Posts Tagged ‘Chronic Pain’

Giving Birth to Anamsong

Thursday, February 9th, 2012

giving birthHave you ever looked back and realized you could have never envisioned the path your life has taken? As I prepare to launch my new website and business, I am astounded at what has happened in my life to create this moment, now. This is why I bow down to my soul and revere its wisdom. Every time, and I really do mean every time, my mind starts to question or argue with life events, my soul eventually shows me just how perfect they are.

Last year, I thought I would be pregnant and then give birth to a baby.

Instead, I miscarried. Then I ended up being pregnant with my life’s work and giving birth to that instead.

Of course I mourned the loss of my baby. I grieved. I healed. But I’ve also had enough experience with my mind-body-soul connection to know that there was infinite wisdom in the experience, somewhere. I would just have to wait to see it.

Sure enough, I can see it now.

I needed to spend time writing and creating this new material. It brought me clarity. It connected me more deeply to my life’s mission: To facilitate the mind-body connection for anyone who needs it. To teach other coaches how to do the same. To help those who are suffering return to their inner wisdom, gain strength and confidence, and trust their own soul once again.

To do all that, I needed to connect with my own soul on a whole new level. Losing the baby and reassessing my whole life made me do that. It was the path I needed to take this past year.

Many years ago, a similar thing happened. I suffered mightily at the hands of chronic pain and mental panic. I went through hell. At that time, I didn’t trust my soul. I didn’t think it was happening to help me grow as a person. I just thought I was being tortured.

And yet…that experience forced me to take charge of my inner life. It forced me to stop playing the victim role and to dig deep into my own power. It forced me to learn how to heal myself, and to learn that was even possible. It forced me to look at where I was unwittingly creating stress in my body and imbalance in my psyche.

In the end, I became a totally new me. I became the real me, the Abigail who lets her soul sing, every day. Who no longer hides, hates her body, or uses achievement as her only way to self-worth. I became intimately aware and connected with my own soul, my spiritual beliefs, and the energy that keeps me alive, every day. I became a person who listens to her body, lets her emotions flow, and doesn’t criticize herself constantly.

I didn’t become perfect. I learned how to forgive myself for not being perfect, and how to know that I’m already perfect, just as I am.

I also found my life’s work, my passion, my calling – whatever you want to call it.

All that from suffering and pain.

Of course, I’d love to learn my big life lessons from joy instead of pain. And I actually think that’s possible, now. But I do know myself, and I know my stubborn streak. I needed a good whap upside the head to awaken to my true life path.

In just a couple weeks, anamsong will be officially born. I’ll be the proud mother of a baby I really do love, even if she’s not the one I thought I’d be holding in my arms. So maybe this post is my birth announcement. I’m so deliriously in love with everything that’s associated with anamsong. I love the Irish word “anam” in the name. I love that I’m finally finding a way to incorporate all of me into what I do – my musician self, my coach self, my writer self, and my teacher self. I love that I’ll be able to clearly serve three different groups of people: people in physical pain, people fighting mental stress, and coaches looking to grow amazing businesses.

You know what?

In a lot of ways, this birth announcement is really the rebirth of me. I feel whole and complete. I feel good in my own skin. I like who I am. I love who I am. I love what I do. Finally, all of me gets to come out and play.

When we fall off the shelf and shatter to pieces, we aren’t broken. Instead, we discover the amazing work of art that was inside all along.

I’ve fallen and shattered many times. I’ll probably do it again. But I’ll be reborn, just that much more whole, each time.

Let’s have a party to celebrate rebirth. I’m creating a new Facebook page for anamsong, and when it’s ready, I’ll let you know. You’re invited to come celebrate launch week there, with me. I don’t know what we’ll do at the party yet, but it will be virtual, fun, and whatever we want it to be. Share your party ideas with me! I might be sweaty, exhausted, and a proud new mama, but I’ll be ready to celebrate.

Ode to Turtle Steps

Thursday, January 26th, 2012

Turtle

Re-defining my coaching business, creating a new website, writing a book, running my Mind-Body Coach Training, and being the Life Coach Training Coordinator for Martha Beck, Inc is kind of a lot. In fact, as I write that list, I realize I haven’t actually considered how much is going on in my work life. I might need a nap now.

Here’s the small problem with following your passion: it’s easy to fill your passion plate until it resembles a Thanksgiving feast. I am so in love with what I do that I am constantly getting new ideas. I literally have enough ideas right now to fill the next five years. I have audio/video courses I want to make, more books I want to write, classes I want to give, trainings I want to run…and on and on.

I even get ideas for other people. I am an idea factory. And when I get an idea, I make it a reality. So you can expect that after my book is done, I’ll be whipping up that first audio/video course, just for you! (Need an idea? I’m sure I can whip one up for you!)

You would think that I’d be slightly crazy, overworked, and exhausted from doing all the things I’m doing. And yes, I do get tired. (But it’s a good tired. A satisfying, carpe-diem-happened-today tired.) Overall, though, I feel a constant sense of inspiration. I feel joy. I feel alive.

It’s kind of like falling in love every day.

So what’s the key to my sanity? A little thing called Turtle Steps. I learned them from Martha Beck when I first took Life Coach Training. Turtle Steps are tiny, teeny-weeny, ridiculously easy steps toward a goal. To create a Turtle Step, you look at your end goal, break up the steps toward achieving it, and then cut them in half. Then cut them in half again. Keep cutting them in half until they are so easy that you could do them in your sleep. Then, you start with the first easy Turtle Step.  Follow that with the next one. And the next. It might be just one Turtle Step per day, but you keep on trekking. Lo and behold – you accomplish your vision.

In my previous life, I did not use Turtle Steps. I focused on Scaling Mountains in a Single Bound as my primary action mode. Needless to say, that worked so well that I ended up flat on my back, in chronic pain, endlessly overwhelmed by the constant pressure I put on myself.

So in this moment, I’d just like to say congrats to myself for actually changing this mode of action. Learning to do Turtle Steps was a major achievement for me. I really thought that Scaling Mountains was better. Faster. More reliable. Until I realized Scaling Mountains was killing me. And that I often had trouble completing a goal because the mountain just seemed so darn big.

The truth is, I can get way more done by using Turtle Steps. Though tiny, they are so do-able. They accumulate quickly. Before you know it, there you are, at the finish line!

In creating my new website, I decided I wanted to write a free ebook for anyone who dropped by to visit. Then, being me, I decided a short little ebook wasn’t going to do it. I wanted the book to be jam-packed with helpful information. So the little ebook grew and grew. Until I realized it was actually a book-book. In the end, I essentially found myself with several mountains worth of writing projects – writing the copy for the new site, writing the book, writing the audio/video course I’m working on, and writing scripts for videos I wanted to create.

Yet, in just a few short months, it’s all nearly done. The videos have been shot. The website copy is done. The book is in final editing mode. Looking back, I can hardly believe it’s all happened so quickly. I owe it to Turtle Steps.

So, if you are feeling overwhelmed today, take a moment to break up your to-do’s into ridiculously easy pieces. (And don’t cheat on this step! Really make the Turtle Steps EASY!) Do one. Check it off. Feel a sense of accomplishment. Congratulate yourself. Repeat. You’ll be amazed at how much faster things get done even as you feel so much less overwhelmed. Stop Scaling Mountains. Your body will thank you, your mind will feel rested, and your soul will sing.

And…stay tuned. The new website and book are coming soon!

Learn to Be Kind – To You

Thursday, December 8th, 2011

Be kind to YourselfWhen I first realized I was putting immense and constant pressure on myself, and that the pressure was causing my body to revolt, it was like putting on glasses for the first time. I could see clearly how much I was beating myself up, trying to be perfect, judging myself, and otherwise rejecting who I really am. No wonder my muscles were tense, my body hurt, and I felt terrible about myself.

The next step was to somehow learn to be kinder to myself. This was a tricky thing, seeing as I could easily beat myself up for not being good at being kind to myself. You see the catch-22 here. Being in my mind was a little like being in an M.C. Escher painting. Just when I thought I was catching on, I’d realize I had somehow slipped back into self-judgment.

Last year, I gave my dad an M.C. Escher puzzle for Christmas. (Yeah, it’s a doozy!) When I saw it in the store, it made me laugh. It’s the perfect way to approach the mind-game of learning to be kind to yourself – see it as a giant puzzle. How can I slide out of self-pressure or self-flagellation in this moment and ease my way into self-kindness? What is the trick that will work in this moment? How can I extricate myself from this unkindness without causing more of it?

If you’ve ever studied martial arts or learned about the basic concepts behind them, you know that when force meets force, not much happens. If I force myself to stop being so forceful, I just get force-squared. Resistance increases. Everything gets harder. The power of love lies in its gentleness. Take away the resistance and you get freedom.

Stop trying to force yourself to change or be “better,” and you make way for change to evolve on its own.

I had to stop trying to be kind to myself and start applying gentleness and love. What does that look like? It means that in the moment when I am beating myself up over something, instead of adding another layer of beating myself up (for being such a jerk to myself), I recognize the futility of doing so. Instead, I say, “Wow, I notice I’m really beating myself up here.” Then, I allow myself to be exactly as I am in that moment.

The ultimate kindness is to say, “It’s okay to be exactly as I am right now.” Whatever you’re doing, whatever you’re feeling, whatever results you’re getting – none of it matters. Remember, you won’t create change with force. You’ll create change with love. And unconditional love for yourself means loving yourself where you are right now. And THAT means being kind to yourself about where you are right now.

If you’re overeating right now, it’s okay.

If you’re struggling in your business right now, it’s okay.

If you’re not achieving top quality in your efforts right now, it’s okay.

If you’re beating yourself up right now, it’s okay.

If you’re ignoring your body’s wisdom right now, it’s okay.

If you’re behind in your to-do’s right now, it’s okay.

Whatever it is, it’s okay.

Your mind might say, “Aaagh! Oh no! If I say it’s okay, I’ll turn into a blimp/never accomplish anything/never get my list done/never be pain free…etc.” I’m here to gently, kindly, remind your mind that’s not true. In fact, it’s the ONLY way that you’ll lose weight, become pain free, or accomplish what you want. Self-kindness is THE ticket. The wonderful thing is, you can be kind to yourself even when you’re not being kind to yourself. You can say, “Wow, I’m really beating myself up over eating that chocolate cake. And that’s okay.”

That’s the first step to truly being kind to you. It’s what makes the next step possible. The next step is actually saying something kind to yourself. For example:

“Of course I overate this week. It’s one of my coping skills, and I’m bound to return to it sometimes even though I know lots of great new coping skills.”

“It’s natural that I don’t feel like doing anything this week. I’ve been pushing myself pretty hard lately, and I probably need some rest.”

“Sometimes I ignore my body’s wisdom and struggle with trusting it. That’s all a part of the learning process when it comes to creating a new mind-body relationship. It doesn’t mean I’m a failure – it just means I’m learning.”

It may take some practice to learn how to say kind things to yourself. If you’re like me, you’ve had years of practice saying not-so-nice things to yourself. But the good news is, with practice, you will learn how to do it. You’ll find that the more you practice, the more unbidden kind thoughts appear in your mind. You become gentler with yourself, more compassionate, and more loving. And whatever it is you want to do in the world, I guarantee that being kind to yourself will make it easier and make you more effective.

Want to start practicing now? It’s simple. Three times today, stop and ask yourself these questions:

What is the kindest thing I could say to myself right now?

What is the kindest thing I could do for myself right now?

Repeat that process for a couple weeks and you’ll see that it becomes easier and easier to think of kind words and acts, toward you.

Today just so happens to be my birthday. My gift to me is threefold. 1) Saying kind things to myself today. 2) Doing things that feel kind and enjoyable today. 3) Sharing with you about self-kindness. I know that the kinder you are to you, the more you’ll spread love and kindness in the world. And that’s a gift for all of us.

Taking a Body Break

Thursday, October 13th, 2011

"Seriously - how could I be annoyed at this cute pooch?"

As you know from previous posts,  I’m in the middle of doing a bunch of new stuff with my business and website. It’s all very exciting and good, but it is requiring a lot of creativity at the moment. My house is littered with post-its containing snippets of ideas. When I’m at the grocery store, I find myself pausing to email myself ideas. I spend long minutes staring into space while my creative brain does its thing.

In my line of work, I’m usually creating something. I adore creating. Yet, I’ve noticed that when I create something this large, I tend toward, let’s say, a little irritability. Certain members of my household have even used stronger language, like “grumpy.” And other words.

The other day, when I found myself being annoyed at my dog for sitting there and looking cute, I knew I needed to do something. What is it about this process that brings out my inner…er, grouch?

So, I got out my trusty mind-body journal again. I sat down and had a conversation with my body, emotions, and soul. I needed to know what was going on, and where I was getting off track.

Here’s what my body said:

“This creating is great, but please stop %$#@ sitting so much!”

Here’s what my irritability said:

“Space! Create space! There’s not enough space for this process!! ARGH!!!”

Here’s what my soul said:

“You need the space to create, and then you need breaks away from it, for the gestation process to happen. Schedule large chunks of time for creating, and then also get away.”

I immediately followed all the instructions. I scheduled creative work blocks in my week. I instituted “body breaks” into my day. And I planned some social activities that have nothing whatsoever to do with coaching, writing, or websites.

I felt better. Having the creative space gave my brain a sense of relief. It could stop trying to create all the time. I also created some meditation time, away from everyone, including my dog. I realized just being alone is something I crave.

I set an alarm to ring every two hours throughout the day. When it goes off, I get up and do something physical for a few minutes. I ask my body what it wants to do. It has asked for everything from a couple yoga poses to running up and down the stairs to lying backwards over my exercise ball. It also requires daily walks right now.

I am back to enjoying my dog. I have not bitten anyone’s head off in at least 3 hours. I feel more sane. I’m having more fun creating.

What’s the moral of this story?

To me, it’s yet again the wisdom of the body. Listening to it, following its advice, and tending to its needs is making me more creative, more productive, and less stressed. From this vantage point, I look back to those years of chronic pain and my struggle to learn to listen to my body, trust its messages, and live my life based on body wisdom. Just think – what if I hadn’t learned that? Where would I be today? I don’t know, but I do know I’m grateful for the experience.

So, if you’re feeling a little off today, ask your body for some advice. Maybe you need body breaks, too. (I’ve noticed mine are really fun! And I get great ideas during them.) Maybe you need something else. All I know is, your body will tell you.

How to Ask:

Here’s an easy way to do it. Draw a quick outline of your body with your left hand. (Kind of like a chalk outline around a murder victim. Yes, I might have an addiction to detective shows.) Still with your left hand, draw a symbol, design, word, or whatever you’re called to draw inside the body outline. Let this depict any areas of physical tension or emotion.

Then, have a written conversation with your body. Use your dominant hand to represent you, and your non-dominant hand to represent the area of tension/emotion in your body. Start by asking, “What are you here to tell me?” Then, switch the pen to your non-dominant hand and answer in the voice of your tension/emotion. Depending on the response, you might need to ask further questions to clarify. Just ask whatever you feel like asking, continuing to switch the pen back and forth during the conversation. Before long, you’ll know exactly what your body is trying to tell you!

Letting the Journey be the Goal

Thursday, September 8th, 2011

Me on the infamous hike

To understand this blog post, you have to know that I have a thing for natural bodies of water. Whenever we were traveling during my childhood, I would veer off into rivers, lakes, ponds, or the ocean whenever possible. I love being in water, love feeling the river current, the ocean waves, the rocks and sand beneath my feet. I love the sound of water flowing, falling, and crashing.

Water helps me connect to myself. It helps me manage my creative flow (which is sometimes strong and overwhelming). It helps me allow my emotions to flow. To me, it represents everything joyful in life.

So, whenever I plan a vacation, it involves a natural body of water, or several. Last week, my husband and I celebrated our twelfth anniversary with a vacation in Estes Park, Colorado. I booked a perfect little condo overlooking a stream. I scouted hiking routes that involved rivers and lakes. Our room even had a giant Jacuzzi tub.

On the first day of our trip, my husband and I set off to hike around several lakes. We spent the whole day meandering by a stream, dipping toes into lake-water, and enjoying the majestic mountain scenery. It was relaxing and fun, but a little more populated than we desired. So, on the second day of our trip, we set off on a longer, more remote trail.

Let me just pause to say that for some reason, we were woefully unprepared. Normally two overly responsible citizens with perfectionist streaks, we somehow managed to completely blow it when we packed for the trip. My husband, the gadget man, forgot his GPS. We both forgot our rain gear. I forgot my hiking boots. (Yes, I realize that I was going on a hiking trip. Believe me.)

We couldn’t stand the thought of missing out on a beautiful hike, so we went ahead despite our lack of gear. (Very bad idea.) Wearing my old running shoes and praying for a sunny day, I took the lead as we started up the mountain. It was the perfect trail. Not only did it follow a crashing waterfall for miles, but it promised a gorgeous mountain lake at the top. It was hiking nirvana. I was so excited to see the mountaintop lake I could hardly stand it.

My husband was enjoying the photography opportunities, so we moved at a quick pace interspersed with long pauses for photos. I savored the little streams crossing our path, as well as the waterfall off to the left. The sound was magnificent – a melody like none other.

We hiked on, up the mountain. Up, and up, and up. And up. The incline was steady and intense. Sweat poured off of me. My muscles ached. My hamstrings shouted. Several times, we paused to assess. Should we turn around? Each time, I shook my head, determined to get to the lake. At mile three-ish (no GPS, remember) I felt sure we could make it. Around four, I thought we could probably do it. Around mile five, we stopped and watched the ominous thunderclouds gathering above us. We looked at the steep incline in front of us. “I really, really, want to see that lake,” I said. We forged onward.

Somewhere between mile five and six, I stopped. I sat down on a rock. I checked in with my body. I remembered that I’m a mind-body coach, and part of that means walking my talk. It means not just helping other people, but helping myself. It means listening to what my body has to say, even when it doesn’t match my goal in mind.

Yes, I really wanted to make it to the lake, which was at 6.3 miles. We were so close.

My muscles reminded me that we had to survive the hike down. My feet, somewhat disgruntled from the beating they were taking in those silly running shoes, had a definite opinion. My heart looked at the thunderclouds above and knew it was time to turn around. I wanted to enjoy my hike, not end up in agony or danger just because I had a goal in mind.

Let’s get real here. I adore lakes, it’s true. But around mile 4.5-ish, seeing the lake turned into a goal. It became about the end, not the journey. It became another way to feel good about myself through accomplishment instead of just because I exist. It wasn’t about listening to my body, honoring my truth in that moment, or anything else so noble. It wasn’t serving me to keep the lake goal anymore, and yet I was pushing to achieve it.

I’ve done that a few times before in my life. Just a couple, I’m sure. It’s not like it’s a giant pattern or anything. Or something I’ve worked on for years to find a balance in my life instead of constantly pushing myself. Or the very reason I ended up ignoring myself for years and suffering from chronic pain as a result.

Hey, the good news is that I realized, in that moment on the mountain-almost-top, that I was falling back into that pattern. In a flash, I saw the choice, right there. Forge ahead and ignore every signal from within, or turn around and be well in mind, body, and spirit.

It was a moment of truth. It was a mountain of truth.

We turned around. We didn’t see the lake. We didn’t get stuck in the thunderstorm. We did enjoy the waterfall, the trees, the smell of the forest, the birds, the chipmunks, and the cool air. We did enjoy being with each other, on the journey. We did enjoy moving our bodies for the nearly twelve miles of hiking. We did feel relieved to be only a couple miles from the car when the thunder started. We did have a fantastic day.

If we’d have had our rain gear, if I’d had my hiking boots, and if we’d left an hour earlier, I imagine my body would have been gung ho for the lake. However, in that moment, in those circumstances, it told me what was best for me. It was right. My feet were battered and aching by the time we arrived at the car, and I could not have gone another mile without suffering intense foot pain. As it was, I just took off my shoes and stuck my feet in the river. Swelling gone. I was immensely happy to be alive and well rather than in a summer rainstorm with no gear.

Because I’ve gotten used to life serving up interesting lessons, I thought a lot about the lake on my way down the mountain. I realized that I’ve been getting a little goal oriented lately in my creative processes. I’ve been pushing instead of listening. Not a lot, but just enough to mess up the equilibrium. Mother Nature, ever the wisest mind-body coach, reminded me that the goal is not what it’s all about. It’s not about the lake. It’s about the hike. It’s about the company. It’s about the pinecones and the forest smell and the animals.

It’s always, always about the journey.

I tell you this story today in case you have a wee bit of a tendency to push, ignore, and pressure yourself toward goals. In case you, too, forget that you’re already perfect, you’re already worthwhile, whether you make it to the top of the mountain or not. In case you are being hard on yourself instead of just hiking along, turning around when it’s right for you, and letting some goals drop away. In case you sometimes forget that quitting can be just as brave as finishing.

Your mind might have goals. Your mind might attach importance to them. It might attach a lot of things to them – a feeling of self-worth, a measure of success, etc. Your body will tell you what’s actually right for you, in each moment, on each hike. It will lead you to something beyond survival. It will lead you to well-being, joy, love, contentment, and relaxation.

Ironically, water is possibly the best example of how to live creatively and enjoy life. It’s ever flowing, ever changing. It doesn’t stop at the lake at say, “Ah, there, I am now done. I have achieved this lake and I have now arrived.” No, it continually moves forward, in trickles, in raindrops, in surges, in waves. It’s always in motion, fluid, creating something new the moment it has finished creating what came before. That’s how I want to be, as I write, teach, and grow. I want to enjoy the process as much as I enjoy the arrivals. I want to be fluid, moving, and ready to change my route and let go when that’s what needs to happen.

To you, I say this: Today, enjoy the hike.

Letting Go of Knowing

Thursday, August 4th, 2011

Hope

Last week, I invited you along on my surrendering journey.  My question was this: what are you surrendering to right now? I’m surrendering to not knowing what will happen if I give pregnancy and motherhood another shot, post miscarriage. Which led me to ponder this familiar question: Do I really know anything?

There’s a doozy for my inner brainiac! What? Not know stuff?

She and I have had this discussion before, but she’s still a big fan of knowing stuff. Yet, truly, I cannot know what will happen in the next moment, much less the next day, week, month, or year. I can plan. I can intend. I can imagine. I can dream.

But I can’t know.

Aghhhhhhhh! (Inner brainiac screaming. Poor thing.)

I was trained in school to learn, study, analyze, and know. My intellect was honed and my intuition buried. Which is odd, because what I actually need, to navigate my life successfully, is a lot less intellect and lot more intuition. Because intuition actually does KNOW. It knows in a deeper, less verbal, more visceral, somewhat indescribable way. I need to lead my life with intuition, and apply my intellect to intuitive information.

I don’t know anything with my intellect. But I KNOW lots of things with my intuition. Listening to it is a little like walking a tightrope, but being willing to fall into the big, safe net below. I can be willing to let go of the need to know with my mind. I can walk this motherhood tightrope – heck, I might even attempt a little fancy flip or something. My intuition will guide me, and I will know what I need to know, when I need to know it.

Would you like to walk the tightrope with me? Maybe you’re already a mother, but maybe there’s something new you’d like to do – your version of the tightrope. Possibly your intellect would like to know everything and see how it all works out before you take the first/next step. I hear ya, sister! What would it be like to let go of the need to know, together? I have a feeling that some group energy around this might serve all of us who are open to not knowing and ready to trust our intuition more and more. What are you ready to not know?

In March, when I knew in my heart that I was about to miscarry, I felt angry at my intuition. Why tell me something like that in advance? I didn’t want to KNOW.

Except that I did want to know. I’ve spent years opening back up to my intuition, being willing to listen to that deeper voice within, and learning to trust it. I’ve opened that can of worms, and now I KNOW a lot more than I used to. It can be disconcerting, but at the same time, there’s a sense of preparedness that comes with intuitive knowing. It helped me to know I was miscarrying, even if I did have a little fight with it at first. It made it easier to surrender. In general, I trust myself a lot more now that I KNOW things.

I trust that whatever is happening, it is actually serving me, even if it’s painful or uncomfortable. I learned that big lesson from dealing with vulvodynia and interstitial cysititis. Even though I argued against those experiences for a while, in the end I saw why I needed to have them to become the person I truly wanted to be. After I saw that, I was able to trust that new painful experiences were not there to beat me down, but to help me return to myself in some way.

I’m pretty sure I’ll be returning to myself in some form or another for the rest of my life. The difference is, now I am willing to walk that humble path and trust the KNOWING rather than try to steer clear of pain by intellectually choosing my route. (I said willing, mind you. I didn’t say I do it all the time, or perfectly!) I’m willing to not know, and to KNOW. I’m willing to trust the sense of visceral understanding that sometimes cannot be put into words.

To embark on the pregnancy and motherhood path again, (though I don’t think I’ve actually veered off the path, come to think of it) I have to love my intellect, be kind to it, and then remind it that it just can’t know. Then I have to look into my heart, trust my inner guidance, and take the next step on the tightrope. Yes, I am afraid. I allow the fear to surface as I step into the unknown. I feel it. I get guidance from it. And I keep stepping.

My Body Image Journey: The Inside Story

Thursday, July 21st, 2011

I was reading fellow coach Jeannette Maw’s blog post about her belly spell this week (The belly spell really cracked me up! Soooo funny! I love Jeannette!) and it inspired this post. I have struggled for many years – my entire life, actually – with body image issues. I can remember clearly when I first started disliking my body. I was ten years old, just beginning those pre-teen, puberty-ridden years, and I saw a video of myself. I was horrified. From that day on, I fought with my body.

I do not have a traditional model body. I am not tall and thin. I am of medium height and muscular build. I tend to look fit and athletic when my body and I are getting along, but I do not weigh in at a featherweight number, ever. When I was struggling with overeating, emotional eating, and severe body dislike, my weight went up near the two-hundred pound mark.

I’ve since returned to my body’s natural weight, but even after the experience of actually being overweight, I struggled to like my body. I kept thinking it should look like the “ideal.” Yet, even when I went on strict diets, my body would drop maybe two to five pounds below my natural weight and then I would get sick. It was clearly a fight that simply didn’t need to be fought. My body is perfectly happy weighing 143 pounds. It is my mind that argues with that.

Much of my personal mind-body work has been directed at this body image issue. I longed to love my body instead of fight my body. For many years, I thought this meant I had to change my body. Then I realized I had to change my relationship with it instead. I had to connect to it, learn to live in it, learn to listen to it, learn to feel my emotions, and recognize mind-stories that weren’t serving me. (Like “I should look like a model.”)

I started to see that stressing about my weight and body was one of my biggest ways to run from my emotions and avoid facing feeling them. It was what I call a decoy – something that successfully occupies me so I simply have no attention left for my emotions. All of this self-awareness combined started to help me love my body more and more. I didn’t love it every day, but I was tipping the balance way more to the love side.

Then, something happened. In January this year, I got pregnant. I was so excited, and so very ready to embark on the motherhood journey. I was excited to experience the changes in my body and the magic of growing a baby in my belly. Like Jeannette, I’ve often wished for a flatter belly, but I was willing to let it expand to hold a new little one inside me.

It was a little disconcerting to notice my jeans fitting more snugly. At only six weeks pregnant, I started to feel somewhat puffy. Then at eight weeks, there were some clothing items that were downright stretched. At nine weeks, I was pretty sure I’d need some new clothes soon, and the waistband of my favorite jeans was uncomfortably tight.  I could feel my backside expanding, too. While I understood it was necessary, I admit to a wince or two after glancing over my shoulder into the mirror.

At nine and half weeks, I miscarried.

The shock was unbelievable. The grief was overwhelming. The physical pain was tiring. I felt empty in my belly, lost in my heart, and just…sad. I was so ready to be a mom. It felt like there was a hole in that mom-space I’d created, both internally and externally. My body was tired and aching, my mind confused, and my emotions strong.

Even as I grieved, I could see the power in my body’s wisdom. It was aware of things I couldn’t know, and it knew this pregnancy wasn’t a go, for whatever reason. I didn’t have to know the details in my mind to feel that my body knew best. I let it do what it needed – sleep, rest, and cry.

After a few weeks, I started going back to my normal routine. Letting the grief flow allowed me to start healing, allowed my body to start regaining energy, and I began to feel like I was almost alive again. I had moments of joy shine through the fog of grief.

One day, I put on my jeans to run an errand. I’d mostly been wearing yoga pants for my resting, sleeping, and grieving phase. I slipped the jeans on, threw on a shirt, and started for the door, purse in hand. Something in that movement caught my attention. My jeans weren’t tight. The waistband wasn’t cutting into my belly anymore. There was room to move in them.

I felt the loose jeans from my belly straight to my heart – a visceral, shocking, upside-down moment.

I set down my purse and cried.  I ached for that tight-jeans feeling. I wanted it back. I wanted my belly to still be expanding. I wanted my backside to be popping seams. I wanted to be shopping for maternity clothes. I didn’t want my jeans to be loose at all. Once of my lifelong desires simply vanished in that instant. I could have cared less how I looked, how thin I was or wasn’t, or what anyone in the world thought of my body. I could have cared less for fashion or the shape of my waist, or any of it. It all paled in comparison to the longing for what was lost.

I never thought I’d be sad because my jeans were loose. I never thought I’d see my body from that vantage point. But because I did, I have something powerful to hold in my mind. Because life goes on, you know. I now have the same old thoughts pop up about how I look in my pants, whether I’ve gained a pound or lost a pound, why my belly can’t just magically transform itself to something much cuter, what dreadful fashion designer cooked up the latest non-flattering style on purpose just to torture me. They come into my mind. And sometimes they bug me for a day or two.

But then I can simply remember. I can drop back into that moment when I was heartbroken that my jeans were loose. I am grateful for that moment, because it gave me a new relationship with my body. I saw what my body can do – it can grow life in it! How amazing! It can heal from loss. It can serve me, every day, even if I’m angry with it. It doesn’t have to look like any prescribed ideal to be completely, totally perfect. Yes, it changed even from a short pregnancy. Yes, I am a little older these days than in my teen years. Yes, I have a wrinkle or two.

But in the end, my body is healthy. We’ve been through chronic pain together, she and I, and now we’ve been through this, too. She’s a war-horse. She’s strong. She still takes to the jogging path and the hiking trail with energy and enjoyment, even after all she’s experienced. I’m impressed. She bounces back. She brings me daily enjoyment in so many different ways. Without her, I’d have no home for my soul. I wouldn’t have a voice, a mind, a heart. I need her. She needs me.

So we’re working together, my body and me. We’re on the same team. Even if we have the occasional disagreement, our relationship is much improved. The war is over. I love her. She’s always loved me. We’re friends.  And she hasn’t dropped a single pound or shed an ounce of fat for me to come to this place of connection, love, and peace. She carried a baby for me. She took care of me. She was there. And truly, that is all I need.

Dealing with Loss and Change

Thursday, May 5th, 2011

In the Great School of Life, I just took a class on loss and change. No teacher is quite like life experience. I learned much from my recent journey through the grieving process, and I thought you might benefit from a few mind-body techniques and concepts around loss.

If you’re like me and many of my clients, you may have ignored or suppressed past losses. You might even be downplaying a current loss in your life. I think grief is here to help us move through changes in our lives and to let go of the old in order to welcome the new. We may not always honor the grieving process during changes, because we think things “aren’t a big deal” or we “shouldn’t really be upset about it.” This can play a major role in pain syndromes, overweight, or any other problem directly related to emotional suppression.

For some reason, we save grief for the “big” losses like deaths of loved ones. Yet, there are many other losses we all experience every year in daily life. Some losses are larger and some smaller, but I don’t think the size matters. When you have life changes, they often include loss. If you’re experiencing a change or transition in your life, the question to ask is, “What loss do I need to grieve so that I can let go and move forward?”

Changes I have noticed in client’s lives recently have included moving, a child growing up, and a relationship ending. Grieving the loss of the old house, the loss of the experience of mothering a young child, and the loss of a lover can make the change process easier.

The question I found myself asking during my loss was, “HOW do I grieve?” When I was twelve years old, my aunt died. I didn’t know how to grieve then, and I stored the emotions from that loss in my body for years. I didn’t grieve any of the other losses in my life from that age until now. This current experience made me realize how much I have downplayed or minimized my grief over a variety of losses. It also made me see that I needed to learn how to grieve.

Grief is uncomfortable, like many emotions, but as soon as I asked the question, “How do I grieve?” I was able to allow the grief process instead of resist it. I turned to my favorite emotion expert, Karla McLaren, for some guidance. I read the grief chapter in her book, The Language of Emotions, and smiled when she recommended letting your body guide you through the grieving process. Sounds like a great thing for a mind-body coach to do!

I put my body in charge of the process, as she suggested. This meant connecting to all the different emotions I was feeling and letting myself take the time to feel them. It meant resting the minute I noticed I was tired and honoring whatever my true needs were, no matter what. In general, this is what I teach people to do in their daily lives, but I thought of it as no-holds-barred, emergency honoring of all body and soul needs. Rest, tears, hunger, sleep, sunlight, solitude, company…whatever I truly needed, I did. I let my body guide me toward ways to let the grief flow. For me, that meant drawing, dancing, and lots and lots of talking. I stocked up on Kleenex and cried buckets. I sat and wrote nearly every night.

All of these things helped me with what is most difficult in the grieving process: mentally understanding and integrating the loss. Karla explains that the mind just doesn’t understand loss the way the emotions and body do, which is why we need them to lead the way during grief. I think she hits the nail on the head with that understanding. It revolutionized my grieving and made it much easier to face.

I discovered several things that helped me create structure and support for my mind during the grieving experience. I’ll share them with you below, in case you are grieving a current loss or are discovering that you have past losses rising up to be felt and processed now.

In the end, grief is an amazingly helpful emotion. It allows us to let go of anything that isn’t working, is no longer meant to be in our daily lives, or is simply ready to be released. Then, grief allows us to discover what’s truly important to us, on a soul-deep level. It brings us ever-closer to knowing ourselves deeply, intimately, and lovingly. Nothing is more self-compassionate than allowing grief to flow.

During my grief process, I found that I could no longer spend time in my usual meditation/resting sanctuary, (an alcove in our house where I’ve created a comforting, safe space). For some reason, I couldn’t go into that space for nearly two months. I built a grief shrine, as Karla suggests, elsewhere in my house. In this new space, I poured out my grief, talking to the shrine, journaling in front of the shrine, and in general letting whatever needed to happen there happen. I let that be my special grief space.

This past weekend, my body felt ready for a little closure. I held a small ceremony, made a memory box for the items in my shrine, and moved back in to my usual sanctuary. As I sat cross-legged on the floor, a candle lit and a blanket snuggled around me, I felt at peace. I felt as though I was at once returning home and meeting someone brand new. I felt like my soul and I now have a completely new relationship that is much deeper, stronger, and sweeter. Leaving and returning symbolized the grief journey. I felt the subtle shift from letting go to moving forward begin. This is the power of letting the body and emotions lead the grief process.

So, I encourage you to treat any loss – old, new, big, small, or whatever it may be – as something that deserves to be grieved. I have not realized the importance of grieving until now, simply because I was so used to suppressing most emotions. In case you are in the same boat, here are some ways to help yourself grieve:

1)     Take it easy.

Now is the time to lighten your load in any way possible. Your body needs extra rest and downtime during any transition. Grief can make you feel exhausted. Honor that instead of pushing to work harder or even match your old workload.

2)     Ask for help.

This is a time to speak up and let people know what you need. If someone can’t support you, it’s likely that others can, so keep asking. Magically, the right people will be there for you. You might need practical help or a shoulder to cry on, and different people in your life will be available for different things. Create a grieving team. Don’t worry – at some point, you’ll pay it forward on someone else’s grieving team. You might even be surprised at the people who show up, unexpected, to support you when you reach out and ask. I feel very blessed and loved from all the support I have received recently, and this experience has deepened and even created friendships.

3)     Allow space for emotions.

You might need to cry suddenly, randomly, and often. You might need to feel anger out of the blue. You might need to curl up in a ball and hide under a blanket. Whatever emotions arise, let yourself have them. You might feel vulnerable and even childlike, so do things that feel mothering and comforting for yourself. Give yourself extra time to get moving in the morning, or even better, give yourself an empty day as often as possible, with little or nothing scheduled.

4)     Discover deep self-nurture.

Ask yourself what you need each day, or even each hour. Let your body and emotions be your guide. Don’t force yourself to see people if you need to be alone, or vice versa. Honor your soul-needs. Find out how much rest you really need right now. Lie down often, let yourself off the hook for as much as possible, and let yourself be exactly as you are.

5)     Create a shrine.

If this feels helpful to you, I say go for it. As soon as I read this idea in Karla’s book, I knew it was for me. My shrine gave me a place to focus my grief, and objects to use for ceremony, closure, and memories. Fill your shrine with any objects that make you sob with abandon, as well as comforting and beautiful items such as flowers. Instead of hiding away the letters from your boyfriend or the pictures of your deceased loved one, put them front and center in your shrine. These objects will help you feel the emotions and therefore let go.

6)     Take grieving breaks.

Grieving is actually hard work. It takes effort and presence, and it can be tiring. Make sure you bring some effortless mind-rest into your grieving process, too. This might be simply napping, talking about something banal, or watching a movie. It might be reading light fiction, or watching something funny on TV. Even if you can’t yet laugh, these light breaks will make the process feel less daunting.

I’d also love to hear what you’ve learned about grief, what helps you grieve, and any other insights you’d like to share. I’m obviously just learning how to do it myself, so I’d love to see your comments below. What helps you grieve?

If I’m Not Doing More, I’m Not Doing Enough

Thursday, March 31st, 2011

This post was written by Ann Burrish, an Endorsed Healthy Life Mind-Body Coach. She can be reached for consults and coaching at ann.burrish@gmail.com.

overworkedA smart and hardworking client who is a full-time student and almost full-time employee shared this thought recently. A cause of her angst? She took a nap after getting more done in a morning than I do some weeks. It got me thinking about this particularly sneaky form of perfectionism and self-criticism. It’s a crazy-making Catch 22: I’m not doing enough, so I better do more, which still won’t be enough, so I can either continue doing more in an increasing frenzy or get stuck and avoid thinking, feeling, and acting because it all seems like just too much – at the same time it’s not enough. Just perfect. (Pardon the expression).

When I think I’m not doing enough, I often do less. When I believe I’m not doing enough volunteering/donating/ paperwork/exercising/de-cluttering/flossing/?, I can become immobilized or unmotivated. Or I do the opposite: way too much. I overhelp from an anxious, pleaser place, which doesn’t feel good. It’s also annoying to most and under-appreciated by the rest…of those whom I am trying to do more for.

Why do we do this? In my case, I think it goes back to basic human fears: I am not safe; I am not enough. The irony is that self-judgment and perfectionism create conditions for the perfect (!) storm of the fight/flight/freeze response. This creates feelings of being even less safe and less adequate. Closely related to its cousins, “I should be doing more,” “I should be doing it better,” and “I’m not doing it right,” it’s also a setup for distraction and procrastination. Nothing happens, except we get to beat ourselves up for not doing enough (or anything.) Those of us who experience mind/body pain, anxiety, emotional eating, and other symptoms courtesy of the stress trifecta also get an excuse to view our disconnection through the same self-critical lens, and the “beat” goes on.

How to free one’s self from this loop? Here’s the thought I am playing with: maybe it’s all true. Rationally, I know that sometimes what I’m doing is enough and I just need to hold that thought. It may also be true that sometimes doing more would be better, and I’m not doing as much as I could be doing and it’s still enough. It might be what my body, energy, time, and sanity have to give right now, so it’s actually perfect. And some days, doing more is taking a nap.

Wishing you sweet days and dreams,
Ann

Don’t Force It

Thursday, March 24th, 2011

This post was written by Ann Burrish, an Endorsed Healthy Life Mind-Body Coach. She can be reached for consults and coaching at ann.burrish@gmail.com.

square-peg-round-hole

Years ago I received this excellent advice from one of the wisest and most practical people I know. At the time I was attempting some version of trying to fit a square peg into a round hole, relying on my mechanical style statement of jamming the stubborn item (drawer, door, key, trunk lid, you name it) into its “proper” place.

His advice, that the most important information was 1)not that it didn’t fit, but 2)why and how it didn’t, and 3) how to make it work with ease, it was a lightbulb moment for me. It led to noticing what what was stuck – and to non-violent household solutions.

For awhile “Don’t Force It” was my DIY mantra. Eventually I realized its truth as a more global philosophy. Force leads to struggle, which leads to a fight/flight/flee stress response, which leads to a host of mind/body pain, from IC, back pain, and fibromyalgia, to weight gain, anxiety and beyond. When I started listening to my body, it all fell into place.“Don’t Force It” replaced my previous all-purpose motto, the old Nike slogan, “Just Do It.”

One of my “do’s” had been to drag myself to the running trail whether it sounded like fun or flogging. I eventually started to notice that when my body’s need was to heal, my muscles and joints weren’t happy, the endorphins didn’t kick in, and the experience was more ordeal than exercise. Coincidentally (or not), I started reading about the concept of over-training, which provided scientific evidence for what I was experiencing. The gods of “should,” OCD, and habit didn’t strike me down for taking a day or week off. My physical being thanked me with energy and lifted spirits. I began to focus on my body’s messages and expanded my awareness to other areas of my life.

Additionally, as I played with listening to my body, I realized that at times she wanted something (physical activity, completion of a task, protein) and had difficulty being heard because of whiny thoughts: “It’s too much work, I don’t feel like it, I deserve six cookies.” That’s when my logic mind and my meta-consciousness (Compassionate Witness, Wise Guide) entered my awareness as helpful detective and observer. They have also become guides to what my being really desires: whether it’s doing, not doing, doing something else, or choosing to do/not do it this time, or file the info for the future.

My To-Do or Not To-Do Steps:

1) Notice the physical sensations and emotions from a situation/decision, especially heavy or light

2) Notice thoughts attached to emotions/sensations, if thoughts arise

3) Ask yourself what message is being sent

4) Act accordingly

5) When values, uncertain boundaries, or practicalities lead to actions that don’t feel body-centered (i.e. attend the meeting, change the litter box, pay the bills) give self a hug for awareness and file as “good to know for the future/what did I learn from this?”

The Quick Version:

1) Find two possible actions and a coin

2) One alternative is heads, the other is tails

3) Flip the coin

4) Notice how you feel about the result of the toss – your Wise Guide is speaking

I encourage you to experiment with ways of hearing what your body is telling you. I’m still learning and I would love to hear your own listening techniques. There are multiple benefits and no down side to getting your body’s opinion – and letting go of unaware force.

May the Ease be with you!

Ann