Archive for the ‘health’ Category

The Thigh Bone’s Connected to the Knee Bone: Part 3

Check out part 1 and part 2 of this story to read how I began the process of taking responsibility for my story about my health.

I cried, I journaled, I prayed about how crappy I felt about my relationship to my health. Which is where we left off yesterday and where I was feeling some measure of clarity about a next step. Ready for it? Cool. Here is the thought that immediately popped into my mind:

Get online and intuitively google.

Huh? Wait. Screwing around online has become my default avoidance technique. I think I may have actually rolled my eyes. Surely, this was me just trying to get out of taking further responsibility, right?

Now, I don’t really understand how intuition works. I just know that it does. And that I rarely regret following a gut instinct. So I took a deep breath and hopped online, deciding simply to stay awake (in the spiritual sense) and see what I discovered.

There are a few important background notes worth mentioning here:

1. I’m a skeptic. It’s a family trait. And it’s extremely valuable. It’s what keeps me from being cultish about religion, new age fads and myriad ideological camps. It’s also what makes me a late adopter to everything from useful technologies to useful ideas.

2. I’ve increasingly become attuned to the fact that we see as though “through a glass, darkly.” In other words, the longer I live and the longer I study and the longer I walk alongside my clients in their own processes of discovery, the more convinced I’ve become that very little (if any) of life is black and white and that we have no choice but to move forward in partial blindness.

3. I’ve tried a lot of different things. In the realm of health, I’ve seen chiropractors, neurologists, voice pathologists, surgeons, physical therapists and an acupuncturist. That’s probably a short list.

Back to the internet.

So I’m googling away, feeling my way from site to site, following my intuition. And I come across a page that mentions something called Tension Myositis Syndrome, coined by a Dr. John Sarno of NYU’s Rusk Institute. TMS is a psychosomatic disorder, and the theory behind it states that the brain seeks to distract the individual from painful, unconscious emotions so it uses the nervous system to restrict blood flow to specific body parts and this mild oxygen deprivation causes pain. The focus and attention to the pain keeps you from experiencing said painful emotions. Apparently, these painful emotions can be pretty run of the mill stuff but for whatever reason the individual finds them unacceptable and therefore represses them. The brain wants to make sure it stays this way.

While TMS is most often diagnosed in back pain – of which I have none – it has also been connected to almost every chronic, idiopathic problem I have ever had.  I ordered the book, The Divided Mind, by Dr. Sarno and while dragging my skepticism through the muck of it, became even more convinced that this syndrome is worth exploring. Part of what has convinced me is actually physical: my arm pain has decreased by about 30% since first reading about TMS and I notice the pain spikes whenever I’m angry or irritated. And then all I think about is the physical discomfort.

But reading the book also leaves me feeling depressed. I am aware that I’d much rather deal with physical problems than psychological ones. That awareness depresses me even more. I like to think of myself as emotionally attuned and open to dealing with whatever issues I have.To help me sort through all of this, I made an appointment to go see a doctor who specializes in TMS to see which of my chronic conditions might stem from psychological factors and which of them might, say, result from a need for new orthotics.

Quite frankly, the long and short of this has very little to do with whatever is causing my physical problems. It has to do with my relationship to them. It has to do with my story about my health and my willingness to take responsibility for it. It reminds me of when I first began an effort to change my financial picture. While a desired outcome may have been more money coming in through my business, it really boiled down to whether or not I could develop a healthy relationship with my finances, whatever they looked like. For richer or poorer, right?

The same is true with our bodies, with our health and wellness. And whether I have TMS or Parkinson’s or have just hit an odd rough patch, I am responsible for how I respond, for what I bring to the table, for how I act in relationship. Will I obsess over what’s not working? Will I go through long periods of not doing anything to address my problems? Will I remember that the thigh bone’s connected to the knee bone, that there is a interrelatedness in all things? And if the cause of my symptoms is psychological, will I be brave enough to follow through?

I don’t know if I’m anywhere near resolution to my chronic health concerns. I don’t know if the path will be easy or hard. What I do know is that I am no longer out of integrity. I can get up in front of a room of people, share with them about how to craft their own powerful stories about health and wellness and know that I’m along for the ride, too. That I have begun changing my own story.

The Thigh Bone’s Connected to the Knee Bone: Part 2

Check out my experience with chronic health concerns in  part 1 of this story…

As I wrote yesterday, it seemed unconscionable that I would give a presentation on having a solid relationship with health and wellness while experiencing deep dissatisfaction in my own relationship. I felt out of integrity and if giving a brief presentation on the topic was making me feel this uneasy, I’d better pay attention.

So I did. I allowed this opportunity to be the driving force of a wake-up call and decided I wanted to show up for this October 28th event having taken some creative steps in the re-writing process. I wanted a new story about health.

First, I took a cue from all wise, romantic plotlines, where the protagonist experiences heartbreak: I sat down and had a good cry. Where did we go wrong? How did it get to this? If you leave your sneakers where I’m inevitably going to trip over them, I’m inevitably going to throw them away, mister! Oh, wait, that’s a different story…

Then I took a page from my standard coaching playbook. I wrote. I answered my own questions, such as:

  • What are my symptoms telling me?
  • What is the deeper longing here?
  • What’s the benefit of not feeling healthy?
  • What would it look like to be in relationship with my body?

The most insightful piece of information this process provided was, unsurprisingly, around responsibility. I realized that I’ve kept looking externally for answers. I’ve been operating under the assumption that if only I found the right doctor who would be the perfect synthesis of Eastern and Western medicine, the epitome of heart-centered care and connected to top-notch specialists, I would quickly find my way. In this one part of my life, I longed to be puppet, I kept looking for someone else would tell me what to do at every turn. I realized I needed to begin viewing myself as the primary care physician. I needed to be the person I kept hoping someone else would be for me.

So it all comes back to me? Sigh. But then I realized I have experience in this area! After all, while this problem might feel overwhelming, I have tremendous experience solving troubling problems. We all do. I also know that my head can only make so much headway, so to speak. When solving troubling problems, it is better to access the heart. And in my perspective, the heart is that special point of connection to the Divine, to Source, to God, to the Light. It’s where I get intuitive hits. It’s where I feel less afraid.

To access the heart, I followed the lead of the Sufis. Sufism has this super cool practice of prayer called Remembrance, wherein you are essentially remembering God, that you come from Source, from Love and that everything is a part of Love. Even my crappy relationship with health is enveloped in love. Sweet, huh? (Note that I’m not actually a Sufi, so if I’m misrepresenting Sufis here, consider it plain ignorance. Mostly, I’m just a little in love with this spiritual practice.) My experience with Remembrance – and occasionally some other forms of prayer and meditation – is that it leads me to paths I wouldn’t have otherwise noticed. I come away with a measure of clarity about the next step to take.

Which is exactly what happened.

Tune in tomorrow for part 3 to this story…

The Thigh Bone’s Connected to the Knee Bone: Part 1

Physical pain – the kind that isn’t caused by a known injury – has been with me much of my life. I first remember it surfacing in mid childhood in my feet and knees. Myriad doctor’s appointments and years later, it was deemed connected to structural abnormalities of my feet and legs, easily corrected with foot orthotics. And so it was, to a large degree.

A couple years after that, however, I developed chronic headaches. And then pain and numbness in my right arm and hand. Bursitis in my hip. In general, I took all of this is stride. I made doctor’s appointments as needed, adjusted my activity as warranted and assumed I’d always get better. And then my voice stopped working. At least, it stopped working fully. Maybe not enough for others to notice, but for someone singing 1st soprano with the Philadelphia Chamber Chorus, my lack of vocal range and control hit me like a brick. I was diagnosed with idiopathic (i.e., no known reason) partial paralysis of my right vocal fold, a condition for which there is no sure-fire fix. Singing was generally off the table and speaking can be effortful. This was in 2005 and I was devastated.

Unfortunately, my experience of my body has not significantly improved since then and I’ve waded in and out of the waters of proactive treatment and the desert of resignation. But with a life that is concurrently filled with goodness, my lack of ease in my body has been a story I’ve generally kept to myself and that I’ve glossed over with good Irish humor.

And then the unthinkable happened: I was asked to give a talk on health later this month.In fact, I’m kicking off an organization’s year-long programming around health with the topic, “Your Story About Health.”

Now, I’m no adherent to the belief that helping others is predicated on me being perfect but every time I went to make even the most nascent preparations for this talk I could feel my stomach sinking. Why would I stand up in front of a room of people encouraging them to take responsibility for their stories about health when my relationship to my own health feels so tenuous? As someone who relies on personal stories to support others in their own paths of transformation, what story could I offer to those attending that would be both true and inspiring?

It’s not that I didn’t believe I could help them with their own stories about health; it’s that I couldn’t understand why I wasn’t helping myself.

Check back tomorrow for part 2 to this story…

Admit you have a problem (but don't obsess!)

I was struck this morning by an article in the Philadelphia Inquirer about tinnitus – a “phantom” ringing in the ears that results from no external prompt and that can nearly drive people over the brink. The brain is confused and by what, scientists have yet to discover.

One predominant treatment is called masking therapy, whereby you block out the ringing with another noise (white noise, television) until the brain learns to ignore the ringing.

“The goal is to retrain the brain to ignore the disruptive noise, the same way it stops noticing highway traffic or the neighbor’s barking dog.”

However, some people make no headway with this treatment. Lack of improvement can result from obsession over the ringing or when sufferers  get stonewalled by the limbic system which, among other things, controls our  emotional response. To quote the article’s expert:

“If you hate dogs or hate your neighbor, that barking sound is not going to fade into the background.”

Isn’t that amazing?!? In these cases where tinnitus is idiopathic and no physical medical treatment is available, we can impede recovery by:

  1. Obsessing on the problem
  2. Overlaying “negative” emotions

I’m all for calling a spade a spade. If life sucks, name it. Admitting you have a problem is the first step in most kinds of recovery – be it addiction, hearing loss, unemployment or spiritual emptiness. Apparently, though, there’s a lot to be said for letting go and making peace with the thorns in our sides. Only then might we be able to remove them.

What about you? How have you noticed that an obsession with what’s wrong actually impedes your forward progress?*  Can you identify the direct and tangential emotions involved?

Please post your thoughts below!

I’d like to clarify an important distinction here. Most of us actually obsess over symptoms or get wrapped up in complaint. I would guess that 75% of my clients come to coaching unable to truly identify the problem they are facing – the fundamental root of their struggle or the real reason for any goal that they have set. The problem must be clearly named first in order to ensure successful forward movement. Doing this (sometimes time-heavy) work of identifying the problem is different than obsessing!


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“Jennifer helped me achieve my personal and creative goals. Throughout our coaching relationship, her professionalism, enthusiasm, warmth, and sense of humor were of great value to me. She asked all the right questions and gave me a great deal of support and encouragement. I would not hesitate to recommend her to anyone in need of a coach.”Suzanne Bromberg, N.J.