Whatever gets your groove thang on, you know? We need to discover what vibrations touch our core — global hip hop, punk rock, Christian gospel, yada yada – and go for it!

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

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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 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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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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In one case, I had spoken with the body worker many times about the same issue, yet she did the same behavior again today – more aggressively than ever before, in fact. Mind you, she is otherwise an extraordinarily sensitive body worker and as gentle as body workers get when it comes to physical pain, so I really don’t get this selective amnesia.

My massage therapist, in contrast, is incredibly mindful, respectful, and precise. When I tell her once about a boundary, it’s the last time she touches me there, period, no questions asked, no matter what the boundary. I have had two other body workers who have been equally on top of it.

When body workers do not keep in mind and honor client boundaries, they undermine the work they are doing to help their clients heal. Speaking for myself, here are some of the consequences I have experienced:

1. I feel that my space is being invaded.
2. I feel unsafe.
3. My body tightens.
4. I am snapped out of my relaxed state.
5. I feel anxious about bringing up the matter, especially if I’ve already brought it up.
6. I end up in some shade of fight-or-flight mode, instead of in the open and receptive state necessary for effective body work.
7. I feel emotional and physical discomfort or pain.

The thing is, there are so many options of how to work with clients. Body workers can utilize creativity and flexibility, rather than insisting that clients go along with a prescribed way of doing things.

A practitioner can work energetically above an area instead of touching the physical body, for example, or demonstrate a movement on her own body and ask the client to do that movement himself. While these alternatives may not be as effective as hands-on work that is wanted, it is exponentially more effective than hands-on work that is unwanted.

I wrote a detailed article about this issue almost 15 years ago in Massage magazine. Once my scanner works again, I’ll post it on the website, in the media section.

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The thing is, my dance is not about body mechanics.  It’s about something that transcends the physical plane.  It’s an alchemy between music, spirit, and body.  It’s a vibrational interaction.  It’s a transference of energy between the musicians, instruments, and me.  And it is different every day.

Take yesterday: I was casually dancing around my living room, moving slowly. Then I put on 80s industrial music.  Bam!  I was leaping in the air and bouncing around on my feet.  While I did remain mindful of my ankle, it was a brain thing — a precaution.  My body had seemingly forgotten the ankle pain existed. 

While I do think it’s important to take precaution, for the most part I flow with the transition to a no-pain zone.  My intuition says that if I am overly-precautious (the fine line being determined by listening to my body with my entire being attuned), the clash between my body and mind can result in exacerbation of pain and injury.

I’m reminded of the book Ethan Frome by Edith Wharton.  In one scene, Ethan and his girlfriend get on a sled, preparing to commit suicide by pushing the sled down a steep, icy incline that, as I remember it, ends in a wall.  Getting onto the sled, Ethan is well-aware that if he hesitates even a nanosecond, the necessary momentum will be lost, and he and his girlfriend will end up severely crippled instead of dead — which ends up happening.

I read the book in high school, and I still remember that scene vividly. Though I may not have been able to articulate it at the time, I was captivated by the underlying alchemy of commitment, trust, faith, intention, energy, flow, and permission all working together in one harmonious burst.

At any rate, what’s interesting is that I can never predict the alchemy of my dance.  Yesterday, the industrial music did it for me.  Today, it was global hip-hop music. Like a shot in the dark, an explosion out of nowhere, the music immediately and magically transports my body to an entirely different state, so that I cannot not move vivaciously. And yet, some days, no matter what music I play, my body moves slowly and gently the entire time — whether on my feet, in a chair, or rolling around on the floor.

What’s also interesting is that I can be leaping around while music is playing, but barely be able to walk when it’s off.  What I’m curious about is whether consistency of my dancing routine will amp up my general physical comfort and state of being over time. While I may not notice a marked difference in pain levels during the hours I’m not dancing on one particular day, I anticipate that my pain levels will more rapidly decrease overall in my life – over a period of days, weeks, months, or years – as I engage regularly in the healing alchemy of dance.

I’ve been making a concerted effort to commit to my dancing now, first thing every day.  I’ll report back from the field as I move forward.

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Prior to the events that led to the development of chronic pain and hypersensitivity in my body, I characteristically would wake up with a bounding spirit, bouncing out of bed and jumping vivaciously into my day.

Nowadays I generally wake up tired, in pain, stiff, and somewhat or very depressed.  I have to remind myself every morning that I have the skills and tools to pull myself out of the funk and discomfort and have a radically different experience during the course of the day.

This morning, for example, I woke up frustrated that I could not wake up early enough or move quickly enough to get to synagogue.  It feels important to me to start going to services again, after having stopped for many years, for various reasons. 

Instead of sinking into despair about how challenging it is for me to do something so simple, I offered myself compassion and understanding, and I gave myself permission to move slowly and take care of my body today. I assured myself that if I continue setting my mind to attending services, it will happen eventually, even if it takes months to rework my sleeping and waking patterns on the weekend (being that I need about two hours to get going in my day).

I also reminded myself that yesterday, despite my ankle pain, I was safely bouncing around my living room, dancing to music. The music, I assured myself, similarly can transport me again today and leave me feeling terrific. I just have to do my morning routine.

What’s more, while this ankle pain and jacked-up levels of pain on the right side of my head are making it challenging, if not impossible, for me to be in groups at the moment (like the drumming circle I really want to attend this afternoon); and while I desperately feel the need to be out in the world — making friends and building community, I also assured myself that there may be physically safe, low-key social options for me to discover. 

Even if I can’t be around people at all today; even if it takes me months to get back to where I was before the whole ankle incident happened; and even if I’m lonely in the meantime, I will focus on what I can do — filling up that space with love, light, and healing.  It is a decision.

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Every element of our life factors into our ability to heal.
These elements include but are not limited to the following:

1. comfort and support of the shoes we wear
2. nutritional value of the food we eat
3. energy of the people we spend time with
4. sense of self-worth we feel
5. quality of touch from our body workers
6. noise level in our neighborhood
7. number of chronic pain conditions we have and the ways they interact with each other
8. extent of our belonging in and support by community
9. way we feel about our work

The more that every element of our life is healthy and in harmony, the more we are fed wellness from every direction, into every pore and fiber of our being.

Just because emotional healing helps advance our physical well-being does not mean that our physical pain was caused by an emotional state.

People seem to love platitudes, which keep things seeming tidy and self-contained.  But life is messy and involved, spilling over the sides of the lines we draw. 

Pain may have been caused by a purely physical factor, and the pain may be purely physical as well.  The more spiritual and emotional strength we have, however; the more healthy love and support we have from other people; the more we overall enjoy our lives, the more ammo we have for turning that physical pain around.

We need the support of those around us.
When our physical, emotional, financial, and spiritual resources are depleted, we need an infusion of other people’s energy, so that we can keep on keeping on:

1. someone calling to check in on us
2. someone advocating for us
3. someone offering nurturing touch
4. someone validating our experience
5. someone lending us money
6. someone laughing at our joke
7. someone doing their own healing alongside ours

Love and integrity heal.
When healthcare practitioners genuinely care about our condition and do what they can to help us; when those practitioners who have hurt us take accountability for their actions; when our families and friends make us feel safe and nourished…our internal resources operate at peak efficiency for healing. 

To the contrary, when healthcare practitioners use their power to get in our way of healing; when those practitioners deny the impact of their negligent behavior; and when friends and family infuse our lives with chaos and distress, our resources are depleted by feelings of powerlessness, betrayal, confusion, fear, depression, and so on, making it that much more difficult to heal.

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