Thoughts on Fibromyalgia

There is definitely a growing number of people, mostly women, with Fibro (or, perhaps, they were always there, but misdignosed or not diagnosed at all). My thought is that it is a growing issue because of the way the modern world is and how we as humans handle the modern world. Everyone channels their stress differently, albeit not by choice... some get migranes, others get ulcers or, like me, get muscle spasms in their back when under great amounts of pressure. Is it fair to say that Fibro is just a reflexion of how one carries their stress? Cortisol has a free pass to every cell in the body. Is it reasonable to suggest that Fibro is actually cortisol 'metastasized' through the neuro fascial web?

This is just my thought based on the short amount of time I have been studying connective tissue, but it seems it would help to ease the battle between the mental and medical health professionals. Is it a mental health issue? Sure... thoughts are powerful and as we know the mind-body connection very real. Is it a medical condition? Of course...the pain is very real, and why wouldn't it with stress hormones surrounding every joint, muscle and organ in your body. The very system designed to support, protect and stabilize the body has been 'poisoned' with cortisol run rampant.

As hands-on and hands-off bodyworkers, this is a tricky animal. I asked anatomist and structural integrator Tom Myers (http://www.anatomytrains.com/) his thoughts on the subject and his response is that when approached with Fibro, many times he will step away from the table and tell the client to get their nutrition and mental/emotional state dealt with first before manipulating their tissue. Tom's work is quite invasive as a structural integration practicioner, so such aggressive manipulation is not wise for someone with stress in every inch of the very connective tissue that would be manipulated. The adaptive manual therapy techniques used in MELT do not go as deep as Tom's hands do, and Sue Hitzmann, MELT creator, continually emphasizes the need to quiet the nervous system and focus on the neuro core to bring balance and communication back in the body. Making stress 'angry' and further imbalancing the body's auto pilot system is a road to disaster. Without caution, any body treatment could make someone with Fibro (or an auto-immune disease) much sicker.

I am sure this is all written about in an article somewhere that I never read and thus my thoughts are not so original, but I am so tired of hearing the phrase 'dcotors are not certain what causes this condition' and 'there is no known cure'. I believe with all my heart that the body can heal from just about anything (but not everything, I add...the body can reach the point of no return). I believe someone can get the cortisol out of their tissues and be 'in remission' from Fibro... it is a major job involving life changes and decisions and continual maintenance, but definitely do-able.

Moral of the story: Get out of pain. Get MELT'ed!

Ghost of Father's Passed

I had a dream about my father last night. I don't have them often, but when I do, he is as clear as day. I can see him, smell him and feel him, as if he is really alive. My dad died ten years ago and at this point talking about it is just biographical information about me. I can speak very matter of factly about how he died and not be emotional. Every now and then though, and thankfully when I am alone, I get what I call 'hit by the 2x4". Those of you who are members of "The Club" will understand what I mean by that... that deep place with in your soul that gets ignited with an unexplainable feeling of loss. It can seem at times unbearable.

It is interesting to notice the differing reactions between those in The Club and those not when sharing stories of lost parents. The Club members listen, nod their heads, maybe have a painful moment with you and may even share a similar story. Non-club members tend to vary between looking super uncomfortable, attempting to change the subject, and being overly vocal and sweet. It is a tough one. Trying to explain such loss to someone who is not a Club member is like trying to teach a five year old algebra.

I didn't remember my dream from last night until this afternoon when I was on the train listening to my Ipod. A song came on that reminds me of my dad. He had actually given me the CD of the artist. "WHAM!!" went the 2x4. I managed not to cry, which I guess is good thing when traveling on public transportation. I did, however, have that familiar pattern of looking back to ten years ago and who I was at that time... a silly, immature 28 year old who just couldn't get her life together. My father loved me in spite of this of course, but I can't help but wish he could see me now. There I was, sitting on Metro North, commuting back to Connecticut from New York City in a sharp looking grey pin stripe suit...an independent, successful woman who is living a life that he would have loved to be a part of.

There have been non-Club members who say in moments such as these, "Oh, but he is up there watching down on you," and then have the audacity to smile at me. I'm sorry, but that does not work for me. My father is dead. I could not call him at that moment because I was thinking of him. There are no conversations, no embraces. I do not see him in my waking hours. The woman I am today... the kind of woman he raised me to be... he will never know.

I am not bitter about this. Quite the opposite. I believe part of the reason I am who I am is because he died. Being one of daddy's girls was a good reason to be the lost child I was. He was very loving and a bit too permissive of my irresponsible nature. With out him, I had no excuse but to get it together. It took a couple of years where I basically stayed drunk and crawled through my days with a hangover, but eventually I hit my bottom. Only then, after I put down the cocktail and cigarettes, could I grieve him soberly & properly... and find my way.

So, when I have these dreams, I cling to them and hold them precious, as they are the closest I will ever get to him again while I am on this earth. I like to think of it as a haunting, where he really IS here, and can see me... the real, happy, healthy me.

In the meantime, I can turn my Ipod to the song that makes me think of him. I do not consider it a coincidence that this CD with this song was given to me by him. It was meant for moments such as these.

"We're All Alone"

Rita Coolidge

Outside the rain begins and it may never end

So cry no more on the shore

A dream will take us out to sea

Forever more forever more

Close your eyes and dream

And and you can be with me

'Neath the waves through the caves of hours

Long forgotten now

We're all alone

We're all alone

Close the window

Calm the light

And it will be alright

No need to bother now

Let it out

Let it all begin

Learn how to pretend

Once a story's told

It can't help but grow old

Roses do

Lovers too

So cast your seasons to the wind

And hold me dear

Oh, hold me dear

Close the window

Calm the light

And it will be alright

No need to bother now

Let it out

Let it all begin

All's forgotten now

We're all alone, oh-oh, we're all alone

Close the window

Calm the light

And it will be alright

No need to bother now

Let it out

Let it all begin

Owe it to the wind, my love

The Power of Positive

Recently I read a wonderful book called The Monk Who Sold His Ferrari, about a former hot shot lawyer named Julian Mantel who, after suffering a massive heart attack while in court, leaves his successful yet miserable life to find, well, the meaning of life. Years later, Julian returns from his stay with the Sages of Sivana in India unrecognizably healthy, youthful and peaceful, with a mission to share his journey with anyone who will receive it.

The book is full of all sorts of interesting and useful bits to help guide the 'lost soul' to a life of meaning. What I personally enjoyed was the continual importance of purging the heart, mind and soul of the negative.

The mind/body connection is a very real and powerful thing. Through my continual studies of anatomy and structural integration, I am able to make sense of the physical ramifications that a negative mind can have on the body. Consider stress: We all know what it is... quite intimately, in fact. We read stories or hear special health reports on the news about how stress causes heart attacks, strokes and stomach ulcers. We also hear that it is our busy lives and intense jobs that create all of this stress. Yet, we certainly cannot all afford to drop everything, leave our families and jobs to make a personal journey to India to find the meaning of life. So, what are we to do?

In short, and in my opinion, it all begins with choice. We all possess the power to choose a good day or a bad day. Although bad & stressful things will happen on any given day, is it not fair to say that our perception on those things is what changes the degree of their damage?

My former boyfriend is a good example. He used to begin his day by saying out loud "This day is going to suck." Wow... Seriously?

Being the recipient of this proclamation, I would attempt to encourage him to turn it around, telling him, "well, sure, if you say that, you are guaranteed to have a bad day. But how bad can it be, really?" He would look at me like I was a dumb little child unable to understand the ways of the world and say again, "This day is going to suck."

So, off he would go into his miserable day and I was left with a bit of it on my conscience. Now I had a seed of negative energy in my head! I would then go to work in a less-than-jovial mood because I had allowed someone else's negativity to penetrate my brain.

I eventually purged the miserable boyfriend and all of his negativity from my life. Within a week, I was lighter, happier and healthier, as if I had a giant malignant tumor removed from my being. I could see that life was indeed beautiful and that no day was ever going to suck because I was given the gift of life. I was able to choose to live it without negativity because I had the power to do so.

I am not suggesting that merely repeating positive affirmations will make your life change. However, a positive thought, said out loud or in silence, is filled with power once you make the decision to have it be so.

Take a good inventory of your thoughts. Make a list of them and note how many are negative. Take fifteen minutes in the morning to sit in silence and notice what flows through your brain. Write your gripes in a journal and then finish the entry with your decision to turn them around. Notice the changes you feel physically as you begin to change your attitude. You may find that you sleep through the night, your heart doesn't race and your stomach stops hurting.

It shouldn't take so much effort... too much effort is too stressful, yielding frustration and ultimately more negativity on your inability to process a positive thought. Instead, it is surrender to circumstance and being bold enough to choose to live with joy.

Worry will not add a single hour to your life. Negative and anxious thoughts are thieves that will rob you of the gift of life that you were so generously given.

You are allowed... no, meant to... live a life of joy. Change your mind from negative to positive and live your life with the best case scenario in tact, because you have decided that is the only reasonable option.

Back in the Water Again

I went for my first swim in...ages...this morning. Enthusiastically, I put my suit on and dashed out to the YMCA. This workout wouldn't be pretty, however. I had done this before... gotten myself in great swimming shape, fell off the fitness wagon and stopped getting in the pool because I just didn't want to get wet. Getting back to it is really tough... and down right brutal for those of us who can call ourselves "a swimmer."

Growing up, I was one of those little sisters who had to do whatever her big sister was doing, and one of those things was swimming. Sensing my desire to follow in my sisters footsteps, my mom arranged for lessons and eventually I was on the swim team... my scrawny little body struggling to keep up with everyone else. However, over time, I grew to hate swimming with a passion. Yet my mom made me stay with it, telling me how important it was to support my summer swim team, and I was to do it until I had completed the last age group (of 18 years old).


While most kids looked forward to school-free summers, I looked to those three months with total dread: early morning practices in an unheated outdoor salt-water pool as early as May 30th, followed by two hours of diving practice (which I hated even more than swimming), and finishing the afternoon with tennis (which I liked... why couldn't I just do that??).


Weekends meant swimming and diving meets that made my stomach upset. I couldn't stand the competitive air. I rarely 'won' anything, taking home the yellow ribbon while my sister had a room full of blue's. At the annual swim dinner, my sister received the most treasured "Roger Dean" award for swimming excellence, while I got the usual "Most Improved" consolation prize.


Not that I was jealous. Quite the opposite... I wanted my sister to have all the swimming she wanted... mine and hers! I wanted to go to sleep away theatre camp!! I wanted to dance and sing and become a big star some day!! I wanted to sit on the beach all day with girlfriends, gossiping about boys while getting a tan and making my blonde hair even blonder.


My mom would have none of that. Swimming, diving and tennis would be my summer until 18. When I finally did recieve my highschool diploma, it was more than a right of passage to the next journey of my life, it also meant I NEVER HAD TO GET IN A GODDAMN POOL AS LONG AS I LIVED!

And for the next twelve years, I didn't.


As I got older, I found that I harbored anger with my mom for making me swim all those years. I confronted her with it once when I was in my mid-20's and her response was "It was good for you." My response, "Good for me?? Good for me?? I am still bitter about it and you say it was GOOD for me??" "Yes," she replied, "it was good for your health."

Cut to the age of 31, I hear about a swim called the Bridge To Bridge Swim Challenge, a 17 mile swim from the Tappan Zee to the GWB (yes folks, that would be the Hudson River), to raise funds for a after school program for low income kids. Don't ask me what it was (although I believe it was God, getting in a little laugh), but I suddenly felt the most overwhelming desire to be part of this swim. I can't even say it was for the charity... it was more like the need to make amends with what I had felt forced to do for 10 years of my youth.

I found a pool in the city and got swimming. After the first day, I couldn't even wash my hair. Picking up a pencil seemed like a mamoth task. Yet, I got back in the pool every other day and chipped off another yard or two, getting up to swimming 3,000 yards with in a month. I felt strong and accomplished. Most of all, and most surprising, I like it!

After that event, I continued to use swimming as a main source of fitness and cross training. I have even completed four different swim events in the Hudson. At one point during my training for one such event, I was in great swimming shape and would actually do a solid hour of sprints and drills. If only I could have been so enthusiastic as a teen! My body changed, my mind changed and I even referred to myself as "a swimmer". And, much to my mother's delight, I confessed to her that she was right. All those years of swimming were good for me after all.


Now, I am back after a year. Shame on me for letting the gift of being able to swim go by the wayside for too long. Yet, I did manage to pick off a pitiful 1,000 yards today. I will go back tomorrow for another 1,000. Pray for me folks... I will need all of your energy to get my butt in the water again. When I get to the point where 3,000 yards is no big deal, I will consider it a success and rejoice the day I waddled after my big sister to the pool, wanting to be swimmer just like her.

Do You Want To Get Well?

I think we all know of someone we love who has some injury or illness and will do nothing to make it better. 'ah, it's nothing' is the response or 'yeah, I'll make the appointment' is the promise. However, it is never 'nothing' and the promise is a lie. Perhaps it is the fear of finding out the truth that something just MAY be wrong and something HAS to be done. Regardless, for those of us who go through the endless begging, pleading, nagging, threatening and crying to get the person we love to DO SOMETHING, the truth is, there is nothing we can do or say to make it happen.

For those of you familiar with the Bible, I will use a particular scripture as an example of the 'Do Nothing About It' experience (and if you are not familiar with the Bible, well, then, you'll learn something new!).

In John 5:1-15, Jesus is travelling along and comes to a healing pool where all sorts of sick and lame come to be healed. There he meets a man who has been an invalid for the last 38 years. After hearing his story and learning how long he had been there, Jesus asks him the most simple yet profound of questions: "Do you want to get well?" The man does not say 'YES!! I do!!'. Instead he launches into a litany of excuses 'there is no one to help me...' (did he ask for help?), 'people get in my way! (tell them to move!)' Jesus must clearly find his excuses weak because he then says, "Get up! Pick up your mat and walk." Thankfully, the guy does what Jesus says... not sure why. Perhaps he had a moment of clarity and saw his pathetic, excuse-making self and thought 'oh man... this is a terrible way to exist.'

The story doesn't indicate how this man became an invalid. This is not like other Jesus miracles, where he laid his hands on the lame and they walk or spit in the eyes of the blind and they see. He just calls the man out on the fact that his 'paralysis' is seemingly self-inflicted. Speaking plainly seemed to be the trick to get the man to finally, after nearly four decades, to be 'cured' and to GET UP.

I am a fan of speaking plainly in the fashion of Jesus & have used this approach many times. Unfortunately, the plain speech has been taken by the receiver as an unloving and mean spirited attack. However, speaking plainly and truthfully is the most loving thing one can do. I mean, really...how loving is it to not speak the truth and feed the denial?

The primary symptoms of the afflicted are obvious by the afflicted person's complaint ('my stomach is killing me', 'my back is on fire', 'I slept about an hour last night'). The secondary symptoms, which are complications that arise from the primary symptoms, are also obvious, (though we may choose to turn a blind eye to them): moodiness, irritability, depression, extreme selfishness, withdrawing from people, lack of affection. In a nutshell, the primary symptoms affect everything in the afflicted person's life including the people around them and their relationships.

A continual lack of response from the one who is toxic can become toxic to you as well and at times, the best thing may be to walk away. It might feel like you are giving up or not being loving. The truth is, you are really only hurting yourself, which in turn, will hurt the afflicted even more (I think in the shrink world, they call that 'Co-Dependancy'). I always think of the flight attendant who instructs us: 'put the oxygen mask on yourself first before assisting the needs of others.'

Learn from experience: nagging, pleading, threatening and crying have proven ineffective. You can't fix anyone or force them to do what they are unwilling to do. You can, however, do the most loving thing of all... Put the oxygen mask on yourself first before turning to the afflicted and asking "Do you want to get well?" You never know... they just might get up.

The Malnourishment of the Contented Soul

I recently read a series of interviews in an article regarding long-term relationships, marriage or otherwise, and the various thoughts on how keep the long-term just that. My eyes grazed across the word 'nourish', and saw it as a continuing theme throughout the article. It made enough sense: Fail to give any living organism the nourishment it needs to survive and surely it will die. Similarly, neglect to nourish your relationship with what it needs and it, too, will slowly perish.

As I read on my brow furrowed at the thought of just how unnecessary malnourishment truly is... in relationships, work, health... mind, body, soul. Everything. This lack of nourishment in life is preventable, yet still remains a chronic problem. Why is that? Is life just too hard to deal with such a seemingly simple task? Besides, who wants to wither like a dried out plant, anyway?

Such self-destructive behavior is puzzling and angering when we see it in others.

Yet, we all do it:

we work too much

we don't feel great, but ignore symptoms of illness, forget to schedule a doctor's appointment or figure we'll 'get around to it'

we stop kissing, hugging, holding hands or even having sex with our significant other

we really do forget to feed the plants

love becomes a word, not an action anymore

we order fast food instead of cooking

we take the people we love for granted

we don't wash the car, the house, the clothes

we sleep in instead of getting up for a morning workout

we (maybe) drink too much...

Then, one day, we stop... for whatever reason... and we take a good look around:

the house is a mess
the plants are dead
we're fat and weak
we're sick
we're alone
we are sad

We are starving.

This is the point where choice comes in. You could a) decide that you will nourish yourself back to a wonderful & fulfilling life one drop at a time or b) turn off the light, turn on the tv and forget you saw anything at all.

Choice a) takes time, work, sacrifice and consistent nourishment.

Choice b) is easier, lazier, unhealthy and selfish.

I believe in change. I believe in forgiveness of ourselves and of one another. I believe in recovery and most of all & with all my heart, I believe we were created to live a wonderful and fulfilling life.


Nourish yourselves...

Live a wonderful and fulfilling life...

Choose a).

MELT by the Five Mile River

This past Saturday brought a new venture my way via the Rowayton River Ramble. I set up a little MELTing place in the gazebo by the river at Pinkney Park in Rowayton, CT. The event, the annual Rowayton River Ramble, hosts a variety of vendors and fun and games for children... and there were a lot of children!

Busy mothers would break away from the line for the pony ride, leaving the wee ones with dad, to check out my curious set up. They were all impressed with the changes that just a few minutes of treating their feet could produce.

And the day... well, it was one of the most beautiful days and the setting was perfect. I know that I sure felt relaxed, calm... and MELTed.

Thank you to all of those who stopped by!