I think a lot about the difference between healing and curing. Although many of us don't think about it this way, healing is something we do ourselves. A healer may help in infinite ways, but the body/mind/spirit of each individual much ultimately do the real healing work. Healing is a process and it can go on for any length of time. A cure on the other hand is an end. A goal. An accomplishment. And something that we generally MUST look outside of ourselves to get. Someone does something to us and that cures our disease. It's a misnomer, really, if you think about it. If a person is truly to get well, a cure can never be more than a tool for healing. But we believe and so we seek.
It was only when I gave up on the idea of a cure that my real healing was able to begin. For nearly 20 years I quested after a cure. I sought out new doctors, healers and healing modalities. And yet the pain persisted. Each failure was devastating. Something would help for a month or two, maybe three. Then I'd have a flare up and give up on the intervention. That happened with surgery, then PT, then (in no particular order) swimming, acupuncture, chiropractic, massage, Yoga, elimination diets, every supplement on the planet, medications, new tests and new diagnoses, integrative medicine with more tests (this time not covered by insurance) and more supplements (thousands of dollars). I am not saying that none of these helped. I would feel a little better sometimes, for a while. They just didn't cure me.
I think of the process as what I have come to call "recurring traumatic stress syndrome" (look for it in the DSM 7, 8 or 9). The event was not PAST, as is the case with PTSD. I couldn't DEAL with it or "get past it." It kept happening. I'd gather up all my faith and energy and make another appointment. I'd have enormous hope that this was going to be it. The theory of the treatment made sense. I really liked the person. I spent lots of time and money (very little of this was covered by insurance, but that's the topic for another blog) and I held out hope. It might initially help and the hope would go through the roof! Then the improvement would stop or reverse and I'd crash back down to earth so hard that my world shook. Think of the coyote in The Road Runner. That was me. The fear was immense that I would never have a normal life. That I would lose everything.
I resisted diagnoses. Fibromyalgia was the most common one - that has to be the most depressing diagnosis on earth. Chronic widespread pain with no known cause. Fatigue to the point of immobility. GI problems. Brain fog. What amazes me is that I kept pushing through it all. I maintained the career, marriage, motherhood, an active social life. I refused to let it beat me. So it ate away at me slowly. But all that time, it was only trying to communicate with me, with my rather closed-minded brain.
It was asking me for acceptance.
Acceptance was no mean feat. It began only after the implosion of my life, 3 surgeries, a divorce, and the loss of my home and my career - all in a period of 3 years. Disability. Another awful word! There have been thousands of time when I have really needed a handicapped placard for my car - but I could never get myself to submit the paperwork. The form, signed by my doctor, sat in a folder on my desk for years. But disability was also a lifesaver when all the other options ran out. By 2011, I could no longer work. With child support, Disability provided just enough income to maintain a liveable budget for me and the kids. It was a gift from all those years of rising earnings when I just kept on keeping on in spite of the pain, fog, overwhelming fatigue.
Acceptance was the beginning of healing. Dana, meet your body. Hello body. What? You're speaking to me? Wait, is that what this pain is - it's you trying to tell me something? Well shut up - no that didn't work now, did it? OK damn it, I will listen. "Stop," it wispered. "Slow down. Give me a break. Take care of me. Put me first. Choose me," it said. And very very slowly (and more than a little reluctantly) I have learned to listen.
For more information please email me at danabarron.healthcoach@gmail.com
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