the rehab revolution

giving thanks, part 2

2012-02-06T18:14:00.000-06:00

I realize this is exceedingly late, as I wrote “GivingThanks, part one” back at Thanksgiving, and it is now nearly Valentine’s Day,but watch my ninja skills tie the two together.

To me, part of love is also the ability to giveappreciation. Most of us are fairly skilled at appreciating other people, butwhen it comes to rehabilitation and healing, it’s easy to forget theappreciation and love of self.

It is IMPERATIVE (!!! I cannot stress this enough) to yourpeace of mind, if you are recovering from a major traumatic injury like mine —devastating neurological loss — to remember that you have been through hell andback. If you knew someone else going through what you’ve been through, youwouldn’t dream of comparing them to healthy, “normal” people, would you?

Just like you don’t berate a six-month-old for not yetknowing how to speak, your self-talk has to reflect where you currently are, and it has a ton to do with how good or bad youfeel as you recover. Make yourself (and others) understand that the reason youcan’t yet do x or y is because you actually can’t, notbecause you’re doing it on purpose.

Remember that these things take time, and no one, especiallyyou, deserves to get yelled at or be judged for what you haven’t quite yetfought to get back. All major accomplishments took time and effort: Rome wasn’tbuilt in a day.

If you’re guilty of this, please do yourself a favor and trythis exercise:

Write yourself a Valentine’s Day love letter. It shouldaddress how much you appreciate what your body still can do, and no feat is too small! The body is a magnificent thing,an organism that runs itself 24/7 for you, and you alone! Even if it doesn’tyet do x, doesn’t mean it doesn’t try its best. Apologize to yourself — becauseit’s not just your body you’ve disrespected, but also your mind, what fuels you— for being too harsh, and tell yourself you love you.

It might sound cheesy, and that’s because it kind of is. Butit’s important! So do it.

I just can’t express enough how important it is as a bufferfor the inevitable frustration that crops up as a result of trauma and chronicconditions to always be grateful for what you still have.

And for the rest, do the work, and it’s all on its way backto you.

To our healing,

up to the challenge

2012-02-06T17:52:00.003-06:00

You know what’s coming.

With the arrival of the New Year, comes the oft-dreadedtopic of the resolutions.

But you know what stinks about resolutions?

People don’t keep them.

How many years does a person declare, “This is the year Ilose twenty pounds!” only to go to the gym for two weeks and then fall backinto a lifestyle of potato chips, Diet Coke, and chicken nuggets?

Let’s not talk about resolutions in this noncommittal way. Alot of us make resolutions because it’s in vogue, not because we have anyintention of keeping them.

Tsk, tsk. You know what works? Action plans, and keeping arecord of your accomplishments. Studies show that when people follow up and getaccountability partners (a friend who’ll check up on you regularly! I’ve beentalking about this for eons) their success rates go up considerably, up tosomething like 75%. Or more.

I speak from personal experience on this one: If you’reresolving to hit the gym (most important thing for physical rehab), schedule itin the way you schedule in a dentist appointment. It’s non-negotiable, not asocial engagement (unless you make it so). Some people find it easier to go tothe gym with a buddy, so if that’s you, do that.

Why have I waited till February to address this? Becausethis is around the time people start falling off the wagon, and it’s time topush ourselves to get back up and get going again.

My gym every year holds a Get Fit Challenge for a grandprize of $10,000 (it is a chainwide competition). It starts on 1 February(probably for the exact same reason I just stated above) and lasts twelveweeks. Ninety days! That’s three months!

Three months are an excellent goal, because it’s shortenough to feel temporary, but long enough to trick you into forming true goodhabits.

In fact, I created a 90-day challenge with my boyfriend lastyear in all areas (health, rehab, business, finance, personal, miscellaneous)and we called each other every evening to record our progress. It went well andwe both learned to prioritize the changes we wanted to make in our lives, andfinally, it helped a lot to have some “ends” in sight: rewards and punishmentsfor good and bad weeks.

Another trick is to repeat the process from time to time.You finish one 90-day challenge, maintain, and a little later tweak somethings, since there’s always improvement to be made.

I hope you’re encouraged by this, because it’s exciting tochange for the better!

It won’t be easy, that’s for sure, but it’s truly a journeyworth making. The trick is in the commitment.

How do you react to falling off the wagon? By getting backon. Little goof-ups are inevitable — but the important part is recognizing yourpriorities and tackling them consistently.

And yes, to those of you wondering, one of my resolutions is more frequent posting (oops), so as you can see, I am human too and make mistakes. But I am here now!

Who’s with me?

To our healing,

giving thanks, part 1

2011-11-28T21:00:00.001-06:00

In the wake of Thanksgiving, I’dlike to tell a story. It’s the first of Turkey Day posts, so stay tuned. Itsounds dreary, but I promise it turns out all right.

In my household — an effectively“fobby” one, due to both my parents having immigrated here from Taiwan, albeitnearly thirty years ago — Thanksgiving begins with lunch. My mother claims herkitchen back from me and I’ve learned never to mess in her stomping ground.Larger-than-life steamers and huge pots filled with unidentifiable concoctionsto the Western eye abound; it is truly a feast of authentic Chinese andTaiwanese cuisine prepared round a hot pot that’s probably older than me.

Don’t get me wrong; I enjoy theethnic food. But being an American holiday, I sometimes like to shake things upwith a Western flare: Last year, I made potato-leek soup. This year, I thoughtit could be cool to whip up an easy batch of pumpkin squares — a festive yetrelatively healthy spin on standard autumn dessert, I actually acquired thisrecipe from my personal trainer. (It’s low-fat, low-sugar, and is technically aprotein bar.) I very much enjoy the culinary arts, and while baking is not myfavorite activity, I find it hard to attend a dinner with loved ones withoutcontributing something to the table.

The recipe is simple: Throw thefirst eleven ingredients together, then add the last three, and bake.

For whatever reason, I completelybrain farted and (likely because I’ve been thinking about protein shakes a lotlately — that’s a story for later) got the idea in my head that everythingshould be mixed in a blender. I tossed everything into my glass Oster blender (apurchase I’d made as an undergrad) and blended, only to discover a huge leakfrom the bottom of the blender — and there was pumpkin everywhere. It leaked from the glass and onto the metal base, ontothe counter as I lifted the glass to inspect it, and because I tried to cleanit with a small rag, it ended up all over the sink.

Infuriated, I decided I’ddisregard this old blender and bust out my Vitamix. The mixture was thick — andI had to scoop most of it out with a wooden spoon. But of course, I lost abouta third of the ingredients in the transfer, and again lost a significant amounttransferring the mix from the Vitamix to the baking pan. As I tried to pour itout onto the pan, the mixture was too thick to cooperate and slide down. So Iplaced the handle of the blender into my affected left hand and attempted toscoop the stuff down with the wooden spoon.

Of course, my grip on the handlewas neither stable or strong enough to withstand the force of the spoon and theforce of gravity, so it didn’t work.

I was so irate that I juststarted yelling. ARRRRRRRGGGGHHHHHHHHH!!!!!! WHY IS THIS MY LIFE????????? (I’msure that all the small pets in my household are still in shock by this suddenoutburst reverberating throughout the house.)

I wanted to break anything and everything. I pounded myfists and shook my body like a trembling seizure had taken hold.

Thing is, stuff like this happens all the time. It doesn’t matter what I’m trying to do; the task isalways menial. If it’s not making pumpkin squares, it just goes by anothername: cleaning, packing up, loading a car, bringing in the mail, carryinggroceries.

Except cleaning turns into dropping a container of hundredsof rhinestones on the tiled floor, packing becomes dropping a container of tensof vitamins and supplements in front of the garage door. Bringing in the mailalso equates to dropping multiple magazines and letters all over the dirtygarage on the way into the house. A trip from the grocery store to the carinvolves dropping a fresh new apple in such a way that it rolls under aneighboring car.

Trivial matters, you may think? Maybe, if these weren’t the exact tasks that constitute daily life.Best part is, these disproportionately disastrous consequences usually occurwhen I’m by myself, thus this becomes my perception of what my life is. Simpletasks that lead to vastly inconvenient results — and you (or maybe just I)never learn to just adapt to it. These results require about three times moretime than you originally projected because you have to undo whatever the hellit was you just inadvertently did.

The squares came out thin.Totally unacceptable to share with a table of guests, and I knew I’d have totry again later.

It wasn’t until hours later thatit dawned on me I was being an idiot in the first place. Who mixes ingredientsfor a baking project in a blender, anyway?

I tossed everything into our KitchenAid mixer andthe squares came out perfectly.

To our healing,

birthday sprinting

2011-11-21T23:47:00.001-06:00

I got up today with this thought— this “I have to make count the last moments of my twenty-seventh year untilthe last stroke before 3.15pm” type thought (that was the time I was born), which really got me going for theday. While birthdays are not by nature any different from any of the other 364days of the year, I think we kind of expect it to be written on our foreheads,that somehow we magically emanate an “It’s my birthday!” vibe that peopleshould just know when they see us.

Of course, most people didn’tpick up on my emanating vibes and I had to tell them, but that’s beside thepoint.

I just felt this sense ofurgency, this I-didn’t-accomplish-enough-at-twenty-seven-so-how-can-it-possibly-be-over-alreadyfeeling that prodded me along, making me feel like I was wasting time.

And it occurred to me, do I haveto wait until the start of a new birthyear for me to analyze how far I’ve gone?

Regret for what we haven’t done alwayshurts more than the fear of failure over what we do do, so I’m taking this newyear to plunge ahead and give my very best to recovery, betterment, and greatstrides.

Doing so will require frequentand regular “reality check-ins.” No more birthday horrors!

Are you with me?

To our healing,

confessions

2011-11-12T16:14:00.001-06:00

You might be curious as to whereI’ve been lately, and I apologize (again) for yet another unexplainedabsence/hiatus.

what to do? Where to go?

Truth is, I’ve been in a strangeplace these days — one of heavy brainstorming and little actual action.Normally I’d call it writer’s block and wait till the elusive day of trueinspiration rolled around, but given there arepeople who follow this blog (even if some days it doesn’t feel like it) and Ibelieve so deeply in my message, I knew I couldn’t just drop off the face ofthe earth.

I guess I’m just trying toreassure you all that even if I disappear for a while, I’ll always come back.I’m too invested in the mission of this blog to ever just ball it up and throwit into the landfill of the Internet. I assure you you have been in my thoughts this entire time I have been gone.

But I do want to announce an upcomingchange. For a long while, I’ve found my posts to be almost impersonal. Giventhe subject matter, it’s been difficult to breathe any kind of life into mywriting about disability acquisition and recovery; it’s a delicate balance betweenheavy, hard-hitting stuff and the lighthearted. Thing is, I’m not crying myselfto sleep every day upset about my condition and even poke fun at myselfregularly (call it a defense mechanism?), but there are days I fly into rages at the situation. I struggle, in my writing,with giving appropriate respect to the heaviness of the topic and trying not toever sound too glib, at the same time not presenting the information in such asomber way that people get depressed reading my words.

The fact is that going throughany significant loss or injury is going to change you profoundly, but in orderto get through it you’ll need an ample arson of humor, and at the risk ofsounding sentimental, love and support. Different people respond to your storyin different ways — sometimes with large-eyed awe, sometimes with mildsurprise, and others with what seems like distance or even indifference (or noreaction at all!). None of these responses is right or wrong, but I have tokeep in mind that whatever I write in this very public forum will be receivedby any or all of these types of people.

Anyway, while I’d like to keepthe fundamental format of the blog the same (majority of posts written by yourstruly based on my own experiences and experiments), I’m going to shift the toneof the blog from a dry, informative voice to a warmer and more “me” one.

You’re going to get more of asense of my personality from now on, in hopes that you can all recognize thatdespite differences in opinion, background, education, or what have you, the experienceof disability acquisition/traumatic injury/human suffering is universal. I wantyou to be able to see the reality of my confessions, and see that behind what’svisible, I am a person like you or your loved one who is going throughsomething life altering. And people are fallible, people are opinionated,people are an amalgam of good and bad qualities.

So, here marks a new chapter ofmy blog. I hope you enjoy it. And please, if you do, don’t hesitate to spreadthe word, as I can only help people as long as my voice is heard.

To our healing,

[guest article] rerun

2011-11-03T23:27:00.000-05:00

I met Michael Leitson through this blog, as he’s anotheryoung stroke survivor who sustained his injury at age nineteen. He’s beengracious enough to share his story about learning how to run again — somethingI still haven’t done yet (but will — it’s really from lack of trying). I am excited to offer a new perspective from another survivor to inspire the rest of us!

To our healing,

Running,like walking, is a luxury that many of us take for granted. Admittedly, even I paid little thought to the ability to run prior to a couple years ago.Obviously, I cannot remember the first time I learned to walk, likely aroundthe age of eighteen months, wanting to show off to my parents. I can imaginethe joy that parents feel when their toddler starts to walk. I hope I canexperience that joy someday. However, little did I know thatI would re-experience the joy of my parents seeing me learn to walk again.

Fromplaying T-ball in pre-school, to playing a couple of seasons of soccer, andjust plain old running around with the neighborhood kids, I was an activechild, a true kid at heart. When I watch home videos of those days, I feelnostalgic and happy for my childhood.

Butas the middle school years approached, I stopped running around. These dayswere filled with video games, Yu-gi-oh, and schoolwork. Needless to say, Ibecame a bit chubby during this time. But I did participate in the neighborhoodswim team each summer, as I liked swimming and became decent at the sport.

Beforemy sophomore year in high school, I began to experience a new love of running. Agood friend of mine convinced me to join the cross-country team. I declined,saying that I wasn’t a good runner, but his rebuttal was that about half theteam isn’t initially either, but then they improve. I decided to go to summer practice,despite its interference with my quest to sleep in the entire summer. Before Iwent to practice, I tried jogging around my cul-de-sac. The hot Atlanta daysoften shortened my trials to one or two laps.

Ivividly remember the first cross-country practice I ever went to. I was so fullof determination to keep up with the fastest runners for the entire six miles. Butonce practice started, I couldn’t even run a mile. Panting and exhausted, I dragged myself back to the starting point, a bit disappointed. Nevertheless, I stuck withrunning, as it gave me new goals. That fall season, we had approximately twelvemeets; my PR (Personal Record) time improved every single meet. The first racewas at a town called Sweet Apple. I’d never sweat so hard in my life, and mytime for the 5k was around 27:00, but after I finished the race, I fell downfrom exhaustion and enjoyed a “runner’s high.” By then, I loved competingin races and wanted to live any and every running experience. By my last race,my time was 23:51! I threw up from lack of sleep the night before, as I’d eatentoo many brownies. I had also believed that being involved in extracurriculars wouldhamper my grades, but during that first season of cross-country, I made thebest grades in my high school career.

Fastforward to spring of my senior year: It was the last track meet, I was in thebest shape of my life, and my goal was to complete a mile in under six minutes.I still loved to race, but by then I started finding practices annoying,especially due to the heat. I finished the mile in 5:53! I was exhilarated and relievedthat I had completed my goal.

Afterthat, I quit running for a while.

Myfreshman year of college came and went, while I gained a whopping freshmanthirty. I had always been tall and slender but now I was tall and big, and Iliked it. Although I still worked out, running took a back seat in my mind, asI wanted to give my body a much-deserved break.

In the very late hours of August 17^th, 2009, right before I was supposedto start my sophomore year of college, I lay in a hospital bed with IVsattached to my arm, not sure what was wrong with me. I vaguely remember gettingup one last time to walk to the bathroom; I had no idea that would be the lasttime in a while I would be able to perform such a mundane task that’s so easyfor most of us. An hour or so later, following paralysis that had begun in myright arm, I tried lifting my right leg. It wouldn’t budge. I tried again, butit still remained motionless.

Thereality of not being able to walk didn’t really hit me the first week I was inthe hospital; the nurses and my parents attended to me when I needed them. Butmy seventh night at the hospital was the first night that neither of my parentsspent the night with me, as it was also my last night at the medical hospitalbefore being transferred to a rehabilitation hospital. In the late evening, Itried getting up to go to the bathroom, which was a mere ten feet away.

Gettingthere was one of the biggest challenges I’ve ever been through.

Ihad to grab on to everything in sight with my left hand. It was surreal; onlyhalf of my body worked. The other half was limp. I almost didn’t make it. But Ifinally did, and then I had to mentally prepare for the journey back to my bed.I tried going about it as I had before, but as I was about to reach my bed, Ifell. I was on the floor right next to my bed and tried using the bar to pullmyself up, but I failed. I tried and retried for a few minutes, but I couldabsolutely not get myself up. This is when it really hit me.

Icouldn’t walk.

Ihad lost that luxury. It was so natural and easy to me last week, but that easewas gone. This brought tears to my eyes. Finally, I signaled the nurse to helpme up.

Thenext day, I was sent to the Shepherd Center, a rehab hospital, where I stayedfor thirty days. It was here that I finally learned how to walk again. Mytherapist attached electrodes to my leg to simulate nerve muscles. Two peoplehad to stand me up out of my wheelchair, as I was so tall. I couldn’t believethat I had to relearn how to walk again. I took a step with my left leg — relativelyeasy. Then I tried to take a step with the right; I couldn’t really do it, somy therapist had to move it for me. We tried this for ten or twenty steps, butI finally got so tired that I had to sit back down again. It was humbling tohave to understand that my brain had to relearn how to do something that I’ddone nearly all my life.

Over time, I built up my endurance. By the timeI left Shepherd, I was walking with a brace, and it was then that I startedwalking everywhere. Being trapped in the hospital for so long and only beingable to go outside for thirty minutes a day made me restless. I had to stand up, getoutside, and move around every single chance I got. I suppose I developed mylove for the outdoors this way. Walking all around my neighborhood greatlyimproved my stride.

At Pathways, the day therapy place I went to, Ilearned how to walk without flopping my foot. I remember the first time my therapistmade me jog down the hall for the first time after my stroke. She had to runalong with me, hold on to me, to make sure I didn’t fall over. When I jogged downthe hall a couple times, the days of running came back to me. I loved thefeeling and eventually wanted to get back to it.

Unfortunately, I didn’t get back to running as soonas I should. I was working hard on my arm and fingers, which were of courselagging behind, in concurrence with all sorts of tests to get me back to schoolthe next semester. When I did move back on campus in January, I took greatadvantage of the nearby gym. I hit the weights every day and began using theelliptical to guide my legs through the motions of running.

I first built up my endurance by increasing mytime on the elliptical by a few minutes every time. Pretty soon, I was loggingup to forty-five minutes, setting the level harder each time I used it. Then I moved tothe treadmills, since my legs had relearned the motion of running. I didn’tstay on the treadmill for long, as they can be dangerous if you run too fast onthem.

When I moved back home in May, I went runningfor real. I ran around Sweet Apple, less than a mile from my home, where I’dhad my first cross country race, so I could relive the memory every time. Ioften ran one or two laps around, exhilarated by the feeling of being able torun again. Of course, my right foot didn’t hit the ground perfectly, but Ididn’t care. I would work on it and still continue to work on it to this day. Ibegan to redevelop my love for running, one that was more appreciative innature.

This past February, I ran my first 5k race sincethe stroke. Since I didn’t properly tie my shoes beforehand, I had to stop andretie them often. I completed the race in thirty minutes, a little bit longerthan I had hoped, so I was a little disappointed. But I did run my hardest, andby the end of the race I was exhausted and happy, on my “runner’s high.”

Although I am busier than ever with classesthese days, I still try to get out and go running at least three times a week. Hopefully,I will participate in more 5ks and maybe some 10ks. I eventually would like torun a half-marathon, but that is a long way away. I love the feeling of runningand wish that everyone in the world could experience the same feeling. If youhave the ability to run, you have so much to be thankful for, and I encourageyou to take advantage of it and always appreciate it. If you’ve had a stroke orany type of brain injury, or if you have temporarily lost the ability to run,there is still hope for you. You can work up to it, develop the necessarymovements and skills, by challenging yourself as you go along. First learn towalk, then jog slowly, then jog faster until you reach your desired speed.

Believe me, I know some movements are hard to relearn, as I am having the sameissues with my fingers, but I believe that with determination, anything can beaccomplished. Never ever give up. Always try harder. The result of all the hardwork will yield an appreciation for running that you would have never imagined.

To read more about Michael and his story, please visit the Georgia Brain Injury Peer Visitor Page.

PT is for personal training!

2011-09-10T00:36:00.000-05:00

I’ve already written about personal training before, but I’dlike to revisit the topic. Since around 2008, I’ve worked with a number ofpersonal trainers and gone through dry spells as well. Like anything else,there are pros and cons to regularly working with a trainer, but in this casethe pros heavily outweigh the cons. I think the only downside to working with atrainer is the costs — both financial (though some practices will take medicalinsurance as long as it is rehabilitative) and of time.

If you struggle with self-discipline and regulation, atrainer will no doubt keep you accountable to getting you to the gym andworking out on a consistent basis. Also, a good trainer will also keep an eagleeye out on your form to make sure you’re doing the exercises as correctly andefficiently as possible. They’ll also evaluate your eating habits to make sureyour nutritional needs are met and ensure that you’re working out on your owntoo.

I’m fortunate enough to have had a free training sessionwith a trainer at my gym who wowed me! In thirty-five minutes, she had me burn380 calories (to know this, a heartrate monitor is an excellent tool) withoutmy getting on a single cardio machine! The explanation? The exercises she hadme doing were specially tailored to myneeds, rather than just being the generic one-size-fits-all programs thateveryone does.

I’ll only be working with her once a week, unfortunately,but with her guidance I expect results to show quickly. My particular programwill first factor in what’s called corrective exercise, involves logging what Ieat every day, and requires me to get in cardio as much as possible in betweenthe strength training. In addition to my chiropractic strength and balanceexercises, I should be just short of bionic by the end of a couple months!

I’d love to ask my trainer, who is apparently also a writer(and a dancer!), to write a guest article for us, so I’ll keep you posted onthat.

To our healing,

getting down

2011-09-09T18:36:00.000-05:00

When you read the words on this blog, you may get theimpression that I’m some kind of eternal optimist that is unfazed bycircumstance, or even happy that I have to rehabilitate from my condition.

Me at my last birthday,
I suppose, the best picture I have of me
being ecstatic.

Not exactly true.

I am in many ways thankful for the insights and understandingI’ve gained through my brain injury and resulting condition, but it cancertainly be disheartening at times.

While I do normally choose to spend my days focusing on thethings I am still able to do (or have worked my way back to doing — likedance), occasionally the discouragement of all that I’ve lost creeps up like ashadow that’s always been lurking, but oh! It caught me!

This happened to me on Wednesday. I was driving into thecity to eat with friends and we passed a soccer field. This triggered memoriesof my freshman year at U of I as a referee for intramurals, and all of a suddenI felt really upset. I longed for the days when I could just pick up and runwithout having to worry about whether I should wear a brace or if I’d look likea big weirdo in front of everybody. Then I felt frustrated, frustrated thatthis isn’t “just a part of life” like getting grey hairs or dealing withpolitics. Frustrated that this kind of thing happens in very rare cases, evenrarer at age nineteen like it did in my life. Why did I have to be one of thesefreak cases? Why couldn’t it just be a dream, or be like any other injury, likea scratch or a broken bone? Healed on its own, and then I could move on?

I know many of you reading this may feel very similarsometimes and know exactly what I mean. Even if you’re not the one sustaining the injury orcondition. Believe me, I know just how much of a drag it is to have toconstantly watch out or slow down for me when you’re in my company. I know howinconvenient I’ve become. It is no less of a hassle for those of us dealingwith living with the disability itself. It is the most tedious for us! It’s a sudden bout of self-pity thatgets its claws on you and sinks them in for a period of time.

Fortunately, I’m not one to dwell too long on self-pity, soit of course passed. It’s now Friday, a totally new day, and while I’m still inthe same situation — no sudden sprinting for me at this given moment — it doesn’tfeel as dire. The impatience has let up, and I recognize that this journeyrequires tremendous feats of inner strength probably greater than the cumulativephysical strength I lost in my injury.

Anthony was there when it happened, and he assured me, “Justtake it one task at a time.” If we learn to focus on each exercise we do,progress may be slow, but the strength to carry on gets reinforced.

And remember, I’ll be here too if you need it! Leave any comment you may want to share here or e-mail me.

To our healing,

going [fitness] nuts!

2011-08-26T21:09:00.001-05:00

I never would’ve thought I’d do three workouts in one day, but alas, fate has called upon me to summon my inner fitness nut.

My chiropractic treatments have been sailing along smoothly, with my transition to strength training quicker than the doctor anticipated. I started off with an old “friend,” the wobble board (also known as a KP board), for five minutes, along with deep calf stretches. The KP board is great for proprioception (your mind’s awareness of where your body is in space) and balance, and this is not the first time I’ve started my training routine with it.

Since the most problematic residual effects of my condition exist in my hand and arm, today I began with an arm-intensive routine with dumbbells. Unfortunately, it’d been a very long time since I’d last regularly gone to the gym for weight training (I know, shame on me); I had hoped that my regular yoga sessions would suffice, but I was mistaken.

As soon as I lay down on my back to do flies and shoulder presses, I feared for the safety of my face because dropping the dumbbells was clearly imminent. Discouraged, I ended up just going through the motions (still works for neurological programming).

So I determined it was time for me to restart my weight training regimen. I hit the gym for weight machines for the first time in probably a year. It was rough! Then I followed it with a yoga session.

Tomorrow I’m going hiking at Starved Rock and probably Matthiessen State Park here in Illinois, and I’ll likely force my friends to carry everything for me. :P

The key to restarting? Remembering to take it easy and work your way back up. Don’t be discouraged – just try, try again.

To our healing,

spinal tap

2011-07-30T16:13:00.000-05:00

I also wanted to announce I’ve begun seeing a chiropractor in hopes that he can inspire some more healing. The concept is that by pinpointing possible roots of my condition’s problems, like lack of sensation or shoulder pain, I might be able to improve much more rapidly after treatment. His approach is holistic, and fortunately should not require lifelong visits!

Apparently, the X-rays taken at consultation showed subluxations throughout my neck, which could potentially be the cause of many of my issues.

So far, we’ve been doing adjustments, massage, electrical stimulation, and traction. Seeing as my treatment will take place over the next three months, it’s far too early to tell if it’s helping, but I’ll be sure to check in once in a while to let you know how it’s going.

Notably, I’ve been told to stop strength training exercises in the meantime (so, unfortunately, no yoga! BOOO), as this helps us identify what may or may not contribute to potential physical issues. We’ll see.

I guess it’s all the more reason to concentrate on fine motor reprogramming!

To our healing,

take a hike

2011-07-30T15:38:00.002-05:00

grapes!

I’m back from [Southern Illinois’s] wine country!

Remember last year’s trip to the American West? I went to Yellowstone and hiked at Arches, got applause from the busload of other travelers in the group, and apparently the University of Chicago Medical Center ended up blowing up a photo of me in front of the Delicate Arch in a giant print ad in their lobby for their newsletter cover story.

As I mentioned last year, the hikes were only possible in such short time periods thanks to the help of my father, who essentially acted as a sort of a human crutch. This year, though, I was with my boyfriend Anthony, who I’m sure if necessary would totally do the same. But I wanted to be as efficient and independent as possible — so I set out to find a supportive (but ugly) pair of serious hiking boots.

I did find a pair by Timberland that were suitable, durable, with tons of ankle support to help me battle uneven terrain, as well as a thick pair of wool hiking socks (necessary to prevent blisters and surprisingly aren’t as hot/uncomfortable/itchy as you’d expect). However, fate intervened and I was unable to purchase them as the only pair left at the store was a mismatching pair: one seven and a seven-and-a-half.

Legolas, our tree frog buddy.

So I decided to be adaptive — if there’s anything you learn from what happened to me, it’s learning to work with what you’ve got. I dug up my old-ass AFO (which I hadn’t touched in something like five years) and shoved it into an old pair of sneakers I used to wear in Italy four years ago.

The result was superb! Probably better than hiking boots because the ankle-foot orthotic is custom-made for you, and designed to keep you safe.

Anthony was impressed. “You’re keeping up really well,” he said on our first trail, which was a leveled dirt path scattered with branches, leaves, and other assorted natural riffraff and, therefore, perils.

Another success! I always say to use discretion when it comes to “medically not advised” behaviors like ditching the AFO, but discretion also involves knowing when to be safe. I’m glad I was!

PS. Photos, you say?

pseudo-heels (wedges!) for non-hike activities :)

AFO action.

mid-hike meditation.

To our healing,

it's hot, hot, hot!

2011-07-10T19:15:00.002-05:00

I’ve already vaguely mentioned the topic of yoga before, but I think it’s time to revisit. Maybe because I’ve upgraded my practice from a static and sporadic DVD-only flirtation, maybe because I recently went to lunch with a yoga teacher (who graciously agreed to later write a guest article for the blog!), or maybe just because I’ve been planning on expanding my expertise a little bit to cover the topic, but it’s officially time to explore it further.

First off, let’s visit why people not struggling with physical conditions tackle yoga. For the sake of relative brevity, I’ll mostly leave out the spiritual aspects of the practice, even if I do believe those benefits are also highly important.

The word yoga in Sanskrit means “union,” and in my interpretation of that, it essentially is the practice of having the body and spirit work holistically — physically, the muscles, bones, and where they come together (tendons, ligaments) all working in alignment in harmonic tandem with your breath. Breath in yoga practice is essential, and if you aren’t breathing properly from the beginning and later learn to coordinate the movements with the breath, the difference is phenomenal.

Yoga can accomplish a seemingly limitless number of things — most obviously it’ll increase flexibility, strength, and balance. Perhaps most remarkably, as long as you’re unfazed by competition (comparing yourself to classmates is a ubiquitous challenge, one that Gaiam blogger Kathryn Budig addressed recently in a beautiful post) and focused on your breath and awareness of your own body (what they call the “body-mind”), you will find yourself feeling far more centered and grounded. Few other athletic pursuits offer that, I find.

Personally, I find that yoga is also a mindful exploration of learning to acknowledge and then tuck that ego away, an important exercise in humility and peace, and in a regular practice encourages pushing yourself without said ego to accomplish feats you never previously imagined possible.

Now, let’s pull out the big guns! What do I mean, I’ve “upgraded” my practice from a DVD-exclusive one? Well, I have to admit: My previous mentality on sticking only to private yoga lessons at $60 a pop did crumble as soon as I found out my gym offers free classes (of all types, zumba included!) every week, included with membership. So I began attending a yoga-for-all-levels class with an excellent instructor called Brian at my gym.

After regularly attending Brian’s class — which is challenging not only for me but for 100% of the rest of the class, most of which I assume is physical-affliction-free (or relatively so!), my curiosity for the recent hot yoga trend began to burn (pun, admittedly, intended).

Why hot yoga? Heck, what is hot yoga? Hot yoga is the practice of yoga in a literally hot temperature; there are various types, but the kind I’m doing is called Baptiste. The really hardcore kind is called Bikram, and that’s done in a room heated to 105°F(!). Baptiste is a bit less intense at a balmy 90°F or so, sometimes up to 95°F.

A lot of people balk at the idea of doing sun salutations in desertlike conditions, and while I don’t blame them, I invite them to hear me out.

The reason behind the heat — which is supposed to be dry, so your sweat evaporates quickly and detoxifies you nicely — is myriad: again, it detoxes you; because muscles contract in the cold, the heat has an opposite effect and allows you to go deeper into your poses; and the heat intensifies the practice for a cardiovascular boost.

Because dehydration is a possible risk in such conditions, it is advised that although you should not eat up to two hours before your practice, you should certainly guzzle down copious amounts of water before, during, and after it.

Admittedly, I was never that avid of a yoga practitioner in the past. At most, I would start my mornings with a twenty-minute gentle series of relaxing yoga from Rodney Yee of Gaiam’s AM Yoga DVD, or I’d go to an hour class or two per week, max.

However, because I’m on this kick to try new and intense things, I purchased two months’ worth of unlimited hot yoga sessions at Power Yoga on Main (to any locals, I recommend it). For my first session I went quite a way’s away to take a ninety-minute intermediate class with a friend and my boyfriend. It was exhilarating! And I was so sore the day after — the depth is no joke. Since then, I’ve been going to my studio three times a week (don’t go to Bikram nearly as often, though!) and the improvements have been jaw-droppingly rapid. (One of my favorite instructors told me she had made improvements within her first two years of Baptiste comparable to the progess of her previous seven years of not-hot yoga.)

Already, I have witnessed a dramatic increase in strength and balance (flexibility for me is difficult to measure because I’ve always been sort of freakishly bendy, though I do think it too has improved); what was almost impossible for me the first couple of times now isn’t easy, but comes a lot more readily than it used to, and my endurance for the heat and the intensity of certain postures and movements has definitely increased.

However, I do have a few concerns: With the titanium plates on my skull and the subluxation in my left shoulder, is it safe for me to attempt inversions? And how good an idea is it for me to do balance poses (e.g., tree pose or warrior 3) on just my unaffected right leg? Does a lack of equilibrium between the two legs create a subsequent problem? Will it just perpetuate their already existent inequality?

These are explorations I will take with me to medical professionals and hardcore yoga practioners, of course. (And then I’ll check in with the rest of you.)

In the meantime, the benefits of my hot yoga practice are hardly short of addictive: I now attend Brian’s class Mondays and the Baptiste three other days of the week, and I can hardly get enough. (Another pro: I’m starting to develop the outline of a four-pack. Hehe.)

Some thoughts/tips: You will be covered in sweat when you leave. If you’ve got someplace to go afterward, do yourself a favor and bring a change of clothes. Bring ample amounts of water and a hand towel. For those of you wanting to use a regular yoga mat you already own, you’ll probably have issues with slipping. Bring a towel or yoga towel (Yogi Toes makes good ones) to lay over your mat to both absorb your sweat and prevent slippage. If you’d like to adapt hot yoga seriously, you can follow in my footsteps and invest in the pricey and heavy but supereffective sticky mat by Lululemon, simply called “the Mat.” Because it’s made of recycled rubber, it’s initially smelly and weighs as much as an infant, but I threw mine in a Jacuzzi filled with multipurpose cleaner and water and soaked it, jets running, for an hour or so, and it’s fine. (The smell goes away naturally with time, but for those of you with particularly sensitive olfactory glands, you might want to deep clean it first.) In any case, it’s perfect for a hot yoga practice because it is sticky against sweaty skin, and doesn’t distract from your practice, allowing you to be much more present. Wear flexible, breathable clothing (stretchy!). And sandals (you’ll be practicing barefoot of course). Be prepared to be sore the next day, especially in your shoulders and core if you’re not accustomed to planking! And again, do not focus on anyone else’s practice but your own — it’s all about you and what’s feasible for you right now, not even yesterday or tomorrow. Do not hesitate to modify; there are modifications for any pose so that you can best honor your body. Listen to what it tells you. Every day is different.

I’ve gone on for so long on hatha yoga (the kind that involves asanas, or poses, which the general Westerner pictures when we hear the word) that I feel this post would be far too meaty to go deeper into the branch of yoga that perhaps transcends them all: pranayama, or the technique of breathing, so I’ll save that topic for a future post.

For additional information on “power yoga” (I quote this term because it was created to appeal to Western audiences, as yoga originally was created for Asian bodies which vary much less than the diverse spectrum of body types we have out here), check out the book (which my studio always recommends to students of all types) Journey into Power by Baron Baptiste.

To our healing,

dancercise

2011-06-16T12:23:00.002-05:00

This has been sitting on my hard drive for, like, three weeks. It’s super imperfect, and I still need to learn much much more about video editing, but I figured it was about time I finally shared a video (and transformed this blog to a “part-time-vlog”). I’m really working on gaining some momentum with the site, so without further ado, please enjoy my video review of the Denise Druce Dancercise DVD (linked here to Amazon, even though I recommend you get it in person at Target for way cheaper, just so you can see exactly what it is). You may notice the video is a bit “off” in the sense that everything is a reverse of reality (the very observant ones out there will note that the video suggests my left side is completely unaffected and that the hemiparesis exists on my right side rather than the opposite), and even the Dancercise DVD is backwards when I show it to the screen, but it’s because PhotoBooth records things in mirror image and I hadn’t considered this until afterward (oops!).

In any case, hopefully this video will give you a little insight as to whether the DVDs will help you in your recovery if you also currently suffer from hemiparesis.

If you think this video was helpful or have anything else to share regarding it, please don’t hesitate to leave a comment below.

Stay tuned, as I’ve got a juicy post coming up later today!

To our healing,

save me a dance

2011-06-07T17:28:00.001-05:00

I’ve been reconnecting with my inner dancer lately, as this is my recent passionate rediscovery. As I write, I’m using both hands to type in order to fill those newly created neurons from my salsa dance workout from a Dancercise DVD pack I recently bought (video review to come SOON! Seriously, I am slowly but surely making exciting new tweaks to the site). If you don’t know what I’m talking about, review my post on it here.

Anyway, salsa is clearly a very sensual type of dance. I’d go so far to say that’s likely the draw for most people who are into Latin dance — it speaks to a very essential part of us, and because it’s a corporal activity, it’s an excellent way for us to have some harmless (and beneficial!) fun. The key is to let go and just enjoy yourself as though no one else were watching (and this applies to all of dance).

For the record it is not as though my dancing these days is at all pretty. I’m sure if I recorded myself dancing I’d be cringing 60% of the time. And when I go to Zumba class on Thursday evenings I avoid the front row at all costs — no, it matters not what others think, of course I know, but that ego, that pride that goes hand-in-hand with self-image, still doesn’t permit it. I’m certain that anyone observing me would think my performance inexplicable, but what’s important is that I’m trying. And I’m loving it.

To our healing,

4YG

2011-05-18T22:38:00.002-05:00

In case you were wondering where I disappeared to lately, I was in San Diego from 6-12 May. I went to a personal development and entrepreneurship seminar called the Unstoppable Entrepreneur, which changed my life.

At the conference, I was reminded of fundamental truths that are so easy to fall out of touch with, like the limitlessness of our souls — remembering we are not our bodies, we are not our fears. We are all connected in this existence that is life, and we must commit to healthful lifestyles not just for ourselves but for the good of all.

So in that vein, I committed myself to the 4YG movement — check out this video and get inspired to commit yourself too and spread the word for the benefit of our planet and all its living beings: the human community and all of mother Earth’s beautiful creatures. This is greater than you or me.

I will write a new post soon on the other amazing gems I collected from the seminar that were so inspiring that I just started my own 90-day challenge to turn my life around — more on that later — but for tonight I just wanted to share the video. Enjoy — and please spread the word!

Comments, please share below.

To EVERYONE’s healing,

the tapping solution

2011-05-18T16:19:00.004-05:00

I wanted to share this tapping video on weight loss, not necessarily because you may be interested in that in particular, but because the rounds include acknowledging your body for what it does and forgiving yourself for being too hard on it — something I think we’re all guilty of from time to time (even every day).

What is EFT? It stands for Emotional Freedom Technique, which is essentially a cross between Western psychology and Eastern acupressure — by releasing negative inner emotions out loud and physically tapping on meridian points, practitioners of EFT have seen remarkable results, like significant weight loss (no more cravings!), curing PTSD, back pain, alleviating grief, even unblocking financial barriers.

At first, it can seem a bit too good to be true, but I assure you the science backs it. Best of all, you can do it on your own and there are no side effects.

I’d encourage you to watch the documentary The Tapping Solution if you’d like more exposure to the practice and want to see the results in a group of “test subjects,” so to speak. That was how I was introduced to the technique, and I now faithfully follow this group of pioneers in the EFT movement online.

As they say, try it on everything — can’t hurt to try!

To our healing,

so you think you can dance

2011-04-29T00:04:00.003-05:00

You know how I’m always saying to make sure you enjoy your workout? Go outside, return to old hobbies, etc. etc. Well, I have to admit that I don’t always follow my own advice. For years I avoided returning to old activities I used to love, like volleyball, theatrical acting, running. I avoided revisiting these things because I couldn’t bear the pain of failing. These were things I was good at, and they were taken away from me — and I knew I wouldn’t like what I’d feel trying to do them again.

Now, I’m not saying that I have gone back to everything I loved to do, but I’m definitely here today to say, with a great amount of energy, that it’s important to try. You can’t let all those things go without fighting for them!

Tonight, I decided to attempt a zumba class at my gym — zumba is a high-intensity cardiovascular international dance workout. I hadn’t stepped foot in a dance class since about middle school. (In high school I was active in theatre cast frequently as a dancer, but I don’t consider those actual classes by any means.) I really didn’t know if I’d be able to manage, but I figured I would try.

And I’m so glad I did!!!

It was challenging and I felt silly for about seventy percent of it, but it was such a rush. Such a rush to go back and see how much I could still do. Yes, I felt dopey much of the time (especially at the beginning), but I soon lost myself in it and really enjoyed it. Believe me, the other attendees of the class are not judging you; they are as focused on their own movements as you are.

I also went out dancing (impromptu) last weekend, wearing a pair of safe, comfortable heels (difficult). I’ve recently started wearing what I call “transition shoes” which are high wedge shoes to get me practicing in the “heels direction.” I mostly only wear them indoors.

I’m not claiming that my choices are the safest, or that you all need to take my lead and start doing what certain medical professionals might consider reckless, so please use your discretion. I wouldn’t be doing all these things now if I didn’t think it was sensible (like when I weaned myself off my AFO), or that I couldn’t do them safely. In the end, after lots of therapy and experiments, we know our own bodies best and we can tell when we really can’t handle something. Please be wise.

I remember what a neuropsychologist I saw once told me, when I told her I regretted my choice to go back to school so soon after my hospitalization (I took only a semester off rather than the recommended year) because I felt it hindered my immediate progress, she actually defended my choice and told me, “It wasn’t a mistake to go back so soon; I think you needed it, psychologically.” And if you really stop to consider what a psychological need is, it’s a fundamental one. Your mental state determines your quality of life.

Going through loss like mine, essentially having your pride taken away from you, is tremendously humbling. And pride in this case isn’t much more than ego and identity. People’s psyches crumble without the ego, whose role is to protect us, and identity is who you believe yourself to be. Maybe it isn’t truly who you are, but it’s who you think you are. I think in your journey to become a whole, stronger you, you have to rekindle your right to identity.

So celebrate these milestones. Take it slowly: I won’t be doing cartwheels tomorrow, but in the meantime I can build up the arm strength and attempt it when I’m ready. Here’s to you to do the same.

“The journey of 1000 miles begins with a single step.” (Confucius)

To our healing,

the gift of now

2011-04-14T18:06:00.003-05:00

I’m back! The two weeks I spent in Italy were glorious and a much-needed, lovely time. It really brought me back to the beauty of what I’m going to talk about today: being present and enjoying the moment.

Not only is Italian life often about the enjoyment of the now, and about cultivating relationships and embracing what you love, but I also coincidentally ran into the theme while I was at the library the other day. Multiple people in the past had recommended to me the book The Power of Now by Eckhart Tolle, and apart from downloading a short free excerpt from the Kindle store to my Kindle, I hadn’t yet gotten a copy of it. While walking back to meet my boyfriend after my knitting group, I found myself in the audiobook aisle, and I decided to grab their copy of Power of Now on CD.

I haven’t listened to the entire book yet, as I only borrowed it two days ago, but I spent the majority of my day yesterday soaking in the information. It’s really an amazing read, and I managed to be super-efficient as well by walking from my house to the grocery store to pick up supplies for my impending dinner party last night, with the audiobook running from my iPhone. I managed to enjoy the gorgeous spring weather and get my workout in while both “reading” and taking care of errands. It felt fantastic!

My only qualm about walking outside with your headphones on? It doesn’t allow you to truly be present, which is ironic, because you can’t hear the birds or the wind and all the other lovely nature sounds going on around you. You’re in your head and absorbed in your own little world, which is the opposite of being present.

So why recommend so strongly a book on spiritual enlightenment? Isn’t this blog about healing? Well, sure. But I believe in healing as the result of holistic attention — develop health inside of you, and the exterior recuperation will follow. As you nurture your entire self, mind, body, and spirit, your physical and emotional conditions have no other choice but to foster their own betterment.

Okay, so, what’s being present got to do with anything? It allows you to focus and zero in on what it is exactly you’re doing — believe me, I know how ineffective it is to repetitiously exercise a muscle over and over and over and over again with a fuzzy mind. Yes, my brain will record all those repetitions as it should, but being deliberate with form and quality of movements will ultimately yield the best results. (This is why Dr. Amen of Making a Good Brain Great says, “Perfect practice makes perfect.”)

Also, you have to make your therapy enjoyable. Get an accountability partner that will hold you to your promised routines by joining you while you do them. (Most productivity coaches I find will preach finding accountability partners that check up on you regularly, but I personally find the most motivation in personal relationships.) Get a gym partner, or go on walks with your neighbor as he walks his dog. Go to a yoga class! (I’m going to my first group yoga class on Saturday morning.)

Choose happiness. I’m stealing this, actually, from Lisa B. Marshall (“The Public Speaker”), whose public speaking podcast I love. (I admit I have a bit of a podcast addiction.) When you’re feeling frustrated — like I did two days ago trying to give myself a manicure and ended up covering both hands in varnish — take a moment to breathe. Breathing is great because you can’t do it in the past or in the future. Breathing is always in the now, and it’ll suck you back to the present. Remind yourself to focus on what you can do and forget about what you can’t. This is only your current situation, and you can change that.

Also, remember that with inaction, if it’s not getting better, it’s getting worse. I covered this in a previous post. An interesting piece of advice Mr. Tolle gives regarding the inevitable feelings of indolence is to embrace it. Allow yourself to feel listless and lazy, and let yourself be it to its fullest. Just do nothing, put on lounge pants, watch an episode of your favorite sitcom, eat something. The shameless and unapologetic inactivity will have been acknowledged and “enjoyed,” so to speak, and you’ll soon snap out of it. I find this to be so true; there are some days where I’m just like, “I’d like to sleep all day,” and then earlier than I know it, I get anxious and pop out of bed.

The concept of embracing the now is a broad one — obviously, if Eckhart Tolle could base most of his writing career on it — and there’s no way I can cover it all in enough detail in one post. So I’ll leave you with this quote: “Yesterday is history, tomorrow is a mystery, and today is a gift; that’s why they call it the present.”

To our healing,

no limits

2011-04-06T11:24:00.003-05:00

I’m back in the States! Since I’m short on time, I just wanted to throw out this link on professional athletes who have overcome disabilities — it could inspire you! Check it out here.

To our healing,

the passion of the spirit

2011-03-24T10:07:00.002-05:00

On another note, right before I took off for Italy, I was interviewed for a radio documentary/article for Loyola University’s Mosaic Magazine by a reporter I’d met in the audience for Falling Petals. Her reasoning for interviewing me and asking me to summarize my story was to shed light on potential stressors/triggers for depression.

A quick sidenote: I cannot with much authority describe depression as an aftereffect of what happened in my life, as I never truly suffered from it, but her documentary is based on scientific research as well as incorporation of personal stories. I suppose the idea is to shed more light on the subject, the link between disability acquisition and cultural stigmas which can cloud our understanding of what an experience like this can be like, personally. While I do fully appreciate this objective, I don’t want any of my audience to be confused as to whether I suffer from mental illness (the focus of Erasing the Distance and incidentally also the Loyola article) or if that is something I know much about. To be sure, we’ve all been exposed to varying degrees of the spectrum that mental illness spans, which as I hear more on the subject I’ve learned is a lot more widespread than most of us would be comfortable admitting or observing in our own lives, but although I have experienced a significant trauma in my own life, I have been fortunate in my resilience to have never fallen victim to my higher risk of delayed-onset depression (a possible result of the injury that a psychologist at the hospital did project into my prognosis). This is not to say I don’t have my ups and downs; I am after all a human being above all, but my focus remains on focusing on bouncing back and warding off a majority of the downs, so to speak. I hope to empower you all to take healing into your own hands and believe with every last cell within you that it is possible, as long as you work with it.

Anyway, I bring up this interview because I remember the reporter, Theresa, asking me a question that was really interesting. She asked about my fixation for Italy and asked whether it had been some kind of spiritual experience, why I kept returning there.

It’s true: I’ve been in and out of Italy at least once a year every year since 2004. I was an Italian major as an undergrad, and I still live a predominantly very Italian lifestyle even while at home. It’s unexpected, considering my ethnic background has absolutely nothing to do with Italy, but it is how it is. And yes, I would certainly not deny that my finding such solace and beauty in Italy and its subsequent lifestyle and philosophies was a spiritual experience for me. She wondered whether my going there more or less straight after my injury was a way to cope and if the experience alleviated some of the pain of my stroke, if it was a much-needed escape, and maybe it was.

I think it’s really important to find something you really resonate with, whether it be a place, a relationship, a goal, or a hobby. This kind of passion is rare but only comes from the heart. Let’s not be too passive in our lives; finding something to embrace is indeed nourishment for the mind and soul.

If you love animals, for example, it would be a great idea to go for walks with a small dog. Play your favorite games with an affected hand or limb, whatever it is.

Italy taught me to value the beauty of life as an entity — that things are not just about doing, doing, doing, but also in just being. (That is, after all, what we are, human beings, not human doings.) Do I get criticism from people who haven’t learned it for themselves yet? Of course I do. But that’s a small price to pay for gratitude and the rare ability (at least where I’m from) to be present.

Now is all we have, so make the best of it and work with it rather than against it. Take your passions and turn them into something good — and enjoyable. Your healing will be more thorough that way, and yes, in the end, more productive.

To our healing,

get out

2011-03-24T09:31:00.003-05:00

I’m writing this post from Piazza della Signoria in Florence, Italy. I realize that I’d pretty much disappeared this month of March and I apologize.

Every time I return to Europe I am astonished to realize how much about the physical effects of European lifestyles take their toll on me again! (My feet are killing me already after one day.) Walking all day long on uneven “terrain” (cobblestones and whatnot), going up and down countless flights of stairs, getting lost on teeny roads, spending the whole day outside, all of that suddenly after our sedentary and relatively inactive lifestyles at home? It’s no surprise Europeans are so much slimmer and healthier than us Americans!

Not to mention, it wouldn’t hurt to incorporate these aspects into our daily living either. Obviously, sitting in an office all day is part of many people’s jobs, and yes, the gym can be an effective way to get in daily activity, but let’s make it less sterile and “manmade.” It’s beginning to warm up out there! Go on walks outside at the forest preserve on a nice day you may have off — walk home from somewhere you’d normally drive that’s not unreasonably far away. Opt for the stairs when you can.

Spending time outdoors is really underrated in most of the States, I’d wager, so I think the more time we make a point to pass not inside some stuffy indoor environment, the better off we are physically.

Take an afternoon to be old-school and play with a toddler (if you have access to one) at a playground. Climbing those jungle gyms, if you can (be careful!), is physically demanding, so make your workout fun rather than spending your time cooped up in a gym, which over too much time can often feel like a prison!

Hoola Hoop in your yard. Take dumbbells outside, even, and do your workouts in the grass — barefoot!

Be outdoors. Enjoy the warming weather. (Easy for me to say from where I am, right?) Make your exercise new and enjoyable.

To our healing,

monster mash

2011-03-06T21:23:00.001-06:00

A silly but apparently, effective, way to train your coordination with affected arms is to “monster walk”: My occupational therapist last year told me to do it in the privacy of my room every day. I have to incorporate it into my daily routine, so I’ll report back later on if it really does improve by much. But I find it hard to quantify the improvements you can make for coordination as a whole, so it can’t hurt to try.

What is “monster walking”? Essentially, you get down on all fours and take dramatic but intentional, confident “steps” with your hands and knees. Fingers straight, hands extended to ninety degrees at the wrist, much like the foot as you take normal steps. Take thirty “steps” alternating hands and knees in one direction and make the return trip.

Actually the idea is quite silly and fun. Make it a game and do it with a friend, family member, or significant other, slowly but deliberately. Make sure the movements are precise.

Coordination is probably one of the most formidable of challenges in the stroke rehab arena. Some strokes mostly affect strength (pretty straightforward), and others, like mine, jostle your equilibrium so that the main focus of your rehab aside from strength and movement is coordination and balance.

Similarly, for gait, I also recommend getting ahold of an agility ladder, which you can lay down on the floor to mark space for your strides. Walk slowly and intentionally, like with the monster walk, making sure to lift your foot as close to ninety degrees at the ankle as possible and striking with your heel. Go back and forth ten times, or as many times as you think works with the length of your ladder. But be careful! (You can easily trip.)

I’ll see what I can do about getting a short video up of myself attempting to do both these exercises. I’m currently at my parents’ restaurant and therefore unable to do it, but I will try later this week.

To our healing,

erasing the distance

2011-03-06T20:45:00.003-06:00

I went to the afternoon performance of Falling Petals on Thursday and the evening show on Friday, and I have to say Wow!

Every story they shared was amazing. The opening story was that of a Korean immigrant who over time became legally blind, the second of a guy who grew up with an abusive and addictive father, followed by my story, and then a woman who told her own story onstage (ironically enough she later told us that she had originally intended on remaining anonymous) of depression and the experience of raising a special needs daughter. The closing story was that of a man who lost his brother to suicide, for which the play takes its name “Falling Petals.” I am happy to say that despite how heavy the nature of my backstory can be sometimes, mine did provide a good amount of comic relief and lightheartedness to an otherwise intense production.

Each and every story carried such powerful elements that really reverberated. The most amazing thing about the show was simply how universal a lot of these stories were anyway, despite the details being radically different. It really served as a beautiful reminder that in the community of mankind, we all deal with very similar thematic issues in our lives as human beings. You may be blond and green-eyed and male, but fundamentally you and I are the same — this is exactly what Erasing the Distance seeks to gently remind us through their art, to open our awareness to the human condition especially in those groups that suffer most from stigma and social prejudice. It was an intense demonstration of just how broad the spectrum of mental illness can be, that we all pay most attention to the two extreme ends, but that most people fall somewhere in the middle and are forgotten by society.

And obviously, disability acquisition isn’t a mental illness, but it is just the same misunderstood.

I’m so proud now to have been part of their mission. And to think, I almost didn’t do it!

To our healing,

take note

2011-02-26T20:22:00.001-06:00

Sometimes I wonder whether it’s overly ambitious to blanket over all conditions that require us to heal from in this blog, and perhaps I am. I could never claim to know what overcoming clinical depression or mental illness is like, regardless of just how much I could speculate on it.

My only personal healing journeys come from a) dysfunctional and toxic interpersonal relationships with certain family members, an ex-boyfriend, and past unhealthy psychological self-treatment; and of course b) recovering from the AVM rupture and subsequent stroke. These stages of my life have offered me insights on self-respect, growth, and the effects of paralysis and neurological loss and reprogramming, to be sure, but I cannot with any level of authority write about other chronic conditions, like cancer or alcoholism.

I do, in my regular search for potential guest writers for the blog, try to address these and other issues, but all I can really write about myself are comments and suggestions for what I’ve been through (and related injuries) in addition to healing as a practice: healing techniques that are used to confront a number of things that plague humankind, like best practices for general health, psychological and interpersonal well being — techniques like yoga or meditation, emotional freedom technique (EFT), or the philosophies behind ancient Toltec Wisdom and general energy healing. Because I’m always in search of something I haven’t tried before in hopes of overwhelming my condition with an overall holistic “healing attack,” it seems there is absolutely no shortage to therapies to try. Generally, I encourage you — no matter what you may suffer from — to use your own judgment to see if a suggested therapeutic technique might also apply to you, but don’t always assume as much. (Especially since this blog is also about healthful living and general well being, a lot of the suggestions I make will apply to a broad spectrum of things.)

And even though I try to be as comprehensive as possible, for the time being, Rehab Revolution is the effort of only one person, li’l ole me. So I encourage you to tap into a resource you’re no doubt blessed to have, since you’re here: reading. There are so many sources of information, motivation, education out there that it’s overwhelming. But then, the entire recuperation journey is also one of continuous overwhelm, so that’s nothing new.

It’s because of this that I set up the noteworthy reads page that includes links to online articles and resources (like podcasts), remarkable books, websites, etc. I personally use a lot of these regularly to develop my inner well being and motivation, goal setting skills, and to implement in my physical daily life.

It’s crucial to keep an open mind and heart to try new approaches in earnest, because really, what do we know? Skeptics are proven wrong all the time, so it’s important to foster a sense of humility when it comes to what may work. So without further ado, my personal suggestions:

To start, I love my subscription to Women’s Health (there is a Men’s Health too), and I took a quick browse a couple days ago through Self magazine which quite impressed me, with plenty of impressive articles that resonated a lot with me and what me and this blog stand for. For example, just a quick poke on their website produced an article on the Eat, Pray, Love lifestyle — a must-read book, by the way.

Aside from reading, I find it also heartwarming and helpful to listen to audios designed to get you going. That’s why podcasts and audiobooks are so ingenious! Here are some of my favorites. . . .

On the motivation front, I find that Scott Smith’s Motivation to Move brand, which helps people striving for weight loss, and also inspires personal development for goal setting in general. He’s currently doing an annual free “Start Moving Stay Moving Bootcamp” teleseminar series, which you can check out here.

On goal setting and neurological retraining (with an emphasis on spirituality and neurobiology), I like to follow John Assaraf, who is an entrepreneur that coaches business owners in all aspects of life, especially the techniques that helped him grow both himself and his brand. You may wonder why this might have anything to do with healing, but if you can alter your mind and your habits, working with the brain rather than against it, you can accomplish anything.

I mentioned EFT earlier, which still few people know about — check out the documentary, The Tapping Solution (formerly Try It On Everything), and be sure to sign up for the Tapping World Summit event going on now (quick, day five already!): It’s a free ten-day series of guided tapping audios led by different experts in different fields that you can access for twenty-four hours after they go live. As far as I know, this too is an annual event. (I bought the MP3s and transcripts last year, and I still want to regularly self-experiment on the technique.) There is also a corresponding book that you can order and read on the practice.

An entertaining and efficient podcaster — actually, I’m a fan of almost their entire network of podcasts at quickanddirtytips.com — who is excellent at breaking down the simple steps to productivity is Stever Robbins, who semi-recently released the book Get-It-Done Guy’s 9 Steps to Work Less and Do More. You can access his weekly Get-It-Done Guy podcast from iTunes or at quickanddirtytips.com, alongside Ben Greenfield’s Get-Fit Guy and Monica Reinagel’s Nutrition Diva podcasts. It’s also fun (for me, anyway) to check in every now and again with the House Call Doctor, who is helpful with information on a lot of random medical quandaries. I rave about nearly all the Quick and Dirty Tips podcasters, who are regular, quirky, and entertaining as they offer up what they know. And it’s free!

If you prefer to have books read aloud to you rather than straining your eyes, consider a subscription to the Amazon-powered Audible.com, which at the time of this post already offers over 85,000 titles in audiobooks for immediate download. You can play them off your iPod or computer, whatever works best for you. I find it nice to take therapeutic walks with audible material on my iPod, which makes me feel productive. I believe you can get a free audiobook just for listening to a lot of the Q&D podcasters (Audible sponsors them), so listen to a couple and check it out.

For spiritual and psychological development, I highly recommend any of the Toltec wisdom series by Don Miguel Ruiz, whose Four Agreements principles are eye-opening and spiritually informative. (You don’t have to subscribe to any particular religion to benefit from this all-encompassing wisdom!) My energy healer, Ryan (whose guest article post you can review), had referred me to The Mastery of Love when I was confronting my relationship issues (letting go of a toxic one, learning to love and respect myself first and foremost). I highly recommend it to any of you dealing with any of that or even if you’re just interested in healthy approaches to a loving relationship with your partner.

I hope these recommendations are sufficient for now. I’ll keep adding links to what I find useful in the noteworthy reads page, in addition to implementing new and more frequent self experiments. I’ll also play around with the idea of posting book reviews every time I finish a great and relevant book.

I strongly encourage you to pursue your search for more information! Remember, keep your mind and your heart open and expect miracles, for they will come.

To our healing,

thanksgiving

2011-02-25T19:32:00.002-06:00

Sorry for the delay. I wrote this post yesterday and was all ready to put it up, but then Internet issues thwarted me. So here it is:

I cannot stress the importance of little celebrations. So important are they that I realized only now that I’ve already written a lengthy post on this before! But a little reminding never hurts.

As we all know, the healing journey is often a long one. The experience can either strengthen or weaken you, and it’s all about mindset.

Celebrating the small gains you make prevents limiting blanket statements like “I’m not getting any better,” “I’m only getting worse,” or “My situation sucks.” This last one is easy to get caught up in because it’s so easy — yet so destructive — to focus on the negative aspects of whatever the problem is. Remember that the road to success is always riddled with temporary, and frequent, little “failures” too.

I mean, this is nothing new, nor unique to just healing. You can use this approach with anything in life, but especially with your rehabilitation.

Be thankful for your body for trying to do what you want it to — it does its best, even if it’s not as it once was. And the more you work at it, the more it will adapt to eventually conform to your standards and expectations. Just be gentle with yourself and take the time to acknowledge the signs of minor progress.

You can start with a “macro to micro” exercise: feel inner gratitude for the big things, like being able to lift an arm or to sit up. Be thankful for your caregivers: doctors, nurses, family members. The friends who emotionally supported you. If you want, thank them out loud and in person or in writing. (I assure you, it makes them feel pretty darn good.)

Acknowledge the useful things your body can still do for you. Maybe your affected hand can’t thread a needle, but you can still draw elaborately beautiful pictures with your other. Be thankful of the fact that you can still read these words, that whatever form your injury or trauma took, it wasn’t more severe. Thank God (or whatever) you’re still alive, that there are people who care about you, that you’re still otherwise healthy.

As you list things off to be grateful for or to celebrate, you’ll find that the list never really stops. And go smaller. I’m so thankful for my right “superhuman” side, that it without complaint doubles its workload to compensate for my ailing left side, whose fault it isn’t for not doing what I’d like it to. I’m glad I still have all of my limbs and even if their neurological programming is off, I’m thankful that I have the opportunity to reprogram. To heal. Thankfully, nothing is actually wrong with the limbs themselves; every cell within them is still healthy and dutifully carries out what needs to be done.

As you nourish your body-mind (also known as the spirit), you’ll find your entire outlook and condition changing for the better. Love, gratitude, and validation strengthen us; fear, doubt, and hate only aggravate.

Embrace and accept what is so that you can make room for the always-better.

To our healing,

gaining your footing

2011-02-23T18:24:00.002-06:00

When I was first discharged from inpatient hospitalization to the DayRehab outpatient program, the physical therapists had me fitted for an ankle-foot orthotic (AFO). The AFO is a common partial solution to leg weakness and improper gait — essentially, it is a device built to prevent what’s called foot drop (keeping your foot at a constant ninety degrees with the rest of your leg) and makes up for ankle weakness or potential twisting.

I was instructed to wear it at all times, which essentially restricted me to wearing gym shoes every single day no matter where I went. This posed a number of superficial and aesthetic issues for me, a young girl to whom fashion was an important means of self-expression.

Generally, I’m not the type of person who ever wears gym shoes outside of a gym. And I like to wear skirts. I’m short, so I don’t own many skirts that go past the knees. So the entire question of wearing an AFO indefinitely was something my ego would not stand for.

In 2004 (my injury was in ’03), while living in Italy, I discovered a solution to my inability to wear skirts: legwarmers. I was overjoyed! (More on that later.) But I was still stuck in gym shoes day after day, which admittedly helped me to gain speed and strength in my walking for the year I lived there without a car (having to walk virtually everywhere).

About three years after my hospitalization, I began to wean myself off the AFO. A friend of mine commented, “Isn’t it more important to follow medical advice and wear the brace than to be able to wear the shoes you want?”

I’d faced a similar conundrum before. After my hospitalization, my parents had wanted me to take a full year off of university before going back. But after one semester of living at home doing nothing but the tedium of repetitious fine motor retraining, I felt like I was getting dumber. I craved the academic environment, which was all I knew at that point, missed society, missed exams, even.

So I fought to go back early. My father resisted, trying to get my physicians to back him up. But clearly, I had a psychological need to return to my life.

And I did.

Now, medically speaking, it may not have been the most conducive thing to my recovery; in fact, I’m sure I could have recovered a lot more quickly had I stayed home to concentrate on my rehab, since my personality was such that I quickly prioritized my schoolwork ahead of my physical therapy.

But I had a session with a neuropsychologist once who told me she believed going back to school was exactly the right thing for me to do at that time, despite its medical implications.

Our psychological needs are valid. Of course, depending on what they are, some needs are more feasible than others.

So knowing my own body and feeling my own sense of balance, I self-prescribed a reduction in AFO use. Therapists will be loath to recommend or encourage this, but I retain you ought to use your own discretion. Generally, removing an AFO when it’s heavily needed will result in instability and/or falling, but I knew my body. I had had scarce, if any, falls, and after having been a dancer and athlete for most of my teenage life, I was kinesthetically aware of my sense of balance. Additionally, my trainer did warn me that a lot of people’s muscles atrophy from too much dependence on braces and things of the like.

Early last year, I went back to DayRehab for some OT and PT. The physical therapist responded with the expected dismay at my lack of AFO use, and she called in the orthotics specialist to come examine my gait to potentially give me a prognosis for future injury due to not using it.

Fortunately, he didn’t see anything wrong or pathological about my anomalous gait, and didn’t prescribe me a return to the AFO (or a new one).

I’ll still use it if I anticipate trying to run or jump, for safety, but I wanted to point out something to those of you with “medically discouraged psychological needs”: compensate for what you’re doing by counteracting whatever disadvantage you’re putting yourself in.

Example: I could have rigorously fit my therapy in with my school schedule when I went back so soon, or prioritized my therapy over my academics (not the smartest — but probably the best for medical improvement).

Or, in the case of the missing AFO, you can work on regularly strengthening the muscles that the AFO is made to assist: the ankle evertors, calves, hamstrings, quads. Develop those muscles and counteract that dependence so that when the therapist tut-tuts you, you can defy them with your newfound independence.

I’m not saying that this is a solution for everybody, so please use your own discretion. I can’t tell you what your body is capable of, and obviously safety measures should be taken.

This is, after all, how you break free from the shackles of injury and slowly take control of your own healing and return to self-sufficiency.

To our healing,

r-e-s-p-e-c-t

2011-02-21T23:59:00.006-06:00

Not everyone who goes through traumatic injury or significant life changes is going to want to talk about it all the time. Even I, the loquacious girl that I am, the one that blogs about recovery and healing and writes memoirs on the effects of disability acquisition, am not always in the mood to expand on the topic.

The truth of the matter is that anything drastically life altering like this is immensely personal. Even when the creation of this blog was just a vague idea we were throwing around, I noticed that my collaborator, whose idea this was in a large part, seemed to have her reservations about so openly sharing about our experiences on a regular basis. I had already been rather in touch with writing about it through the process of working on my memoirs already for a while prior to the discussion, but I do admit that part of the reason why I was comfortable with the blog medium was that it was relatively anonymous. I didn’t have to be identified if I didn’t want to be, and initially I avoided putting my face to the site.

Over time, and after gauging people’s tremendously positive responses to this blog, I have slowly become more revealing about who I am through it, and I have participated in, say, the UCMC ad campaign and shared my story with the directors of Falling Petals. I find that the more I share, the more people will resonate with my mission to spread awareness and help others in similar positions to wade through the muck that requires tremendous personal growth and physical tedium.

But we all wear different hats in day-to-day life, and the driving force behind this blog is only one of mine. I am first and foremost a human being, one who possesses ego just like any of you, that serves to protect my self-image. This post is particularly aimed at those of you who know someone who’s acquired disability or suffers from some type of chronic condition, whether it be physical or internal. There is an unspoken request, a burden we all carry, that the people close to us protect our “secret” and not advertise it to those who may not understand or whose business it isn’t to know about us.

I say this because I’ve frequently been victim to people who unwittingly disrespect my feelings by either a) reminding me of my condition (as if I could forget) or b) needlessly bring it up, which is really an extension of “a.”

Think about it this way: When you see someone rolling himself around in a wheelchair, you don’t ask them why they’re in a chair, do you? Or do you sense it’s a private matter, accept it, and move on?

Why do you think there are HIPPA laws protecting patient privacy?

No one wants their personal business unnecessarily whispered around in the wind, so please be sensitive to this, and either keep your questions in a private one-on-one setting (and if you’re dealing with a stranger, that moment may never be. Pay heed to this), or be tactful and relevant about the information.

What am I talking about? Here’s an excellent and deliciously obnoxious example: I was at Sears with my parents earlier this winter looking at snow blowers. Because I was uninterested in the entire shopping experience, I took a seat inside one of the hardcore car shovel concoctions as I waited for my parents to ask me to test out a blower they wanted to consider buying.

Suddenly, a young girl, probably about nineteen years old, walked up to me and said in a friendly voice, “I hear you have a disability. Do you?”

Taken aback, I assumed she must have been an employee of Sears there to help me find an appropriate snow blower that I could comfortably use. But when I replied, “Uh . . . yes, I do” she cheerfully announced, “So do I!”

The conversation was among the more awkward I’ve ever had, and I politely answered her inappropriately invasive questions as I privately fumed at my father for gossiping about my condition to an utter stranger. What business did this fellow customer have in knowing the details of my personal situation?

I was not offended by the conversation as much as I was at the betrayal of trust between my father and me. I’ve been in similar situations before with my mother who has a bad habit of dropping the “She’s a handicap” bomb to strangers when she thinks it necessary (it almost never is). By my father, I’ve been referred to as a “cripple” with an artillery of invented symptoms that are completely untrue.

Why my parents feel the need to churn the rumor mill about me and my condition, I have no idea. Perhaps it’s a defense mechanism or it comforts them. In any case, they’re forgetting a fundamental truth: This is my story to tell, and they should respect it.

So whether you know someone with disability, depression, addiction, disease, or what have you, put yourself in her shoes before you let something slip. Is it really pertinent to mention? Because most of the time, the answer is no.

To our healing,

the audacity of hope

2011-02-18T20:21:00.001-06:00

Call me metaphysical, but I am a strong believer in the way the spirit affects its energy system. What does that mean?

The entire body is an energy system made of macroscopic attributes (arms, shoulders, legs, what have you), containing ever-smaller components that all work in harmony (or disharmony, which creates our physical maladies) and run the whole picture of our health. This much is obvious, and we fuel our body systems with food, rest, etc., and yes, stress, too.

Stress is probably the number one cause of physical disease. Arguably, it’s necessary to life and to be sure, there are good and bad forms of it. But we definitely need to cut back on the excessive sources of stress, whether internal or external.

Stress, though, is not just physiologically damaging but spiritually destructive. When our emotions are predominantly negative, this results in negative bodily responses as well. That’s why clinical depression can lead to aches and pains, obesity, chronic fatigue. I often hear stories of former cancer patients having received devastating prognoses and somehow surviving years post their supposed predicted “death sentence,” rising above their physical disease with genuine spiritual uplifting.

Now, a lot of people write off these stories as “exceptions, not the rule” (or believe these exceptions define the rule), but I think this rejection of the unexpected is a response stemming from cynicism, perhaps self-doubt, and fear. We don’t like what we don’t understand, and to be told that we can cure ourselves with simply positive thoughts forces us to place the responsibility of our healing onto us. What if, we think, I can’t hope hard enough? What if all my positive thinking yields no results? Not only that, but to claim something so supposedly “easy” as thinking could cure us of an ominous and overpowering disease can seem overly simplistic. It seems to in a way disrespect the gravity of the malady; how dare the Pollyannas of the world claim such a thing?

And these doubts and fears create even more stress. Seems like a no-win situation.

But really, what’s the use of dwelling on what’s wrong with us? If we must be plagued by some inconvenient bodily dis-ease, must we also be miserable about it? If in fact positive thinking and forgiveness of what seems like a betrayal of our own bodies does not cure us, doesn’t it ease our condition anyway?

On a quick aside, the one aspect of healing that I thought was exceedingly important to emphasize in the University of Chicago article on my story — which they unfortunately left out — was that of treating the soul. I wanted to put in the spotlight my attending physician from my hospitalization, Dr. Schwab, for his outstanding bedside manner. But I suppose people suffering from serious medical issues are most interested in finding cutting-edge technology and top-rated physicians at the “forefront of medicine,” rather than the soothing nature of their caregivers. Fortunately, the UCMC provides both, and I actually think they do themselves a disservice not emphasizing their remarkable level of spiritual nurturing. But I digress.

I find that a great way to guard myself from stress is to ground myself in preparation to face it. Actors do this by calming their nerves before they step onstage in front of a crowded auditorium. We can take note of this and learn to do the same when we know we’re about to meet adversity or the potential for some kind of nervous shakeup.

What do I mean by “grounding”? Quite simply, it means acknowledging the present and your place in it. Taking a moment to make sure you’re being down-to-earth, to remember who you are and why you are there. Protecting your inner self from external attack.

You can ground by meditation (imagine a brown stream of energy radiating from your core, down your legs, through your feet, and into the center of the Earth); taking a few deep breaths (count to five while inhaling and exhaling); or reconnecting with the earth (i.e., receiving negative ions — a good thing!) via grounding techniques like placing your palms around a tree, standing barefoot on the sand or unpaved earth, or taking a shower or swimming in the ocean.

Ground yourself before an important meeting, talk, exam, or presentation. Ground yourself before approaching a person whom you know will sap your energy in a negative way. Or prior to any other toxic experience you may anticipate.

I also recently learned from the biologists of HeartMath (they specialize in heart research) about the effects of energy levels on the heart, and subsequently the body. Apparently just by physical proximity, we pick up energy signals of the people around us, synchronizing even our heartbeats and consequently our stress responses with the people nearby. The studies show it — which is why “metaphysicists” aren’t just full of hokum!

Keep your mind — and heart — open and treat yourself well. Nurture your soul with forgiveness, kindness, positivity. And you’ll realize things are really not that bad. The journey will be alleviated and the quality of life will be far gentler on you if you do.

To our healing,

playing pool

2011-02-17T13:54:00.001-06:00

In my recent treks to the gym, perhaps because I’m a new member (I joined just prior to the New Year), I’ve been rather exploratory and experimental. I recommend you do the same.

For example, my gym has a resistance pool, which is a small pool that provides a steady stream of movement throughout the water and gives you the chance to “swim” even if you aren’t. I haven’t yet researched the best techniques within the resistance pool, but I’ve officially integrated pool time into my weekly routine — every Monday, this is what I do now, immediately followed by a relaxing soak in the hot tub.

Apparently, swimming is one of the most beneficial things people like me can do for rehab — the buoyancy of water acts as a nice force of resistance coming from all sides, at the same time kind of negating the effects of gravity, so it helps strengthen in a gentle yet challenging way.

One word of warning, though — chlorinated pools are not optimal for our health, so try to find a saltwater pool if you can, or if you’re lucky enough to have access to a magnesium pool (more on these in the future when my best friend finally writes her guest article on the benefits of magnesium for our well being and its promising therapeutic effects). At the very least, try to use a minimally chlorinated pool if you can. Or, take a dip at the beach (if you are lucky enough to be somewhere warm right now!).

To our healing,

storytelling

2011-02-16T00:28:00.004-06:00

Oh, by the way! Follow-up to my earlier Falling Petals post. It turns out the directors of Erasing the Distance were really inspired by my story and mission, so they have chosen to use it for their production. I am actually going to meet the actress portraying me on Thursday afternoon! If you live in Chicagoland, you’re welcome to see the production for free on 2-4 March! The first two days, they’re doing matinees at four PM, but on the fourth (when I’ll be going with my friends), it’s at seven. At the James Stukel Events Center at 718 W. Rochford St in Chicago. Come out; it’ll be awesome!

To our healing,

journey of 1000 miles

2011-02-16T00:10:00.005-06:00

Right. Day two. I got a rather late start today, as I started off feeling quite lethargic. (Then, suddenly it was ten thirty at night and still hadn’t eaten yet, and I was still getting dressed at the gym.) As I mentioned yesterday, it is really amazing the cumulative effect of a little bit of work every single day.

Around the turn of the New Year, I’d definitely gotten way lazier about gym-going than I had been for the past two to three years. Back when I was an undergrad I’d adjusted my weekly schedule to fit in gym time five days a week, and once I was back at home with a gym membership I upped it to six. Then, due to some nonsense, it dropped down to three to four.

I find it easiest to keep on track by writing down my accomplishments. I start out by writing out a program and filling it out as I go, and eventually, the record sheet gets filled and is more incentive for me to go. Nothing like competition with yourself (and only yourself)!

Speaking of undergrad, back in May 2009 when I was graduating from the University of Illinois, my then-roommate, who is from Italy, came to all three of my ceremonies. Because my family lives about three hours away from my university, and because most of them work (like crazy!), they had to come in shifts: I had two ceremonies on Saturday for my individual degrees, and then a general university-wise one on Sunday, so my father and sister came down Saturday and my mom and cousin on Sunday. Anyway, my roommate was the only one to attend all of them, which was very sweet of him, so I promised him I’d fly over to Italy whenever he graduated.

Turns out, the punk graduates this March. :)

It’s obviously super last-minute, but I’ve found out that Delta Airlines is holding an airfare sale right now until the first of March, which gives me just enough time to be crazy and work at my parents’ restaurant every day for a week to raise money for my roundtrip flights. (Usually, I’ll work maximum once or twice a week.) Of course, I’m also going to attempt the impossible and set out for the gym in the mornings prior to work (I’m not a morning gym rat).

So this got me thinking. Set some short-term goals for yourself to motivate “the crazy” in you. It also reminds me of what my fold trainer told me about stimulating and speeding up recovery time by regular bursts of intense therapy. Believe me, even with the slowness of progress, you’re making microscopic gains even just by going through the motions.

You know what to do. Just make sure you do it.

And before you know it, it’s ten PM and you’re still at the gym. :P (I guess that’s a metaphor for how things occur seemingly out of nowhere with the accumulation of activity.)

Seriously, though, this past Saturday? I was getting my hair done at the salon in my gym (who in Chicagoland/NY/D.C. goes to XSport? Isn’t it the best?) and I mentioned to my stylist that I felt strange being at the gym but not working out. And then I reflected backward into the past week and realized I’d worked out at the gym six days of that week!

Who knew just grabbing that gym bag and trekking out once a day would add up to that much? And today, I was there exercising for two hours (wow!). Totally lost track of time.

So I stopped feeling so guilty about getting my hair done. ;)

To our healing,

PS. I really did write this post on Tuesday, 15 Feb, but Blogger is pesky in that it is pedantic about technicalities like the strike of midnight (see birthday post). Also, February is heart health month. What better time to start taking omega-3 supplements and kicking up some regular cardio?

patience as a virtue

2011-02-14T16:45:00.004-06:00

Happy Valentine’s Day, everybody! I kind of wish I had waited to post my thoughts on the role of love in healing and rehabilitation, so if you missed it, you can read it here.

This being a Monday, I’d like to state an intention right now. In keeping with my “Any day is a good day as any to set up your resolutions” mentality (if you missed that very brief post, here it is), I’d like to apologize to anybody who’s been wondering why my posts have been less frequent lately. I don’t like to make excuses, so suffice it to say I’ve been a bit lost lately. When I don’t make the conscious effort to ground myself, I have a tendency to kind of float away. My healer (whose post you can review here) taught me some grounding meditations that are good for me to do to use to keep myself rooted and focused on what’s in front of me. Maybe I should ask him to write a guest article on that. Anyway, I digress.

I am stating my intention now to at least aim to post something at least once a weekday. I’ll make it a habit to start off my Mondays through Fridays from now on with a post; this is actually an excellent example of what rehab is like. I began this blog April of 2010 and posted regularly — now, I’m a bit shocked to see that actually the entire site contains over 100 posts (and who knows how many words!). Over time, that little by little builds up to a lot. So let’s consider it a lesson in patience.

It’s important for people like you and me to remember this concept, since healing is so cumulative and so slow. There are so many sayings, quotes, clichés that embody it that it’s a wonder it’s easy to forget:

“A watched pot never boils.”
“A stitch in time saves nine.”
“An inch is a cinch; a mile takes a while.”
“The journey of 1000 miles begins with a single step.”

My friend recently had a knee injury that kept her out of commission for a couple of weeks. Her doctor gave her specific orders not to do her usual workouts, but instructed her on some helpful exercises to do to help heal her knee. After taking off from work for the allotted rest time, and pushing herself to perform the exercises every day, she managed to heal it much quicker than the doctor anticipated.

The other day she asked me why I didn’t push myself to do the same with my rehab. Why, if it’s so hard and slow, did I not use that as more reason to just keep doing it? And cut short the time between my current condition and my healed and more functional future condition? she asked. “If I were you,” she continued, “I’d do it all the time just to get faster results . . . I was going crazy with my knee injury and wouldn’t stop strengthening it so I could use it again.”

Usually, I get really frustrated when people who haven’t been in your specific situation claim to know what it must be like to be you. Because you truly cannot know, even if you’ve seen the struggle and have taken care of someone in the situation, even if it’s your career to interact with patients rehabilitating from traumatic injury, what it is like. I told her as much, but because she hadn’t meant it to be self-righteous, I continued to explain.

I told her it was not that easy. Her knee injury took her out of commission, sure, for a couple of weeks, and her doctor told her what to do. But when your prognosis is less clear — when it’s uncertain as to how much you can heal and what exactly you can do about it — and you’ve been dealing with it for seven-plus years? It’s a lot less black-and-white.

The progress can be so slow that you don’t even notice it. Sometimes you notice it only when others observing you point it out. But even so, you’re still markedly behind everyone else and where you wanted to be. It’s a constant tug-of-war between energetically driving on and being discouraged by the seeming lack of results and losing steam.

But you know what? Unless you’re okay with your current condition, and okay with it actually degenerating over time because you’re not willing to maintain it, sometimes these uninformed claims of “this is what I’d do if I were you” are what we need to hear. In the end, it is that easy: The more you do, the better you’ll get. And it takes an exhausting amount of time and effort and concentration (all that repetition can make the mind foggy!), but you must persist. The stronger and better you get, you’re just that much closer to your end goal.

And might I remind you that recovery is really just a perversion of maintaining good health, anyway. Even those of us without an injury to recover from have to exercise and eat well. Taking care of ourselves is a lifelong commitment, and the most loving thing you can do for yourself. (So why not start today, on the day of love?)

To our healing,

ending the cycle

2011-02-07T02:48:00.005-06:00

It is late at night and I need to sleep, but quickly again I wanted to copy you my horoscope from Daily Om -- so many of these are relevant to the mission of this blog to encourage the healing process! Enjoy . . .

One of the hardest things in life is feeling stuck in a situation that we don’t like and want to change. We may have exhausted ourselves trying to figure out how to make change, and we may even have given up. However, each day offers us an opportunity to renew our resolve and to declare to the universe that we are ready for change. We may even say out loud that we have tried and struggled and have not found a way, but that we are open to help, and that we intend to keep working to create change for ourselves. Making this declaration to the universe, and to ourselves, may be just the remedy for the stagnation we are experiencing. And, it can be done today, right now.

It is difficult to understand, even with hindsight, how the choices we have made have added up to our current situation, but it is a good idea to examine the story we tell ourselves. If we tend to regard ourselves as having failed, this will block our ability to allow ourselves to succeed. We have the power to change the story we tell ourselves by acknowledging that in the past, we did our best, and we exhibited many positive qualities, and had many fine moments on our path to the present moment. We can also recognize that we have learned from our experiences, and that this will help us with our current choices.

When we do this kind of work on how we view our past self, we make it possible for the future to be based on a positive self-assessment. This inner shift may allow us to get out of the cycle we’ve been in that’s been keeping us stuck. Now we can declare our intentions to the universe, knowing that we have done the inner work necessary to allow our lives to change. Allow today to be the day to end cycles and enter into a new way of being.

To our healing,

falling petals

2011-02-05T03:44:00.008-06:00

I’ve been invited to get involved in another initiative. This one, arranged by a non-for-profit group called Erasing the Distance (which focuses on spreading awareness of mental illness), will manifest in a theater production called Falling Petals. The show concentrates on disabilities in particular, and a girl I know (who will guest-write for the blog soon — for real!) who’s involved in the project invited me to share my story with them.

I interviewed with them two days ago over the phone (those of you far away may not have heard about the massive blizzard that hit Chicagoland Tuesday afternoon, essentially trapping all human beings in the area indoors for twenty-four hours), and speaking with the outreach director was really thought-provoking. They are performing the show a month from now, which is kind of crazy, because they only decided to use my story yesterday(!).

Now, I’m kind of cheating on this post because I told the director of the show that I would e-mail her additional thoughts on five “scenes,” or aspects of disability acquisition, to provide even more material in addition to the hour-plus worth of rambling I provided the other day. Ha. So, after pounding out a hella long e-mail at three AM, I’d like to share with you what I wrote, mainly because not nearly all of this will be included in the monologue telling my story in the show, and I don’t want my words wasted! ;)

By the way, if you are in the Chicago area and interested in seeing the production, please don’t hesitate to contact me for information, or go to this site to read about Falling Petals.

You’ll find that this is pretty much a summary of a lot of things I’ve covered in this blog in the past, so please excuse the repetition. However, I don’t think there’s harm in reviewing. Here it is:

*physical

Obviously, when you have half your body all of a sudden rendered useless, it’s not just that you can’t walk or run anymore. You can’t take care of yourself; you are dependent on others again as though you were once again a baby. And that is humbling, especially if you were previously athletic and physically expressive and very capable of taking care of yourself. Countless people you don’t know (hospital staff: doctors, nurses) and people you do (family members, sometimes friends) will see you naked. The entire concept of your body is compromised; it no longer responds the way you were used to it responding from the day you were born. You’re like a baby, but less, a kind of baby-minus, because a baby can move all four limbs and feel properly. Yours can no longer do that. Through therapy you discover that all the activities you used to do with nary a thought are far more complex than you ever cared to consider: Tying your hair back, closing a button, putting on a sock all used to require two hands, and you now have to learn new ways to do all of these tasks — or rely on other people to do them for you. You’re not allowed to go to the bathroom by yourself because your caretakers are afraid you might fall and hurt yourself. Your body is lazy, defeated. And for some reason your mind just accepts it without question. It just is.

You have to remember even your paralyzed limbs are still alive, as you’ll need to wash them — otherwise they’ll start to smell. They’re heavy, though; you never really think about the weight of a leg or an arm until you have to pick up or move them with your own hand. You easily learn through time that there is no such thing as a simple movement, especially when it comes to your hand. That fine motor movement is the most stubborn to return, and in my case, it was even more exacerbated by the fact that I had lost most of the sensation in my left hand, so I had to (and still have to) rely on eyesight to know what it is I’m trying to do with my fingers or what it is I’m holding in my hand. The key to therapy is repetition, repetition, repetition. Wash, rinse, and repeat. There is nothing more mentally exhausting than focusing on moving something just right. It’s as though your left side is in a total haze; its muscle memories completely erased. Yet, fascinatingly, when you imagine what it was like to move in a certain way, it will try.

Anger with what you think your body ought to be able to do is readily accessible: People often get disproportionately frustrated with what seems like mere stubbornness; after years of rehab and self-improvement I now have learned you must not give in to that anger. It’s misplaced, and all you’re doing is scapegoating your body for the misfortune you’ve suffered. Your body, your brain, are doing the best they can. Being gentle, loving, and understanding with yourself is key.

*emotional

It is so easy to get frustrated with your situation. You’ll easily go to sleep at nine o’clock because you’re simply drained from trying to rewire your brain for hours and hours during the day. And twelve hours later when the nurses come to wake you you’re still tired. Your brain is recovering from attack; it needs its rest. For me, the way hospital staff was always around to physically tend to me and the way certain physicians or therapists interacted with me to lift my spirits inspired great amounts of gratitude. I saw a new kind of beauty in their profession; I had previously never given a second thought to the world of medicine and all of a sudden it was all I could think I wanted to do in my life. I felt something like this couldn’t have happened without a reason. It opened my eyes to a world that overwhelmed me in its love for mankind and our well-being.

On the flip side, there were of course times when comparisons to how I used to be would revisit me and momentarily bring me pain and sadness. Mentioning this to my mother would make her cry. And I suspect my limbic system was affected by the brain surgery, as anything could make me cry (when before I was somewhat “constipated” in that sense and rarely ever shed a tear) or laugh uncontrollably.

Humor was a great coping mechanism. It was a good way to keep spirits up, by being silly with my therapists or doctors. I think it was the ability to make light of the situation and not focus too long on how unfortunate it was to have to suffer through this that made such a long hospital stay bearable. I was in the hospital from 7 July to 25 September, and it was in part thanks to this lighthearted attitude that I didn’t lapse into a funk.

Lastly, your mental state is the most important indicator of your recovery. Being defeated/giving up is the worst thing you can do. Being motivated to keep going is your lifeline.

*spiritual

It is tremendously important to have faith in a circumstance like this. Whether it be in God, fate, your surgeon, or your brain’s amazing ability to reconstruct itself, you must know that there is something greater than what you’re conscious of at work here. The experience also undoubtedly makes you stronger. And when a person is “strong,” we’re not talking about physical strength; we’re referring to a strength in spirit. You’re alive! Against the odds! And you’ve been given a chance to bounce back.

Additionally, at least in my case, there’s a part of me that rejects the “science” behind what the doctors say: They’ve told me both “You can’t get it all back” and “The more you do, the more you’ll get back.” My heart tells me that somewhere the two must intersect — and so, call it the tortured artist driven by the unrelenting perfectionist in me that forces me to ignore “the statistics,” I choose to believe that I can and will recover 100%. To believe as much in the face of what is “likely” is a great leap of faith and strength, in my opinion. (As an aside, a neuropsychologist once told me I would achieve much greater peace of mind if I just accepted my condition as-is, but I see that as a bit defeatist. After all, I’m not missing any body parts; I’m just rewriting the pieces to a greater story.)

*relational

After you’ve been affected by this kind of condition, your lifestyle greatly changes. This requires everyone you know to show his true colors. Those who were closest to you will strengthen their bonds to you; they’ll take care of you. They’ll defend you. They’ll fly from far away to come visit you. Pray for you. On the other hand, some friends will unfortunately show their dimmer colors and fade out of your life, creating a distance between you because you’ve become inconvenient. You’ll learn, slowly but surely, that you no longer have the tolerance for those kinds of fairweather friends that are not there for you when you most need them.

Some people will forge connections with you because you share a common story — often friends you make in therapy or friends who have close family members who have been through something similar — or connect with you because of some psychological need for victimization. This is one of the worst scenarios. I personally became involved with a guy, whom I understood to be one of the most beautiful people I’d ever known, who was — it was later revealed as I reflected back on our relationship — attracted to the tragedy of the situation. Things that he had not deserved had occurred in his past that he hadn’t yet dealt with, so my not deserving my sudden disability was greatly seductive to him. Because he was so good at disguising this victimized connection as a romantic one, I fell greatly and seemingly irrevocably in love with him. As a result, I lost nearly three years of myself devoted to someone who in the end turned out not big and beautiful enough to accept me for who I was. He made the mistake of seeing me as my physical condition as opposed to the woman I was encased in it. And it began to tax him. He would blame me for not being able to dash out of pouring rain with him or for almost missing our stop on the train because I hadn’t gotten up early enough. My iron-grip love for him — and lack of respect for myself — wrote off this behavior as “tough love,” but in retrospect that is malarkey. I should have stood up for myself and told him it wasn’t my fault. That I wasn’t not running to anger him. I should have pointed out that I felt enough of a burden from bringing inconvenience and delay to myself and to those around me without him throwing — no, rubbing — salt into the wound. I cannot concisely express in words how profoundly this relationship hurt me, but as a result of it I sort of died — in every way but biologically — and perhaps it wasn’t due to the disability but rather to my psychological faculties, but the disability was ultimately what rendered our union impossible. He didn’t see what should have been blindingly apparent: me. I believe I radiate, that my soul sings, and transcend my physical body. To be with someone is partly to share a combined energy with them, and because he connected with me initially on a weaker level — one of victimization and “why me?” — it gradually snuffed out. Better this way, of course, as I am clearly better than all of that. Like a phoenix, I rose again to live a new life. My primary relationship is with myself, and in learning to love myself again and not stand for that kind of abuse anymore, I have been able to take the steps to move on.

Part of the fear you develop when you acquire a disability is the fear of separating yourself from the herd — having been born “part of the herd,” so to speak, you are only too familiar with the way most people view the disabled, as being part of The Other. We fear what we don’t understand, and so as a sort of defense mechanism I’ve developed this system of making new friends completely devoid of telling them about what I’ve been through. I prefer that they get to know me first and later find out that I happen to “come with” an uncommon backstory. It may be a bit “bait and switch,” but only if the person in question is ignorant enough to believe that my bait (“I’m a cool girl to know”) is different from the switch.

Some friends will not adjust their behavior to your new circumstances, which is something I don’t suffer gladly now, since a friendship should not be based on resentment, which inevitably accumulates on both ends after a while. It’s also tough now because I’m at a point in my healing where the disability is not always immediately apparent — so it is easy for others to forget — and because you’ll never know what it feels like until you’ve personally been through it, there is no way for others to fully comprehend why something may be difficult for me while something else may seem easy. Communication, therefore, is key. It’s a delicate balance between my expecting them to slow down for me and their expecting me to speak up when I need them to do something different.

A suitable partner must at the very least accept you as you are, and this is regardless of disability. As I’ve said, though, having the disability in a way acts as a screening process for men who are actually shallow boys, or like my ex, weaker and toxic for you. I am so thankful to have been able to find myself now with someone who seems a boy (he is younger than me) but is actually more a man than I initially suspected. This showed in the way he would always (without my asking) hang back to walk with me whenever our group of friends headed somewhere and I lagged behind. Or the way he always takes care of me, anticipating my needs before they arrive, without complaint or resentment, for which I am infinitely thankful. And he is humble to an extent that even I don’t understand; he knows his worth, but he’ll never use it against me. Any woman deserves a partner who shines with her rather than in spite of her, so it is important for acceptance to be prerequisite number one and mutual respect a close second.

*self-image

Not to cry you a river, but I had it really good before the AVM rupture. I was healthy-healthy-healthy, never even had strep or the flu. I had played volleyball and track, I was a dancer, a gymnast, an actress. I literally climbed the walls of my dorm as a freshman at U of I Champaign. I loved shopping. I easily spoke to new people and made new friends — admittedly, most of them male. Life was good. But the downside of all this happy-go-luckiness was that I was superficial and egotistical. I wasn’t fragile, but I was at the same time harmless yet harsh. I didn’t always think very deeply, yet I had very high self-esteem, due to external validation. I got a lot of male attention so I must have been attractive. (I grew up largely dorky-looking until I was seventeen so I’d had time to develop good fashion sense.) I was always the girl with "so much potential," but I was also driven.

Anyway, they say the more you have, the more you have to lose. In the matter of, what, a few seconds? Minutes? All the neurological programming stored in my brain from my toddler years was overridden. Forget climbing walls; I couldn’t even sit up. As aforementioned, the hospital experience is nothing if not a lesson in HUMILITY. At nineteen? Everyone believes himself to be invincible. Guess what; you’re not.

And when your physical capabilities are a large part of where your pride lies, that ego just fizzles away. It’s still there, to be sure, but it cowers, not sure if it can come out again. (Perhaps that drive I have to get it all back is also in part due to that.)

Am I still attractive? I still have more or less the same face, even if it’s a bit asymmetrical. (They placed my bone flap back into my skull during the second surgery, but — as anticipated — it wouldn’t fit back in place perfectly anymore due to contraction of the skull while it was missing. So it has been fastened into place by three titanium plates. As a result, there is a slight groove on the right end of my forehead.) What about when I used to occasionally get seizures? Won’t that freak a potential partner out? (My ex used to complain about the way the anti-seizure medication affected my breath, encouraging me to stop taking it — which did come back and bite him in the ass, of course.) What about the way I walk? Also, it is a tremendous blow to the ego that I still can’t wear heels. (If I hadn’t had the stroke I likely would hardly be seen without them.)

It was a HUGE milestone when I was able to wean myself off the ankle-foot orthotic (AFO), which condemned me to a life of gym shoes. Without it, I could wear short skirts again and normal shoes! Not flip flops initially, but smaller, sleeker sneakers and ballet flats. Boots with a slight incline.

Does this all sound very superficial? Of course it does. But aesthetic pride was a large part of my life before. And when it’s taken away, your perception of yourself goes into shock. So you begin to compensate.

After a semester off of school to focus on rehab, I forced my parents to let me go back to university (they’d wanted me to take the year off.) My first semester back, I successfully “nerded up”: I got a 4.0 GPA for the first time. (What did you know, I met that proverbial “potential” for once!)

Because I had thought I’d be in Florence my entire sophomore year, I simply asked the school there to postpone my enrollment till the next year. I managed to study abroad not once, but twice: for the year in Florence, Italy in 2004-2005, during which I regained much of my physical gait back and the “attractiveness factor” (naturally, Italian men being what they are), and for another eight months in Bologna, Italy in 2007.

I certainly still struggle with self-image to this day. As a result of being forced into The Other, I’ve become far more introverted than I ever was before. I don’t much go dancing anymore (even though I still think of myself as a dancer and do it all the time in the privacy of my bedroom), I don’t do theatre apart from watching it, and I still hate my non-use of the bajillion pairs of high heels sitting in wait in my closet. My body is ever so slightly asymmetrical (different sized limbs, a sublexed shoulder, a hiding clavicle, an anomalous gait), which ceaselessly annoys me. Do I blame myself? No. But I do push myself.

The experience has inspired endless reflection and introspection, forcing me to know myself and the world a bit better. I think it has made me a better person, but also a slightly more fearful one. The fears I’ve developed in response to what I’ve lived through (both pre- and post-stroke), but it is always a journey, so with awareness and more just daily living I continue to grow and heal every day.

To our healing,

resolutions, part ii

2011-01-26T15:35:00.001-06:00

I just wanted to remind you, too, that just because New Year’s Day is over doesn’t mean it’s too late to implement resolutions. The first day of the year is just an arbitrary day that most people happen to resolve new goals. But it’s no different from yesterday or today. If you’ve lagged behind (like I have), who cares? Plot your objectives today, and begin tomorrow.

To our healing,

new year's resolutions

2011-01-19T11:07:00.002-06:00

Roughly this time of year (fine, perhaps a trio of weeks ago, but I say “this time” because I sadly am already lagging behind), people are resolving for the New Year. “Lose weight” turns into a new gym membership or some fad diet.

And then (really) comes about now, the later-January crash, when most people have already either pushed these resolutions to the backburner, or worse yet, completely forgotten about them.

I could go on for days about my frustration over the general man’s seeming inability to change for the better — but that’s not what today’s post is about.

Ever since I decided to put my healing into the forefront of my priorities, regular rehabilitation has been on my New Year’s resolutions. Finally, in early 2008 or so, I managed to pull an about-face and learned to get myself on track. The trick was to always schedule mandatory trips to the gym with regimented exercises. There was no “I don’t feel like it” or “I’ll go tomorrow” (of course, that usually was the case anyway). I was going to university full-time, as well, and treated attendance at the gym nearly as a class. I was in the gym five days a week, guaranteed. (And this was from not going at all, or only once or twice.)

So a tip to you, if you’ve decided to resolve to get yourself to the gym on a regular basis: It’s not going to happen until you’ve scribbled it into your planner. As long as you act like it’s as important as your job or school (and it is, come on!), it will happen. This will apply whether you want to go to the gym for therapy or weight loss.

I also wanted to point out another thing. Resolutions to “become a better conversationalist” or “find a significant other,” these types of objectives are much harder than something like making it to the gym. Why? Because becoming a better conversationalist has to do with a social skill and is also dependent on the people you meet. You only need to drag yourself up and out to another place! As long as you get there, you’ll automatically feel obligated to work out. (Ever stopped by a gym unprepared and feel like that? Or walked by one?) It is so easy that it’s laughable how much resistance we have to just doing it.

Quit the grumbling, remember that this is only a physical activity — i.e., far easier than character improvement — and hold yourself accountable. If not, hey, get a gym partner. Hold each other accountable (on that note, take a gander at my friend Pete’s book on the subject, Team Up). Make yourself go most days of the week if you can’t do five or six days — four will still do. And over the year, four becomes 208. Incredible what regular accumulation does, isn’t it? Get a trainer (educated on your condition and what to do). If you’re not quite at the point in your recovery that allows safe visits to the gym, then make it at-home exercises. (Your rehab hospitals ought to have given you plenty of those handouts; see, I know!) Or, of course if you’re dealing with an entirely different type of healing journey, adjust the plan to your condition (for example, someone dealing with addiction could join an anonymous support group, do regular reading that helps them deal, surround themselves with close and supportive friends/family); it doesn’t have to be “the gym.” Though for cases like mine, my physiatrist told me once that the gym is the absolute most important home-therapy technique.

Not to mention, people’s resolutions tend to be less urgent than something like rehab. We need our resolution to be a reality, whereas typically other resolutions are only wanted.

For the ambitious, it can also help tremendously to formally write out your goals. At the top, write your objective (“Regular rehabilitation”) and divvy up smaller subgoals (“Physical therapy,” “Occupational therapy”) with smaller yet activities. A sample goal map could be:

REGULAR REHABILITATION

Physical Therapy

Mondays, Wednesdays, Fridays — weight training program at gym (with trainer)

Tuesdays, Thursdays — 30 minutes cardio workout at gym or home (independently)

Occupational Therapy

Hand exercises every day, knitting

CIMT once a month

Piano post-cardio Tuesdays/Thursdays

Now, that’s a pretty crude example, but you get the idea. You can get as specific as you like, as long as you’re capable of sticking to it. But be realistic — sometimes these long-term goals are hard to implement because people start off too big. You can always add and take away things from your list, so if five days a week is too much (or fifty pages of reading), shave it down to four (or thirty). Work your way up.

And this may seem kind of hokey to some of you, but visualize yourself successfully carrying out your toughest exercises. The brain does not distinguish between what it’s really doing and what it’s imagining doing. It will help. (Heck, I managed to win some tickets last weekend using this exact technique, but that’s another story.)

Other important aspects to keep in mind: In physical exercise, form is key. Sometimes when movement alone is important, it’s not as essential, but for the most part, when training gross motor muscles, you’re going to need to program movements correctly. This prevents injury and anomalous development — it’s also kind of a domino effect (if you’re not walking properly how can you run correctly?) in that fundamental movements will fuel later, more complex, ones. A trainer can drastically help you in this. Also, mirrors.

Keep records of your progress! Nothing is more encouraging than to see how well you’ve been doing. (If anything, those that tend toward slight obsessive-compulsive behavior will make themselves do their rehab if only to keep up the pattern.)

Don’t be too hard on yourself. If you slip up one week, just make sure you’re back on track the next.

To our healing,

where is the love?

2010-12-28T21:24:00.004-06:00

Happy holidays, everybody.

I haven’t dropped off the face of the earth; I promise. In fact, during all this time off, I’ve thought a lot about some profound aspects of disability acquisition, which I think is important to share. I can only speak from my own experiences, of course, but I don’t presume mine are unique to only me.

Since we are in the midst of holiday season, I thought it would be appropriate today to talk about the importance of love in your journey towards healing.

Now, this may seem oversimplified, but yesterday I was down with a minor bout of food poisoning. Because I’m rarely, if ever, sick, I tend not to tolerate illness well, so I become sort of an overgrown baby and completely incapacitated. I require people to comfort and nurture me, which is more often than not met with equal intolerance and annoyance from the people around me.

My mother has always been more nurturing than my father, whose reaction yesterday was just to yell at me. In response to my phonecall to my mother asking her to buy some soup, he hollered, “WHY IS IT SO IMPORTANT TO BUY THAT SOUP NOW? WILL SHE DIE IF SHE DOESN’T HAVE IT??!”

And because I was drifting in and out of consciousness for about twenty hours yesterday, he didn’t speak to me until he walked by me, sprawled out on the living room couch after taking some stomach pills. I said nothing to him, yet it came anyway.

“Don’t just lie around anywhere you feel like! You know what your problem is? We tell you every day to wear warmer clothing and then you go off and get sick! You never listen!”

My mother, on the other hand, had been kind enough to check up on me every now and again, bring me plenty of soup, and offer me those pills.

To his credit, my father was always there for me when I was in the hospital. During the interview with my neurosurgeon for University of Chicago Medical Center, Dr. Yamini had mentioned, “He never left her side.” And during that hike up the Delicate Arch trail at Arches (see my post about it in May, or refer to the UCMC article to see the photo they liked so much), he acted as my crutch up and down the trail.

When matters don’t seem dire, though, he likes to take the angry road. I can only wish he were more delicate about these matters, but the only way to deal is with humor.

The role love plays when loved ones fall ill, or undergo some kind of trauma, is a very necessary and integral one.

Caretakers of all flavors (medical practitioners, therapists, family members) express their love in service and companionship. I remember my mother would help me comb through my hair when I was in the hospital — back when the scars on my head were still fresh wounds and still sensitive — gently and carefully so as to not hurt me. She would also rub cream on my feet after having bathed with me, nursing my heels back to baby soft.

My friend John would walk beside me once I was discharged and still using a cane, warning me, “Be careful here; the sidewalk is really uneven!” always ready to catch me in case I stumbled.

My attending physician at U of C, Dr. Schwab, was always around to make my family and me laugh while I was living in the hospital. His sense of humor kept our spirits up, and better yet, when we were anxious, he would put on his serious hat and comfort us.

One of the most touching incidences of love I ever witnessed was that of a girl I was at the Rehabilitation Institute of Chicago with. She was twenty-four and had been in a highly traumatic car accident with her husband, who’d managed to get out with a minor whiplash injury, I believe.

Her injuries were extensive: both brain and spinal cord injuries, shattered pelvis in six places. We had a lot of therapy sessions together, as she too was paralyzed on the left side (and used to be a lefty at that). But regardless of the gravity of her situation, her support system was amazing.

Her mother was with her all day, every day, it seemed, and her husband, though there slightly less because he was probably working, was ceaselessly affectionate. I could see the devotion in his eyes as he helped take care of her.

Love is what makes us great. And before any of you start rolling your eyes, please hear me out.

I was once in a toxic relationship with somebody who, despite his beautiful heart, felt victimized from his past. This part of his nature sought out other “victims” to connect with, and initially when I’d shared with him my story, he felt an instant kinship — a sort of awe — with me.

It didn’t seem problematic at first, until he began to fall out of love, and my condition began to weigh him down. Later, he would tell me things like “I can’t be with you until [we can both run out of the pouring rain together, or almost missing the train stop isn’t an issue anymore]” or make me feel like I was useless the way I was. He would stop just short of insulting my entire intellect, but he would make remarks on my supposed “inability to work,” despite the fact that I had a fully functioning mind. Because of my lack of self-respect and clear “dad issues” (like I said, “angry road”), I just took the abuse.

Mind you, quoting him out of context is neither fair nor an accurate representation of the nature of our relationship. Because we were so close, we were both quite frank with each other, but what he failed to realize was that by talking to me in this way, he was essentially blaming me for my physical condition, which was equally as uncalled for as if I’d decided to hold him responsible for the misfortunes that had occurred in his past.

I should have stood up for myself. I should have insisted that I did not have to feel guilty for being with him, for holding him back. Acquiring this physical disability had already done enough to frustrate me — trying to come to terms with no longer being able to run when I had to and needing to prepare especially early for train stops was heaviest on me and not him — and I didn’t need his reminders. It got to the point where my pushing myself to pursue rehab was a favor to him and no longer to me.

What he expressed for me was no longer love; it was the small part of him that didn’t love. And it eventually came to crush my spirit and debilitate me for the next two and a half years.

To those of you who are with somebody going through a traumatic injury or recovering from something, please know that the biggest thing you can do for them (and you) is to love them. Accept them for who they are, and understand that the burden, if I may call it that, is already heavy enough on them and that it is not loving behavior of you to pressure them into being convenient to you. If he or she is lagging behind, it’s due to necessity and not out of laziness. It is a reflection of you and your inner goodness and love if you choose to slow down and walk beside your loved one. Like my friend’s husband, who was with her through it all (and still is to this day, two children later!), the greatest thing you can do is offer your unconditional companionship. If you must, ask questions; try your best to understand. Part of why I write this blog is to spread awareness and speak for those who are like I once was and do not ask for what they actually need.

And believe me, it does not go unnoticed, because unfortunately fewer people than is ideal tend to think to do so.

(As an addendum to my best friend who recently apologized for letting it occasionally slip her mind to wait for me as we walk, the onus is on us to forgive those who genuinely forget.)

Remember that the condition does not define you, and that love comes in all forms. Don’t think for a minute that I’m only talking about husbands, wives, girlfriends, or boyfriends. The same goes for friendships and professional relationships, family members.

Love is what makes us shine, so please remember to be bright even after the holidays are over: Your spirit depends on it. What goes around comes around.

To our healing,

down in the doldrums

2010-12-03T18:45:00.001-06:00

The year is rapidly winding down as we slip into December, and yet one more week has nearly sneaked its wormy self past without another post. Forgive me, as life has indeed gotten in the way.

I won’t make excuses, as excuses are exactly just that: reasons we pull out of nowhere to justify our wrongdoings. “Excuse me,” we say, and explain away, truly believing that our excuses make up for whatever we did or didn’t do. But in the end, does it really matter? The fact still remains the same. You were late, or forgot the pie, and I didn’t post anything for the last ten days (or whatever it was).

Anyway, so, for those of us in the northern hemisphere, holiday season — and hence, bitingly uncomfortable and nippy weather — is upon us. We all know what this means.

*drumroll please*

. . . the doldrums!

And I’d say this stagnant, inactive behavior has less to do with the cold temperatures out there than the effect the environment has on our psyches. With the darker nights (early sunsets! Night skies at what, four thirty in the afternoon??!) and the barren tree branches, I’d liken it to something like the atmosphere when it’s about to rain. It aches their bones and foretells the rainy skies the way humidity in the summertime grabs sticky hold of our skin and seeps into our bodies, making everything sticky-sticky-sticky.

Well, it turns out “rainy day” syndrome is thanks to the negative ions in the air, and I wouldn’t be surprised if “winter doldrums” syndrome occurs either. Whatever causes it, it’s very real and exactly why our society embraces the gluttony and “lazitude” that the holidays promote. We want to fatten up and keep warm in the winter, so it’s no wonder why we feel light and active in the summertime.

So how do you battle the winter doldrums? You work with it rather than against it. (And this kind of applies to anything you’d like to conquer; as long as you accept things for how they are and approach them with love and encouragement in the right direction, you’re working with them rather than fighting them.)

I was listening to Ben Greenfield’s (Get-Fit Guy) Quick-and-Dirty Tips to Slim Down and Shape Up, and in his podcast on staying fit during the holidays, he suggests keeping fit on big dining holidays (read: Thanksgiving and Christmas) by activating your metabolism with constant physical activity throughout the day until you have to sit down at the table.

When it comes to therapy for neurological conditions like stroke or spinal cord injury, any activity you’re burning through with your affected limbs is going to get written in that nervous system of yours. So if you’re not feeling the gym today (and we’ve all been there), pop in an exercise DVD or have an afternoon in with a board game. Play the game with your affected hand. Lower-energy activity still counts, you know.

I’ve always found that fine motor training on my left hand has, despite how much “easier” it seems and how un-sweaty it makes you, always been tougher to get a move-on with than getting my bum out to the gym and spinning on an elliptical for an hour. It’s because fine motor programming is far more brain-intensive and makes your mind “sweat.”

But it needs to be done, so as long as you’re sitting around not feeling like going to the gym, do something — it’s always better than nothing. And as always, be gentle and patient with yourself.

To our healing,

bottoms up

2010-11-24T15:35:00.001-06:00

Just a quickie before the holiday sets in. Dr. Daniel Amen, the specialist who writes all those brain books? He offers a tip that what’s good for your heart is also good for your brain (e.g., omega-3). Another easy-to-remember tip? What’s good at fighting off the effects of age tends to also be good for the brain. Try some resveratrol, the antioxidant naturally occurring in red wine (you can get it just by itself, fairly inexpensively nowadays, too, in liquid or pill form). It’s a relatively safe supplement to the diet that promotes nerve generation and DNA repair. I’ll have to look into it some more to get you more information, but my physical trainer once handed me an article on it and suggested I try it. I just found an article on eHow.com that explains the effects of red wine in stroke recovery if you’d like to check it out.

To our healing,

birthday girl

2010-11-22T00:00:00.001-06:00

*Note: this was meant to be posted at 11.59pm on 21 November, but I dropped the ball. Trying to change the timestamp, but I am not sure if this is possible.

It’s a quick one! These are the last five minutes of my twenty-seventh birthday, whoo! I apologize for not posting more often, but after the Sedaris family gift from the cosmos, I immediately switched into celebration prep mode, as festivities began Thursday night through today. It has been one of my best birthdays ever and I thank everyone who was a part of it! And even with the impending Thanksgiving week, on with regular posts beginning tomorrow ;)

To our healing,

Pamela

be prepared

2010-11-16T15:05:00.003-06:00

Hi everyone. I suppose the fact that I dropped off the face of the earth for a few days is as good an example as any of how easy it is to set intentions and then not follow through. I am currently chilling at the Borders in Lincoln Park in the city with five hours to kill, as I had to bust out here ASAP to meet one of my absolute favorite authors and memoirists ever, David Sedaris. (He is out promoting his quirky new children’s-book-for-adults, Squirrel Seeks Chipmunk.) When I found out he was coming yesterday, I instantly transformed into “excited electron” state and buzzed about my house all day quivering in anticipation. My friends, bemused, observed that I like to “collect” authors as people treat movie stars and other celebrities. What can I say? Writers are my own brand of celebrity.

Anyway, this is not a cop-out at all (HA!), be prepared for life’s unexpecteds to crop up unannounced. I’d say anyone dealing with a traumatic injury is familiar enough with the concept; the fact that the onset of the injury occurred at all is enough unexpected, as is anything else that follows it: Who knew it would be so hard to go back?

And by “going back,” I mean any variation of the phrase. It’s tough to go back to old tasks (like tying your hair back or putting on a sock), sometimes old friends (especially the ones who don’t try to understand the new affected you), old hobbies (like dancing).

The antidote to “life getting in the way” (as Scott Smith famously says all the time) is to be flexible. We all like to plan certain aspects of our lives — it’s something we’ve been instilled since we first received handbooks and calendars in middle school. We look at our lives in a similar way as we look at syllabi from our courses.

They’re our guidelines for what to expect in the future, but if you’ve ever taken a humanities course, you will have experienced adjustments — both major and minor — to the schedule because lessons don’t always go to plan. Sometimes your class builds up momentum and breezes through some parts as though a simple breath, and others, you arrive at a certain point and stay awhile.

And since it’s life, and not a class, all outcomes depend on you. You’re going to get a lot of resistance coming at you from all angles: from friends, certain family, even doctors. Or from life circumstances. (I know a girl who had trauma to both brain and spinal cord, back when we were inpatient together, and when we’d met up years later she told me that after the birth of her [two!] children post-accident, she’d put therapy on the backburner.)

And let’s not forget that a lot of resistance comes from ourselves, too. You know even in the career world, most of us have the fear of success? This fear manifests in myriad ways: procrastination, laziness, indifference.

How often, for example, have you known that writing an e-mail with both hands would be better in terms of your neural reprogramming than just taking the easier (and albeit faster) route and just shooting it out with your one superhand?

Does it happen to me? Of course it does. The conflicts between what we rationally know and our outward behaviors often aren’t the most congruent. Be prepared for that. And not to drive it too deeply into the sand, but be self-aware enough to know yourself and your tendencies. Don’t go against them, but adjust your approaches accordingly.

For instance, I once asked a therapist what to do about the one-handed typing habit. I told her it was too easy for me to just ignore my affected hand and do what was quicker, especially since I write so much. She told me to always start out writing at least five minutes with both hands. Sometimes just five minutes has to be “good enough,” because without it the alternative is “nothing at all.” And if you work particularly well in tandem with others (and letting them keep you accountable), use that to your advantage too. (I’m currently working on having my friend Pete Mockaitis write you a guest article on the subject.)

Flexibility also involves working your way up the scale. Any trainer or therapist regularly exercises flexibility when it comes to planning your routine. I know mine have always taken me out for a “test run” before and modified accordingly. Too easy and they’d bump up the challenge factor, and vice-versa.

As a matter of fact, the very thing I, and perhaps many of you, rely on is exactly the flexibility of the brain or mind to adapt and change itself — in other words, plasticity. Run with it and not against.

To our healing,

Pamela

test prep

2010-11-09T14:35:00.000-06:00

So, after last week’s string of self-awareness posts, I’ve decided I’m going to tweak the format again. Five posts a week, while I think that’s a great personal record, was a bit intense, and I’m guessing that’s also for you. So I’m going to try three times a week (probably MWF, but obviously this week it’ll be TRS) and see how that works out for us.

I find that posting a bunch of articles based on one theme is pretty neat, but really it’s kind of like milking a “cow” of creativity — eventually it runs dry. And anyone out there who frequently writes or creates anything on a regular basis would tell ya: Inspiration hits when it darn well feels like it, too.

I’ll try to stick it out, though. So without further ado, this week’s topic will be preparation. Now I have to get going for my walk around the neighborhood on this bright and uncharacteristically beautiful late-fall day (with an audiobook of course, per this post), so I’ll settle down and do some real writing a bit later on. Stay tuned!

To our healing,

Pamela

in for questioning

2010-11-05T23:30:00.001-05:00

To conclude this “workweek’s” self-awareness theme, I wanted to tie up loose ends by discussing how you can ensure you’re always self-aware. Remember, we are constantly in state of change — for better, for worse. It’s impossible to stay stagnant (brush up on this with my post on the vectors of time — oh yeah, I’m busting out the physics lingo), so if you’re not getting better, you’re getting worse.

The key to making positive change happen is to know where your weaknesses lie and to jumpstart working on them for the better. Once you’ve got the humility and honesty towards yourself, free of judgment and punishment, you can perpetuate the improvement journey by always asking questions.

It can be as simple as asking your friend, brother, or partner what they think, or it can be having an extensive chat with your healthcare provider, therapist, or other kind of professional. It can even be extensive reading. I’ve always been agape at just how much of the written word there is in the world; to me, man’s greatest invention was the book. There are vast amounts of information out there for anyone to read, and if you do the right kind of search, you’ll find answers to anything you may want to know.

If it weren’t for asking questions and constantly digging for more information, more ways I might be able to strengthen my body and mind in this journey of rehabilitation, this blog would not be here. (Certainly not written by me, anyway.)

If you’re one to believe that horrible adage “Curiosity killed the cat,” well, as long as the questions you’re asking pertain to you and only you, and your condition, don’t feel guilty for trying to work on yourself. Anyone who’s going to give you trouble for being “overly curious” is just impatient and not the right person to be asking, anyway.

And it is also vital to keep an open mind. Do not get defensive when someone is too frank with you. Sometimes we all need a little tough love. It takes a mature and loving mind to be able to accept constructive criticism. Forgive minor missteps that may lack appropriate tact, as long as you can see that whatever’s being said is coming from a mature and loving place. Not everyone responds the same way to an open invitation to give feedback. But feedback is totally essential to getting the results you want. After all, no scientific study yields significant results until analyses make them significant, right?

I hope this week of themed posts was beneficial. If you have anything to share or say on the new format I’ve tried out this week, please either post a comment below or e-mail me. Feedback is very important to the betterment of this blog!

I’m sure I’ll talk with you again at the weekend, but for the meantime I’ll bid you a good night.

To our healing,

Pamela

mirror box

2010-11-05T00:03:00.003-05:00

Speaking of reflections, have those of you with affected limbs ever tried the mirror box?

The one I have is small, collapsible, and looks like a miniature laundry hamper with a mirror on one of its sides. (You can pick one up at Reflex Pain Management. Alternatively, you can make one.) To use it, I prop it in front of me where I can see my reflection (usually the clavicle area), put my left (affected) hand inside the opening, and in front of the mirror I’ll move my right hand in different ways, usually writing words in the air. This way, the reflection in the mirror appears to be my left hand (which I can’t see inside the box). However, inside the box, I will mimic the right side by doing the mirror-image movement, which the reflection will be showing in the correct way.

The concept behind the technique is to trick your brain into thinking it’s watching your affected hand, when in actuality it is a reflection of your unaffected hand. In theory, this visual stimulation will spark new neural programming in the pathways between your affected arm and brain. Because you can see the correct form in the mirror, you are essentially training your affected hand within the box (even though you can’t see it).

Originally, the mirror box was created to treat phantom limb pain, for amputees suffering from prolonged pain seeming to originate from their lost limbs. (Read about it in one of the chapters of The Brain That Changes Itself, a fascinating and inspiring read on brain plasticity.)

The first time I ever tried it was a startling experience. Apparently, I had some wires crossed or something because the neuro-stimulation began running backwards: My right hand started behaving pathologically, as my affected side, as though my brain rejected seeing the perfect movements of my superhand coming from that side of my body.

It freaked me out! For a horrendous couple of moments, I had experienced what it would be like to own two affected hands. (For any of you who may, you surely have my sympathies.)

At first, I tried just closing and opening a fist and touching thumb to fingers, but because the freaky backwards neurological response kept happening and I didn’t want to promote that kind of programming, I switched to writing capital letters in the air.

Do this about five minutes a day, and you’ll start to see improvements after about two weeks.

Warning, however: It can get pretty boring, but the theory is sound. So give it a try!

To our healing,

Pamela

the humility factor

2010-11-04T01:46:00.002-05:00

Well. Provided today (technically yesterday) went nothing like I imagined it would, very needless to say, I didn’t manage to get a post in this Wednesday the 3 November. My training appointment was canceled, and I ended up going to the salon an hour early for what was supposed to be a 1.30pm appointment — and good thing I did, as I wound up staying till nearly five PM. Alas, such is the burden of sporting locks as long (down a good part of my waist) and as dark as mine and trying to go lighter.

Not the best photo, but this is the new 'do.

So after the salon experience, I am now back to being what I call a “giant brunette.” Brunette, for obvious reasons, as I now don shades of brown ranging from chocolate to even dark blond, and “giant” because I always ask for huge blowouts at the end of my color processes. Amazingly, the stylist managed to successfully tease the crown of my hair and keep it staying upward for an impressively straight yet large ’do. . . . But this is all besides the point.

Wednesdays are my big entertaining nights, as well. So by the time I got home, my friends came. And they only left not too long ago; this is literally the only time I’ve had a reasonable chance to sit down and write all day. So even if technically this counts as the day after, I think it’s still valid.

However, keeping in mind it’s now past 1.30am and I’m falling asleep as I type, it’s gonna be a quick one, and I’ll make up for it by posting a really good one tomorrow while awake.

While at the salon today my stylist and I got to talking about a lot of things, among them the importance of humility in the arena of self-awareness.

It takes a tremendous amount of humility to be able to work on ourselves, and the fact that you are reading this blog reflects that you have at least some of it. That’s excellent. Keep it up, because it is only with that humility and the ability to admit, hey, you’ve got something to work on, that you’ll ever keep trying to trek on in your healing journey.

Summing up from yesterday, don’t hesitate to ask those closest to you if they have any pointers or perspectives you may not have considered before to make your self-improvement and recuperation more fruitful.

And if you’re not the one with the injury — say, you know someone with one? Admit out loud that you probably don’t have any idea what it’s like. It’ll be appreciated, believe me. There’s nothing worse than a know-it-all sod who claims he knows better than you what you are living. Please, don’t be that guy.

And I also beg of you to have the integrity to never use what someone tells you in confidence as ammunition against them later on. It may be easy, but will create a breach of trust in a way that’s difficult to recover from. (If you must become a guardian of someone else’s secrets, someone else’s confessions, do so responsibly. You owe at least that to them in exchange.)

That’s the thing about trust. It’s earned, but so easily betrayed, and then hard to regain.

Have the humility in yourself to be reflective and move yourself forward, and to be gentle with yourself and others.

To our healing,

Pamela

"It wasn't until quite late in life that I discovered how easy it is to say 'I don't know!' " ~Somerset Maugham

friendly advice

2010-11-02T22:38:00.002-05:00

Here I am. I wasn’t about to disappear after my long-winded declaration of work ethic, was I?

I admit the new format of the blog is going to be fairly challenging. I may end up abandoning the “assigned weekly topics” thing if it proves too reminiscent of school and/or puts a plague of writer’s block upon my house.

But in any case, I’ll have to try.

A fantastic tool when it comes to self-awareness and making sure you’re exercising it is our social mirrors, or close friends and family. I’ve always believed that the people we choose to keep close to us are a good proponent of our own traits and qualities, be they strengths or defects. Especially with friends and partners, we often resonate on certain levels with others based on what we have in common.

And sometimes what we have in common is what’s “wrong” with us, like our propensity to plan our time poorly, be disrespectful or abusive to others, or whatever else. If you’re wise, you will have cut back on exposure to those folks; I surely have through time, and it’s nice to feel liberated from “having an excuse” to get away with what I was never so proud of to begin with. This is called de-toxing, and it serves us to do it once in a while.

Let’s take a look at those friends of ours who enhance our lives, who share more beautiful traits with us. It’s likely these friends enjoy your company just as much as you do theirs, and that even if they do see where you may be flawed, they don’t mind because they love you.

Not only are these friends or loved ones a great complement to your social life and your personal support system — most especially during your period of healing and recovery — but they’re also the most apt to being the most honest with you when you decide to ask them to be candid about what you perceive to be your problems.

I’ve found it helps to be very observant of others’ behavior and reactions to the way you are and ask questions about it to those who care about you, whether or not they’re the ones who’ve reacted to you or not. For instance, if you notice that people are impatient with you because you take longer to get from point A to B, you might want to ask a good friend what you can do or say to make the situation better.

Your friend might tell you something you hadn’t considered before, like, “You should make it clear to so-and-so that you need more time because you simply can’t go faster yet.” Perhaps you had been overly proud to admit it in the past and now it creates this issue.

That’s an oversimplified example, but I think you know what I mean.

Our good friends and loved ones will often be the most honest with us and are often an excellent gauge for where we’re missing something crucial.

Don’t hesitate to turn to them to keep you more aware of how you treat yourself and others during this time of recuperation.

To our healing,

Pamela

keeping in check

2010-11-01T18:41:00.001-05:00

I was once profoundly involved in knowing someone that I can only describe as akin to a shipwreck. I’ll never go into specific details in an open-access medium like this blog with anyone’s personal details other than my own, but I tend to walk a treacherous line anyway given I write memoirs — and even heavily-autobiographical fiction, if I’m honest — so I have no problem with analyzing the fundamental tendencies of the human condition based on case studies of people I really know. Most of the time, these “people I know” tend to be myself, so usually I’m not betraying anyone’s trust in me other than perhaps my own.

When it comes to others’ personal demons, though, I’ve always been happy to play guardian. I will never divulge the secrets that were given to me in confidence or critique a person openly in public writing (I learned that lesson years ago) that I wouldn’t have the guts to say to them to their face. But the beauty of the written word is that it can be as specific or as vague as you want.

So, nosy curious people (and you know who you are), no, I’m not going to specify who this shipwreck was or why he was such a shipwreck. But take my word for it; he was a wounded soul, and as much as it sucks for me to say it, it was at the time an irrevocable wound. Personally, I believe we can all heal from anything (or else why would I set up such a blog?), but it all starts with a personal desire to overcome our demons.

Why the psychobabble? you may ask, and that’s fair. What does overcoming personal baggage have to do with healing from a stroke, say, or a heart attack?

Because whether physical or mental, traumatic injury is traumatic injury. The sad part is that significant injuries are oftentimes not visible, so people put less credence into putting attention on the kind they can’t see.

It’s kind of like why we eat a bunch of junk or why people smoke or do other damaging things. We rationally know it’s killing our bodies, but as long as we’re still alive and feel relatively fine, we continue to do it. We’re not great judges of the long-term effects of our behaviors, and as long as something isn’t staring us straight in the face, we avoid dealing with it.

I admit, as well, that these invisible injuries can also be convenient in the sense that as long as you want to ignore them, you can. And will.

But the problem with procrastination and burying inconvenient truths — sweeping them under the counter, if you will — is that once you decide it may be time to look under that gleaming surface that deceives everyone else, you’re looking at a nauseous accumulation of gunk and tumor-like growths of nastiness.

[Quick aside. My mom yells at me all the time for not washing dishes immediately because sauces and whatnot tend to crust over and become ten times more difficult to remove once you’ve let them sit for too long. “It’s effortless!” she always says with a swift wipe of the sponge. “Just do it right away.”]

I’m not saying you need to spend hours every day staring into a metaphorical mirror to analyze your flaws. But self-awareness is exactly the bare minimum you have to do to even remotely get started getting better.

The reason I brought up the shipwreck person is because his most resistant, most frustrating quality that was the root of all his problems (yes, all) was his lack of inner humility. It takes a certain amount of honesty and personal integrity to step back and truly analyze your own behavior. He had enough of it to know that he had issues — a veritable cop-out in the end, as we all “have issues” but as long as they remain nameless they’re still unresolved, but like a shipwreck left alone too long, all that pressure and time built up the grime and the parasites that inevitably spark the decay process.

It always gets worse before it gets better. (But it will never get better without your participation.)

Sometimes the truths you discover will shock you. They’ll sometimes hurt. And other times, you’ll realize they’re really not as bad as you thought, and you learn to accept some — but not all.

In the end, I truly realized that it was not in my place to save and protect him from his demons. Trying to not only sabotaged my own ability to sustain my own happiness (after all, misery does love company), but stressed me out way more than it did him. And no one ought to worry about fixing your baggage more than you do (apparently the most suicides in the medical field are within the psychiatry field, naturally). You can only be saved if you want to be. So I removed myself from the situation — very late, but of course better late than never.

I’ve found that actually, I quite like to help people recover and heal from whatever it is they suffer from; that’s why I began this blog in the first place. But I can’t do the work for you, so we must understand that there’s an unwritten contract between us that I will give you as much input as I can to help you get better, but that you must take that advice and implement it.

One of the attributes of animal intelligence is self-awareness: Dolphins recognize themselves in the mirror, and that’s one of the myriad reasons humans understand that these are animals of advanced thinking. Similarly, those of us who are well developed and truly interested in our own self betterment often get behind the mirror and ponder our own strengths and weaknesses. Be careful with the former; it’s easy to shed a flattering light on ourselves, yet blindingly horrific to step under a fluorescent one that brings forth all our imperfections.

You can only work on what you know is not working, so be honest with yourself and do some heavy reflection. I know personally that I should truly practice what I preach and be CIMTing as much as I can, typing with both hands every day, and not abuse my body in the socially accepted ways. I have my weaknesses too; rest assured.

It’s not easy to be so candid with yourself, but we certainly need to be.

To our healing,

Pamela

extra! extra! read all about it!

2010-11-01T15:48:00.001-05:00

Now that I’ve decided to treat this blog as more of a job in terms of regularity, I think I may implement some format changes.

I’m going to fiddle around with what I’d like to call “weekly themes.” Each Monday I’ll announce the theme of the week’s posts and then follow the posts of the week with different explorations of given theme.

There are a couple different ways to do this. I could allow each post to take a life of its own (which generally is how creative writing goes), or perhaps relegate each day to a certain point of view, for instance:

Week’s topic: X

Monday: explanation/summary of different types of X

Tuesday: product review (pertaining to X, naturally)

Wednesday: results of studies of X

Thursday: tips pertaining to X

Friday: emotional/spiritual aspects to X, or guest article

Now, as it goes, and you may have picked up on this by now, I’m not always the world’s most regimented person. When I put my mind to it though, you would be fooled — many a time, people (who don’t know me that well) will, in an air of admiration and awe, marvel, “Wow, you’re so organized!”

So it’s not that I don’t know how to be. It’s that I know myself and my natural state. (If you’ve ever been to my room you’ll know what I mean.) I hate clutter, so I strive for organization, but left to my own devices, I stray.

So no, I’m not going to break up each week into those segments. I could try, but I feel as a writer that posting would too often become like writing papers for school; I could churn them out but I wouldn’t necessarily enjoy it. And I think it’s clear in your writing when your heart wasn’t in it. And I do not roll that way.

So I’ll try to stick to an assigned weekly theme, but at least for now I’ll just go with how I’m feeling and approach each week’s topic intuitively. We’ll see how it goes.

What do you think of this idea? I’d like to encourage any and all of you to leave thoughts and comments in response to my posts either below or by e-mailing me; otherwise, this blog is just a running stream of narcissism and soliloquy. Where’s the fun in that?

Oh, and yes, I’m still going to post guest articles, but everyone knows you can’t rush the writing process. (Well, you sort of can, but I’m not about to high-pressure anyone kind enough to do us the favor.)

Without further ado, the theme for this week: self-awareness [as a tool for growth and improvement in healing].

I look forward to hearing from you!

To our healing,

the write way

2010-10-31T22:27:00.005-05:00

Speaking of the writing front, I went to the Book Cellar in Lincoln Square in the city of Friday for the Witty Women Writers’ reading night. There were four different Chicago-based authors there to read some of their new work; I battled ridiculous and inexplicable traffic from 5.50pm until about 7.15pm, only to get there about half an hour late (it started at seven) and find out the venue was at capacity. However, I employed my notorious tenacity and hung out bum-style between the doors — for warmth, but also to semi-hear author Jen Lancaster’s reading through the cracks — and slipped in as soon as a person left.

Of the four ladies doing readings that evening, I lucked out because I managed to catch both that I specifically went to hear. The aforementioned Ms. Lancaster was one, and the other was her best friend Stacey Ballis, whom I’d already met recently at the Book Cellar’s fall adult spelling bee (incidentally, I already mentioned her in a previous post, prior to becoming familiar with her work, which I later enjoyed.)

So, just to share, I did get one nice photo from the event (to be added later when Blogger is working properly again). These are both authors who are lovely and very friendly. I am so glad to have them locally!

from left: Jen Lancaster, me, and Stacey Ballis

I bring this up because, as I mentioned before, I’m determined to start writing on a regular basis again, and that includes the memoirs I’ve been sporadically excerpting in this blog.

I love the writing community.

To our healing,

the proposal

2010-10-31T22:00:00.001-05:00

I want to apologize for infrequent October posts. I’ve decided to start November off with renewed self-discipline, and will aim to write at least one post per day. It’s the least I could do, given my decision to start writing again much more seriously.

Additionally, November is my birthday month, so it seems an excellent time to spark new resolutions, no?

In the meantime, I’ve been notified recently by many people I know that they’ve begun seeing me on television and hearing me on the radio. Check out the University of Chicago ads featuring me at this site.

As soon as a link to the patient story article is out, I’ll let you know.

To our healing,