On this day of your life

 

I believe God wants you to know ...

... that you will only benefit from resisting the temptation

to think immediately about the worst possible outcome.

When something comes up, when something happens

in your life, that disrupts the easy "flow," it is always

better to bless it than to damn it. Try to see it as nothing

serious. It most cases, it will not be.

 

Jumping to conclusions mired in negativity only thwarts

the process by which your mind can stay clear, and

thus find a way out of the momentary dilemma.

CoDA Weekly Reading

 My history of abuse is a long and twisted tree.

Many leaves of self-esteem have fallen.

I feel torn and confused.

Unsure where to turn

I kept running back to both of you.

 

My parents…

For guidance, wisdom, a clue.

But, you are too twisted and I am untwisting.

 

My limbs seek the Sun.

They want to feel healthy.

They want to grow.

And I water myself with self-love.

 

No longer will I isolate to feel peace.

I can be alone cause I choose to.

 

No longer will I take your abuse.

My leaves can withstand hurricane force but they don’t have to.

 

No longer will I violate my integrity to support you.

My roots are clean despite your poisonous views.

 

Your zealous clippers can no longer prune me with prejudice.

Your chain saw cruelty can no longer discriminate what to rip to shreds.

 

For I am whole;

I stand strong.

And I am firm in my convictions.

I know who I am…and I know what you are not.

I can support myself with love, help, and my higher power.

 

I release my need to please!

 

Alison M.

10/11/2016

Family and Friends Ceremony (OM)

 

With practice, we may learn to recognize the feeling that comes when a loved one sends energy our way and the feeling of soul-to-soul communication.

Life’s journeys may sometimes take us away from our family and friends, but there are many ways to stay connected. Aside from making use of the technology available to us, we can craft simple ceremonies rooted in nature to connect our hearts across the miles. The first step in creating your ceremony is to look to nature for similarities in the different surroundings you and your loved ones inhabit. The second step is agreeing upon something that is meaningful to all involved. If your mother loves birds, then perhaps each time you hear a bird chirp, you can think of her and mentally send love. You may choose the sight of a butterfly, the feel of a breeze or raindrops, or the scent of flowers to remind you of a special someone. The pink glow of sunset might be your favorite time to send a thought, or perhaps the warming oranges of sunrise. The monthly full moon may be your time to connect with your loved ones, or the first star you see each night, knowing that they, too, are gazing into the night sky and sending love. You could choose a day that you would usually celebrate together, such as a holiday or a solstice. If you once shared Sunday brunches in the garden, you can each seek out a garden on Sundays. Or you can choose a specific time and account for the time difference in order to connect by heart and mind at exactly the same moment. With practice, we may learn to recognize the feeling that comes when a loved one sends energy our way and the feeling of soul-to-soul communication. In this case, distance may indeed make our connections stronger. There is so much that can make us think of our close friends and loved ones, but when we decide upon a reminder together, we create a powerful ritual of connection that defies any distance.

“F*ck Cancer.” No, f*ck that. How I survived Incurable Cancer.

 

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The headlines, t-shirts, and bumper stickers read “f*ck cancer.”

Well, as a walking miracle who survived incurable cancer, I say “f*ck that.”

When I was diagnosed with recurrent cervical cancer and given a 15-month expiration, I shared it on social media. I was met with a chorus of “kick cancer’s ass” and “fight girl fight.”

That’s the vernacular we know: battle of a lifetime, army of doctors, cancer warrior. The official war on cancer began in 1971 when President Nixon signed the National Cancer Act providing federal funds in hopes of “conquering this dreaded disease,” and we’ve been fighting ever since.

I went along with it. I wanted to live and fighting disease is what we’re taught to do in Western medicine. Cancer is seen as an invader. An outside force that sneaks into our body and takes us captive. It must be eradicated, conquered, feared. It’s like the ISIS of our body.

But honestly, isn’t it weird to declare war on ourselves?

Cancer is as much a part of us as our big butts, flabby arms, and noxious gas after a big burrito. We don’t attack those things. We go to the gym, practice self-love, and make wise diet choices. How is declaring war and attacking our bodies with hateful energy going to make cancer any better?

Always a bookworm, I frantically searched Barnes & Noble for stories of survivors. People smarter than me had won their cancer battle. How had they done it? I was convinced their triumph was so great they had written a book about it.

“For every situation in life, for every problem, there is a book with an answer.” ~ Dr. David & Mr. Bear

First came Dale Figtree’s Beyond Cancer Treatment: Clearing and Healing the Underlying Causes. After three months of radiation and chemotherapy to battle her lymphoma, Figtree got a shock that a second tumor had formed right below the first. In a state of agitation that she may be facing a difficult death, Figtree decided to meditate and use her imagination.

Figtree pictured her cancer at the bottom of a volcano with thousands of immune cells lining the volcano rim ready for attack. With a clash of cymbals, the immune cells charged into the volcano and destroyed every cancer cell. The wounded cancer cells evaporated after the battle leaving only healthy pink cells.

Her follow-up scan the next day showed no sign of the second tumor. The baffled doctors made her endure another round of X-rays in multiple positions, but to no avail. The second tumor was gone.

“A miracle had truly happened with the visualization.” ~ Dale Figtree

I was just dipping my toe into spirituality, meditation, and visualization. I considered Figtree’s miracle some serious “woo-woo healing.” I was skeptical but had nothing to lose. I tried to envision my immune cells attacking my cancer, but I couldn’t ever get a real battle going. I was like Ferdinand in the bull-fighting ring: gentle and passive.

In the pile of books on my nightstand, I next discovered a miraculous story in Dr. Kelly Turner’s Radical Remission: Surviving Cancer Against All Odds.

Shin Terayama was sent home to die with advanced kidney cancer when he made the decision to send unconditional love to his cancer. He viewed the cancer as a sick, neglected child that needed love and attention each day to heal.

Terayama is now cancer-free thanks to the love he sent his cancer and several other self-love practices.

“I didn’t kill my cancer. I loved it. The most important thing I learned is that cancer is my body. It’s not the enemy; it’s still my body.” ~ Shin Terayama

At an intuitive level, Terayama’s concept made sense. My cancer was part of me, not a foreign invader. I made the cancer. I treated myself badly. I began to see that I hadn’t loved myself in years.

Cancer was an extension of my misguided priorities, bad health decisions, and repressed emotions. I couldn’t fight it now that it had manifested into a disease. I had to love it.

One night in my own magical moment of “woo-woo healing,” I dreamed of pink love filling my cancer-filled peritoneum cavity. The pink light wanted to hug every cancer cell. It started hugging a giant 15-centimeter tumor and moved onto every tumor that lined my gut.

As happy pinkness embraced the grey cancer cells it said, “You are loved. Thank you for coming to guide us to the right path. It’s okay to go now.” At this, the cancer cells would pop leaving healthy shining tissue.

The dream went on for hours. Hug. Love. Pop. Hug. Love. Pop.

This dream unconsciously blended Figtree and Terayama’s stories into my own healing tale. More importantly, it was part of an entire shift to love and care for myself.

I got a therapist to deal with all the junk I had in my emotional trunk. I started meditating. I discovered writing as therapy. I found a higher purpose to help others. I forgave myself and everyone else that had ever wronged me. I started reading Elephant Journal and watching cat videos every day to bring more light and giggles into my life.

Would my stressed-out, workaholic, overachieving former self call the new cancer-loving me, “bat-sh*t crazy.” Yes. In fact, she would have. Or worse, given that condescending “that’s nice” smirk that the judgmental, unhappy executive often gave in those days.

But today I have not only survived my cancer, I’m happier, healthier, and more loving than before cancer.

I didn’t survive because I had a fluffy dream or read a book or went on a highly restrictive diet. I survived because of the culmination of the no-holds-barred-try-anything crusade to live that included these things. And quite frankly, because it wasn’t my time to die.

Being able to receive and give love was a huge part of this emotional journey.

It took months of anger, grieving, and crying to start to see cancer was a gift I had to love not hate. I love my cancer because it made me a better person.

“I want you to make love, not war.” ~ John Lennon

Do I wish I had gotten the “love yourself” lesson without almost dying? Of course. But like many of us in today’s over-booked, over-committed, perfection-seeking environment, I was doing the best I could to keep up.

I write this piece in hopes that I can convince at least one person to love themselves enough today that they never have to learn to love their cancer cells in the future.

To live our best life, we must love every part of ourselves:

1. The good: a nice smile, for instance.
2. The bad: cellulite, for most of us.
3. The ugly: cancer and other medical challenges—a reality we’ll all face someday.

It’s counterintuitive to love what we perceive as a threat. But imagine if the bully on the playground got more hugs and love at home and school. Would he be as inclined to lash out?

It’s the same with our bodies. If we can give our bodies as much unconditional love as we give our anti-bully kids and our pets, they are less likely to lash out with some whacked-out disease, rash, digestive disorder, headache, or back pain.

The cliche says “love conquers all.” In my case it did. Love helped conquer cancer. I wonder how much better the world would be if the next time somebody said “f*ck off,” we gave them a hug.

 

Author: Tracy White
Image: Author’s Own
Editor: Sara Kärpänen

5 Things I Notice as a Trauma Therapist Inside my CrossFit Gym.

 

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I have spent years as a trauma therapist sitting with people as they heal.

Noticing the held breath, the shift in posture, the stories the body tells before words arrive. My work, at its core, is helping people come back to their bodies. So when I walked into a CrossFit gym a few months ago and started lifting heavy for the first time in my life, I expected a workout. What I found was a contemplation on somatic healing.

Trauma is not the event itself.

It is what happens inside the nervous system when an experience overwhelms our capacity to cope: too much, too fast, too soon, without enough safety, support, or say in what was happening. It lives in the body long after, shaping how we breathe, how we brace, and how we connect.

Every nervous system has a window of tolerance: the zone where we can meet activation, emotion, and challenge while staying present.

Trauma narrows that window. Healing widens it, and not by avoiding intensity. The window widens by meeting intensity with safety, again and again, until the body learns it can handle more.

That is exactly what keeps happening at the gym. I show up as an athlete, but the Somatic EMDR therapist in me never fully clocks out.

Workout after workout, I watch my own nervous system do the very things I help clients do in the therapy room.

1. Intensity is not the same as threat.

Thirty seconds into an echo bike sprint, arms pushing and pulling, legs at full throttle, my heart is pounding, my breath is ragged, and my nervous system is fully activated. This is sympathetic activation: fight or flight, the body’s surge of energy to meet a demand. Sensation alone does not tell the nervous system whether this is a workout or a crisis. Context does. At the gym, I ride primal activation while anchored in cues of safety: the coach’s voice, the people around me, the clock promising rest. Activation with safety builds capacity. And that capacity does not stay on the bike. It carries into hard conversations, big emotions, and everyday stress.

2. Healing happens in connection.

Co-regulation is the process by which one nervous system settles in the presence of another. It is how we are wired from the start: long before we ever learn to regulate our own emotions, our caregiver’s nervous system does it with us. When I want to quit mid-workout and someone says “you’ve got this,” my body responds before my thinking brain does. My shoulders drop, my breath finds a rhythm, and I find another gear I did not know was there. For trauma survivors, whose bodies often learned that other people are the threat, repeated steadiness from others is quietly revolutionary. The class format and coaching is a co-regulation machine.

3. The body speaks. Interoception is how we listen.

Interoception is the ability to sense what is happening inside your own body: heartbeat, breath, tension, fatigue, hunger, the early whispers of emotion. It is the foundation of the felt sense, and trauma disrupts it. Many survivors learned to leave their bodies to survive, or to override every internal cue. Lifting heavy re-trains that skill rep by rep. Is my core braced? Is this fatigue or is this pain? Do I have one more rep in me? The barbell asks me to listen to my body constantly and respond to what I hear. Strength training is embodiment training.

4. Agency is rebuilt one choice at a time.

So much of trauma is about what happened to us, what we could not stop, control, or consent to. In overwhelm, it can feel as though choice disappears. Reason, our prefrontal cortex thinking goes offline, hijacked by our limbic primal defenses. Weightlifting reverses that relationship to intensity with choice. I choose the weight. I choose when to lift and when to rack it. I sense what my body is telling me, and I act on it: add 10 pounds or take 10 off, push for one more rep or call it. For a body that learned choice was not an option, every rep can be an embodied experience of bodily autonomy and sovereignty. Empowering is an understatement.

5. The nervous system needs to finish what it starts.

The workout ends and the nervous system practices the return. Heart rate settling, breath deepening, chatting with new friends while rolling out our hamstrings, the shift from full effort back to rest and connection. This is the completion of the stress cycle: activate, mobilize, discharge, return to rest. In trauma, that cycle gets interrupted. The body starts a survival response it never gets to finish with safety, and the unfinished energy stays in the system. Lifting heavy lets me finish the cycle, on purpose, week after week.

All of it adds up to resilience: a nervous system that can meet what comes, stay connected through it, and find its way back.

And it has me rethinking what strength actually is.

In my practice, I often see the belief that emotional strength means needing less. Less help, less rest, less feeling. I carried a version of it myself. But real strength, the kind the body-mind builds, is capacity for more.

I do not train to become harder. I train to hold more. Not just more weight. More of life.

~

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Maggie Kelly LPCC  |  Contribution: 750

Maggie Kelly is a therapist, artist, & digital nomad, who believes healing is both an inward and sacred path. Through a grounded, body-based approach, she supports clients… Read full bio

author: Maggie Kelly LPCC

Image: Scott Webb/Pexels

Editor: Molly Murphy