pain – Emily Downward

How Losing the Ability to Walk Taught Me a Valuable Lesson

September 12, 2014emilydownward

One of the significant losses for me last year was the loss of my physical abilities. I went from being a proud 7-time triathlete to someone who had to reserve a wheelchair in the airport because I couldn’t walk the distance from the check-in to the gate without excruciating pain.

At the beginning, it was mostly an annoyance. A couple months after my last triathlon, I noticed pain in my right hip when I ran. Training for triathlons taught me I could do more than I thought I could do, and I had learned how to push myself past the whining voice in my head that said it was too difficult. So I pushed on.

The pain increased, and I became frustrated with my body. I was in a relationship with a man who was a former personal trainer, and he encouraged me to push through it. Given his experience and also the fact that I wanted to impress him, I pushed on.

The pain got worse, and I had to completely stop running. Thinking it was a temporary setback, I made myself walk every day and began doing yoga 4-5 times a week to increase my flexibility and strength. Still, the pain worsened and my mobility declined.

I heard a motivational speaker recently, who in recounting her personal story of transformational weight loss, said, “The one thing you have control over is your body.” I hope she never experiences how very untrue that statement is, because it was incredibly difficult to surrender for me.

But when your body stops walking, you have to start listening.

First, I had to surrender to the idea that this was truly happening. I had so much resistance to the idea that I couldn’t do what I’d been doing. Eventually, it was obvious. I couldn’t walk without assistance, like a cane or crutches. I consulted a variety of specialists, and learned that a combination of scoliosis, the way my muscles learned to compensate, and repetitive training for triathlons had created the perfect storm for my hip.

Second, I had to learn to truly listen to and trust my body. I have always been more reliant on my mind than anything else. I had learned how to push myself. Now, I had to learn to let my body set the speed. Some days, I could walk a mile. Some days, I could barely walk around the block. Other days, I needed to rest. There was no pattern to it – each day was different. But my body no longer responded to force – it would simply shut down. As I slowly began to get infinitesimally better, I didn’t want to go back to being completed crippled, so I listened.

I also had to trust my body with what helped, and what didn’t. Frequently, even what the doctors or therapists were telling me wasn’t working for me. I learned to trust what I was feeling more, to distinguish between different kinds of pain – like the good kind of pain in a stretch or in a muscle you are building versus the you-overdid-it and now there’s inflammation. Lots of trial and error, but I’m learning and getting better at it.

Finally, I had to change my thoughts and ideas about myself. I had to create a new normal. I don’t think I’ll do another triathlon again, and I had to grieve that. I had to be okay with what my good-enough is. Not that I’m giving up on improving – not at all! But I accept and honor the limitations I have on any given day.

If you’re facing a big transition like this, you may also find these steps work for you:

Surrender to what’s happening. Byron Katie says, “When you fight with reality, you’re going to lose 100% of the time.” Acknowledge that this is what’s happening right now. When you come to a place of acceptance, then you can begin to find your way out.
Listen and trust your body. This is true not just in physical challenges but also in times of grief. Some days are up and others are down. Follow your inner rhythms.
Shift your thinking to accommodate your new reality. Let go of the idea of who you thought you were, and dig deeper to the inner knowing of who you are – that part of you that never changes, that is worthy and good enough without titles or accomplishments.

Today, I can hike three miles on a good day. I’ve even had days where I have no pain at all, and it feels amazing. I continue to accept, listen and be flexible in my thinking, and in addition to the ability to walk, I also have a lot more peace.

Getting Through the Muck

July 17, 2013emilydownward

A coach friend called me recently to catch up. She is near and dear to me, but we hadn’t spoken in about four weeks. The last four weeks have been quite a rollercoaster for me, and I’ve gotten so used to riding along, it wasn’t until I heard her response that I realized it’s true: I’ve had a lot going on. A lot of chaos and unknown and just crappy stuff.

I’m in the midst of a cross-country move, going from the Charlotte, NC area to just north of San Diego, CA. My boyfriend received a well-deserved promotion, and we both were thrilled with the opportunity to live in the San Diego area. Being a corporate relocation, the move is being coordinated by my boyfriend’s company. I was grateful, having moved from Austin to Charlotte earlier this year and not completely looking forward to doing it again. Unfortunately, every single step of this process has gone badly, including lack of communication and miscommunication with the coordinator, the poor skills and sloppiness of the packers, multiple delays of the movers, careless handling of our stuff by the movers (they dropped at least three boxes that I saw), the damage to our vehicles by the shippers, and difficulty in obtaining permanent housing due to the shortage of available properties where we want to live. We’ve been put in a temporary apartment for the past month – it’s incredibly small, especially considering we are both working from home, and the traffic noise from the nearby busy street keeps us awake. (I’m happy to report that we finally get into a permanent place next week!)

My hip has been paining me for several months, slowly getting more painful and less flexible. I’ve gone from a triathlon last year to using crutches and a cane to get around. It significantly worsened (pain and inability to walk) while we were moving out of our place in the Charlotte area. I figured I had overdone it and with rest it would get better…but it hasn’t. Before the move, I saw an orthopedic surgeon who said I needed surgery, but I purposefully delayed it until we are settled in our new place. I’ve now seen an orthopedic surgeon in California who recommends a cortisone shot. I’m holding tightly to the belief that this will fix it.

I supplement my coaching income with some consulting work, and the company I’ve been working for has recently changed the terms of our arrangement. While I know that they want to continue to work with me (yes!), my future income is less predictable.

Suffice it to say, I have a LOT of uncertainty in my life. It’s very disconcerting and frightening and scary. So much unknown.

I realized that in some ways, I’ve gotten used to the chaos. I’ve been able to switch between eagle view – taking the big picture, and knowing that this will pass and will someday seem like a very small time frame – and mouse view – focusing solely on what is directly in front of me. It’s not necessarily one day at a time but sometimes just one step, literally. It’s what I learned to get myself through the triathlon: when I looked far in the distance and was overwhelmed by the hill I was biking or the distance I had to run, I put my head down and just looked two feet in front of me. I asked myself, can you go that far (2 feet)? Well, yes, of course. It’s so easy. And then repeat. Breaking down any large project into tiny, infinitesimal steps makes it nearly easy to achieve, and therefore more likely to lead to progress, rather than being paralyzed by overwhelm.

I read a great blog post recently by Danielle LaPorte on how validating your pain is the first step to getting stronger. It’s so true. It was so nice to hear my friend validate that I’ve got a lot going on. I’ve been trying desperately not to focus on all the negativity and frustration and pain I’m experiencing, but ignoring it doesn’t make it go away. “What we resist, persists.” So I’m putting it all out here, to give you the permission to share your own pain, and to give hope to others who are struggling through their own desert of uncertainty. Find support for your struggle, and then press on, one step at a time, and know that this too shall pass.

My Personal Tutor: My Hip

June 26, 2013emilydownward

My teacher Martha Beck stresses the importance of listening to the wisdom in our bodies. Our bodies are talking to us all the time, and I’ve heard that the body is primarily how our souls communicate to us. Of course, it’s a more subtle conversation than the constant chatter of our minds. Over the past couple years, I’ve gotten a lot better at listening, but I have to admit, I recently missed a big one. Guess what? If you don’t pay attention, the body gets louder to get your attention.

About nine months ago, I started having pain in my right hip. It was annoying and making it more difficult to run, but I pushed on, convinced it was due to muscle weakness and the scoliosis I’ve had since my teens. I began doing strengthening exercises and continued to run. It didn’t get better. Swimming seemed easier but wasn’t always accessible. I tried ice, heat, deep tissue massage, acupuncture – all with limited success. Running was soon out of the picture, but I kept walking and joined a yoga studio, thinking the stretching and strengthening would help. The pain continued. One day my favorite yoga teacher told us all at the beginning of class to consider this yoga practice as a conversation with our bodies and reminded us that conversations include listening. A light bulb moment for me, as I realized I had been pushing my body to do the advanced poses, trying to prove to myself, the teacher and my classmates that I was good enough to be there. I began to listen a little more.

I finally asked my doctor about it, got a referral to an orthopedic surgeon, and discovered I have a tear in the cartilage in my hip (due in part to scoliosis, the way I’m made, and in part due to repetitive motion). All the exercises I’ve been doing have probably made it worse, which is why the pain is increasing. I’m now at the point where I can barely walk, and I have humbly had to utilize a wheelchair in the airport and rented a motorized scooter for a recent convention. I’m planning on getting surgery soon, but in the meantime, I’m using this as a lesson. And I’m finding that the insights I’m having from this apply to the rest of my life as well:

I need to listen more. Yeah, this is pretty obvious. I am working on listening and not judging – if my body says “I’m not walking,” I need to honor that. This applies to the rest of my life, too, because I often forget to listen first and jump into talking and sharing my POV right away.
Go slowly. To be able to walk at all right now, I need to go VERY slowly. If I don’t, my hip either completely gives out or the pain intensifies even more. In our society, the pace of life has gotten so fast, and this injury has forced me to slow down. It makes me more conscious of what is going on around me.
Focus on one thing at a time. Be mindful. I am used to doing many things almost at once, but again, my hip is forcing me to concentrate. If I try to pivot or spin around while walking (like in the kitchen), I get a sharp pain or the hip gives out. While multitasking has become the norm, researchers have proven that we really can only do one thing at a time. In my current state, I must be mindful of what I am doing and how I am doing it. It’s a good exercise in focusing, and I can use more of that in everything I do.
Rest and recover. A lot. I like to do a lot of different things, and there is so much I want to do. I push myself to do more, such as trying to squeeze in an errand on the way to an appointment, or carrying what my dad would call “a lazy man’s load,” piling many things into my hands and arms to transport from one place in the house to another, which nearly always results in something being dropped. Now, I’m finding that I need a LOT of rest, including time for just putting my feet up and time for sleep. And I’ve had to battle with my inner taskmaster who thinks this is lazy and at odds with being an entrepreneur.
Be willing to ask for help. This one is tough for me, but again, the state my hip is in now has made it a necessity. I have had to ask a lot of people for help, particularly my partner. I have realized how much of my self-esteem is wrapped up in what I do, and this has made me question that. Who am I if I can’t do everything I’m used to? What do I have to offer if I’m not able to do that?

Pain is a persistent teacher. It tells you when to stop and when to ask for help. Of course, you have to listen. May you listen to the whispers of your own body as it shares its wisdom with you.

Getting Comfortable with Being Uncomfortable

September 12, 2012emilydownward

As I write this week’s blog post, I’m sitting in an airport. I’m freezing, and I’m so cold I’m actually considering putting on all the clothes in my suitcase. I’ve had a job assignment the past couple days that has kept me on my feet for hours at a time. While I wore comfortable shoes, the long amounts of standing triggered the scoliosis in my back, and my lower back and right hip are painful. Sometimes I can ignore it, but the pain is at the point at which it will not be ignored any longer. The scoliosis (curvature of the spine) usually acts up during PMS each month, and oh, yeah, I might be experiencing that fun, too.* I’m tired – having spent a couple nights in a noisy hotel, just down the street from a busy firehouse and across the street from an active, early-starting construction crew – and being sleep deprived never helps anything.

All of this “background” helps explain (at least to me) why I’m having such difficulty writing a decent blog post this week. Usually, writing for the blog comes easy to me, and I find it enjoyable. But today, I’ve gone through three different topics, none of which turned into anything worth sharing, and the last one, which I thought maybe was good enough, disappeared when I unexpectedly and inexplicably lost my Internet connection. (F*&K! Saving ridiculously often now.)

So I realized all of this Uncomfortableness is actually a pretty decent topic. My mentor, Martha Beck, talks about the Cycle of Change in her book Finding Your Own North Star. In it, she describes four squares we go through during any major change in our life. Square 1 is known as “Death and Rebirth,” and this is the stage at which we feel the most confusion (“I don’t know what the hell is going on”) as the way we had defined ourselves has changed, and we haven’t yet figured out who we are without the old role or title. Square 2, “Dreaming & Scheming,” is when we begin to create concepts of a new future, and Square 3, “the Hero’s Saga,” is where we test out those schemes and figure out what really works for us. Square 4 is “the Promised Land,” where things smooth out, but the mantra is “Everything’s changing, and that’s okay” because everything always does change. I love sharing the Cycle of Change with my clients because it provides people with a sense of understanding and community (“Oh, so that’s what’s happening to me! And everyone feels this at some point”) and also a sense of hope (Square 2 and 4 are the most-looked-forward to).

Martha’s been saying lately that with the rapid pace of change in our world, we are pretty much in Square 1 nearly all the time. (So much for my hope idea.) So to survive, to not drive ourselves insane, we have to get more comfortable with being a little uncomfortable. We have to learn to roll with the punches, surf the chaotic waters, and maintain our equilibrium.

How do we do this? By going within. Peace cannot be found outside of ourselves; it must be found within. And when there is peace within, then we can take that peace out into the world.

As I play out the role of airport hobo today and stop fighting the Uncomfortableness, I let myself sink into feeling grumpy, tired and in pain, and I actually find a little relief. I don’t have to be anything more than what I am in this moment, and there’s some peace in that. Struggling against it all, wishing it wasn’t happening or thinking it should be better just prolongs the suffering. Accepting the present moment, just as it is, not trying to MAKE it be better than it is, actually feels better.

Or maybe the ibuprofen I took is finally kicking in. Peace out!

* If you want (or need) a really funny (and accurate) Life Coach’s Guide to PMS, go visit Bridgette Boudreau’s site. Hilarious and some great advice for getting through it!

Pain and Suffering

February 6, 2012emilydownward

Buddha at the Valley of the Temples, Oahu

“Pain in life is inevitable but suffering is not. Pain is what the world does to you, suffering is what you do to yourself. Pain is inevitable, suffering is optional.” – first noble truth of Buddhism

This past Friday, I finally decided to have a root canal done. The tooth that has been annoyingly painful for the last six weeks or so had previously had a root canal, about 4-5 years ago. But it was acting up again, and when I mentioned it to my dentist, he took an x-ray and saw a shadowy area that indicated there was still infection. He referred me to a specialist, an endodontist, and she was great. I liked her and trusted her immediately. She was intelligent and caring, listening to my previous dental horror stories and believing me when I told her my mouth was difficult to numb.

I stressed about the procedure, but everything went fine (and nitrous oxide helps a lot for anxiety). What I wasn’t prepared for was the pain afterwards. I guess I’ve blocked out the memory from the last time. The endodontist did warn me I’d likely be in some pain and gave me a prescription, saying she’d done “major work” in there. I went straight to the pharmacy and waited to have it filled. While I waited, the local anesthetic she had given me was wearing off, and the pain became more and more excruciating. It’s hard to think straight when that kind of pain hits. All you can think is “PAIN! Ah, make it STOP! I can’t take it! Why is this happening to me? Is this amount of pain normal? It’s getting WORSE! How much worse is it going to get? Why are they taking so long to fill my prescription? AHHHH!”

Fortunately, one of my wise coaching colleagues reminded me in a message to use this as an opportunity to practice Wordlessness. In Martha Beck‘s latest book, Finding Your Way in a Wild New World, she talks about different paths to Wordlessness, that state where you quiet the constant chatter in your mind. I’ve been practicing Wordlessness for months and can still only keep it quiet for a couple minutes at a time, but the value is incredible. I feel more peaceful and more clear-headed. While it isn’t one of my preferred methods for getting to Wordlessness, Martha does write about the “path of torment,” using those times when we are fatigued, hungry or in pain.

Having nothing to lose, I tried Wordlessness. I was amazed to “listen” to my thoughts in a detached way and then to get to the place where I could just let the pain be and not be IN the pain. This is difficult to describe in words (it’s called “wordlessness” after all!), but I can tell you that it’s easier to just deal with the pain. The escalating thoughts of anxiety and alarm make it worse.

I’m also reminded of my dear great aunt Sudie, who had severe scoliosis that twisted her back and hips. I have slight scoliosis and have experienced the pain it causes, as one side of your back’s muscles are stretched while the other side gets bunched up. But Sudie’s back was visibly distorted, and I can’t imagine the pain she must have been in on a daily basis. Pain often makes us short-tempered with others, and we may lash out at those closest to us. Not Sudie. She was always so loving and sweet, encouraging and patient. She was a model to me that although you may have pain, you don’t have to be one.

So, I was in pain. But I chose not to suffer. I also like to think that this kind of pain is healing, towards a better, new normal. Like washing out scrapes or cuts with clean water and soap, it stings, but you know it will keep out infection and help your body to heal stronger.

But the second night after the procedure, the pain got even worse. On a 1-10 scale, the pain was a 10, and I had to sleep propped up. I took the maximum amount of pain killers and put ice on my face, but I had a couple hours of excruciating pain where sleep just wasn’t possible. A few tears seeped out the corners of my eyes as I meditated, prayed and begged for relief. The next morning, that side of my face was swollen like I had the mumps, distorting my mouth and nose on that side. The swelling went all the way up to just under my eye. A weekend call to the endodontist got me some additional prescriptions, and I feel like the worst is over. Sometimes, pain is a signal that something’s not right. You have to know when to listen to your body and when to call for reinforcements.