All the Rage

On my journey with  TMS, one of the most challenging aspects has been watching others suffering and knowing that if they only understood the science of TMS,  it could help them too. Watching people you love suffer and knowing that just a few incredibly simple, scientific facts, could remove their symptoms is torturous. I hope the contents of this blog do a little to change that, open minds and change opinions.

credit: cure-back-pain.org

credit: cure-back-pain.org

I fear that this sounds arrogant and dogmatic; but I’m not talking about belief, or religion, or even possibilities. I am talking about rock solid scientific facts, that people simply do not know exist. To me it seems akin to when people once thought the world was flat. Now, no one disputes that this planet is, in fact round. TMS is the same. Learning about it will change your life.

credit: beautifulurself

credit: beautifulurself

At the moment instead of accepting TMS as fact; people say ‘ah well that alternative-approach helped you, it wont help me’ etc. and whilst I fully appreciate that everyone is of course different, TMS treatment is not ‘an approach’. It is scientific fact. No one would call the penicillin break through an approach. It was a scientific breakthrough seen as a fact which saved lives. The TMS diagnosis is, to my mind, the same. Until the majority of humanity starts to see it as such, we are going to continue wasting time, money and energy on mis-guided attempts to manage pain. And the world will ultimately remain full of people in agony. The Science of TMS will put an end to the epidemic of chronic illness, if we let it.

With that in mind I have been incredibly excited to see a new documentary being made to bring worldwide attention to TMS; ‘All the Rage’ Ten years in the making, All the Rage began as a profile of  Dr. John E. Sarno, the Doctor who is credited with discovering TMS and it has expanded into an exploration of the connection between our emotions and our health. This film has the potential to shift the discussion about healthcare in a profoundly positive way. If you like this blog, would like to learn some simple science and potentially change your life, check out the All the Rage Kickstarter Campaign and help spread the knowledge!

by: Nattycakes

by: Nattycakes

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Back to the sea

Today I went back to Body Psychotherapy, and fell once more into the sea . It was tough, and now, I’ve hardly written a word of my book – my ‘real’ work. My brain is numb and exhausted, my head sick and stuffed full of concrete. I feel like crying or throwing up, maybe both. Maybe nothing. Writing to unlock, to discover, to be who I am. To focus and breath. To show up on the page and exist in this moment. Here.

therapy

 

Today I acknowledged all that I have done and the way I have come. I saw it, and yet at the same time spotted that the summit is still up ahead. I saw it through the mist and fog and thought perhaps I’d reached it, but I know it’s not quite there yet. I see now there’s another rock face to climb, one more stone slab to scale, but the top’s in sight. I’m not sure how to articulate it but at least I see it now. The climb infront of me awes and terrifies me.

When I was growing up I used to surf. Well, I used to try! I wasn’t very determined, I didn’t much enjoy the cold or getting beaten over the head with my board, falling onto rocks in shallows, spun and held down by churning water. I didn’t enjoy the too-cool-for-school older kids who acted like they’d been born on a surf board; bleached-branded-teenagers who treated the waves as if they were their private property, which I was not worthy enough to enter.

enough

Despite that, what I do remember, of those rare minutes, when I caught a wave, stood, felt the ocean beneath me and looked ahead of me, is the feeling of being totally in the moment, of achievement, of pride, of simply being part of the world, in the sea and happy to be alive! A feeling of sheer joy – followed up usually with a slap of freezing-english-sea reality, as I crashed undignified off the wave, face-first demonstrating my superb sand-eating skills! That moment, that feeling of being consumed by the moment, and absorbing all of the world, is, I think, what I’m still seeking. I’m still holding something that’s stopping me getting it. Something I’ve put up walls around and buried so deep I don’t even know what it is. Something hidden deep amongst my chronic pain, epilepsy and PTSD, something that I have yet to name. Yet to eyeball. Something that still burns with fury.

I didn’t continue surfing; blaming time, location but mostly lacking in courage. But I never lost my love of the sea, and still today the beach is where I go to calm my mind when all about me seems to flame and burn. After all these romantic thoughts about ‘chasing-the-moment-maaan’ I thought perhaps I’d like to get back into surfing – well as ‘in’ it as I ever was! So this afternoon I geekily tried out a little surf-warm-up at home……… and now words fail me… what I discovered was; my arms are currently so weak I can hardly push myself up, my legs shake when I jump up (pop). And my body’s breathless and sick after just three attempts! Am I really that unfit?! Potentially. Or is this TMS whispering ‘unfit-loser,unfit-loser,unfit-loser,unfit-loser,’ into my ears? Either way, I know this much, being fit is something I crave. Getting back out in the waves, is my new target. Something realistic, achievable, that I’ve done before and can do again.

paddle quote by Nat Young

…………………………………..

Thoughts on ‘Disability’

You say; You have to take these drugs or else

I say; Or else what? I’ll hurt myself? Others too? Surely it’s my body, my choice? No?

You say; I thought you were ‘better’?

I say; Better than what?

But you don’t look sick.

and you don’t look stupid.

But you’re disabled

No I’m human.

But you’re not normal.

but neither are you.

But you can’t drive a car

I could, of course I could.

Oh yes, my sister’s-lovers-boyfriend’s-dog’s-budgie had that

…a four letter word to you!

You say; Well get better soon.

I say; There is nothing to ‘get better’. I am human, You think I’m broken and fucked up but I am great, I am perfect. I am just like you. I am how I am meant to be. I am wife, sister, daughter, friend. I am writer, cooker, painter and decorator, I have scars inside me that you can’t see. I bet you have some too. Rule-makers have labelled my scars and put them on a list. I’m not sure why, perhaps they’re scared. People are scared of what they can’t see. But you don’t need to worry my scars don’t need labels, they are just there and they help make me, me.

ability

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The darkness of Chronic Pain: You are not alone

Sometimes the world is dark. Sometimes, I hurt and silver linings are hard to see. Sometimes I just want to write it out. Get it out. Tell the truth and share the pain. If only to shout into the ether, to other’s; ‘You are not alone! We all have pain! You are not alone!”

credit: desmotivaciones.es

credit: desmotivaciones.es

It weighs me down this cold grey ache,

Slips on the edge of agony,

And creeps down the streets,

flowing like stage-fog around swirling crowds.

Silently it pours down the beach,

My safe-haven, my go to place,

Its fingers call me and I try to run,

But the pebbles crumble and stop me,

Untroubled, the grey flows on.

It’s round my ankles now,

But I smile and nod,

Say I’m fine,

So the grey swirls higher…

Shut my eyes. Shut down.

Not here. Not now.

It stalks through the day

so much to do, so much to do

Lonely, unwanted and frightened

Selfish and ashamed

It smiles and creeps nearer.

In desperation I reach out,

put pen to paper.

My back aches, joints burn.

Nearly two years on,

My left side is still different to my right,

Tears have scared paths down my cheeks,

Pins and needles; my familiar companions

A hundred or more hours of learning, and still;

My back aches.

My back aches.

My back aches.

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This too shall pass

It happened again.

It happened again. I bent over to pick my pyjamas of the bed.

and bang pain stabbed me in the back, through my psoas and into my heart,

spun down my leg and flipped up into my chest.

smile

 

Fear jumped up and dug in its talons in,

not again, not again, not again……..

It seems that this is ‘the thing’ with TMS,

with a ‘Chronic’ condition.

Even when you think it’s gone, even when it’s not-really-there, even when perhaps, you’ve somehow forgotten it.

It’s there, just biding it’s time, waiting, lulling you into that false-sense of security, so you start to believe ‘hey! maybe I have this!’

Maybe it’s ‘GONE!’ Maybe, oh maybe, I’ll skip that exercise, I’ll eat that and I won’t do that – that thing, Maybe I’ll stop the therapy, yeah good plan. I’ll stop.

So you stop (I stopped) and then just at that moment when you think ‘YO BITCH I’m BACK!’ (or some other tv-series-cliche) then the pain jumps up, well rested, ready to get you and BREAK-your-BAD all over again.

my life

That is how it was last night and today I am shattered. I dreamt of ripped limbs and stabbed-out eyes, of evil deeds and hate-filled words. I dreamt my body was not mine and of endless rounds of seizures. I dreamt of drug boxes so big I climbed inside and couldn’t get out. I dreamt that it was over and I almost hoped it was.

Today the screen blurs through my sea of medication, my face aches with the sobs that streamed down it. Naked, I cowered at the bedside, trying to dress myself, frozen to the spot. I cried enough to water the sahara and then some more too. Now my head pounds. Seven words penetrate the fug of pain and frustration which settles around me. ‘You are not alone. I love you.’ and slowly, I look up. There  is truth there. I know it and I am grateful.

Lao Tzu

The difference between now and ‘then’ is that now I know that I actually CAN do this. I have done it before. Now I know the reason my pain errupts. Now I understand. I’m learning to predict it, to read my crafty mind, to learns its tricks and find it’s hiding places on the banks-where-the-wild-thyme-grows, to seek it out, face those demons that make me cry and chase them out. Let them go. Stop giving them shelter, feeding them until they’re strong enough to stab me. I’m learning, I know more than I did.

Now, though perhaps more thatn anything I’ve read and seen and heard, I’ve learnt that it really is true. All things do pass. Even pain. Especially pain. Passing does not mean going, but rather moving on, changing and developing. In that somewhere, in this jumble of words spewed onto my blog  today is where I see a bit of light. #chooselove

this too

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