Get It Together Doctors

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One of the bad days.

I have become a member of an online Facebook group for fibromyalgia sufferers. I started exploring the different avenues for support for people with fibro. We don’t have a support group in the Philadelphia area that I could find. I wanted to be around other people who know what I am going through. I was hoping that I would feel less alone on those days that I am in pain and can’t leave the house. I also was hoping to learn what those women and men who deal with fibromyalgia on a day to day basis did to ease their symptoms. I was looking for comraderie, sisters in arms, people fighting a fight together. That isn’t really what I found, yet.

Sometimes these chats seem like only people who are suffering together. They are encouraging, sympathetic, and lovely. We are all suffering. The thing about fibro is that we’d have a pretty pitiful march if we were going to battle. Most of us can’t walk very far at all. Most of us are in constant pain and feel nauseous and feverish. We feel like we are hung over AND have the flu. It’s not like we can usually muster up a rallying cry. It would come out like a sigh more likely. But I am still looking for a way to cope.

I’m not ready to be couch bound. I want to walk for hours-down streets I’ve never seen. I want to be able to fly without pain. I want to be able to do yoga for an hour without taking a two day break to recover, because Philly has free yoga on the pier. To do yoga by the water would be a dream.

I am not ready to give up on those dreams. I need to continually feel like I can do it. I need to know in my brain that it is possible for these things to happen someday-even if it is not true. I need to be able to strive for it. If I believed that it wasn’t possible I would probably curl up in a ball and give up. I desperately and deeply need the motivation.

I guess I am looking for someone to say this is working for me, you can too. Isn’t that such bullshit? No one is going to give me a get well quick story. This isn’t that kind of syndrome. Fibro is forever. I get that. They say that you can live with it. What exactly that looks like isn’t really clear. From the testimonies on so many fibro sites it seems dreary and hopeless. Most of my fibro sisters have spouses that don’t care enough to find out about their wives’ condition so they complain about their inability to perform tasks, their inevitable weight gain and they belittle the pain they’re in. Most of them have kids who are ungrateful, and employers that could care less. It is a sea of harshness in a world of people who should be treated with kid gloves. These people are in pain constantly, who still have to perform their lives, AND try to figure out how to medicate themselves.

Think about your mother. Everyone in the world who had a good mom, think about that mom. What if she had fibromyalgia. She would have never had time to figure out how to make her life easier. Most moms don’t have time to get their nails done or catch their own movie, less known go to physical therapy or read a book on fibromyalgia.  Fibromyalgia is predominantly a female syndrome so females are too busy building families and running the f*&Oing world to treat themselves to all the doctor’s appointments, or go to physical therapy twice a week, or a trigger therapy masseuse. I am extremely lucky; my partner is the most remarkable partner in the world. He is seriously amazing. Most women don’t have my privilege or my support.

I don’t work right now. It’s my turn to be at home because I worked while Brad went to school. So, I get to follow my dreams now. Part of that dream is to get healthy. I am working on that full time while also trying to get my writing going. It is unusual that any woman has the time I do to do the research, go to doctors and physical therapy, schedule workouts, meal plans, and supplements. Right now, I am extremely lucky for a fibromyalgia sufferer.

It is easy for me to have spunk. It is easier for me to get riled up, throw my fist in the air and say, “I will figure this out. I’m gonna live a good life!”

The big problem is that fibromyalgia has been around in some form since 1904 according to a government web site. They knew about it since then, but didn’t do an official study until 1981. The AMA didn’t recognize it until 1987. Do you think that it is a coincidence it took so long to get acknowledged on a disease that mostly affects women?

So, the medical community hasn’t done that great for these women. Most doctors don’t really give these patients a lot of options. I’ve been going to the doctors and physical therapists for over a year and it wasn’t until I picked up a book by Dr. Ginerva Liptan called The Fibromanual that I found out some information that is really helping me. No one else has explained the disease to me so clearly or why I need to do the things I do. Of course, The Fibromanual was written by a woman who also has fibromyalgia. That is how we get things done, right?

I’ve only been following her advice for two weeks and already I feel a little better. See these chats I have been observing on Facebook and other support group web sites only make me mad. It is another way that women are neglected in this society. I can forgive their partners for not knowing what fibromyalgia is, because I am still figuring it out and I am a dogged opponent even without a medical degree. I can forgive kids for being little ungrateful shits, because that’s what they are supposed to be, but I can not forgive doctors who get paid more than most of the population for not taking enough time to truly give these women relief. I recommend every doctor who has a general practice to read The Fibromanual and other books. Give the women who are sixty percent of the work force, and seventy percent of the home care, some attention please. Give them a fighting chance to get out of bed without pain.

To all my fellow sufferers,

I know your life is busy. I know sometimes this seems hopeless. It sucks. I feel it everyday. There is hope. Read up as much as you can and press your doctor to read up too. It is there job. Don’t let them get away with not knowing how to help you. That sucks. My first book recommendation is The Fibromanual. It even has a section you can hand your doctor. Know your body, and know that there is some relief out there. Try if you can to prioritize your health for a little while so that you can get a system down that will provide you with happy pain free days. Get help. The people that love you will realize you are worth the time you need to figure it out.

Danielle

The Best I Can Do

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Making Physical Therapy fun: I wanted the fake people to look like Star Trek characters. Is that Captain Kirk at the bottom? Why yes it is! 

Mom exercises every day. She’d wake up hurting and get ready to do her exercises. I thought she was crazy for years. Who thinks, Oh, I am in pain, I think I’ll exercise. It goes against all the logic I’d ever known. When you’re sick you lay in bed, right?  I’d say, “If you hurt why are you doing exercise?”  She would reply, “I have to exercise this morning or it will hurt more later.”

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My Momma: my eternal fitness hero

I didn’t really understand what she meant until I too developed Fibromyalgia. Now I am amazed at her resolve. Seriously. That woman is made of steel. The first couple years of Fibro kicked my ass. Waking up in pain is a buzz kill. Your whole day can be tainted. Waking up with fibromyalgia is like someone beat you with a baseball bat the night before and then you drank a liter of rum. Every morning you are sore and hung over. Mom woke up in that fog every day strapped on an exercise bra and just got to work. I bitch and wine like nobody’s business.

It seems like a weird idea, right? Think about waking up with the flu and being told the cure is exercise. Um…yeah, wouldn’t you think that’s bullshit? No, you would retreat to bed and not wake up until it ended. The sick part is, it never ends. You will wake up every day with the flu, and the only way to have the rest of the day is to exercise through it. Then the next day, start all over again.

When Mom told me she had to exercise I thought she was crazy. I didn’t understand then, what I know now: with Fibromyalgia exercise is essential. I told the doctor that I felt like a piece of machinery that rusts when it sleeps or sits too long. If I don’t stretch and move my joints, then I am in pain all day. It’s like I am lubing my muscles and joints. Once I have done that, then I can move onto my day.

My physical therapist, Melinda Gross, said that with Fibromyalgia you have to challenge the body regularly with controlled “stressors” in the form of exercise because it increases the body’s tolerance. So I have to increase walking, yoga, chores, strengthening exercise because it increases my baseline threshold for pain and stress.

Did anyone else’s dad ever make that joke? You know the one after you’ve been complaining your head hurts, and Dad offers to step on your toe to make your head hurt less. Turns out, that’s kind of a thing.

In other words, I have to put my body through a small amount of pain so that I am not in greater pain later. Also, if I put my body through more pain then what I have built up then I am in serious pain for days. So, I have to measure my activity every day. Once I painted a hutch and for the next three days the couch was my best friend.

When I think about it too closely, I get angry that I didn’t figure this out sooner. It is also very hard not to be angry that I can’t just wake up and be fine like a normal person. I get depressed at my pained muscles and stiff joints. It is easier to stay in bed. It is easier not to go to my twice a week doctor’s appointments. It would be easier if I could just take some pills to make the pain easier and just dribble into my pillow.

I was not happy when that’s all I could do, but it didn’t require much strength of will or physical strength. It was easier, but I wasn’t happy. My loved ones deserve much better than that, and so do I.

When I think about just sitting and sulking on the couch or skipping my doctor’s appointments I think about my husband. I am lucky, because he is the most patient and loving man. He is there every day telling me it is okay I am in pain and it isn’t my fault. He is my strength when I don’t have any. He deserves to have a wife that feels good about herself. I concentrate on that love when I am trying to get up to start my day. I concentrate on the love that I feel for my family and my friends. I concentrate on the fact that I want to soak up moments with them. If I am in pain, I will just be thinking about the pain.

I’m not perfect every day. I still have days it takes me a while to pull my head out of my ass and get moving. I was lamenting the fact that it takes me almost an hour and a half of exercising and icing to get me to feel normal/good. I did an unofficial Facebook poll of my friends and some of them exercise two hours a day. These are people I assume don’t have fibromyalgia, or any of my other health problems. So, I am not alone. They too use exercise to feel like themselves. I just have a large cattle prod getting me to the yoga mat.

Sadly, some days it still isn’t enough, but I am getting there one yoga work out at a time.

Out of Mourning, a New Resolve

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I am sorry that this smile is gone.

My beautiful, young, full of life cousin just passed away in her sleep. Ashley was nine years younger than I am. She passed away at thirty-three due to complications with her ongoing lung disease. She will be missed by so many. I really admired her spirit and determination. See Ashley has had lung problems all her life. She spent so many days and nights in the hospital being watched over by her poor Mom and Dad who worried constantly. She was a slight little thing as a kid and grew into a rebellious youngster. All of us are rebellious at one point but when you have bad lungs smoking and drinking are even worse. Luckily this time was short. She pulled it out quickly and then focused on her health. Ashley died being a wife, a devoted step-mom who undeniably adored her charge, a spitfire (crazy smart opinionated women run in my family) and amazingly a weight lifter.

It would have been so easy for Ashley to ruminate on the fact that she was born with a set of defective lungs. She could have sulked and stayed in bed, but she rallied and built a full life for herself. Not only that but she built her body up. She worked out steadily and ate well. She built up a business. To see her do all that with the body she was given, makes me feel inspired to do the same.

The past two weeks I have been requiring myself to do yoga absolutely every day. You know that hashtag #yogaeverydamnday? I haven’t really understood that because I feel like it has a negative connotation and yoga has always been enjoyable to me. This past two weeks I have been understanding it. There are days when I have had to crawl to my yoga mat and start by laying on the floor to stretch lightly. I slowly loosen my creaky muscles until I can move without pain. Then I move on to stretches that require all my muscles. It has become a requirement for all of my days. If I don’t do it then I will be in pain all day.

I think that it would be easier sometimes to just stay in bed. I have spent many days this year in bed with the pain and I am sick of it. I hope the ritual I have adopted will keep my out of bed for the foreseeable future. I haven’t tested this theory during my dark days when Aunt Irma visits, but I guess we will see. My physical therapy is working and I am so happy about it.

I think this new resolve is coming from a place of remorse for how much I have let my body sort of fend for itself against my vices.

Perhaps I can take up her mantle of good health. Maybe someday I can be someone people look at and say Hey, she had all that pain but she still put her health first. I hope so. I just have to keep making that uncomfortable walk/crawl to the mat every morning. If I can build on that. I might be able to follow her example.

My Ego Hates the Bow Pose

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I can finally do this pose for twenty seconds on one foot. 

I have been reading a lot about yoga because I don’t have a gym or a studio I go to. I am learning on my own. I research every pose before trying it. In my reading, I’ve come across countless articles about ego and how ego can lead to injury. I am not going to assume that people injure themselves because of ego.  I could injure myself because of concentration issues and definitely my horrible balance. I have to admit feeling as if someone would need a small amount of ego to try some of the poses, like a handstand. A handstand could be significantly dangerous if done wrong. I have yet to attempt one because I’ve only worked up to thirty seconds on my planks. I am shaking still at second twenty five. I think I need to be able to do the plank for a lot longer if I am ever to do a handstand. I am working on buffing up my arms because I have trouble with pickle jars. I mean I love pickles, but it’s more about the functionality of having arms that can lift, move, and open things. Being able to do a handstand would be just a fun by product of that.  I think it might be years before I try a handstand. I am not putting myself down or pushing my dreams down.  I just have to know my limitations.

Why is so much literature out there about how not to get hurt with yoga and how to put your ego aside? Is that because we so often want to share our practice with others? I do find myself bragging when I have mastered a new pose. Sometimes it is a little ridiculous because I can only do the very basic moves. It’s like a sixteen year old bragging about being able to tie their shoes. I’m like, look at me I can do a twenty second plank! My ESL class was counting me down while I was showing off. All of them shouting 1, 2, 3 etc., when they said twenty I got off the floor to shouts of jubilation!

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I know it looks like I’m bent but it’s just my butt.

I don’t think it is bad to revel in the accomplishments but I think it’s important for my practice that I sort of marinate in the process of getting there. The vernacular is being mindful but I don’t think that is even appropriate. It’s more like savor. While working into the poses I don’t just want to be mindful of where my body is placed or how my muscles feel. I want to love how they feel. I want to enjoy it so much I feel the need to slow down and honor the way my body feels.

I’ve been desperate to open my hips up because of they are in pain. I do a lot of poses that stretch my pelvis and open my hips. In addition to Bound Angle Pose, Hand to Big Toe Pose, Reclining Bound Angle pose, countless upward dogs and many more hip openers, I heard that downward facing dog with stacked hips is one of the best hip openers. So I watched a video how to do it. After the video I went to my mat and started my practice. About seven poses in I usually do downward dog, but this time I lifted one of my legs held it there for ten seconds and then flexed my foot and bent my leg. I did exactly what the video told me to do. Boy did that feel good… at first. I was really enjoying it so I tried to deepen the stretch and then felt a ping of pain. It wasn’t a major pain. It was just a twinge that I knew could have turned into a major injury if the twinge hadn’t shocked me into stopping. As it was, my right hip was sore for about two hours. I was lucky. After researching the pose more thoroughly, I realized that I didn’t square my hips right. Was it my ego that convinced me to try a pose I hadn’t properly researched or desperation or both?

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Close but not bow pose
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It felt closer than it looks

Is it ego that lets me try yoga at all? I am a plus size person who has no previous exercise experience. What business do I have trying something that seemingly only thin impossibly beautiful people can do? At least that is what I used to believe before all those wonderful plus size women blew up Instagram like Dianne Bondy, Jessamyn Stanley, and Dana Falsetti. So I think there is a little ego involved in doing yoga at all, on many layers.

There is a challenge to starting any exercise and then continuing it after failing at exercise over and over. In yoga I have failed a lot. Not only is my downward facing dog with stacked hips a failure the first time, but I can’t do a bow pose to save my life. I can’t reach both feet behind my back at once. (I can’t do many poses. Bow Pose is just the one I am working on now.) The only way I can continue with my practice after failing so much is not to look at it as failure. I have to look at it as progress. Just getting on the mat and getting closer is a big deal.

I used to quit exercise at the first sign of failure but now I inch towards things I never thought I could do. Savoring where I am now is what makes me able push through the doubt, but also temper my enthusiasm. Research and living in the pose, not just keeping my mind on it, but thoroughly enjoying the pose is the only way I am going to avoid a downward dog debacle again. It’s the difference between stretching, like To The Oldies, and yoga. This “mindfulness” should be inherent in the process, right? Maybe instead of my Ego getting the better of myself, I just lost sight of that. I will remind myself every time I get on my mat, that if I am taking the time to do this, then I better really appreciate it.

First Step – Research

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My old treatment plan – bed and pain pills.

I’ve always been a proponent of learning. Since I was wee, I have loved reading and considered it power. My earliest dreams were to get out of my small town and experience more of the world, and my immediate answer was to educate myself so I could have the money to do so. Education and reading has always been my most valued tool. Which is why my inaction in helping myself, health wise, should have been puzzling.

So often doctors counsel us to not WEBMD ourselves. Don’t Dr. Google they say. However, what is a patient to do when doctors don’t listen, or maybe they do but don’t have the answers? I’m not saying Dr. Google is the most reliable source of information, but there are sights that service specific ailments, and are manned by reputable sources and there is the library.

A doctor will see us fifteen minutes every couple weeks IF we are lucky enough to have insurance. Even if they know what’s wrong with us, is that really enough time to tell us all of our options for treatment or even how to enact that treatment. I have spent more time with personal trainers, farmer’s market proprietors, and house cleaning people, and spent less money on all of those services. Is it sad that I found out more and had a longer conversation about where my peaches were grown from the farmer’s market proprietor than what it means to be diagnosed with PCOS from the proprietor of my healthcare? I’m not saying that my doctors are bad in any way. I have loved my general practitioners back in Boise and here in Philadelphia. They have my respect and I feel I have lucked out. Still, I feel like there is no such thing as comprehensive medical care. I am saying that the system is wrong and the only way to combat that is to educate myself.

Sadly it took me too much time to realize that. I have just taken what doctors have told me and done what they have asked and that is all. Total trust and reliance in the medical profession has been my go to for far too long. I have been given many diagnoses in my quest for pain relief: PCOS, endometriosis, adenomyosis, fibroids, and dysmenorrhea. (The last one I believe is just a bullshit excuse not to do anything about a woman’s pain.) I was told the doctors recommended course of treatment and I followed it, but only their course of treatment for about ten years. I listened patiently and did what I was told. There are many social cues that tell us to follow what the doctor says. I guess that is appropriate because of all their education they deserve respect. However, there should have been a point in each of those diagnoses’ which as a patient I took responsibility to be more educated and this year I have. Let me say, it has made me feel better.

In my defense, it has been hard before now. I am extremely lucky in that my husband is supporting me right now. My number one responsibility is to get rid of this pain. While it is still not easy to read books, scout message boards and research web sites while either on pain pills or in massive pain, it is better than while working forty or more hours a week. However, I am working toward a better life none the less. I have been researching so much my physical therapist may just learn a few things from me.

My plan is to become so informed on all my diagnoses’ that there isn’t any course of treatment I don’t know about whether western medicine, eastern medicine or natural remedy. This has been the best thing I have done to make me feel as if I have power. My library card, my laptop and I are a powerful trio that has provided me with many answers.

My newest diagnosis is that I have a too tight pelvic floor. This is a fairly new field- pelvic physical therapy. I was told by a gynecologist here in Philadelphia that it has only been available in maybe the past five years. So when I feel pissed off that no one realized this was my problem until now, I must understand the science wasn’t there. I have read a couple of books, countless web sites, and watched many hip opening, hip stretching videos. I have met with my physical therapist twice who has examined me twice. My therapist gave me one exercise to do every two hours. So far this is what she asked me to work on. I have done that but I am also doing about twelve more stretches as part of my everyday yoga routine. I am keeping track of my diet and how it makes me feel. I am reading up on nutrition and supplements for IBS which is related to the pain. I am also trying to work on my related fibromyalgia and am looking into getting a hysterectomy to take care of my “dysmenorrhea” AKA painful periods because I believe they caused this problem in the first place. I am building my own comprehensive care.

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My new treatment plan- laptop, Nook, yoga mat and notes. 

This week is the first week in years I have gone an entire week without one single Aleve or any other pain pill. It is the first week this year I haven’t needed something heavier than that. I have hope. If all my research has done is give me the fallacy of control, then right now that is enough. More than that, it has definitively made it so that I can make more informed decisions when the doctors give me a choice. While I have to understand it is because of my new cutting edge pain expert gynecologist and this physical therapy, I also feel a good part of the solution has been my determination and my library card. I’m in charge now.

Crash Toone

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This was one of my very high pain days! 

About three weeks ago, I had an appointment with a genetic counselor. I didn’t want to go, but I saw it as a stepping stone to getting my hysterectomy. With my fibroids and supposed Endometriosis, I thought this might remove my pain. My doctor said that she wouldn’t take out my ovaries unless I was at great risk of cancer. I can’t tell you how much that ticked me off. I was under the impression my ovaries were causing me pain. So what? I am supposed to go to this appointment to find out that I am at great risk for cancer? Really?

Well, it didn’t turn out that way. I refused to take the blood test. I don’t want to know if I am at great risk of ovarian or breast cancer. I really don’t. I also don’t want my DNA on file with some lab for them to test. The counselor told me I shouldn’t do it if I felt uncomfortable. So I didn’t.

So I went back to the gynecologist, who is also a pain specialist, who told me that there was no reason to get my ovaries taken out because my ovaries are not causing the problem. She is now telling me that I may not have endometriosis, but too tight pelvic muscles, IBS, and too much stress. Since I have heard for years that this pain is part of my reproductive organs, and this doctor’s office agreed a couple weeks before, I had a hard time believing this new information. It took her the better part of an hour and an intense examination to, sort of, prove it to me. Rather, I should say to get me to shut up and go away dismayed and disillusioned.

I walked to meet a friend who was there for me because we both knew this appointment wouldn’t have definitive answers. She and I talked and she amazingly enough comforted me as much as you can a person who is overwhelmed with emotions, and hasn’t really processed something. On the way home after leaving her I fell in a rather dramatic fashion on thirteenth in the middle of two restaurants outdoor seating. I did a slight somersault and knocked over some chairs. It earned me the nickname Crash, which I have to say I am taking a liking to. Husband says it’s shocking someone hasn’t said that before. Not only because I am unbelievably clumsy at times, but because I like to attack problems and even social situations with all the subtlety of a hammer. I think it makes me sound like a superhero Crash Toone.

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Part of the damage from my fight with the pavement

That was about two weeks ago. Since then I have been processing all this information and I have started physical therapy for pelvic pain. I have also had two of the worst weeks of this pain I have ever experienced. I don’t know if that means it is working or not. I have been on my pain pills most of the time but when I wasn’t I was crying from a deep engulfing depression. It’s been overwhelming. It has been isolating so I haven’t just stopped blogging until now but also haven’t talked to a lot of family and friends. I just had to work this out of my system.

See this new diagnosis I am holding as tentative. It requires me to go to three different doctors several times and change my diet, my exercise program, and my schedule. It is also very expensive. I could go through all of it and still be in pain.

My homework from my first physical therapist appointment is that I have to do ten upward dogs every two hours, and for three days write down my food intake and my waste outtake. That’s uncomfortable. I still have to make some other appointments. I know I should have more done but I promise you that I have been going through the worst pain in my life so far, and hopefully forever.

Last night I finally put on my big girl panties and decided to do attack this with more vigor. I am not going to be grudgingly going to my doctor’s appointments. I am going to be CRASH TOONE, attacking the pain. I am going to plan and write down everything I eat, cut out everything I need to, and do all my physical therapy. I am researching everything I can about all of these diagnoses, and going above and beyond. If this doesn’t fix me I might just have to camp out at my Doctors office until I get an answer. Crash Toone is done playing around.

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Crash Toone: Because superheroes should always have a red lip. 

What a Miracle is my Body

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This is me after a seven block walk. I sweat profusely.

So much of my life is built around distracting from my endometriosis pain right now. I watch TV or listen to music while reading. If I engage my mind enough then I can ignore the pain. It is only partially successful.

I realized, as I walked to the library, that distraction is how I’ve always gotten through exercise. I don’t like to sweat. It is uncomfortable, although I am working on that distaste. Exercise has always caused pain in my ankles and I’ve never been good at it. Today, I walked in the heat as fast as I could manage to the beat of my Lady Gaga Pandora channel. I used the beat of Pitbull’s Shake Senora to move faster and faster. By the time I made it to the library I was dripping with sweat and my pants were sticking to me. If there were such a thing as tiny men, they could have slid down my cleavage like a slip and slide.

This is in total contrast to my yoga experience. Every move in yoga has to be thoughtfully carried out. For one, my balance, as it stands, is horrible. Some of the poses require me to be on one foot or one knee. I have trouble with standing on two feet or balancing on both knees. I am learning and practicing over and over, but seriously have to concentrate. I have to feel every part of my body and muscles I didn’t know existed. Normally when exercising, I would try to ignore pain in my muscles or work through it, using the adage “no pain, no gain” or more likely I’d give up. With Yoga, if there is pain—I am doing something wrong. Not only do I have to concentrate on my muscles, hand and foot placement, and balance, but then there is the breathing. Yoga just isn’t the same without the breathing. The deep breathing brings in a sense of calm that I have never experienced with other exercise.

It amazes me the contrast. I love the difference. I believe that is why I love yoga. I love how I can totally immerse myself in the activity. I breathe in and out slowly and deeply. I free my mind of anything that doesn’t have to do with the pose at hand. When it is really good and I have focused enough towards the end of the practice I am more aware of what my body is doing than I have ever been.  By focusing intensely on what I am doing and making sure it feels good.  There is gain with no pain. Don’t get me wrong I feel strain on my muscles but I don’t feel pain.

I have always ignored my body because I have been told no pain no gain.  I wasn’t very good at sports because of my bad ankles, and I was never the type of body I wanted. I got told repeatedly by society, my family, and even “friends” I was the wrong body type. When I repeatedly fail at something, I tend to forget about trying it again. I have hated my body because of what it could not do. It could not be good at aerobics, softball, or volleyball. Even worse, It could not be skinny. Don’t get me wrong, it was thin at one time, just not the thin that was popular in my youth. It was curvy thin. I hated it. I wanted to be the woman who could wear pleated pants and poufy shirts a’ la Different World. I wanted to be Lisa Bonet.

I surely didn’t want to be me, with my curves and very strong muscled legs. I wanted to be like a reed in the wind. Then I became known for my curves and then abused because of them, and then I wanted to be a bulldozer, not a human.  So more and more I retreated into this body, and wore it like a coat, a covering for my soul but not something that affected my soul.  IF I could distance myself from my body then I would not be responsible for it or how it made other people think about me. I thought I’d focus on what I was good at, reading.

Recently, I have distanced myself so far from my body because it seemed mean to me: the pain my body brings me, the interruption to my day, and pushback of my goals. My body has been a bitch for quite a long time. (While some of that has been caused by me ignoring her, most of it hasn’t. Endometriosis can’t be exercised away. It can only be burned away or excised by a doctor). Trust me it wasn’t hard to get mad at my body.

Yoga has helped me to forgive her. Yoga has helped me see that this body people made fun of, that wasn’t good at sports, had weak ankles and poor balance – even she could be loved. At first yoga was another distraction from the pain but as I got into it, and as I started awakening the understanding of my bodies minutiae it started easing the pain. I started to realize that just like any love I had to actively participate in the caring for the object of my affection in order for it to thrive. Those balance issues are still there, but it works my ankles and they are getting stronger. I am so aware of my body, I can tell when I am going to start sweating. I feel the heat from within and I welcome it. For the first time in my life I welcome the sweat. What’s more is that the first time I did it, I was really bad at it, but the more I practiced –miraculously- I got better. For the first time in my life I got better at exercise. Each pose takes time to master, but when success comes I am overwhelmed with gratitude for my body.

It is only recently through yoga and my families help have I been able to figure out a way to celebrate what my body is capable of. I am super stretchy, more than the average bear. My body likes yoga, it craves it. I am a good swimmer. I am a good dancer, with a natural rhythm. My legs are super strong. I ride bicycles with ease. I am double jointed in my fingers, I do a mean downward dog, and I am working my way up to hour long yoga sessions. I am resilient. I fail at these poses but keep trying.  I am able to heal pretty easily if I take care of my body. I am finally able to see what a miracle is my body.

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Oh, and I can give good cuddles. Look at him smile. That’s some good cuddling.