Posts Tagged ‘Interstitial Cystitis’

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Want to Heal? Be a Hot Mess.

Thursday, December 1st, 2011

Grief BlanketRight now, I have a group of coaches taking my Mind-Body Coach Training. They’ve been thrown into what I call The Mess as they experience the first part of the training. This just means that they are learning how to feel emotions, what to do with body tension and pain, and discovering that their minds have the ability to create a lot of extraneous stress.

I’m impressed with them, because they are definitely mind-body troopers. They are sticking with the process, digging in to The Mess, and willingly learning about themselves so that they can guide future clients through The Mess with aplomb.

They’ve been practicing taking self-pressure off and actually letting their bodies lead the way. There have been many aha’s as they start to see where they’ve been judging themselves, beating themselves up, and pushing against what their bodies were telling them.

This is probably the most important survival technique for The Mess. The Mess is messy – there’s no doubt about it. If you’ve stored emotions in your body for any length of time, or if you’ve denied deep inner truths, the self-awareness process toward joy and health simply has to start with a big ol’ Mess. Most people go through The Mess as they begin the mind-body healing process, regardless of their goal. Whether they want pain relief, weight loss, more confidence, or simply a kinder relationship with themselves, it all starts with The Mess. (Interestingly, when I started investigating my bladder syndrome, interstitial cystitis, I found that it was commonly linked with a fear of letting go. When I finally allowed myself to let go and enter The Mess, normal bladder function returned.)

Then, as life goes on, most people experience versions of The Mess every time they start to make a new shift, personal growth curve, or delve into another inner-truth awakening. It’s like a spiral – every time you go through The Mess, you come out on a new level, but you continue to spiral around, up and through another Mess every time you’re ready for a new you to be born.

Here’s the good news: it gets easier. Once you know about The Mess, you can approach it with self-kindness. The Mess is not the time to force yourself or push yourself or achieve any major award-winning accomplishments. It’s a time to cocoon, to go inward, and to create a safe space in your home where you can actually let yourself be a mess.

I’m writing this post because I got an email from one of the trainees. She was describing how she feels terribly vulnerable, cries a lot, and is beating herself up about it. She doesn’t want anyone else to know just how messy her Mess is. She is afraid she is alone, afraid of what others will think, and not sure what to do. I get emails like this from clients who are going through The Mess, too.

Everyone thinks that they are alone and lost when they enter The Mess. They think they’re the only one who can’t get out of bed some mornings, weeps on a moment’s notice, and has no confidence anymore. Everyone thinks they’ll never make it through the emotions, the confusion, and the sense of not knowing who they are right now.

Yet – everyone DOES make it through. They become more aligned with inner truth. They create health in their bodies. They learn how to feel so that they no longer stuff emotions in their bodies. They come alive with new confidence and sense of purpose. It’s always a beautiful transformation.

The key to The Mess is being kind. Allowing yourself to be a mess. Allowing yourself to be in this place where things feel unstable, new, uncertain, and different. Heck, there’s even slang for it these days. Check out this quote from the Urban Dictionary:

Hot Mess: When one’s thoughts or appearance are in a state of disarray but they maintain an undeniable attractiveness or beauty.

There is, indeed, a surprising beauty to accepting The Mess, because it makes you authentic. A coach friend of mine was laughing about The Mess the other day. She said, “Yeah, you have to be willing to feel, or the universe will give you a smack-down. You have to go through The Mess, where it feels like your ass is being handed to you on a regular basis.”

That pretty much sums it up.

I went through my own Mess this year, too, so trust me, I get it. I just have the advantage of knowing now, that if I surrender to the Mess, I’ll move through it more quickly. I resist it much less, and I use my mind-body tools to help me through it. I practice self-kindness.

Speaking of tools, here’s one of my secrets you might find useful for The Mess. I call it the Grief Blanket. Often, The Mess involves bringing up old grief, or even new grief. There is usually a lot of crying and a deep need to hide in a cave. I say, embrace that. It’s a great way to take care of yourself.

Here’s how:

Get a blanket that feels especially soothing and comforting. Make sure it’s large. Wrap your whole body in the blanket, and then curl up in a fetal position on a bed or the floor. (You might want some Kleenex, too.) Put the blanket over your head so that you’re now fully cocooned. Cry. Moan. Say what’s on your mind. (You might prefer to do this exercise in privacy, though I have had clients do it while on the phone with me. If someone is there, make sure they are a trusted loved one around whom you feel incredibly safe.) Give yourself this time to retreat into your cocoon and remind yourself that in there, in this moment, you are safe. Allow yourself to be a mess inside your cocoon. Let it all out. Just be. Stay in there until you truly feel ready to emerge. Return the next time you need to feel safe and let yourself be a mess.

This practice has magical qualities. There is something relaxing about letting yourself retreat, no longer trying to “hold it together” or “be okay.” Creating safety and a place to melt down allows you to move through The Mess and truly align with yourself again. It allows your body and soul to feel loved. It lets your mind know that everything is okay, even when it’s messy.

My grief blanket got a workout this year. It got me through the roughest days after my miscarriage. It helped me stay sane and available to those around me, because I was able to retreat and then return, repeatedly. I was able to get normal stuff done because I took the time to go be a giant mess under my Grief Blanket.

So – the next time you think you’re alone, are sure no-one else has ever been such a mess, imagine me huddled under my blanket, weeping and melting down. Know that you’re in good company. We all experience The Mess and we are all Hot Messes, at some point. Know that you’re not alone, and that if you can just allow yourself to be the mess you are right now, you’re actually doing really well. You’re being kind. You’re allowing yourself to grieve and feel. You’re healing.

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Posted in Emotions, Grief, Interstitial Cystitis, Mind Body Healing | 8 Comments »

Putting Mind-Body Healing to the Test

Thursday, November 3rd, 2011

I think this blog post might be an ode to the mind-body healing process. I’ve been reflecting lately on how incredibly grateful I am to have learned what I’ve learned about my body, my emotions, and my inner wisdom. Ten years ago, I was in agony, suffering through each day, unable to live normally and in constant pain. Vulvodynia and interstitial cystitis ruled my life. I was overweight and at war with my body. I didn’t know myself. I was depressed.

During this time, I went through an emergency surgery for kidney stones. The stones started to pass (agonizing!) but got lodged outside my bladder. This created a kidney infection and was heading toward sepsis. In a morphine haze, I was rolled into the operating room.

When I woke up from the surgery, I was in even more agony than usual. At that point and time, I didn’t know my body at all. I didn’t understand that I held constant tension in my pelvic floor muscles, causing them to be weak and somewhat out of my control. I really had to pee, but try as I might, I couldn’t relax my muscles enough to go. It was a strange and terrifying experience to have the absolute inability to relax those muscles. After several hours, I begged the nurses to give me a catheter. They looked askance at me, but finally heeded my request. (Of course everything took forever, as things do in hospitals.)

When they at last inserted the catheter, they gave me horrified looks and immediately called the doctor. My bladder had been so full that I was again in danger of severe kidney issues. Luckily, we had caught it just in time, and the antibiotics kept infection at bay. I did have to undergo two more surgeries, however, because of the complications. In the end, it took me six months to regain the ability to completely empty my bladder (with the help of self-inserted catheters – gack).

Meanwhile, I still had interstitial cystitis and vulvodynia.

Had somebody told me at the time that I couldn’t relax my pelvic floor because I continually stored emotion there and was basically walking around in full Kegel contraction all the time, I would have thought them crazy. Yet, that was exactly what was happening. Once I finally understood that the pain in my body was a result of not feeling emotions and not understanding my mind-body connection, I was able to learn how to relax my pelvic floor muscles. Over time, I was able to let go of the tension and return to health. No vulvodynia, no interstitial cystitis. I’d have the occasional symptom, but I knew it just meant I’d fallen back into old habits and needed a refresh. Every time, it only took a few days to find relief again.

This March, when I miscarried, I was able to take my mind-body techniques and knowledge and apply it yet again. The actual miscarriage was very painful, and, of course, involved the pelvic region. I had some moments of fear that it would make all the old pain rush back. So I kept using the mind-body skills I’ve learned. Three days passed and my body was still having strong, painful contractions. My body told me I needed help. When I finally got to the doctor’s office (because don’t all things like this happen in the night, over the weekend?), I learned that I’d need a D&C to help my body finish the process.

As I was rolled into the operating room, I flashed back to the last time I’d been in one – the good old kidney experience. I remembered the horror, the confusion, and the agony. I breathed, reviewed my mind-body skills, and went under.

When I awoke, all was well. My bladder functioned fine. My muscles, despite all those days of contractions, were fine and able to relax. The vulvodynia and interstitial cystitis didn’t come roaring back. I remained confident in my self-healing abilities, handling the doubts, fears, and flashbacks from the past.

Though the miscarriage and the operation were difficult emotionally, and I was grieving, I still felt supremely grateful for my mind-body healing tools. They got put to the test in a big way. They worked. It was all a huge confirmation that my pelvic floor (which was formerly diagnosed with pelvic floor dysfunction) is doing just fine now, and I’m no longer at war with my body.

I know how to handle my emotions now. I know how to listen to my body. I know how to follow my inner wisdom. I’m healthy. My body can go through something physically traumatic and recover quickly. And I know that the mind-body tools (which I use all the time) are always there for me. It’s a good feeling. My life, right now, is so incredibly good that words don’t do it justice. I love myself. I love my body. My body and I work together through experiences like miscarriage and surgery, and hopefully, someday, childbirth. I feel like we’re really intimate friends who can talk about anything to each other.

It took me a while to process through all the emotions from this experience to be able to write about it. I had a lot of grief to go through, first. All the while, though, I was planning to eventually tell you this story, because it really illustrates the power of mind-body healing. I hope that it gives you hope, whether you’re wanting pain relief, weight loss, or just a better relationship with your body. In the end, developing mind-body skills will serve you well on all fronts. And thus ends my ode to mind-body healing, at least for now.

This post is dedicated to Kathleen Barratt, who taught me how to breathe.

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Posted in Interstitial Cystitis, Mind Body Healing, Vulvodynia | 10 Comments »

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.

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Posted in Health, Hiking, Mind Body Healing, Stress Relief | 9 Comments »

Your Body – Is it Saying Yes or No?

Thursday, September 1st, 2011

So much of the work I do with clients comes down to setting healthy boundaries. This was a major learning curve for me in my own life. Afraid of upsetting or angering others, I would make decisions based on external factors like someone’s approval or disapproval, or “rules” set by other people.

When I started applying mind-body concepts to my life in order to relieve pain, I discovered that my body tells me, quite clearly, when to say yes and no. It tells me exactly how to decide on everything, from personal life choices to business decisions. If I don’t say no to things that aren’t right for me, my body starts saying no to me. That’s what isn’t fun or comfortable.

Ignoring my body’s opinion about my life choices landed me into whopping amounts of physical pain, emotional distress, and mental frustration. Learning to listen to my body’s opinion taught me the way out of that mess.

That’s where most of my clients are right now – starting to learn how to listen to their bodies. If you’re working on that, too, this post is for you! Your body is the conduit for soul wisdom. You take in so much more information than you really know, day in and day out, and I see your soul as a vast being giving you wise and loving directives based on all of this information. You, in your body, are just one small element of who you really are. You, as a whole, are a soul.

In Celtic spiritual traditions (which I adore, so you’ll see me write about them a lot!), the soul is seen as much bigger than the body. Yet, the body is vital in allowing you to bring your soul-self into this physical existence, giving you timeless wisdom, information about what is truly right for you, and helping you carry out your life purpose.

So, when your body says yes or no to something, it’s really telling you what your oh-so-wise soul knows. This is some seriously powerful knowledge. Follow that soul wisdom wherever you go, and you’ll be astonished at what you can accomplish, from your own health to creating a joy-filled life in general. It sounds a little crazy or over the top, maybe, but as a person who is living it, I have to tell you that it’s real.

My life is so good right now that I don’t even know how to describe it to you. I look back to where I used to be, when I wasn’t listening to my body or myself at all, and I hardly recognize that person. Who was she? She wasn’t the real me. Now, I am fully me. Sure, I have frustrations or struggles, but I stay me throughout them. I know how to wade through the muddy stuff without getting lost or losing myself. This means I return to joy, to peace, to health, to calm, to love, over and over again. This means my dreams really do come true. This means I get to do my life, my way, and feel free.

Since this boundary thing can be a little frustrating to learn sometimes, this fall I’ve teamed up with Koelle Simpson, fellow coach and master of teaching boundaries. (Technically, she claims she doesn’t teach anything, because the horses she uses throughout her workshops do all the real teaching.) Koelle and I created the Energize Your Life Workshop to help you regain energy and YOU by setting healthy boundaries. It’s been filling up fast, so we are planning another one for March. (Stay tuned for that one!) If you need to connect with your body, learn how to listen to it, and practice setting clear and healthy boundaries, then these workshops are designed just for you!

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Posted in Mind Body Healing, Stress Relief | 2 Comments »

Feeling Bad? Have a Tantrum!

Thursday, August 25th, 2011

If you’ve been following my blog for a while, you know the drill. You know you have to feel emotions that arise on a daily basis, because avoiding and therefore storing them in your body creates tension and pain. Obviously, no one is going to be perfect at feeling emotions. However, I, like you, have the goal to feel as pain-free and healthy as possible. This keeps me motivated to continually allow myself to have emotions, albeit imperfectly.

Every now and then, I fall back into the don’t-feel mode. I start making self-judgments like “I should be okay with this already,” or “I shouldn’t get THAT angry, for heaven’s sake…”  This usually means there is something I REALLY need to feel, and I am busy convincing myself I am fine, it’s all good, and I’ll just attend to a few more emails instead of stopping to feel.

This past month, I noticed creeping tension accumulating in my back, and I knew I needed to feel something. I did some avoiding, then some distracting, and a little bit of eating. Strangely, none of that magically eliminated my tension. Finally, I took a deep breath and dove into my own psyche. I should have known. It was stored anger.

For me, anger is the hardest emotion. I’ve worked for years to allow sadness, and now I can pretty much allow myself a good cry whenever I need it. I’ve gotten much friendlier with fear, and I can allow it to be present for the most part. Anger, on the other hand, is almost always the culprit when I say to myself, “Gosh, I just don’t KNOW what I’m feeling. Hmmm. What on EARTH could it be?”

I believe deeply in honoring emotions, the body, and the mind and how they work together. I decided I needed some help accessing what was stored in my body. I booked an appointment series with my chiropractor, who also does intense (by that I mean hideously painful) myofascial and deep tissue release. If I had any anger stored in my muscles and tissues, he would definitely help it start to flow.

After last week’s session, I drove home (blinking the tears of pain out of my eyes – the man has thumbs of steel) and got back to work. He’d done a new type of fascial release that hurt so much I thought I would pass out. He attacked muscles on the top of my head that were highly offended by the assault. Yet, it felt oddly good afterward. I sat, typing away at my desk.

Suddenly, a tsunami of anger exploded into my awareness. Wow. I did some Conscious Complaining, I felt it, I talked to a fellow coach. I thought I was doing pretty good, allowing the anger to flow. Yet, the muscle tension was still there. I was a little puzzled.

A couple of days later, I was visiting my mom, chatting with her in the kitchen. I told her about the anger explosion, and she said, “Oh, yes, I like to have tantrums when that happens.” I’ve tossed around the word tantrum before, but I had a sense something really good was about to be revealed. Sure enough, she began to demonstrate, and something indescribable came over me. It was a sense of relief, a giant easing of years of tension. It was permission to let go. She really got INTO the tantrum. She yelled. She mocked. She moved her whole body. It was spectacular, and impossible not to join in. Pretty soon I was having a tantrum, too. I was shaking all parts of my body, I was being a three-year-old, and I was letting it all out. It was kind of like a tantrum dance, though lying down and kicking our legs was still involved. (Stolen from the classic 3-year-old tantrum move.)

The tantrum came to a natural close, because we couldn’t continue long without exploding into fits of laughter. It was possibly the funniest thing, ever. I so wish you could see my mom having a tantrum. She is gifted. She is a genius. She knows how to let herself have the moment. How many times do we stop ourselves and say, “I shouldn’t really feel/think x….” when we just need a two-minute tantrum?

We like to think we’re adults now, and tantrums are a 3-year-olds prerogative. Not so. There is nothing more freeing than letting loose your inner 3-year-old. I imagine that, like us, you’ll have a hard time not laughing when you’re done with your tantrum, especially if you really let yourself get into it. (I highly recommend grabbing a friend who’s willing to explore the tantrum concept, too. It’s more fun with company.)

It might seem silly, but a tantrum done well is actually one of the most healing things you can do for yourself. First, you get to combine Conscious Complaining (at the top of your lungs, no less, or in scathing, mocking tones – soooo fun) with moving your whole body. There is something hugely powerful about that. Second, you get to shake, punch, kick, and otherwise pummel the air, releasing actual stored energy from your body. Third, you get to feel whatever you’re feeling, and it’s much easier to let it flow when you’re really getting into it physically. Fourth, you get to laugh at the end, which is one of the healthiest things you can do for yourself in general.

Not five minutes after my tantrum, my back loosened up. I felt lighter. I felt happy. I felt awake. My body was alive, fluid, and strong.  I was present. I told my mom she is a genius. She said she learned it from me, when I was a three-year-old. When I had tantrums as a kid, she used to join in, because, well, why not? My mom GETS kids, in a way that no one else I know does. She knows that you’ve just got to have the tantrum, and trying to stop it is futile. She knows that a little company during a tantrum makes it that much better. Somehow, I forgot, as my adult self, this gem of wisdom. I am grateful to have recovered it.

I guess, for some reason, we always try to be so grown up. Why is that? Kids have way more fun. They are naturals at feeling and moving on, no stored tension necessary. Whatever changed you and me from a freely feeling four-year-old to a hold it in adult (yes, there are many experiences in life that, unfortunately, facilitate that process), it’s time to recapture our kid genius.

I tried to get Mom to make a tantrum video, but she was a little shy. Maybe I’ll coerce her to give Tantrum Workshops with me. Somehow, I hope to convey her genius to you, because I think you’ll benefit in a huge way. For now, the written word is the best I can do. I’ve learned from the master, but I don’t consider myself a fully trained tantrum instructor just yet.

How to Have a Conscious Tantrum

1)     Queue up the issue you’re upset about in your mind. (If you don’t know what it is, that’s fine – you can start with the feeling instead.)

2)     Start moving. Wiggle your shoulders, shake your arms, make air punches – just do anything your body wants to do. Keep moving.

3)     Start complaining about whatever it is, or anything. (If you don’t have an actual complaint, you can just make noise, too.) Stoop to your lowest levels. Say what you really want to say but aren’t letting yourself express. Use your bitchiest voice. Then yell. Get snarky. Mock. Whine. Judge. Channel your inner toddler. (Keep moving.)

4)     Feel whatever emotion is there. Say what you feel. (Keep moving.) Let your movements express what you’re feeling in whatever way feels right. Be the drama queen. Go way over the top.  (This will facilitate step 5.)

5)     Laugh hysterically at yourself.

I really can’t recommend this enough. I employed it yesterday while having a wardrobe meltdown. (These recur at a regular monthly interval for some odd, completely inexplicable reason…) I felt completely hysterical about all of my clothes, and spent a good several hours ruminating on how awful they all look, before I remembered the Conscious Tantrum Technique. Ahhh, sweet relief. (Now seriously, aren’t you just a little intrigued by a tool that is powerful enough to release PMS mania? You’ve gotta try it.)

So, I encourage you to be a toddler when you need to feel through something. Have the moment. Let yourself go there. Let it all hang out. Stoop to your lowest levels. Then, you’ll rise up on the sweet aftermath, with laughter to carry you home – to you.

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Posted in Emotions, Mind Body Healing, Stress Relief | 16 Comments »

My Soul Song

Thursday, August 11th, 2011

Last week, I wrote about knowing with your intuition versus intellect, because that’s what I’m surrendering to more and more every day. A year ago, I was sitting here at this same desk, planning last year’s Mind-Body Coach Training. I was imagining a great group of trainees, fixing up the forum where they would interact, and sending out the announcements in my newsletter. I thought I knew exactly what my plans were for the next couple of years. I’d train one last round of coaches. I’d build a new website, and I’d continue creating with my business partners. I’d scale back my own business and do a lot more collaboration. I moved forward quickly, as usual, with all of my plans.

There was just one, tiny problem.

I wasn’t listening to my soul. Oops. I am really, really good at suppressing my true feelings and not listening to my inner-most guidance. This is why I focus on the practice of trusting and following my own inner wisdom so much. I can so easily forget this and barrel forward, ignoring important signals from inside myself.

I’ve been down this road before, of course. Many years ago, my body had to wake me up to this pattern of ignoring myself by literally immobilizing me with physical pain. I grudgingly began to listen to its messages and actually tune in to myself. Searing pain in one’s privates is most definitely motivational. Once I realized what my body was trying to get me to do, I started down the arduous and yet incredibly rewarding path of learning to like and love both myself and my body.

Yet, like any relationship, my relationship with my body and self is always evolving. Just when I think I’m pretty darn tuned in, I find a whole new layer of awareness I had no idea was there. To be honest, I think this actually delights me. How endlessly fascinating it is to never be done discovering new truths, depths, and information about one’s self! It’s not always comfortable. It’s not always a walk in the park. However, the rewards of going deeper, being willing to surrender to new levels of personal truth, and being ridiculously honest with yourself are absolutely worth it.

As usual, my body helped me out last year. It took on the miraculous and amazing project of nurturing a child inside it. As soon as I became pregnant, I became a mother. Wild hormones raced through my body, and I felt the urge to act like a grizzly bear with her cub, even though said cub was not even born yet. One day I took my niece to a movie and nearly murdered a woman who spoke rudely to her.  Quite suddenly, a new me was born. Mother Bear was awakened.

When I miscarried, the mother inside me did not go away. She remained. And something really spectacular took place. She nurtured me. She taught me even more about being compassionate with myself, setting boundaries, saying no, and treating myself with the same kind of honest, powerful mother-bear energy I would use for my child.

I got really honest with myself. I changed everything that wasn’t feeling right. I made new business decisions and decided to focus on my individual business and do less collaboration. I hired help in my business. I got inspired to create a whole new body of mind-body tools to use with my clients, my coach trainees, and myself. (I’d road tested them during my grieving process, and they really helped.)

Why am I telling you all of this? Because it just goes to show – this process of tuning in to your body, emotions, and soul is never done. It’s okay to be on this journey for a lifetime and never be perfect at all of this. Because you just can’t underestimate the power of taking a few moments to check in with your body, emotions, and soul. There is always something new to learn. There is always a new layer of deep peace awaiting you, right across the swamp of discomfort.

So, here I am again, one year later, sitting at my desk and preparing the new Mind-Body Coach Training.  I was seriously kidding myself when I thought I wouldn’t do another one. I love training coaches. I love watching them go out and use mind-body tools with their clients. I love watching them transform their own lives as they go through the training. It’s probably my favorite thing to do, above all else.

I’m also writing a new audio/visual product that will allow you to deepen your own mind-body process. I’m getting a whole new website built, and it’s completely different from what I thought it would be. I’ve also been hired to run Martha Beck’s Life Coach Training.

Nothing – not ONE little thing – looks like I thought it would when I envisioned this year. Everything – every SINGLE little thing – feels fabulous and perfect now. What if I hadn’t trusted myself? What if I hadn’t listened when my body asked me to?

I might not be in this moment, doing all these things I love. I might not know myself this much more. I might not have let my soul really sing, like it is now.

But I did it. I did listen. I paid attention to discomfort. I tuned in, even though there was pain, grief, sadness, anger, and fear. And now I AM here, in this moment. This is why it’s all worth it. This is what my soul was guiding me toward. Every time I go through this process in a big way, it turns out like this. Every time I tune in to myself in little ways, throughout the day, it turns out like this. It’s better than good. It’s more delicious than any delicacy. It’s challenging, engaging, and interesting, to be willing to live wide-awake like this. What can you learn from yourself, today, for you?

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Posted in Chronic Pain, Interstitial Cystitis, Martha Beck, Mind Body Healing, Vulvar Pain, Vulvodynia | 5 Comments »

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.

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Posted in Chronic Pain, Interstitial Cystitis, Mind Body Healing, Stress Relief, Vulvodynia | 7 Comments »

I Surrender

Thursday, July 28th, 2011

I just got off the phone with ten incredible, amazing people. I’ve been blessed that way, lately. Last week I got to coach and teach at the Martha Beck Master Coach Intensive in Huntington Beach, CA. I spent four days in the presence of brilliant coaches taking their final steps in the six-month long Master Coach program. This week I watched my own Mind-Body Coaches finish up their training with me. I am surrounded by these truly magnificent people who are serving the world each in their own unique way.

It’s been a couple weeks of endings. I find sadness welling up in my throat, because though I know we’ll interact and meet again in different ways, these platforms of connection are now coming to an end. Though I’d love to sit around and be a part of amazing growth and transformation with groups of brilliant coaches all the time, I also recognize that it wouldn’t really be great for them. They’d never get to go out and embark on their own journey, or lead their own groups. So with each experience, an end must come to create a new beginning.

It’s been a year of beginnings and endings already, for me. In January, it was the beginning of pregnancy and motherhood. In March it was the end of the pregnancy, much sooner than I had expected. Then it was the beginning of opening up to the messages in that experience and the changes I needed to make within myself before moving forward again. Shortly after that, there were a few endings within my coaching business, followed abruptly by new beginnings I could not have foreseen. (Such as being hired to be the Life Coach Training Coordinator for Martha Beck Inc.)

I feel a bit as though I have beginning/ending whiplash. Change has come so fast this year, in so many ways. I’ve had to really perfect the art of surrendering, which is no easy feat, I must say. So, in this moment, I am sad that this year’s group of mind-body coach trainees is leaving the nest. But I surrender to the experience and am letting go.

I first learned the art of surrendering when I was in physical agony. I was tortured by interstitial cystitis for years, and then wound up with vulvodynia as well. I hated my body, wanted all the pain to just leave, and fought like mad against the experience. Until I simply couldn’t fight anymore. I often say that the universe had to wonk me over the head before I would surrender and allow myself to have the experience I was already having – in that case, pain. That’s the funny thing about surrendering; it’s about laying down the weapons in the battle against what is.

I remember literally lying down on the couch and saying, “Okay, I give up.” But I wasn’t giving up on everything. I was just giving up the fight. I knew I had to stop trying so hard and just let the experience teach me what it was teaching me.

If this sounds hard, it’s because it kind of is. Yet, it’s also easy, in a strange way. It’s so much easier to surrender than to fight. It’s easier to say, “Okay, I am willing to have this experience that I am having right now” than to clench every muscle in combative argument against it.

If you’re dealing with anything stressful or hard in your life right now, don’t forget that surrendering is an option. You can set down your boxing gloves and say, “Okay, I allow this to happen right now.” It doesn’t mean you’ll suffer forever. In fact, your suffering will end much sooner. As soon as I stopped fighting the pelvic pain syndromes, the way out arrived in the form of mind-body healing.

On the day that I miscarried, I knew something was wrong. All day, I fought that knowledge. I avoided the knowing. I tried so hard to not have the experience that I knew was coming. Finally, as the evening wore on, I remembered the surrender option. I told my husband we had to talk about the possibility that I was going to miscarry. So we did. And we knew, in that moment, that we could handle it, no matter how painful it would be. As soon as we aired that, I was able to say, in my heart, “I surrender. I allow myself to have this experience.” Ten minutes later, the miscarriage happened. I let go. I let the universe take over, and I trusted.

Sure enough, we did survive. We could handle the grief, the pain, and the loss. That’s the thing; that which we fight, even though it is painful, is always something we can handle. Yes, it’s hard. Yes, it’s painful. But it’s ever so much more painful to fight than to surrender.

Though I often write my blog posts with a particular client question in mind, today’s post is written for me. I am the client today. Because now that my body, mind, and spirit are healed from this experience, I arrive at a new doorway. A new beginning. A place to start anew. But to embark on this motherhood journey again, there’s something I have to do. I have to surrender. I have to say, “Okay, I am willing to have this experience, whatever it may be, and I trust that what is right will happen.” Coming on the heels of the miscarriage, a new pregnancy sounds a little scary. Maybe difficult. Maybe not such a good idea. Yet, when I really look inside, it’s not the experiences that could happen that scare me. It’s the pain of not trusting, not surrendering, and not letting go that is terrifying.

It’s time to surrender to my own inner wisdom, to the wisdom of mother nature and the universe, and to life itself. I can’t know anything with my human mind about what will come, but I can trust my soul to guide me somewhere good. Yes, there were endings this year, but they made way for beginnings. There is innate wisdom in this process that I could never have seen in advance, but for which I am now grateful. So, if you, like me, are standing on the edge, peeking through a new doorway, or are just plain tired of fighting, here’s your invitation to surrender. I surrender to the experience of pregnancy again, whatever it brings. Would you like to join me in this surrendering experience? What are you surrendering to? I would welcome the company.

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Posted in Interstitial Cystitis, Martha Beck, Miscarriage, Motherhood, Vulvodynia | 14 Comments »

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.

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Posted in Body Image, Interstitial Cystitis, Miscarriage, Motherhood, Vulvodynia, Weight Loss | 27 Comments »

What Do You Want Today?

Thursday, July 7th, 2011

Pain is the ultimate waker-upper. There’s probably a real word for that, but I can’t think of it right now. Waker-upper works, because it’s actually pain’s job description. Whether it’s physical pain, emotional pain, or mental pain, it makes you sit up and take notice. Yeah, I know – what a seriously annoying alarm clock!

Yet, good old pain is really trying to help you out. It’s just that sometimes we’re not clued in to what it’s trying to say. We’re awake, but we’re mainly focused on getting the damn alarm to stop buzzing.

One of the MAJOR messages behind physical and all other pain is this: You are somehow, somewhere, not admitting important wants or needs to yourself. You are not fully letting yourself be who you really are. You are squelching something, somewhere, within you.

My fave new phrase is: you are not letting your soul sing. As a musician, I just love the idea that we all have a unique soul song. The world is our stage, where we all get to make music, and we all get to sing our unique soul songs. Then we get to join together and make really cool harmonies. It’s a soul choir, this human experience!

If you’re not letting yourself admit your own needs and wants, you can’t truly sing. And I, for one, want to hear your song. Nothing is more uplifting than spending time with a person who lets themself be fully who they are. Think about it. Don’t you know someone who just IS who they are? Aren’t you just magnetized to them?

Of course, there are levels of letting your soul sing. You might start quietly, with a pianissimo. Eventually, you’ll get a little louder. Mezzo-forte, in musician speak. Then, eventually, you’ll be blasting a full-on forte. It doesn’t matter. Sing quietly, start softly, but sing.

How, you ask?

Start now by asking yourself what you actually, truly, really want in this moment. Then do it. Repeat.

Huh. That’s awfully simple. It’s a real head-scratcher, alright. Because it actually works. Yes, everyone around might think you’re crazy/silly/loony/insert your word here. I really can’t imagine why this would be more important than you letting your soul sing, especially if you are experiencing the waker-upper face-slap from pain. Really – would you rather squelch yourself and feel awful but deny it and pretend everything is okay until one day you have screaming pain of some kind and can’t get rid of it? Or…let people say what they will and enjoy the freedom of taking care of yourself honestly, deeply, and truly by doing what you actually want to do. Day by day.

I’m teasing you a little just because I’ve done it too. I’ve smooshed, squelched, squashed, shoved, and otherwise ignored major and important parts of myself. Until my body refused to let me do it anymore. Until my physical, mental, and emotional anguish was too much, and I had to start being the real me. Until singing my soul song was essential to my well-being.

Yes, I still sing quietly sometimes. It’s not about doing it perfectly. It’s just about singing. It’s just about letting your soul out of self-imposed prison.

So – what do you want, right now? Honor it. You are the only one who can truly bring what you want into your life. It’s time to start. Or, maybe it’s just time to do it more often.

I’m not kidding. What do you want? Tell me in the comments below! Sometimes it helps you start when you write it down or say it out loud.

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Posted in Chronic Pain, Interstitial Cystitis, Mind Body Healing, Stress Relief, Vulvodynia | 8 Comments »

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