again, since my favorite activities triggered the pain and achiness and nausea when I was going through my health crises.  And I’m afraid I’ve fallen out of the habit of exercising daily.  I still crave it, but now I feel frustrated and almost desperate to find a way to be active daily again.  I try to go for walks at lunchtime and I do mini-yoga sessions in my living room from time to time, but nothing as regular and as invigorating as my zumba and other dance classes from 3 years ago.  I know A LOT of my healing process and healing secrets from that time were through my dancing.  I gained a sense of confidence that I hadn’t had in a long time and I also opened up through the process of dancing. After nearly every zumba session, I would feel inspired to write and write about some epiphany or important reflection that came to me during the dancing.  I miss that.  I feel almost disappointed with myself for not having kept up with it.  But my inner voice chimes in and reminds me that I physically COULDN’T for quite awhile, due to the pain triggers and then surgery recovery, which was much longer than anyone had anticipated because of the surgical infection and prolonged wound recovery.  Four months of open wound care can take it out of you.  It felt at times as if it sucked the energy and life force out of me.

I think what has happened is that my beautiful, brilliant wings became transparent during my health crisis and recovery, and although I can’t see them as easily now, I must learn to recognize them again. Recognize my incredible journey.  Recognize how far I’ve come and all I’ve been through and learned to get here.  Be kind to myself. Love myself.  Love my transparent wings.  Love my indented scar. Love my rolly belly.  Love my moods and how they can swing from one day or moment to the next.  Love my joy.  Love my enthusiasm and excitement and ZEST for life when it comes to me, sometimes all of the sudden, like a big bolt of positive, fun energy! Even love my fearful nature.  Even love my anxiousness about the unknown.  Love and accept ALL the parts of me, not just the beautiful, which are easier to love, but the painful and difficult parts as well, where the love is needed the most.

I went to a wonderful talk at the Seattle Life Coach Training school last Friday and the inspiring speaker, Sherra Grasser quoted the school's founder, Richard Seaman in his upcoming book, with a profound statement: "Apply LOVE {here}."

Apply LOVE {here}. {There}.  {Everywhere}.

Start small.  And follow my own advice.  I desperately want to get back into being active again and dancing. But I also know that it’s not practical or realistic to think I can just jump back into my 2-3 times a week at the gym for zumba schedule again.  I need to start small. Something though.  Tonight before cooking or going through boxes or writing this blog or even relaxing and vegging on the couch, I needed and most importantly WANTED to try a dance workout on TV in my living room, and I DID IT! 20 minutes of belly dancing felt so energizing and empowering! And I've hung my belly dancing coin scarf, that I wore around my waist for extra motivation, by the thermostat so it is clearly visible and will remind me to try a little belly dancing every night after work.

Start small.

Apply love everywhere.

Recognize the richness of my journey.

Love my transparent wings.

Soften to Pain

This past week I was reminded to soften when faced with pain and discomfort. I did not feel my best, I have to admit, but my symptoms are much, much better now than two years ago when the Nutcracker Syndrome first roared its painful head. In moments of experiencing pain last week, I remembered an important tip I heard in yoga to soften my face. This is a phrase I have heard when holding the downward dog pose, because it can be very easy to hold your breath or clench your teeth in this position. Normally I squeeze my face into a big grimace when I feel pain too, as many of us probably do, and I unintentionally tighten most of the other muscles in my body as well.

But when I remembered this tip and tried focusing on softening my face this past weekend, I found it very difficult to keep the grimace and I began to relax more in the moment. Relaxing in the moment and embracing the pain provided me with some relief, for which I am very grateful. Once I could relax a little, I could think more calmly and clearly and be more proactive or distract myself from the fiery sensations I was experiencing.

I have read about embracing one's pain from Pema Chodron and in other Buddhist writing, but I didn't quite know how to actually go about doing this until now. The idea of literally softening all the muscles in our face and forehead when in pain is fairly easy to try and practice, is something we have some control of and is a very practical remedy to the stress that pain can cause us. 

I have found in the past two years that my pain has been greatest when I am most stressed out, so I find the idea of softening and relaxing quite refreshing, compared to my automatic response of tightening, resisting what's happening to me and stressing about what is going on in my body to cause all this pain. That way of thinking doesn't help relieve the pain; it only exacerbates it. It feels almost counterintuitive at first, but it is so valuable to remind yourself of this in a painful moment. I think this practice could be applied to emotionally painful moments as well, although I haven't tried it in that way specifically yet. Please keep me posted if it works for you!

All it took for me was one little phrase and listening to my inner wisdom in that moment to bring me a glimmer of relief in a painful situation. I hope this post brings at least one person the same relief I experienced.

Never Take For Granted The Good Days

I was home sick today and felt incredibly miserable at one point. I didn't have enough energy to sit up and the lower abdominal pain radiated all the way down my legs. But as the pain eased a little, I was able to remind myself that this is only one or two days a month, instead of everyday. Last year I felt an aching pain everyday (see My Nut Notes blog post from last year on my rare vascular condition for more details)--when I stood for more than 10 minutes, when I went shopping, when I walked for more than 10 minutes, when I sat on a hard surface, even when I went to the movies. It was a nagging debilitating pain that affected my everyday life. But now I have been given the gift (read about my surgery on my One Year Post-Op blog post)--because it truly is a gift and I am so lucky to have been given this--of feeling pretty darn healthy throughout the month and only have a day or two when I feel terrible. A few months ago, I didn't even feel that terrible. So I really need to remember to count my many blessings and never take for granted all those good days--the 28 out of 30 days each month that I live virtually pain-free now.

One thing that seems to help that my wonderful husband has taught me is to name the feeling I'm experiencing in those desperate moments. This morning he asked me what I was feeling in that moment of agony and I would call out "pain," then "nausea," followed by "dizziness," etc. and it seemed to give those feelings a voice so they wouldn't all glob together in one big pain attack anymore. In a sense, I also felt more in control of the pain because I had named the different parts of it; I had identified the culprits and communicated them out loud.

As I'm typing this now, I feel a slight twinge of pain and a headache and a little dizziness if I turn my head too quickly, but overall I feel much more human again and that is such a blessing. I know we all struggle with daily stresses and things that frustrate us or get us down, but I feel so fortunate to be able to walk and talk and sit and go about most of my days without much pain or nausea or dizziness. It feels great to be alive and human and for the most part pain-free!

So I share these thoughts here as reminders for myself in the future, if the pain returns, and also to stay focused on all the beauty of each day and all the simple joys, despite all the troubles, that we are blessed with each and everyday. We can breathe in and out deeply. We can go outside and enjoy nature in all her splendor. We are alive. We are blessed.

Deciding to Rewrite My History

Recently I read a great line from Tess Marshall of The Bold Life on rewriting our history and I felt compelled to reflect on this and write about it.  I spent much of 2012 dealing with some quite challenging health issues and feeling a bit beside myself and at times sorry for myself because of the chronic, debilitating pain I experienced before having open, abdominal surgery and the acute, agonizing pain I felt post-op due to an infection and open wound as a result, that took 4 long months to heal.  

But what if I chose to rewrite that history for myself?  What if I chose to view and remember all the wonderful things I learned from these challenges and also all the wonderful things that happened at the same time as all these challenges?  Wouldn’t last year’s traumas then have more value and meaning for my overall story and life experience? I think so!

If I shift my focus and instead of remembering all the pain, instead remember all the love I received and was able to give, 2012 is illuminated in a whole new light. A light of learning to trust with all my being and falling deeply in love with my soulmate and now husband, of being gentle and loving with my other soulmate--me!--and of returning to my childhood home to be cared for so tenderly by my dear, sweet, patient mother.

I get a little teary-eyed and start to beam with love and light when I reflect and remember ALL THIS LOVE that filled my life last year. I would MOST definitely prefer to remember all the love, rather all the pain! So here I begin. To rewrite my history. It feels good. It feels positive. Proactive. And fills me with thanksgiving. Like a gratitude journal for the past. That's it! So whenever there is a painful part of your past that might return to haunt you from time to time, remember what you were grateful for during that time. Even if it seems hard. I know there's something. If you have trouble, remember you're alive. That's a BIG something to be thankful for, isn't it?

Photo taken today in Lake Forest Park, Washington by yours truly, la Ecua-Gringa.