I am a medical miracle--and this book helped

I wrote about 5,000 words today about nerve pain and trauma recovery, but it always gets too complicated! One day I hope to share my story and how I got better--share it clearly and in a way that is practical and useful. Easier said than done.

So let me start with  Essential Help for Your Nerves, 
by Claire Weekes, a hero and pioneer in this field !

This little book is for pain and trauma recovery what saltwater is for a toothache--a good old basic that really really works.

I love things that work without faith.  You simply use it, do it, take it, or apply it--and voila, works or doesn't work. Once you see it works and once you experience the results, then you have faith. This is my criteria for many things, but particularly when it comes to healing.

Of course faith and grace come in, and of course there is the matter of process and patience and time.
But there is a basic resonance that I believe in. And even in times of great mental delusion, my heart still had the ability deep within, to discern, it still had the little light, and the little click--when something was right. Sometimes it bypassed my brain--yes, it often bypassed my brain. sometimes I despaired of ever discerning--how do i know--what part of me is saying yes, what part of me is saying no--
and often i was confused beyond belief and paralyzed with fear, a fear I didn't even know was fear!

Yet--I GOT OUT!

I got out because I set out--and two years from the day I made that video, things have only gotten better. I could not and did not sit for two and a half years. I could not walk a block without a cane.
I traveled with an improvised seat made of a toilet seat taped to wooden blocks--or else I lay in the back of a car. I was in intractable pain 80% of the time, with a sensation of being tortured. I used ice packs all over my body. I was on mass quantities of narcotics. I was paranoid, terrified, isolated and hopeless.
Worse of all, I had come to completely doubt everything that was a source of truth, unity, love, joy and purpose.

Now--I walk wherever I please, and even hike. I sit--always! I drive--something I never thought I would do again! I am on zero drugs--HOORAY! I was given no hope--and I am a medical miracle!
I am a grandma of two adorable baby boys, the lights of  my life, along with my darling daughters and wonderful son-in-laws. I have much to live for and everything to be grateful for,

and hope to share anything that is useful so others might not suffer needlessly.



It turned out--THERE WAS A SOLUTION out of an entirely hopeless situation.

This little book came to me at least a year after I set out--

The book was not my solution and did not outline a program, but it was a gift as I discovered the solution, it was a piece of the solution, and it provided, and still provides some great relief and assurance, and I hope it helps you too! I'm not sure if she mentions nerve pain, but I am positive that if nerves are involved in the pain you have experienced, then you also experience the nerves involved in anxiety. In my case, these nerves seemed to become entangled--anxiety affecting pain and vice versa. I can now report that I am getting better equally in both departments. I sensed there had to be a technical reason and not just a karmic-i-am-permanently-doomed reason, that I felt like I was a shell packed full of unsheathed, cross-signaled nerves--I felt like a skinned cat--I reacted to every tiny input whether pain or sound or human look, as if it were magnified a thousand times. Now I can look back and say, it is SOOOOOOOO much better.

But it absolutely would not have gotten better on its own. I had to do something--I had to take all kinds of actions, and they all worked together, and I did not do it alone. There were various things that helped, often simple things. And this book was one, so I hope it helps you!

Here's what's exciting, and I believe Dr. Claire Weekes, and the other pioneers in traumatic pain syndromes would  agree --one is not doomed to suffer a chronic condition without cure, one does not have to learn to live with it, put on a brave face, make the best of it--but one can shift to an entirely new direction, in an entirely new way--and in time, know, without a doubt that you have recovered your life.

Trauma recovery--we can do this together!

I was about three years old when I sat on the floor one day trying to put two pieces of wood together to build a boat. There were traumas and tragedies going on in my own home, which I felt powerless to do anything about, and yet felt strongly called to build this boat, get everyone in it, and sail out of there. I had no hammer or nails, but remember the sense of trying to put these pieces of wood together, and with the power of my will and concentration alone, get them to form a boat. I felt a hand on my head, and thought it was my father--looked up and no one was there. 

Looking back, I would say that perhaps no human was there with me, but what appeared to me that day was a promise: you are not alone, and with your concentration, your will, and your effort, the day will come when you will be empowered, in a community of like-minded others, not to flee, not to fight, not to rescue, not to find a quick fix--but working together, with the right tools, and good heart, to make a difference.  

Inspiration and guidance has come throughout my life, to organize at the level of  neighborhood, town or community and to rally together to  bring about positive change. When I went to post-Katrina New Orleans to volunteer in an emergency community for the homeless and for at-risk youth, I began to learn something about what works and what doesn't work, particularly in one's own attitude. Willingness, humility and showing up without so much as an agenda, but an intention to meet others heart to heart, are some of the qualities I still strive to cultivate today. 

One learns how to use leadership abilities to inspire and empower others to use their own greatest strengths, and one learns, equally, to be a team player, willing to support the group's goals. Even when we have lofty-sounding and worthy goals such as community rebuilding, educational reform, trauma recovery, addiction intervention and prevention--in the trenches it is often about working with another individual or family, human to human, with the understanding that we all suffer, and alone we die--and we all have the right to live with dignity and freedom, and have a chance to do that if we work together.

I learned this through some hard crashes. After volunteering in the ninth ward, I too lost my home in a hurricane. I was disabled for several years during this time due to a series of injuries and illnesses, compounded by the loss of my two closest friends.  I was right up against the challenges that millions face--job loss, foreclosure, lack of  medical care,  food and shelter issues, and above all a sense of terror. 

My friend Christopher Cameron and I went through a time of mutual illness and injury; he died of brain cancer in 2011

 Loss of independence was the toughest challenge. I had been on my own since age 14, and then  raised two strong, beautiful daughters, but for years after this crises,  I was mostly housebound and reliant on a home health care aide. I was dependent and struggling in a way that gave me an insight into millions of others, including the elderly and disabled, and those feeling isolated from the world, or unable to receive treatment for the oft-overlooked diagnosis of extreme complex trauma.

one of the aides that i had

 I have learned to focus on what is possible,  and this has been one key to my recovery. Recovery is a process, but I have experienced immense progress!  Witnessing this in others who are recovering has helped me know the power of recovering together. I now believe that many thousands or even millions of people could be substantially relieved of mental and physical pain that was once considered chronic or untreatable. I know this from direct experience, and I have gone from hobbling with a cane and unable to sit and drive, to walking miles in a strong stride heading out by car or plane to enjoy visits with my daughters and their husbands and my two brand new grandsons. Blessings!

The other key has been other human beings--when you are really up against it, and often feel entirely abandoned, that hand comes again, not to rest invisibly atop your head, but the strong, caring and able hands of others who have been where you now are, and want to help pull you up. In my case, I had to stand on my own two feet, and  walk with my Higher Power a bit before I discovered there were compassionate people willing to walk with me. 

As soon as this walk began , I learned I could use my experiences of suffering and transformation, of loss and redemption to inspire others to walk with me.  I'm a writer, and have been developing some trauma recovery strategies and tool kits. I taught my first workshop to an agency in my hometown who works with people in crises. They once helped me out greatly. It feels good to give back, and to keep moving. It feels good to be still, with another being, and to know that the promise I was offered as a child is surely coming true. Together, we can, we will and we are!

Obamba called for people to share their inspiration for  organizing and becoming involved in grassroots programs that create positive change--this is mine! What's yours?

Waking from nightmare

When I was a child,  something felt very wrong. I could not bare to witness the suffering of others or endure my own. I  tried to figure out this human world and my purpose. I was alone and terrified, helpless against dark forces, and yet I sensed a power inside me. I had a tremendous will.

No matter how far I might rise, I always crashed down. 

Beautiful things appeared, but I could not feel them. 

I  awakened within my dreams.  Oh, I'm dreaming. I can do anything.  So I'd fly. Across sparkling seas and purple mountains. I once woke up in Harlem, but I was embarrassed to just start flying in front of the normal people walking around. I found an alley to take off from. The last time I woke within a dream I thought: why do I have to fly just because I'm having a lucid dream?  I couldn't think of anything else to do, so I woke up.

I used to be a big sleepwalker and sleeptalker, and have awakened from nightmares screaming out embarrassing stuff.

Once I did that when all my relatives happened to be sleeping in my sister's one-room apartment.
It was a rare family get-together and we'd spent the day walking around New York. One of the family members, who was not among the sleepers, had shown up in my nightmare.

"You &%$!!!, I will KILL you!!" I screamed. My heart was slamming and I was punching the air, and the words echoed in the room of six sleeping relatives. But were they sleeping?

My sister's ancient blow-up mattress was totally deflated and so was I.

So I said, in this sweet tiny voice--sorry guys.

 An explosion of laughter. They'd all heard.

For what was left of the night, people took turns piping up:
 "I will KILL YOU!" And then: sorry guys.

I have also awakened to the sound of the dryer going and some guy in my room blasting a radio and guys in jackboots on my roof, these things woke me up, and I was awake, hearing it for a few beats, and it would go on for one or two more highly unnecessary beats and then I would realize none of it was real.
What is that?

Two years ago, when I was in the pit of  pain and insanity, I had the sense, each morning, of waking to a reoccuring nightmare.  My guards and torturers were invisible; they lived in my brain and body, although I sensed them in every corner of the world.

Everything about this nightmare screamed out to me to figure it out. How could I could rise to the challenge, without knowing what was being asked of me? At first, all my energy was concerned with getting out. Fixing it,  or escaping it, and neither worked. Later, I believed I was being asked to accept the suffering, and use the time of torture to help others.

At first, the nightmare was more real than the world. 

It was like that children's fairytale where the devil drops a mirror and a tiny piece of glass lodges in a little boy's eye, and he can only see the ugliness and pain in the world. 

He becomes cold, and frozen and stiff with pain. His little friend never left him, she followed him everywhere, determined to stay with him. He could sense her, but did not want her around, did not love her, and could not yet know the truth about her goodness. 

He knew only suffering as the truth, and he clung to it, because we cling to what we believe is true. And it was the love of  this friend,  that finally reached him. Her warmth, like the sun, bypassed everything, and he turned to this warmth and was thawed. And then he knew it was real. That the time of coldness and suffering had been a small perspective, and as eternal as it seemed, it was temporary. When he turned to the warmth of her love, and chose that, he woke from the nightmare.

When I succeed in turning to that which I never knew or trusted before-- sometimes quickly, sometimes slowly,  a door opens which never opened before. I do not know how this works. But a way out appears--in some form. And when I feel my feet on the path of freedom, once again, I know a true aliveness that surpasses any dream of flight.