Saying Yes to Life

Taking It All In

I have a little story for you, a story of opportunity, of growth, of saying Yes.

Many months ago I had this little tiny nudge. A nudge to shift, to relaunch, to step up to the plate of my life.

And I said yes. Actually, I said “Okay“.

And because “Okay” is really just a thinly veiled “Okay, I’m having doubts, but I’ll try to tentatively trust you” Life answered in return with, “Okay, I hear your doubts, so we’ll take this slow.”

So, for about four months, I moved slowly. There were a few moments of “Um…” or even one or two of “Eek!” but mostly it was a comfortable little path.

Then right before I relaunched, as I was sitting in my space – that quiet, meditative, soulful space – I felt it again.

But it wasn’t a nudge this time. It was more like a request: A request for more Trust, an offer of growth and connection, an opportunity.

It was the question, “Are you feeling ready yet?

Not demanding or pushy, just a heartfelt question.

I had no idea what it really meant and I was filled with fear about it. Oh boy, was I. Because saying yes to something you can’t see…well, that’s just fracking terrifying.

But I took a deep breath anyway…and I said Yes. And I really meant Yes this time. So I opened my whole heart and my whole soul to receive it.

And Life Rushed In

Do you know what happens when you say Yes! to Life, to an offer from your Source, to the nudge in your heart you’ve been ignoring?

Opportunity.

In the moment, opportunity looks a lot like stress, overwhelm, uncomfortable changes, upheaval, odd new circumstances, and a really messy experience. It might start feeling like being engulfed by fear, or even sadness or anger.

(Or maybe that’s all just me.)

But if you keep saying Yes, if you can remain open and trusting….

Well, in hindsight you can see it’s all just Life rushing into your open heart as fast as it can. It’s not going to miss the opportunity after all. :)

And so because Life’s opportunities are often big, it can be stressful.
Because it comes so fast, you can feel overwhelmed.
When it’s new (and it will be new), it can feel uncomfortable.
And since it’s often demanding, it may seem like upheaval.
And because we’re human, it’s often messy.

But in reality, it’s really, really good. And here’s why…

It All = Strength Training

Looking back on these past 3 months, I see what I thought was pain and obstacles and stress. But you know what I really see now?

Strength training.

My coach has a way of putting it that I like. She compares it to weight lifting. You put resistance on your muscles to build them, to grow them.

When you say “Yes!” (and really mean it), Life begins its job of giving you opportunity to strengthen and grow you.

And that can feel tiring, overwhelming, even painful at times. Because it’s usually going to start with the discovery and healing of all the things that are going to get in your way of what comes next.

You can call it struggle, or strengthening; pain, or healing. But only one perspective is going to get you through it. Only one is going to keep you saying “Yes”, keep your heart open and authentic and expanding.

And that’s worth it.

Because as ugly as it will feel as you go through it, as someone emerging from the other side, I can promise you it’s amazing.

What are you saying “Yes” to in your life?

I Am Not Broken

Posted and Zeb

Mapping

I had a dream on Monday night that I was explaining to a physical therapist what was hurting by describing the one thing that was not hurting: my toes. I woke up from that dream with stiff, aching toes.

I’ll be honest. I’ve been utterly failing at my attempts for body compassion. For the past week I’ve been in so much pain that I’ve had a difficult time loving this crooked frame. I’ve been angry and exhausted with it. And those old burdens of feeling broken and hopeless have resurfaced. Feeling those aching toes stirred up such bitter resentment. Of course my flipping toes hurt. Because that’s my body for ya.

It rings a bit of parental expectations, those sneaky little thoughts that tell me my kid should be doing this chore, should be playing outside right now, should be quiet when I’m quiet. After all, I do all these wonderful things for him, shouldn’t he reciprocate?

And my body…it should be able to keep up for more than an hour at the zoo without dragging my legs, should be allowing me to hoop outside right now, should quiet its complaints when I’m trying to rest. After all I’ve been feeding it good foods, telling it its beautiful, trying to make things available to it…shouldn’t it reciprocate?

Body expectations: I’m throwing all these things at it for the sole purpose of getting what I want from it.

I’m manipulating it. Bribing it. Placing heavy expectations on it. This is not acceptance. This is not unconditional love. I’m not unschooling my body…apparently I’m deschooling my relationship with it.

Monday night was nearly a breaking point for me. Exhausted from pain, I was being a total bitch. Just downright shitty. I could hear my words and my tone and it broke my heart. I was empty, giving all my energy just to stay upright and I had nothing left to give my family. It was not authentic. It did not feel good. But the very best I could do was to exile myself, get my mouth away from my men.

I was hating myself and Life in that moment, not just for the pain I was experiencing, but for the pain I was inflicting.

The next morning I made a call to a local Egoscue clinic. With Justin’s support, we dropped a large chunk of money on this very particular kind of “physical therapy”.

I had been resisting this for a long time. I was resisting giving my body the only thing I thought might make a difference for two reasons: money and my own feelings of hopelessness. “It’s too expensive and I’m past the point that it can make a difference anyway.” I can’t help but see the correlation between my body resistance and my parental resistance. So many excuses and none of them made sense once I embraced what I feared embracing.

Over and over, the therapist repeated “Your body can heal itself. You’re not broken.” Broken…the very word I flung at myself, the very word I carried through my days, that wore me down with hopelessness. I’m not broken. My body just needs my attention.

Two days of therapy and I’m almost embarrassed to say how good I feel. Embarrassed to admit that I put this off so long.

Embarrassed that part of me is afraid to let this go.

Oof, there’s some radical authenticity for ya. I have for so long had an adversarial relationship with my body. And in two days and slightly under four hours of corrective exercises, I’ve had almost no pain. No stabs slicing through my knees. No dull aching across my lower back. No heaviness in my legs or numbness in my arms. I’ve had practically none of the symptoms that have so long defined my body, and more recently defined my every day.

And without those definitions I have nothing but the my own truth left to see.

And it’s embarrassing. I have to face the disappointment I’ve had with my body, face the way I’ve spoken to it or about it. I have to face treating it as a hopeless case, but also face treating it as if it owes me something. I have to let all that go and I have to have the courage to embrace this body without expectations, without bitterness, and with complete acceptance that it neither defines me, nor can I define it.

Disability can not define my life. It just can’t. I want to see my body’s capabilities as exactly as they should be. And it’s not my job to criticize it. It’s my job to fall in love with it. To praise it. To take it and live out loud with it. Just as it is.

And I don’t know how to do that. I don’t know how to live without that definition of broken. But I think….oh Gd, I hope…I’m going to learn.

Body Compassion

Winnebago Rest

This is the post in which a very depressed state of being gets more deeply accepted and channeled into a place of compassion. I hope.

Physically speaking, my body is not in a very good place. Scoliosis leads to lots of chronic conditions and major spinal fusions leave you very few corrective options. I’m recently dealing with increased nerve impingement and degeneration and just learned of an increased risk for osteoporosis. All of this has made it difficult for me to play, hoop, or sleep comfortably; to sit, stand or walk for too long.

Being very much a “fixer” and an avid learner/researcher, it’s been incredibly frustrating to find so few solutions to the problem. (Exercise, yoga, chiropractic…even massage has caused problems.)

There have only been two things that have made a significant impact on both pain and energy:

  1. Gluten-free foods
  2. Grass-fed meat and dairy

The first is not easy to stick to on the road. The second can be difficult to find; we’ve used sites like LocalHarvest.org and farmer’s markets but with less luck than we hoped.

But it dawned on me recently that if I’m not careful, and maybe even if I am, I’m going to end up in a wheelchair within a decade or two. Needless to say, such a thought is enough to knock you down a bit. I spent several days in a serious depression while I processed and talked through my fears and struggles.

Then I read Ronnie’s words on unschooling her body.

Love my body. Love where I live. Love what is. It sounds like unschooling. I could unschool my body.

Wait. Unschool my body? What would that look like?

If I were going to unschool my body…
I would make lots of cool stuff available to it (gear and hikes and massages).
I would spend time with it.
I would have fun with it and do things it enjoys.
I would enjoy it.
I would provide it with a fun and colorful variety of foods.
I would feel good about it.
I would feel good.

I would not disparage it.
I would not feel ashamed of it.
I would not compare it to other bodies in negative ways.
I would not abuse it.

And I absolutely would not let society or any individual tell me what it should be.

I got to thinking about this, about treating my body with compassion, treating it as I would treat my child, with compassion and trust. Instead of focusing on or pushing it towards what I want it to be, simply loving it for what it is…

What might that look like for me?

  • I would regularly point out its strengths.
  • I would show my appreciation for its abilities.
  • I would view its pain with loving compassion.
  • I would actively and insistently seek out the foods it needs.
  • I would be gentle and not push it to do things.
  • I would slow down to its pace.
  • I would find things that made it feel good.
  • I would spoil it with love.
  • I would smile when I see it.
  • I would seek out activities it would enjoy.
  • I would listen intently to it.
  • I would accept it and love it unconditionally.
  • I would validate it and the other people it affects (like my son and husband) without making anyone wrong.

Can I do this? Can I love myself and my body with the same unconditional love and acceptance, giving it everything it needs without excuses or resentment?

Ronnie’s words have been my guidance over the past week as I make my way toward a more authentic relationship with my body, one that is aligned with the way in which we choose to live with each other. Just like our family relationships, there have been less than authentic moments. There have been times of frustration, and even downright body neglect.

But there have also been successes: a new pillow has made for a very happy neck in the morning, almost no gluten has decreased my low back and knee pain substantially, more water has left me with more energy. I was even able to share in the water park fun yesterday while still honoring my bodies limits. And my dear sweet hubby has been instrumental in making sure I’m taking care of me.

But mostly, I’ve been changing my perspective.

I’ve reminded myself that whatever may happen down the road, I need to live fully and authentically in this moment right now. I can’t fully control what the future holds or what this body may be capable of, but I can fully live without regret. I can enjoy everything it will allow me until that’s no longer an option.

Rejoice in the things that are present; all else is beyond thee.  ~Montaigne

What about you? Can you love your body like you love your child?

Thankful Anyway Thursday: The MRI

thanxanywayI realize I haven’t shared the results of the MRI. I also realize my procrastination is likely a result of my denial. But as denial is one of the most crucial steps to acceptance, I’m okay with it. ;)
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I’ve even considered rolling with this denial thing for awhile. Focus on creating an alternate reality, maybe? Like Law of Attraction, only angrier. (Kidding!)
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But I’m more of a Radical Acceptance kinda gal . Thus, I’m flowing on with it. Here are the results:

~ The left knee has swelling of the tissue and a small tear in the medial meniscus.

~ The lumbar spine has a significant curvature (separate from my thoracic curvature) and mild degeneration of L5-S1.

~ The biggest surprise is the cervical spine – possibility of straightening and reversal of the natural cervical lordosis, three bulging discs, plenty o’ bone spurs, mild to moderate narrowing of the foramina (exit holes of the nerves) and degenerative disease of C6-7.

~ The thoracic spine was obscured by the scoliosis hardware and blocked the machine from obtaining images. More testing needs to be done.

[Let me just erase my "not thankful" remarks. ::ahem::]

I’m thankful anyway for my chiropractor who ordered my test results and saved me from a return visit to a medicalized doctor.

I’m thankful anyway that most of these issues can be treated through muscle strengthening, massage, acupuncture, B12 injections, herbs, supplements and other forms of physical therapy.

I’m thankful anyway because I thought my knee would show degeneration of the cartilage. A tear is relatively simple to treat.

I’m thankful anyway because I thought my lower back was going to show something much more serious. My lower back pain is likely a result of muscular compensation due to the lumbar curvature, which is much better than the herniation or severe degeneration I feared.

I’m thankful anyway because although my cervical spine was a total surprise and although my awareness of the problem brought about awareness of the discomfort (ugh), the bulges are fairly small and the bone spurs are actually there in a (however sad) attempt to prevent any disc compression or injury.

And finally, I’m thankful they couldn’t get a good image of my thoracic spine because at this point I’m beginning to think ignorance is bliss. ;)

[To play along, check out Mon at Holistic Mama.]