Monday, January 23, 2012


I feel like I'm living more in my memories than I am in the present.

Something has happened to me in the past few years where I am finding it more difficult to live in the present. (Hm, I wonder what that something could be?)

I'm in the middle of a homeopathic treatment right now that, before it makes me better, must first make me worse. The ironic part of this (let's face if the idea of getting worse before getting better isn't ironic enough) is that in my last post I spoke about the healing powers of the body and to have faith in its capabilities. Oh, do I need some faith. I will say this- I do, with all of my heart, believe in the amazing capabilities of the human body, and I truly do believe every pain I feel is my body's attempt to heal.

..but, you know what?

Reliving my worst hell over and over again is no picnic in the park. More like a trip to crazy land, where I pace around my room and cry, shake and sweat, call my Doctor, and text friends (Shannon and Candice in particular-hi girls) to ask them to remind me that I'm not actually dying.

At a time when I should be in the midst of creating the greatest memories of my life, I find myself living in the past. Last Sunday, Dave and I spent time with two of our friends who we have both known for years. I have been friends with both of them since I was a teenager-Meghan, since we were 12 and met figure skating, and Teddy, who I've known since I was 16, when he was my high school boyfriend's best friend. Oh, and now they're dating each other. Told you, my life is weird.

We were at Teddy's house, the boys watching the football game and Meghan and I pretending we cared, and Teddy, being the great host he is, continually offered me food and drinks..none of which I could eat. I felt like an alien imposter as I watched them whiz around the kitchen, heating up leftovers, popping popcorn, cracking open beers-none of which I have seen in months-some of these foods, in over a year. Nothing makes you feel more like a sick person than watching the normal people behave in their natural habitat, crunching on popcorn and drinking beer like it's the most normal thing in the world.

Well, I guess to them it is.

Seeing them sit there, attempting to pass me food which I had to politely decline repeatedly, made my heart ache. Not for the food, but for the life I left behind. A life where reaching for a favorite snack wouldn't always give me a stomachache, a life where every move wasn't calculated and considered. I looked at Meghan, smiling, talking, watching her sweet daughter play on the floor next to us, and I wondered when I got left behind.

Meghan and I, we skated together, literally side be side during practice. We'd spin around together, measuring our success by how well each of us mastered each move, knowing what we'd need to practice more based on who aced the spin or jump first. We entered college at the same time, continued to meet up and skate together on weekends, and then..the floor fell out beneath me, and it's kind of a blur how it all ended. I feel like her life, and the lives of those around me, have moved forward, forward, forward, while mine has crept forward, sometimes been thrown back, and I have crawled again, sometimes just to get back to the place I was in a few months before. I feel like while everyone around me is making memories, I am busy surviving.

I find myself each Christmas or birthday saying to myself "next year will be better, I will feel better next year". I was flaring so badly this Sunday, one week after spending time with friends, while Dave was over I was just completely losing my marbles. I was pacing in pain, crying as I tried to simply breathe, while I eeked out the words "just leave, just leave me here, please go live your life." I cried while I told him that I didn't think it would ever be over for me, that my life was standing still, asking him to please be friends with me when I'm still this sick years from now. He just looked at me, and I could see sadness in his face. He took a moment, the pause he took taking so long I managed to look up at him, when he said, "But, I believe in you."

Belief. Hope. It always comes back to this. And today, belief is someone believing in me. Maybe my memory isn't watching a football game with friends this Sunday, but it is of someone believing in me, wholeheartedly, with unwavering faith. And that is a memory that not just anyone can make. That is something created from hard work, from a life that has been built and worked for, from challenges coming forward and facing them head on. Maybe I didn't have a rockin night out with friends, but I do have someone-a few people, actually, that believe in me, and that is a memory to recall on the hardest of days. Maybe there's a lesson here..

The memories that matter in life are not wild nights out, but of the relationships you have created with people. The memories that you recall when you are old are of the love you share with those who are close with you-those tiny moments between just the two of you when you are both truly in a moment together, whether that is the moment I hear Shannon's voice on the phone, knowing she is completely with me in my pain, or the moment I see Dave's face change, knowing he actually wants to be in my presence during this dark hour, that I will recall when I am looking back on my life.

I can choose to push aside these moments as things that occurred during my "sick days", or I can take them for what they are- true care, sick day or not so sick day. Look for the love in each moment, look for the hope and take time to look at the faces of those who believe in you. The rest is just details.

Monday, January 9, 2012

Know Your Power

Nothing about this journey has been easy. In fact, if I were to pick a word to describe this process, "easy" would not be it. But, I would pick one of the words I already used- a "journey", a "process", and on some days "a trip to hell and back" (more than one word, I realize) would be a more fitting description. The words "journey" and "process" imply that this is something with a beginning and end. These words don't indicate when the journey will end and begin, how long it will take, how many setbacks there may be, and how many times one might give up before reaching their destination. Just- beginning, and end.

It can be extremely difficult to think of this process as something that has an end to it-especially for those of us who have a chronic illness and have the odds stacked against us. I'm not a Doctor of Medicine, or some kind of guru, but I am a person who has experience with chronic illness-I'd like at this point to consider myself a professional in regards to "Laura's Chronic Disease" (can I put that on my resume?). I may not have the credentials to write myself a Rx that can be legally filled at a regular pharmacy, but I've been in the thick of it- I've been brought to my knees from pain, cried enough tears I've soaked my pillow, and, in the past year, have completely changed my diet and supplements (no more Rx medications!! None. Zero) by doing my research, listening to my body, and knowing myself. Remember- YOU have more power than your Medical Doctor. That's right. You know your body. Nothing you report is strange, nothing. A medication bothering your stomach, a food making you dizzy, feeling tired after a full nights sleep-these things all have a reason tied to them, and the reason is not that you are crazy.

Your body is an amazing, complex mechanism. Although scientists and doctors have tried to understand it, there are some things that go on within the human body that just cannot be explained. The body's healing abilities and the complex process that goes into this- cells, plasma, oxygen, enzymes, minerals- is yet to be fully explained and understood. The human body was designed to heal itself. It will do anything in its power to do so in order to keep you happy and balanced. Sometimes, in its attempt to fix itself, we can feel ill. This is not because our body is not working right, or because it is disagreeable- it's because it is trying everything in its power to fix us, but sometimes does not have everything it needs to do so. No matter the disease- chronic inflammatory, chronic infection, cancer-the body is doing it's best to keep us balanced and is pulling from every which way to do so. It is our job to feed it what it needs (healthy foods with essential vitamins and minerals) and to hydrate with clean water so it can pull from this fuel to fight off its invaders (disease, toxins, allergens, infection). I realize this sounds simple, and I don't mean to downplay any of our diseases-they are real, debilitating, and some of them have been with us for the majority of our lives-but, although these diseases are complex, the reason behind them truly is simple- the body is trying, with all of its might, to heal you.

Think of it this way- when you break a bone, it heals. Sure, you can put that part of your body in a cast to protect it, but even if you didn't the bone would heal. It is still not known how the body does this. So many different mechanisms and processes go into it, it just cannot be explained. We do not need to sit there and tell it to heal. We do not need to take medications. And we don't lie awake at night worried it won't heal. Because we know it will. The body will find the broken part and fix it. Sure, an individual can set it back into place, but the actual bone can only heal with the body's work.

Here is an excerpt from one of my favorite books, "Quantum Healing" by Deepak Chopra:
"You cannot step into the same river twice, because the river is constantly being changed by new water rushing in. The same holds true for the body. All of us are much more like a river than anything frozen in time and space. If you could see your body as it really is, you would never see it the same way twice. Ninety-eight percent of the atoms in your body were not there a year ago. The skeleton that seems so solid was not there three months ago. Your skin is new every month. You have a new stomach lining every four days, with the actual surface cells that contact food being renewed every five minutes.."

Whew! Sounds like a lot of work. If your body can do all that, who are we to say we cannot heal completely? Let's give this temple of ours a little more credit.

You have the power to heal. You. Your bones, your heart, your cells. They are all rooting for you. So am I. Know your power. Healing is not just an option-with the right tools and a whole lot of patience, healing is inevitable.

**For a jump start on how to help your body heal, consider my favorite documentaries: A Beautiful Truth, Food Matters, & Forks Over Knives. These will be discussed in my next post and video, along with recipe suggestions and favorite foods and supplements.

A Beautiful Truth-

Sunday, January 1, 2012

New year, new insights

It's a new year, friends.

I have been meaning to post for a while, it has been quite a year. Due to diet changes and supplements, I have truly experienced some "good" days this year. And by good, I mean truly amazing, pain free days..days where I would look around me and think "This is it, this is what life can be. What a miraculous place this world can be." Tears would immediately form in my eyes. Yes, even on healthy days, I am still the girl who cries in public places.

This year brought many surprises. I met my best chronically ill friend (Shannon) in person, and worked for 7 months as a counselor at my clinical internship site. I am becoming a therapist, it is actually happening. It is very real. During that time, I had extreme ups and downs. Days where I felt so well I danced around my living room, and days where I felt so ill, I shook as I cried myself to sleep.

I still live in two worlds, but they look a bit different to me now. The ever-so-far away "normal" world was with me at times, but sick world would linger in the a dark, far away cloud. You can see it there, and you wonder if it will get close enough to touch you. You wonder if it will pass over without a storm, or if it will catch up to you and pour its rain and roaring thunder over you. Normal world, as beautiful as it is, doesn't quite look like how I remembered it. And, I don't think it will. I'm too aware of the sadness in the world now. I'm too aware of pain. But, I appreciate this knowledge. In fact, this knowledge may be what I was meant to see.

Right now, I'm in a sick period. And..I'm feeling a little hopeless. No matter how many little post it notes I leave to myself to remind me what it's like to feel well, to remind myself it's possible and that flares pass, I cannot believe it, even when I stare at the note and picture myself when I wrote it.

So today, since I cannot remember what it's like to feel well, I will choose to remember what changes this illness brought to my life and ways it has worked for me. Over the course of 7 months, I had several clients. Many with depression and anxiety, and some even with illness. I did not tell any of them of my illness, of course-therapy is about them. But, something interesting happened..something that took my breath away:

I have a client, let's call her Kate*. **Kate is a college nursing student who has suffered from a back injury for a few years now. The pain can be so debilitating she at times has questioned if she can finish school. We spent many hours in my office discussing the difficulty this brings her, emotionally and physically. I wrote notes to her professors if she missed class, explaining she is trying her best-I asked for extensions on papers, I advocated for her needs. At the end of the semester, in December, Kate showed up to my office. She looked bright and was smiling. "I did it, I did it!", she exclaimed, with sheer excitement. She reached out to hug me, pulled me in and whispered, "You get me. You really get me." When she pulled away, she held my arms and said, "You know what it's like, don't you? I know you must. The way you looked at me, I could tell you heard what I was saying. What do you have?"

She knew.

A few weeks ago I received an email from Kate. She had gotten her grades for the semester, and passed with flying colors. Kate stated that she could not have gotten through the semester without someone understanding her and advocating for her, and that what got her through her most painful days, was wanting to one day do what I was doing for her-understand and advocate for a patient in pain.

Your disease is not your destiny, friends. Make your pain your purpose.

Wishing you all a happy, HEALTHY 2012.

*Names will always be changed if speaking about a client
**I will only speak of clients who have granted me permission to mention them and their story, out of respect for confidentiality