I used to have a recurring dream of going on a beach vacation, and, for some reason or other, never making it to the beach.

It's the last day, we're leaving later that day, and I'm frantically pulling my stuff together to get out to the beach while I still can.

And I think this dream is about living my life.

Subscribe now

Share

Leave a comment

And I use the past tense, because I hope I'll no longer need this dream,

now that I live by a beach and go there almost daily,

and now that it finally feels safe to live my life.

Emotional Extremist

When I was young, emotions would hit me with the strength of a tsunami leveling everything in its path. I would cry at anything and everything, and become completely emotionally overwhelmed. I—perhaps like many of you—had no guidance around the purpose of emotions and how to deal with them. So, to be able to function at all as this sort of emotional extremist, I built a massive wall against my emotions that fortified me for decades until I had the resources and teachers I needed to learn how to feel.

Feelings are one of our body’s messaging systems. They let you know how circumstances (events, environments, people) are affecting us personally, so we can take appropriate action. Feelings are similar to pain in this way—pain is a signal that you should make a physical change, and greater pain signals the need for a more significant, faster change. You can interpret positive emotions as indicating you are on the right track, and negative emotions as asking for change. Anger is often telling you to set boundaries. Sadness might be telling you to take care of yourself. Fear is likely telling you to protect yourself in some way. Numbness or apathy is a sign you are blocking your feelings.

If we block our negative feelings, we are ignoring important messages about how we are being affected by the ways we are living our lives and the people we surround ourselves with.

Blocking our negative feelings makes it harder to enjoy our positive feelings.

You might hear it said that feelings are like ocean waves. If you stand and brace against them, they will knock you over. If you allow yourself to flow with them, they will crest and then move on. This is only true if you haven’t been blocking the shoreline. A number of us have been blocking our feelings for a long time—maybe our whole lives. For us, riding waves of emotion like floating in the ocean is a long-term end goal, once our bodies understand the sensation of emotional equilibrium.

In addition to a blockaded shoreline, a lot of us have storms of trauma whipping up the waves. The gentlest breeze stirs up old emotions, and suddenly we are being sucked down into life threatening rip currents.

I would like to describe two general protocols for handling negative feelings, with the intention of learning their message. The first protocol is the simpler proceedure, suitable for circumstances where you are encountering emotions that are not built up over years or decades of avoidance and do not hide hidden undercurrents of trauma.

Please, do not try to use the following protocol to deal with built-up, trauma related feelings, as it may be too triggering. The second protocol addresses these situations, but must be used with care.

FEEL: First, allow yourself to feel the feeling. People are often afraid of this first step if they are used to getting stuck in the feeling without resolution. Having a step by step procedure to follow so you don’t get trapped in a feeling can make feeling less daunting, increasing your willingness to allow a feeling to come up for you. Let the feeling build, crest, then fall away. Feeling is likely to be accompanied by some physical reaction such as punching a pillow, crying, or hiding under the blankets.

NAME: As the feeling loses its intensity, the second step is finding a name for your feeling. I often find it quite helpful to consult the Feelings Wheel when trying to name what I’m feeling. It has three levels to help you really hone in on the specific feeling you are experiencing. With practice, you’ll be able to find multiple feelings occurring at once, but to start out, just try to name the biggest feeling going on. Sometimes you will feel a great sense of relief just having named what you are feeling, because feelings (as with the humans having them) like to be acknowledged.

IDENTIFY THE CAUSE: The third step is to identify what caused the feeling you’ve just named. Often, the story behind the feeling will pour out right after you name the feeling. If it’s not coming to you right away, try journaling or speaking out loud. Do this in a safe place so that you can just spew and not censor what comes out. It can help to give yourself permission to know the story behind the feeling. A trusted friend, coach, or therapist can also help you with this step.

TAKE ACTION: Now that you’ve felt the feeling, named it, and discovered the cause, the fourth step is to decide what to do with the information. I think this is often the second hardest step. In fact, I think people may often wall off their feelings because they secretly know that if they acknowledge them, they’ll have to make a change in their life.

Change can be hard, and sometimes we really are not equipped to make a change. Be warned, however, that when a change is needed in your life, the feelings will just keep building and building until you act. You can only postpone for so long before something breaks, and the longer you wait, the bigger the change that will be required!

Fauceting^TM

For many people, the feeling protocol above won’t work and in fact, might be dangerous to try. If you have long-time built-up feelings, the resistance you have to feeling them is legitimate—if you open that floodgate, you could very well be washed out to sea and drown. These feelings don’t crest and fade, they hold your head underwater. If you have developmental trauma resulting in complex PTSD, attempting to feel your emotions can result in retraumatization. I have an alternative procedure for those of us in this position.

In my late 20’s, I had the opportunity to work with an amazing therapist who included art therapy in our work. She had me draw a picture of my fears around opening up about my feelings. I drew a picture of myself standing in front of a dam that was holding back a flood of emotion—think Hoover dam! I was convinced that I would die if I allowed that dam to come down. (I was correct—I could not have faced everything behind that dam all at once or at that time. It is so important to listen to your own inner knowing, and only take on your feelings as you find the support and resources you need to process them… and to make the changes they require of you!)

The therapist asked me if we could draw a faucet into the side of the dam.

That was a transformative concept for me that I have taken with me ever since. I have developed it into a practice that I call Fauceting™. It is learning to control the amount of feeling you allow to arise, so you only release a manageable amount of feeling at one time, even if that’s just one drop. With a functional faucet you can control when the feelings come out, how much you will let out, and you can process the released feelings without drowning in them.

Fauceting™ is a skill you can learn. I want you to know that this skill exists, because it gives you an alternative between walling off your feelings or drowning in them.

Like all skills, Fauceting™ needs to be learned over time. You will gain better control with practice. If you have a lot of trauma or built-up emotion, it’s best to begin with assistance. I won’t outline here the entire process that I use with my own coaching clients, but I will give you an idea of the parameters involved.

SAFETY: Before you attempt to release any feelings, you need the proper container to hold them. This requires a place where you feel truly safe to be open and real. If others are around, they must be compassionate and non-judgmental. The environment should be free of distraction and allow for you to process and perform self-care after the feeling. Safety allows you to turn the faucet on.

ANCHORING: Your feelings will take you into the unsafe past. You need something in the present to anchor you to your current safe reality. This will pull you out of the past where the trauma causing the emotions occurred, back into your present where you are physically experiencing safety. Anchoring allows you to turn the faucet off.

Safety and anchoring need to be established before you start allowing feeling. With practice, you can learn to turn the faucet on and back off, strategically allowing just enough of the feeling out to work with, without getting sucked fully into the feeling. You know what getting sucked in is like: you start remembering and your body goes back in time, you sob and rave and can’t stop for hours, you feel wrung out. It’s horrible. This is why you don’t let yourself remember.

With Fauceting™, you step into the memory just long enough to feel it in your body, then shut it off. You don’t have to re-experience the traumatic events behind the extreme emotions. You only have to dip your toe in—that’s enough to begin working on unpacking your experience.

PERSPECTIVE: A brief shudder of the feelings is enough to work on naming them and unraveling the experience that caused them. Your current self—what I call your Responsible Loving Adult (RLA)—can take a broader perspective of the past events than you had at the time you were experiencing them. Your RLA can see how people, institutions, and environments affected you beyond your control. A therapist, coach, or trusted friend can help your RLA gain this perspective.

REWIRING: The new perspective you gain on the experience allows you to rewrite the story of what happened to you. The unmanageable emotions you’ve had for so long are a result of the old story, and that story is full of false narratives. You now have the power to rewrite the entire narrative in a way that puts control of your life back into your hands. Rewriting the story rewires your brain. Repetition enforces the rewiring. This is the heart of trauma healing work.

I have so much more to share with you about all of this! For now, know that it IS POSSIBLE to heal through everything that is hiding behind your own dam wall. Can you imagine the freedom of living without the terror of that tsunami?

Subscribe now

Share

Leave a comment

Disclaimer: I am not a medical doctor or mental health practitioner. I am a Trauma Healing Guide who works with clients who have already done extensive conventional therapy and are looking for something more than they have found with current modalities such as talk therapy, CBT and DBT, or EMDR and Somatic Experiencing. My methods are built from extensive reading of books and published research on trauma as a PhD scientist, my own personal experience, and the experience of other traumatized people I have worked with. Please use the information in this post wisely, responsibly, and with an understanding of the perils involved.

I’m a bit skeptical that same month and day calendar numbers create magic portals. Not because I doubt numerology—mine reads like God is boasting to Satan, and I was like, yep, that tracks. But rather, because who is Pope Gregory to decide portal days? As far as I’m concerned, July 7th is actually Cancer 16th, and that’s 4/16… huh, so maybe it’s a magic portal either way.

Regardless, I grew up with C. S. Lewis, so if there is a portal, I’m going through it! Especially when I get a special invitation from the Universe to come to tea. We settled in all cozy on the couch with a special mix* of mugwort, lemonbalm, damiana, lavender, and honey, and the Universe got straight to business.

Universe: The Moon tells me that you aren’t in touch with what you really want, so I thought we could talk about that.

Me: I’ve been thinking about it since having tea with the Moon, and wrote up a succinct little request to easily find a quiet, private, reasonably priced apartment where I can completely focus on my writing.

Universe: No problem. But you know, I’m the Universe. I’m literally everything, so feel free to ask for more.

Me: Like what?

Universe: Well, when was the last time you really felt at home in your lifestyle?

I spent some time thinking about this, and realized it was 7 years ago when my dog, Abby, and I took a July trip in 2019 to Big Bear, CA. I rented an adorable little one bedroom cottage with a fenced yard for a week. I woke up slowly each morning, puttering about undisturbed, getting tea and breakfast. Then I went for a gorgeous afternoon hike on a nearby shady trail. I came back, cleaned up and ate supper, then spent the whole evening writing.

I had plotted out a three phase strategy for the book I was writing on my extension to Carl Jung’s theory of psychological types. Stage one was collecting all my information together, in stage two I organized the information into an outline, and stage three was just a matter of filling in the missing words of the outline. I completed stage two on that trip, and it felt like such a victory: The tough organizational work was done, and all that was left was the fun writing part.

Except that I couldn’t write. I got the message clear as day that I didn’t have all the information I needed to write this book. I needed to do more healing first. Thus began my deep dive into trauma-specific healing—a dive from which I feel like I am finally surfacing, seven years later. Launching this Substack is my attempt to get myself back into the writing groove, because I feel like it is time. It’s good to be writing again, but the flow is still just an inconsistent trickle.

That week in the cottage felt so right, and the work joyfully over-flowed. I would write sitting on the back porch, or hanging out in the hammock in the back yard, or snuggled on the couch with my puppers. There was someone missing, but otherwise it was perfection!

I remember thinking, THIS is how I’m meant to live!

Suddenly, I had more to ask of the Universe.

Nature and its humans and its creatures are suffering, while a small handful of deranged white men ravage everything beautiful and bountiful.

I came to Earth to join the mission to restore Balance.

In the first half of my life, I have experienced suffering. I have faced the darkness in myself and others, and I found ways to do so without losing my light. I have learned to alchemize pain into strength. I have crossed barriers, learned diverse languages, and discovered that we are all saying the same thing. I have defined internal balance and external balance, and have set myself on the path to embody both.

Along the way, I have shared what I have discovered with others, who have appreciated my insight. Now it is time for me to expand my reach.

I am meant to create a Rosetta Stone that connects the systems and languages that divide us.

I am a scientific mystic who listens to the silent voice of my intuition, so I need a quiet sanctuary for my work, where I can optimize the environment and interruptions. Someone in the South Sound area owns a lovely, private location along the lines of that cottage in Big Bear that is perfect for me and my dog. In the retreat of this natural location, I will be able to write in all the odd ways I find most inspiring—outside in the shade listening to the birds, on a covered porch curled in blankets listening to the rain, or inside sitting in the tub for hours.

The right container is essential—my intuition will not fully open the tap until I am able to properly direct the resulting deluge.

But once the container is just right and the flood gates are opened, the results will be tremendously prolific and exciting. People will be drawn in by my sheer enthusiasm coupled with the originality and scope of my thoughts and my ability to draw on my opposing aspects (head and heart, intuition and science, light and dark).

This freedom to do what I’m born to do will complete the healing process I’ve been working on! The false beliefs that have protected me since childhood will no longer be needed. I will see through them, rewrite them, and guide others through this process. The trauma trapped in my fascia causing fibromyalgia will fall away, layer by layer, as I write it out of my tissues, into the world where others can see and relate and heal.

Working now without a fascial straight-jacket, the momentum will build and the possible directions will be endless. Wise Advisors will be drawn into my orbit, and I am eager to learn from those with wisdom and experience to teach me.

I will require the support of a passionate and innovative King of Wands to stand at my side, so he will appear. Because he also values Balance, he will have developed access to his strategic King of Swords to advise, his relationally nuanced King of Cups to love, and his resourceful and abundant King of Pentacles to provide. Together he and I will build an Empire, modeling an alternative where an Emperor and Empress stand in love rather than greed.

Together, we will become an unstoppable force. The home we build together will be custom tailored to meet our needs and amplify our influence. From this base, we will join and support other power individuals and couples, building a community focused on joyful impact for the highest good of the Collective. Our community will band with other such communities in a limitless web of light that transforms the planet.

Nature will be restored as the guiding force of Life, and we will all become trillionaires in Love.

The Universe smiled.

Now we are talking!

Consider it done.

Subscribe now

Share

Leave a comment

Intentions: A wise advisor suggested the importance of including my intentions with my words…

I intend to always learn and grow in the direction of greater balance, knowing that the human experience always has more to teach.

For every page, knight, queen, and king there is a season, and I intend to explore in partnership and community, the ways and means to embody each in their time, knowing that perfection is a distraction from the goal of discovery.

*Thank you to the Universe and ImpishAries on Etsy for the Astral Projection Tea with Lucid Dream & Divination Herbs. It is delicious as well as effective!

Last Monday, the Full Moon in Capricorn invited me over for tea.^*

She sat me down, looked me in the eye, and with a direct question, she invited me to set aside all the distractions.

“Tell me child, what do you really want?”

I stared at her, frustrated and confused.

“How am I supposed to know what I really want?”

Her look in response was sorrowful.

“Oh my dear child, your body will tell you.”

My body is supposed to tell me.

Oh.

Well, then, I know my wish fulfillment.

“What I really want is to reinhabit my body with ease and joy.”

Once I'm fully back inside, ask me again.

Then I will want everything.

Subscribe now

Share

Leave a comment

We had one of my very favorite comfort teas, S'mores Herb Tea For Happy Campers, from The Republic of Tea. It tastes like carob chips, which taste like childhood for me. My mommy was always sick, which meant my daddy was often in charge of supper. He made us kids blueberry pancakes or waffles with carob chips. My mommy premixed all of the ingredients and left them in containers in the fridge, so all he had to do was combine liquids and solids and pour the batter on the grill. I loved both the pancakes and waffles, but especially the waffles. I was allowed one carob chip per hole (though I’d take more and daddy wouldn't notice—mommy always noticed). While the waffles were still super hot, I’d melt the carob chips in butter and spread it all over the waffle like a homemade Nutella (something I hadn't heard of as a child). It was the best! After dinner, daddy would go back to the bedroom under the pretense of rubbing mommy's neck, and fall asleep. He must have been very still and quiet for her to tolerate him there.

I’m Fine, Thanks

One day the worms in my head
got sick of being trapped and cramped
in claustrophobic solitude
writhing in tangled discontentment.

And so they made a pact
to end their collective misery
by eating each other
until only one unfortunate worm
was left to bear the pain alone.

God only knows what he will do
when he gets tired of circling
his desolate cranial dungeon.

~Julie Hoy, October 31st, 1996

In my dream, I begin to explore an old, old pain at the base of my skull.

I feel something dense and dark, resistant to pressure. I probe cautiously with my finger tips, gently moving outwards, I search to find the lower edge of my skull. I am blocked, there is something in the way.

It writhes under the skin, slips away from my fingers as I prod. I press firmly, moving carefully down the curve of hard bone. Behind my ears the pressure is met with tightening, a warning: back off.

I don’t back off. I tap tentatively around the hollows under my ears, behind the jaw bone—obstruction, resistance, clenching—it wraps around my jaw, up into my cheeks—did I just hear a hiss?

Before I have time to second guess, I grab at something tangled around each jaw. Grasping tight with both hands, I yank it out, whip it over my head, and hold it out before my face.

I hold a snake!

I hold it, behind the head in my left hand, near the tail in my right. My initial reaction is to fling it out into the æther with a shriek, but curiosity makes me pause—who is this monster? Do I know him? He flicks his tongue at me. Who are you? What do you wish to say?

I thank the snake for decades of service and release him from duty. There is a mountain lion out there who will be his friend.

Of course I would never be so senseless as to take on such a global Evil. I have different plans entirely for my newly freed voice…

Calling all Curse-breakers and Gardeners!

We have work to do!

Subscribe now

Share

Leave a comment

Even though my safety has been brutally ripped from me, over and over
I allow for the existence of security 
I build shelter into my life

I notice when I am safe
I luxuriate in the safety I have brought into my life 
I rest in the arms of communal sanctuary
Thank the universe for my Protectors
❤️

Even though I have been minimized and derided 
I embrace my creativity 
I envision audacious possibilities 

I revel in my visions
My enthusiasm is infectious 
My community is drawn together magnetically 
I am blessed by Source, the Collective 
🧡

Even though my power was bound by systems terrified of my light 
My own fires burn the ropes and melt the chains
I claim my power, step into it with confidence and humility 

I act, with agency 
I orchestrate my future, adept and determined
I work with others in joint resolution
Together we shape the community we want to see in the world
💛

Even though my heart has taken all these daggers
I refuse to give up on love
Connection is my life blood

I feel, I cry
Hold every agony: rage, terror, disgust, grief, loneliness, despair
For myself, for my lineage, for the Collective 
Receive with gratitude flows of joy, love, serenity in their place 
💚

Even though my voice was silenced by male usurpation and female strife
I grant myself permission to speak
I breathe, 

I even sing
Swords into stories that cut straight through 
False narratives, ending cycles
Musical lineage healing, worshiping with the ancestors 
💙

Even though my gifts of intuition and prophecy were demonized
My third eye still sees and knows
And doesn't blink

My unconscious is my connection to the Divine 
To everything exploded from the Source of existence 
Infinite knowledge, for those who hone awareness 
Into lamps posted in the psyche
💜

Even though others intend deception for gain
I am a lie detector 
Falsehood hurts my head

I am not persuaded by propaganda 
I strategize my way around you
With the least disruption to my life
Silence: my pearls will cost you 
🤍

Even though my opposers want me off balance, out of equilibrium 
Creating chaos, instability, and unnecessary scarcity
I recenter,

I return my chakras to balance 
Calm the turmoil in my body and mind 
Healing is my rebellion
Reuniting with control, in balance, is the revolution
🩷

And so it is.

Subscribe now

Share

Leave a comment

The “even though” phrasing of this incantation is inspired by EFT tapping. If you are into using EFT, consider tapping out this incantation!

The first two weeks of June were great!

I was riding a high from all the May healing breakthroughs that removed some persistent creative blocks. On the new moon last Sunday, I called great abundance of every variety into my life, then shared about this at the women’s new moon fire at Olympia Sacred Fire the same day. I went to bed feeling giddy at the positive changes I’m creating for myself, founded on improved health.

I woke up Monday in more pain than I’ve felt in a long time.

I was at an 8 on the (-3 to 10) Chronic Illness Pain Scale, which is an 11 on the normal 1-10 pain scale (off the scale pain). I could barely move. I had nothing on my schedule for Monday because I had anticipated needing to recover energy that day, but instead I spent the day dealing with intense pain throughout my entire body. I had zero social energy through the pain and spent the entire day hiding in my room.

Each day for the rest of this week I have saved up just enough Spoons to meet my clients, and then spent the rest of the day mitigating pain. I have otherwise avoided people, because I have felt grouchy, irritable, and emotionally all over the place. I hate taking my pain out on other people. I don’t have the energy to explain myself. It’s easier to just avoid humans. I need a universally understood, courteous hand signal to convey this.

Unfortunately, I also wasn’t able to avail myself of the gorgeous weather this week—I didn’t have the energy to gear up though the pain and then encounter people who would expect me to act polite. I wish there was an indicator bar above my head warning people to keep their distance. Or perhaps I could find an emotional support extravert, willing to protect me from human interaction and fulfill public social necessities, while also not requiring anything more from my company than I’m able to manage when in this much pain? Maybe I just need to get okay with glaring? Nope. Too rude.

The pain has lowered somewhat with each day—I’m now at a 4 on the Chronic Illness Pain Scale. This is an 7 on the normal pain scale: Unmanageable, constant pain that keeps me from doing most activities. This is normal level pain for me, but it feels like a relief after the beginning of this week. I’ve spent a great deal of life in this much pain or worse. I am proud of myself for continuing to post daily pictures during this flare, and even more proud of myself for writing today, despite being in flare recovery.

For most of the week, I have felt betrayed by my body. I’m working so hard to clear the wounds of my past. I’m fearlessly descending into the depths of my psyche, night after night, witnessing my trauma, allowing myself to feel, comforting my wounded inner child, nurturing the parts of my psyche arrested in development by trauma back into integration with my adult self. I’m building the life I believe I was meant to live from the start, so I can thrive in a manner true to my nature.

I am experiencing tangible progress, so why the setback? I completely forgot about no longer suffering, and dove right back into that familiar pool of agony. I felt like the pain was my body saying, wtf do you think you are doing, calling in this level of abundance? That is not meant for you! You are meant to suffer! Here is extra pain to punish you for thinking you could live otherwise.

Last night I went to Heartsong Village Center, where I’ve had the privilege of attending the Women’s Wellness Program, run by Amy Flynn, founder of the Center. This is a beautiful location in SE Olympia where Amy and her partner hold a vision of creating a community where people can gather and support each other. The weekly women’s group has helped me see how essential sisterhood is to my sanity and growth. I wholeheartedly recommend exploring the Heartsong Village offerings.

Sisterhood is essential because it provides women a safe place where life and emotions can be held and witnessed. Witnessing means listening, and then reflecting what was said back to the other person, to show them they have been heard and seen. If you haven’t experienced being witnessed, you must arrange for that to change, because it is nervous-system altering to actually have another human listen to what you say, closely enough to accurately explain what they just heard!

There is no pressure to solve each other’s problems in such a sisterhood container, though wisdom is appreciated. One woman in the group helped me reframe my current pain as my body purging what needs to go, in order to make room for the abundance I have called in. This reframe immediately rang true to me, and has changed my attitude about my pain, helping to make it possible for me to write this post.

This perspective of my pain makes perfect sense to me. I’ve talked about how dissociation has been my biggest pain management tool. As I become more embodied, I become less dissociated, and I feel more of my pain. I can allow that pain to come up now, because I now have knowledge and tools to work through it.

Last night I spent hours thanking my body for holding decades of pain until I was ready to feel it. I thanked her for bringing to the surface everything I am ready to let go. I released physical pain in great clumps and chunks and waves (through myofascial release). This is what it looks like to "re-enter into my body with courage to witness and tenderness to heal.”

And this is the value of sisterhood—reminding each other we don’t have to suffer pain, we can grow through it instead, and we don’t have to do it alone.

Subscribe now

Share

Leave a comment

The title of this post references the following excellent book on trauma and illness:

Maté, Gabor. When the Body Says No: The Cost of Hidden Stress. London, Vermilion, 2019.

Tonight is a supermoon, meaning it is as close to earth as it gets in its orbit, which would make it seem bigger than usual, if we could see it. We can’t see the moon tonight, since it is a new moon—a monthly time for fresh starts and new beginnings. The Gemini new moon invites you to bring powerful changes and abundance into your life through curious contemplation of possibilities and carefully considered communications.

I accept this Gemini super new moon as an excellent opportunity for me to welcome wonderful blessings into my life:

• Re-entering into my body with courage to witness and tenderness to heal.

• Ever increasing health in every cell and tissue, all systems working together to restore optimal homeostasis and resilience.

• The vitality of genuine optimism for the future and excitement to create my visions into reality.

• Deep soul connections that nourish my heart and inspire my motivation.

• Divine partnership that elevates my growth and healing of soul, mind, heart, and body.

• Assurance in my ability to embrace and adapt to every kind of weather, circumstance, challenge, and new abundance.

• The growing ability to sink into the safety I create, so parts of myself that have have hidden in fear feel free to emerge and thrive.

• Freedom of intuition and creativity, clarity and organization of mind, openness of heart and communication, mindfulness of body and environment.

• Stepping into my power with confidence and humility.

• Financial and material abundance that allows me to create a more beautiful, loving world through rich generosity.

I am grateful to Heather for encouraging me to consider and communicate this abundance ritual! I encourage you to subscribe to her Substack for beautifully written encouragement and inspiration.

Subscribe now

Share

Leave a comment

Several months ago, as I sat around a sacred fire with an amazing group of women, a remarkable woman named Anne told us she was done suffering.

I thought: Wait! You can do that? Just stop suffering?

I’ve spent a lot of time since then, thinking of ways to suffer less, thrive more. It seems to me to have a lot to do with how I think about things, the stories I tell myself about what is happening in my life. I have been working to catch myself sinking into the familiar refrains of my old stories, so I can choose a reframe with less suffering, more ease and joy.

I’m always in a lot of pain. It’s easy to tell myself the story that I suffer from constant pain that would send most people to the ER. It’s easy to focus on the pain, the suffering, the persistence—because these things exist and they scream loudly, just like the minority of Americans clinging to defunct ideologies in terror (and for some of the same reasons).

I am working to remember to reframe pain as a signal conveying a message from my body. If I ignore the signal, it gets louder, and louder, and LOUDER, until I listen. It is a message from an ancient communication system that developed before humans created words to convey needs.

My body is not creating the problems it is telling me about—the past traumas that remain unhealed; the stressors of daily living without adequate healthcare in a fascist second-world country that hates diversity, equity, and inclusion; the capitalist mandate that intelligent, sovereign humans act like feudal slaves and programable artificial intelligence so that a man-child, or ten, can become trillionaires. #slaythedragons

I pushed my body beyond its capacity for over four decades, trying to keep up in a society that turns my natural neurotype into a disability called autism. My body was beaten, sexually assaulted, subjected to medical trauma and car accident trauma. My psyche has been assaulted by verbal abuse, discrimination, narcissism, emotional manipulation, religious indoctrination, government propaganda, and societal programming.

I burned out. My body broke down and said: Nope, I can’t do this anymore.

I made a conscious decision to no longer participate in the abuse of my body. Instead, to the extent possible, I am actively caring for it and only interacting with people and in spaces that care for my body. (I acknowledge that both hard work AND privilege currently enable me to take this route.)

I have been working steadily my entire life to free myself of brainwashing. I have been readjusting my worldview and lifestyle for a decade to accommodate my autism diagnosis, which means living in a manner and at a pace suitable to my neurodivergence. I have devoted thousands of hours over the past four years to rehydrating and loosening my fascia through a combination of physical myofascial release and psychological trauma healing.

When I feel pain, I am reframing it as a reminder to stay strong in the revolutionary act of caring for my psyche and body, my mind and my heart.

Instead of focusing on all the challenges of living in this timeline, in this body, I am directing my thoughts to find evidence of my success. The relocation that brings me cleaner air, lower overall temperatures, and a higher density of soul tribe. My current freedom from working for a misogynistic, soul-sucking patriarchal system—instead creating my own purpose and vision. The strategic hard work and careful budgeting that makes this all possible.

As I decrease my pain levels and increase my movement, big emotions rise up within my body, and I have taught myself what to do with these sensations and feelings. I am finding communities and people able to hold space for my experience, provide support, encouragement, witnessing, advice, and healing modalities. I am writing again! I am sharing what I have learned, helping others, and participating in the healing revolution quietly taking place underneath all the noise and chaos of crumbling facades.

I still feel pain. But I’m suffering less. It feels good to be taking action, learning how to articulate my needs and advocate for myself, making forward progress, numbing less, healing more, defying the old order and its mandates of helplessness and hopeless against unharnessed greed and destruction. The pain still hurts, but now it motivates me instead of merely crippling me.

Subscribe now

Share

Leave a comment

Sacred Fire

I have found the PNW full of opportunities to meet like-minded individuals and soul tribe. One amazing location is Olympia Sacred Fire, where Women’s Sacred Fires are held each new moon by Sharon F.H. Brown, a Firekeeper through Sacred Fire International. This is a ceremonial fire during which we first honor Grandfather Fire, and then hold space for each woman in the circle to share what is on her heart. (This is a safe space of confidentiality, and I got permission from Sharon and Anne before posting this.)

My experience at these fires has been transformative. Imagine being able to share what’s going on in your life without interruption, without judgement, and without advice. Imagine listening to the experiences of other women of all ages and stages of life, without feeling that you need to fix their problems.

My first fire was shortly after emerging from the healing cocoon I hibernated into for most of my first nine months in Washington. I didn’t have the energy to both get myself to the fire, AND prepare something to say. That turned out to be a good thing, because I was able to allow myself to say whatever words needed to come out in the moment. That’s been my strategy for each subsequent fire, because I like to find out what I will say when my turn comes.

I find myself relating to the struggles and victories of all the other women speaking at each fire. I feel like my perspective on life is expanded with each woman’s story, as I listen to her experience and the lessons she is learning. It is a deep honor to be able to participate in this ritual, and I am very grateful to Sharon and Peter for hosting a sacred place for creating soul community.

As the old paradigms of nationalism, individualism, and imperialist capitalism crumble, we have the opportunity to make change by leading through example. I encourage you to get involved in this revolution by finding and creating local community that fosters safety, connection, healing, growth, love, acceptance, joy creativity, and living with purpose and mindful intention.

[Part 1] and [Part 2] of this series.

If you look up fibromyalgia on the websites of the Mayo Clinic, WebMD, or the CDC, none of them mention fascia. This is bizarre, since fascia is at the root of fibromyalgia pain. At least, I’m convinced it is at the root of my fibromyalgia pain. Since fibromyalgia is a catch-all diagnosis for any wide spread, long term, extensive pain not attributable to conditions with available medical tests, it may be the term used for a cluster of conditions that need to be differentiated.

Fascia is a type of connective tissue that forms a vast, interconnected web throughout the entire body. It lies under the skin and surrounds all the the organs, providing shape and support. It is found in adipose tissue (fat). It surrounds entire muscles, as well as infiltrating into the muscles to surround muscle fiber bundles and individual muscle fibers. Fascia is composed of layers of collagen and elastin protein, which are lubricated by a polysaccharide (carbohydrate) called hyaluronic acid. Healthy fascia tissues help your body move with fluidity and flexibility.

Fascia is enervated by fascial mechanoreceptors. These are sensory neurons that respond to pressure and vibration, making the fascia the largest sensory organ in the body. Since fascia can relay danger signals to our muscles faster than our brain can cognitively inform us of the danger, it is the source of our “knee-jerk” muscle reactions to perceived threat. Fascia acts as a full body suit of armor, contracting in response to activation of our sympathetic nervous system (fight-flight response).

Fascial tissues can become dehydrated and compacted into adhesions that hinder muscles movement and constrict nerves. This results in the stiffness and pain associated with fibromyalgia, myofascial pain syndrome, plantar fasciitis, and localized conditions like frozen shoulder. This can occur due to repetitive motions, injury, or unresolved trauma leading to PTSD or cPTSD.

You may have heard that “the body keeps the score”—the idea that unhealed trauma manifests physically in the body as pain and disease. A recent opinion article in a medical journal with a low ranking impact factor disputes this idea, claiming the problem is a disorder of threat prediction in the brain. I say it can be both.

The arena of scientific research is built on a competitive model that pits scientists against each other, fighting for funding and recognition. Competition encourages scientists to bash other hypotheses in promoting their own. I prefer a cooperative model of scientific thinking that pools the information coming in from different fields and angles of research to see how the data combines to give a bigger overall picture.

For example, I suspect that unresolved trauma has caused my brain to over predict threat in a hypervigilant fashion that keeps my fascia locked in active constriction against attack. Thus, both hypotheses are true. My brain did not code the completion of traumatic events that occurred in my past. As a result, it is continuously sending messages of active threat to my enervated fascial tissues. In turn, my fascia is holding my body in a “freeze” state, to protect me from ever anticipated threat.

This is why I am constant pain. This is why my body’s movements are so constrained, why I feel like I have to fight with myself to make every small movement. This is the source of the constant anxiety and underlying sense of doom. These physical symptoms are the “score,” the manifestation in my body of disruptions to my neuronal dynamics caused by trauma.

I’ll go into more detail on how this might work in the next part of this series.

Subscribe now

Share

Leave a comment

Kotler, S., Mannino, M., Fox, G., & Friston, K. (2026). The body does not keep the score: trauma, predictive coding, and the restoration of metastability. Frontiers in Systems Neuroscience, 20. https://doi.org/10.3389/fnsys.2026.1812957

Lesondak, D. (2017). Fascia : what it is and why it matters. Handspring Publishing.

Marks, J. (2023, November 21). What Is Fascia? WebMD. https://www.webmd.com/a-to-z-guides/what-is-fascia

Mulder, B. (2019, April 2). Fascia - A Hidden Piece of the Puzzle of Fibromyalgia Pain. The National Fibromyalgia Association. https://www.fmaware.org/fascia-fibromyalgia-pain/

Van Der Kolk, B. (2015). The body keeps the score: Brain, mind, and body in the healing of trauma. Penguin Books.

I have been breaking curses
Ancient curses, placed on Woman 
by ancient Man.
Current curses, confining, constraining
contingent on the authority of tradition
and the stranglehold of patriarchy.

I have always had a sense that I was meant to be in a Divine Partnership, in which my partner and I complement each other, and work together to create something more beautiful and impactful for the world than either of us could do alone.

That sounds lovely and sacred, but as I was mediating under the full moon at the end of May, I had the profound realization that the heavenly concept of Divine Partnership had been warped and twisted into devilish shackles that have been holding me back for decades!

I realized that I was waiting to succeed, UNTIL this partnership manifested!

I have been wrestling against myself blindfolded for years. Writing my thoughts and ideas has felt like pushing a gigantic boulder up the Mount Wilson trail in Sierra Madre, California. (I hiked all 16 miles of this trail, up and down—without a boulder—for my 40th birthday.) This mangled deformation of the idea of sacred union is not my only creative block, but it certainly has been a big one!

This keeps happening. I left the fundamentalist evangelical cult of my parents 34 years ago, but I still keep finding curses buried deep in my psyche, derailing my dreams from the shadows, keeping me small.

I renounced that curse, and replaced it with the the following blessing: My success will call in my Divine Partner. You can see the result in my posting frequency for the past week—suddenly able to create consistently. Yay!

Unfortunately, that curse was not solo, and its lonely mate has been haunting me for the past week: the fear that I will be alone forever. This one has plagued me for 48 years. I’ll just be minding my business, doing my thing, when suddenly I’m sucker punched in the gut as a disembodied voice whispers into my insecurities, “you will always be alone.” I crumple to the ground in unmitigated grief.

I’ve been trying out my various healing techniques all week, but nothing was banishing this demon, so I finally decided to sit and talk with it.

“WHY would it be so devastating to be unpartnered for the rest of my life,” I asked.

The answer revealed another curse.

Oh ffs. It’s the old circular argument of needing a man to protect me from men.

I released that curse with the following incantation. Feel free to use it if you discover similar weeds growing in the garden of your own psyche.

An Incantation of Freedom from the Curse of Needing a Man

I release the curse:
Laid on me by the family I was born into 
Laid on me by the religion I was born into
Laid on me by the patriarchy I was born into

The curse of needing a man
For Love
For Survival 
For Success

Not that I won't choose to love a man 
But that's the point 
I'll choose 
And not from desperation 
I'll choose 
From Desire

I break the curse: 
Of every woman who reads these words
You do not need a man
To feel Love 
You do not need a man
To rest in Safety 
You do not need a man
To enjoy Success

I invoke the blessing:
I was born with the innate knowing 
Of my belonging in the Sisterhood 
An endless, nurturing web
Of mutual care and compassion

I bless every woman who reads these words:
That deep soul ache, that longing you feel 
It is for your sisters 
Co-create the web
Give so she can receive
Receive so she can give

Women who create Love, Safety, and Success for each other
Inspire men who care for, secure, and provision us all

And so it is.

Imagine a world where women are empowered to evaluate relationships from a position of security in themselves, rather than from a place of survival conditioning! Where women choose men from Desire, rather than need. Where men are thrilled to add to her already abundant love, security, and success; rather than holding these as bargaining chips in exchange for her commitment and servitude.

What will change as the patriarchy crumbles?

Subscribe now

Share

Leave a comment

Note: all beings who are not cis-heterosexual men are part of the Sisterhood and may modify the incantation wording appropriately to suit their orientation and pronouns. ❤️

The Spoon Metaphor of Energy

My hope in writing these articles is that others with debilitating chronic illnesses will feel seen, in an ableist world that so often overlooks our needs. I would like this to be a resource that you can send to the people in your life who do not understand what you are dealing with, when you have no energy (Spoons!) to articulate an explanation.

In Part 1 of this series, I talked about my experience of fibromyalgia, a chronic illness I have had for decades and am successfully healing on my own (denied help from the insurance dictators). I described how the pain scale for chronic illness suffers is quite different than the typical pain scale used in your doctor’s office. I talked a bit about the effect of chronic pain on my life. Today I am going to introduce the concept of Spoons, and walk you through what it is like to do a simple chore while in chronic pain.

Almost all of my energy goes into pain management. My primary form of pain management, as discussed in the first post, is dissociation. I also use supplements, carefully watch my diet, get daily exercise, take Very Long Baths™, meditate, and do multiple kinds of self-myofascial release work. The small amount of energy I have left each day, goes towards the ten thousand tasks humans are required to manage to stay alive. Because I have so little energy to spare, I have to implement drastic prioritizing of how I allocate it.

It is common for people to think they don’t have enough energy for everything that needs to be done. Chronic illness sufferers experience this lack on a whole different level. So like the special chronic pain scale required to convey how different chronic pain is from regular pain, a separate description is necessary to help able-bodied people understand what lack of energy means to someone with chronic illness(es). The Spoon Metaphor, coined by Christine Miserandino in 2003, does a remarkable job at helping people better visualize this insufficiency

The idea is that everyone wakes up each day with a certain number of metaphorical Spoons to allocate for living, working, and enjoying life. A fortunate person in great health may wake up with basically unlimited Spoons. They might actually pop out of bed, ready to engage the day, exercise, work for eight or ten hours, run errands, interact socially with any number of people, spend the evening with family enjoying activities, and still feel energetic when they go to bed. These people actually exist, and they are so abundantly wealthy in Spoons, they never bother to count them.

The majority of people operate with a moderate amount of metaphorical Spoons. They move through their days somewhat tired from not having quite enough Spoons. They get most of their most important tasks done, have a long Wishful Thinking task list, don’t get enough rest, and don’t take enough time off. They drink lots of caffeine to artificially generate spoons, and keep pushing through. [Incidentally, routinely pushing past your Spoon limit is one of the routes to joining the Chronic Illness club.]

With a chronic illness, you might wake up with 12 Spoons, just enough to use the bathroom and feed the dog. You might wake up with 100 Spoons, and showering would use half of them, so you don’t shower because you decide eating is more important. You might wake up with 1000 Spoons and feel like a millionaire! You go to the grocery store AND do laundry.

With a chronic illness, every Spoon counts, and so you are constantly running Spoon budget calculations in your head. Come with me on a Spoon calculating adventure…

Vacuum the Floor while Chronically Ill

There is a lot to vacuum—bedroom, bathroom, hallways, entryway, stair way, kitchen, living room—and it gets dirty quickly because there are dogs tracking in vegetative matter. The whole task must be done at the same time, or dirt from one area will just track into another area.

This tasks requires A LOT of energy, and can only be tackled on a high Spoon day. This task alone is equivalent to showering, making a decent meal, AND emptying the dish washer. It has to be budgeted in carefully, and there is rarely enough Spoons available to do it more than once in a month. However, not doing it also cost Spoons, as the stress of walking through sticks, leaves, and dog hair costs daily frustration-with-mess Spoons, which must be factored into the calculations.

So it has been a decent week. You made food yesterday, went to the grocery store the day before yesterday, did laundry the day before that, and you think you can muster the energy required to vacuum today. Start the Spoon Tracking.

You go out to the garage where the vacuum is stored and use Spoons to lug it indoors. When shopping for vacuums, you spent a long time (and numerous Spoons) comparing weights, because every extra ounce you have to lug and push decreases the square footage of floor you have Spoons to clean. You have removed all the accessories that constantly fall off, because the Spoons involved in having to constantly bend over to pick them up and reattach them is enough to make you call the whole thing off.

You have developed a SOP (Standard Operating Procedure) for vacuuming with maximum efficiency (not just because you are autistic), so no extra Spoons are wasted—say, switching outlets more often than necessary or backtracking across floor space already covered. Devising the SOP cost extra Spoons initially, but this is a regular task, so the SOP will pay itself off over time. The necessity of a SOP does have the unfortunate drawback of making it really difficult to do the task the first time, due to the extra startup cost.

You start vacuuming and realize the machine is not picking up the large leaf clutter, because you ran out of Spoons last time before you could empty the trap. You empty the trap, and the Spoon counter ticks up.

You begin vacuuming again. You settle for “good enough” vacuuming, because you can tell you don’t have enough Spoons to do the whole area to exacting standards. Do you have enough Spoons to move any furniture this time around? Maybe three smaller items. You strategize which three to vacuum behind, trying to recall which few you moved last time, and which places gather the most dog hair. This strategizing costs a small number of Spoons, but is necessary to prevent the project ending prematurely with you crying on the incompletely vacuumed floor, completely out of Spoons.

You are half done now and your Spoons are more than half depleted. Damn. Either quality will have to further decrease, or you will have to vacuum less area. The dismal quality of your performance is already distressing enough, so you scan for floor areas that can be skipped this month. You skip the far end of the living room because it also would require an outlet switch.

You are nearing completion but are down to a handful of spoons. You can still visibly see dirt, which bothers you immensely, but you stop nonetheless. It requires Spoons to empty the trap a second time (you will thank yourself next month). It requires Spoons to wrap the cord and carry the vacuum back out to the garage. You’ve learned the hard way to always leave a few Spoons at the end of the task for inevitable steps you forgot to anticipate.

Speaking of which, you are down to two Spoons, when you notice the rugs are still pulled up. It requires more than two Spoons to lay the rugs back down and now you are in deficit. You stumble to the bedroom and collapse on the bed to recover. An hour of numbness later you have enough Spoons built back up to go to the bathroom.

Congratulations! This was an excellent day! You got the floor vacuumed!

[Part 3]

Subscribe now

Share

Leave a comment

Note: my ability to write depends on how many Spoons I wake up with and how many life tasks I have to prioritize over writing. You can guess how well I’m doing by how consistently I’m posting. If I haven’t posted for over a week, that means I’m in a flare.

Introduction to My Fibromyalgia

My life is debilitated by fibromyalgia. I believe fibromyalgia is the manifestation of trauma in my body. Over several posts, I’m going to explain my experience and understanding of trauma-induced chronic pain, especially fibromyalgia, as well as how I am healing myself. While what is true for me may not be applicable to everyone with fibromyalgia, I believe what I have learned may help many people with fibromyalgia and other chronic health issues.

According to the National Institute for Health Care Management¹, 60% of Americans are dealing with at least one chronic health issue and 90% of the $4.5 trillion spent on US health care in 2022 went to treating these chronic conditions. Did you process what you just read? Three out of every five Americans have one or more unsolved health issues costing our country over four trillion dollars each year. It’s too bad we can’t pool our resources into a centralized organization tasked with alleviating this issue.

One of the chronic health issues plaguing Americans is fibromyalgia. The National Fibromyalgia Association² estimates that 10 million Americans (75-90% women) have fibromyalgia. Personally, I put off getting a diagnosis until 2023, when, upon returning home from my daily walk, a kindly neighbor spotted me visibly crying in pain. Public tears convey a lot, given my typical uncomplaining stoicism. I put off getting a diagnosis for decades because I knew too many women in my condition not getting help from the US health care system. I feared I would spend a large sum of time and extremely limited energy only to be told there was nothing our insurance-governed medical system would do for me.

Guess what? That’s exactly what happened. I had to make three appointments: one to get a referral to a rheumatologist, one for blood tests, and one to see the rheumatologist (which involved driving in downtown LA). There were around a dozen conditions the doctor could actually test for and she ruled them all out in my case. Fibromyalgia is the diagnosis of exclusion, so she asked me the standard fibro diagnosis questions.

Where did I feel the pain (Widespread Pain Index)? My whole body, worst in jaw/neck/shoulders/upper back and hips/pelvis/upper legs. When I say I feel the pain in my whole body, I mean: there is no place you can press on my skin where it does not hurt. When I list locations as the worst pain, I mean: the pain there is excruciating to the point of not being able to move without crying. Imagine driving around downtown LA when you can’t move your upper or lower body without agonizing pain.

She asked about the severity of the pain on a scale of 1-10, 10 being the worst: after careful consideration, I rated my pain in fall of 2023 at 1,000,000,000. One billion on the pain scale makes it horrific to go to useless doctor’s appointments, especially in downtown LA. She asked how long I had been experiencing the pain: decades. I was in a car accident as a passenger at age 14 and I remember tortuous pain from the torn ligament in my neck—to the point that the lower rib and hip damage went unnoticed at the time. My life has been increasing pain levels ever since.

She asked about other symptoms on the Symptom Severity Scale such as Fatigue (“severe, pervasive, continuous, life disturbing”). Chronic fatigue feels like you live encased in molasses and must fight through it to make every move. Fibromyalgia feels like the molasses has thorns. Second symptom: Waking unrefreshed. Lol. Morning is a nightmare. Waking hurts, a lot. It is a process of becoming aware that I am a solid block of concrete, yet am expected to operate like my body is composed of various kinds of tissues optimized for movement. Getting up is a multi-hour process of slow, painful small movements.

Third symptom: Cognitive symptoms. Welcome, brain fog. It’s really hard to think when you are in severe, pervasive, continuous, life disturbing pain. My memory is deeply affected, and my ability to think scientifically, creatively, or write is impacted, making it difficult to do my job. Other symptoms: headache, abdominal pain, depression. I’ve dealt with life long migraine, gastrointestinal, and Major Depressive Disorder issues, but those (while likely worsened by the fibro) are (also) their own chronic health concerns—likewise trauma induced in many cases.

These answers qualified me for a diagnosis of fibromyalgia. There is a depression medication that can sometimes help with fibro pain, but I would have to get off Lexapro first. My attempts to do so in the past have ranged from bad to catastrophic, so that’s not an option for me. Otherwise, the standard fibro treatment recommendation is: don’t stop moving. When you stop moving, you solidify (reference my description of mornings, above) and it is extremely painful to get moving again. I was sent on my way—with a diagnosis, without any medical aid. I guess at least I know I don’t have lupus or rheumatoid arthritis.

The Chronic Illness Pain Scale

Able-bodied people do not understand chronic pain. The graphic above, along with the explanation text in black above and below the colorful scale, does an excellent job of comparing acute pain (left side) to chronic pain (right side). I’m going to walk you through the pain scales. On the “normal” pain scale, 0-3 is no pain, or barely noticeable pain. People with chronic pain do not experience this, so on our side, the numbers are -3 to 0. Let me reiterate—we are NEVER without pain.

Back to the left side of the scale, able-bodied people will push through pain ranging from 4-6. This level of pain is rated 1-3 for the chronically ill, because it is the least amount of pain we ever experience on our very best days. While those in acute pain might take ibuprofen, we will definitely not take meds at this pain level. We save the meds for the worse pain to come, because all pain meds have serious side effects and we want to minimize how often we take them. On the very rare days we feel such a relatively low level of pain, we are likely trying to get as much menial labor done as possible, because the daily tasks of living are normally so hard to accomplish through the higher levels of pain we are used to living in.

On the able-bodied scale, pain levels 7-8 are where things start to feel serious for acute pain. You are likely taking medication, talking about your pain, and wondering if you need to see a doctor. This is pretty much baseline level pain for the chronic pain sufferer. I am still trying to avoid medication (other than pot), pushing through to accomplish daily tasks. I am not talking about my pain, because I don’t want to be the sort of person who complains about pain constantly, so I save mentions of my pain for the really serious stuff.

Back to the normal pain scale, at pain level 9-10, you are immobilized, perhaps unconscious, likely at the ER or hospital. For the chronic pain sufferer, this is flare level pain. A flare happens when you do something disallowed (like eat a forbidden food), try to do too much (like go to the grocery store AND the pharmacy in the same errand run), or just because. We do not go to the ER or the doctor, since it happens so often, they really can’t do much to help us, and it is easier and less painful to stay home in bed. We might take meds at this point (beyond pot), but only if we really have to be functional for a short period of time, which is all we can manage, even with medication.

If I go to a doctor at this point, and tell them my pain level is 8, 9, or 10 on their pain scale, they give me The Look. The Look says they do not believe me. If I was in that much pain, I would be crying, screaming, writhing, or unconscious. I am not doing those things because this level of pain is so common for me, I have developed ways to deal with it.

Namely, I dissociate. I can dissociate to different extents—the worse the pain, the more I dissociate. I partially or mostly leave my body. This makes it difficult to think, speak, or interact with other humans, but it does dull consciousness of the pain. I have spent so much of my life dissociated from my body, it has become my default state.

At some point I realized that I hover a few inches in front of my body and somewhat shifted to the right—as if I am trying to get out of my painful exterior, especially away from the left side (the side injured in the car accident). Sometimes I try to lower myself back into my body. This is like lowering myself into hell—it’s horribly hot and noisy. I hear screaming, wailing, and gnashing of teeth and quickly pop back out of my body, back into a dissociative state.

There is nothing above 10 on the normal pain scale, because you are presumed dead beyond that point. On the chronic pain scale, things are just getting interesting. This is level 11-13 pain territory. I am medicating now (pot no longer helps), I have tried everything in my mental and physical bag of tricks, I am at least 95% dissociated, I may even complain about my pain to another person (though I likely have zero energy to spare for other humans at this point).

This is the territory I was in when my neighbor found me crying. Despite the severity of my pain, I was still trying to go on my daily walk, because I had been in 11-13 pain territory for so long, I was hoping moving in the outdoors would help.

Nothing helps at that level of pain. You want to die.

My Personal Pain Scale

I do not just experience fibromyalgia pain. I have pain from, a dozen or so different disorders. Layers upon layers of pain. I have so much pain that dissociation stopped being sufficient to get me through and I started stuffing the pain into external objects and places. I stored my pain in volumes and volumes of journals, songs, books, movies (the few that I see), furniture, mementos, and cities. I filled the entire state of Iowa with pain, so I can’t go back there without doubling over.

The Chronic Illness Pain Scale with its intervals from -3 to 13 does not offer enough gradations for me to express my experience of pain without getting into long decimals. I need a scale that offers more gradations, like how the Fahrenheit scale offers more marker points (from 32F freezing to 212F boiling, for a total of 180 marked points) than the Celsius scale (0C freezing to 100C boiling, only 100 marked points). In all other cases, I am firmly a fan of using the Standard International units (SI units, used by pretty much everyone else in the world except America—for example, km instead of miles). But I find it super annoying to use decimals in temperatures (as I write, it is 91F, or 32.78C).

I digress. The point is that 1,000,000,000 pain units on my scale is equivalent to 13 on the Chronic Illness Pain Scale above. I broke down and went to the doctor. When I sat calmly and barely writhing in the super uncomfortable patient chair and told the intake nurse my pain level was 10 on her scale, she gave me The Look. The doctor diagnosed me with fibromyalgia and told me to do yoga. I had to stop doing a long-term yoga practice around 2017, because I was spending nearly the entire hour in child’s pose quietly crying.

I went home and started working on figuring out how to heal my own fibromyalgia.

…

[Spoiler: So far, I've reduced my pain by ~90%. As I write, I am sitting “comfortably” at a 3-4 on the chronic illness scale (6-7 on the doctor’s pain scale).]

[Part 2]

Subscribe now

Share

Leave a comment

¹Khullar, D. (2024). The Growing Burden of Chronic Diseases. NIHCM. https://nihcm.org/publications/the-growing-burden-of-chronic-diseases

²Mulder, B. (2019, October 13). Fibromyalgia Prevalence: est. 10 million people in the U.S. The National Fibromyalgia Association. https://www.fmaware.org/fibromyalgia-prevalence/

I’ve been worried about my mountain lion. She came to me from the zoo, where she was born and kept captive in strict confinement, not allowed to become the wild, feral feline she was meant to be. She ran for her life when we were threatened by political pawns even more dangerous than the zoo keepers who oversaw her long imprisonment. I’ve been worried for her safety and ability to thrive in a world where all the land has been staked out and cut-throat skills are required to negotiate survival within manufactured scarcity.

I reached out to her from the Dome at the Elevation Hive during the May Dream Circle run by Amanda Lux and Jamie Fenix. I was relieved and delighted to find that my mountain lion is doing wonderfully! In the dream where I first met her, recently paroled from the zoo, we were in California. When I ended that dream for the protection of everyone involved, she was transported with me to Washington.

Here in northwest Washington, she is finding that she has all the space a solitary mountain lion could ever desire in which to discover herself—who she was meant to be, before humans decided that they had the right to appropriate her will and freedom to implement their schemes for her existence.

She expressed deep gratitude to me for liberating her. Not just setting her free to fight for her life, tooth and nail—with jaws and claws she has never learned to use. But for bringing her to safety from which she can heal the wounds impaled a life-time deep, deprogram the conditioning to stay small and quiet, finally allowed to explore the possibilities meant to be inherent to her nature.

I was so happy to learn that I had helped my mountain lion relocate from restriction to spaciousness. I asked the dream group to visit her in their own dreams, to see what further wisdom she might have to share. The other dreamers found her running the land, learning to hunt, communing with other animals, and enjoying sanctuary—joyfully being the wild cat she was meant to be.

One amazing dreamer, Angie Swick, found a mirror in the dream world and held it up for me to look into. This was the moment that I saw that I am the mountain lion, she is in me, I embody her fierceness, her will to be free, her determination to live truly. Her roar is my own voice, and my throat is no longer shackled.

I was born into social constraints that forbade me from living according to my internal wiring. I lived small, quiet, and constrained for so long, my body ossified into a restricted, cowering posture. I internalized the cage and carried it with me for decades, around the world and across the county.

Now I am choosing differently. I claim the autonomy and sovereignty that is my birthright as a living being. I have created the space and safety to begin again, this time allowing myself to rewild the spirit of the mountain lion within.

Subscribe now

Share

Leave a comment

Apparently after our discussion recently, my unconscious trusts me again, because I remembered my dreams the next day.

The local zoo asked me if I would foster their mountain lion while they renovated her enclosure. She came to my apartment wearing a collar and as domesticated as a house cat—it broke my heart to see her wildness stolen from her like colonized land. I thought about releasing her into the wild, but I wasn’t certain she’d have the skills to survive out in the world and compete for territory. You can’t just set a person born into captivity free and expect them to manage in a society where false scarcity is manufactured by the 0.01%. Reparations need to come with transitional safety.

About 40% of California is considered native habitat for mountain lions. They are solitary animals who defend territory across 300-500 square miles! As humans confiscate ever more of their territory, the mountain lion has become nearly endangered. Fortunately, California has decent protection for these magnificent large cats.*

The zoo mountain lion got along great with my dogs (not likely with a live, wild mountain cat!) and I found them all snuggled together in a pile after our long evening walk. I like to imagine myself with a mountain lion walking on my right side while out in public—does wonders for your confidence. If you have social anxiety, I highly recommend this technique. It’s best not to talk to it out loud in public, though. Unless a man is ogling you. Then by all means, command your imaginary mountain lion companion to attack him in a loud, assertive voice.

ICE arrived at my apartment complex, which was confusing because everyone living there was as pink as me. We were informed that they were just running practice drills. They burst into my apartment, leaving the doors wide open and all my animals ran outside! I was furious! How dare they kidnap innocent people AND put my animals at risk. I ran outside fearing the worst, but both dogs and the mountain lion were happily sniffing the grass right outside the building. I brought them back to safety. I considered telling my new non-imaginary dream mountain lion that the ICE soldiers were zookeepers, but controlled myself.

We got ready for bed and I brought the dogs to my bedroom with me. I left the mountain lion in another room for the night—I was pretty sure we’d all be fine together overnight, but it’s best to take extra precautions when you’re just getting to know someone. You have to take things slowly and carefully at first, because you never know what might trigger someone—especially a person with the kind of trauma she’d suffered. You want to learn these things while you’re awake, aware, and ready to de-escalate.

Just before falling asleep, something warned me to check on the mountain lion. I went to her room, only to find that the outside wall of my apartment was now missing and the lion was gone! There were ICE troopers outside who mocked me and said they killed her! They pointed to a stain that might have been barbeque sauce. I got worried about my dogs and tried to go back into my apartment, but ICE had checked my social media and saw that I released the Trump-Epstein files, so they cordoned off my apartment. They wouldn’t let me in and they wouldn’t release my dogs and they wouldn’t assure me that my dogs were okay…

…and so I stopped the dream. I am a lucid dreamer and, while I haven’t yet managed to stop ICE on the blue streets of America, I sure as hell can stop them in my dreams. And no one messes with my dogs—not in my dreams and not in the woods either, which reminds me of a completely true story…

…which is why this post is also in the series where I converse with critters, because this 100% happened not as a dream.

I was walking my dog Abby and her bff Lola on a gorgeous section of the Gabrielino trail, when I suddenly realized I was looking a coyote directly in its bright yellow eyes. It was standing on the slope at the side of the path, ten feet away, at eye level with me. Three coyote companions stood behind the leader of the pack, further up the slope, panting and laughing.

The pack leader grinned at me and slyly said, “Nice looking dogs you have there. Can I have them.”

He licked his chops.

The dogs were in between me and the coyotes, looking from the coyotes to me, trusting me to take care of the situation.

Coyotes are opportunists. Like narcissists, if you make things difficult for them, they will move on and look for easier prey.

I stepped over the dogs to put them behind me. I looked directly at the lead coyote and only the lead coyote and said, “No. You cannot have my dogs.”

I said this out loud very assertively and without any room for negotiation. Why do I find it so much easier to speak directly to animals than people?

The lead coyote chuckled and shrugged and said, “Chill out, I was just asking.” He said it in a very “it was just a joke,” sort of way. I was definitely gaslit by that coyote. He then sidled off back up the hill and his buddies followed. (I don't know of it was a “he,” I'm just assuming from the attitude.)

No one messes with my dogs.

Subscribe now

Share

Leave a comment

* California Department of Fish and Wildlife

The other day I saw a woman get out of a public bus at a three way intersection bus stop. She was wearing a face mask, had on big chunky head phones, and was using a walker. The walker was decorated with flowers and a sign on the front explaining to her viewers that she needed some extra patience from others. Cars waited at all three stop signs for her to slowly make her way through the intersection, while the bus did that thing where it takes ages to raise back up to driving height, after lowering itself to ease her departure.

I watched everyone watching her trying to exist outside in public as a disabled woman, and I felt a full body cringe. I am disabled, and I do everything I possibly can not to stand out as disabled. I don’t want the world to have to pause to accommodate me, staring at me the whole time they graciously offer their impatient patience.

Long, long ago, back when I still subjected myself to the horrors of dating apps, a man agreed to meet me at an event taking place at The Planetary Society.* Since this date involved walking around outside, I had to prepare accordingly. Because of my autistic sensitivities and high ancestral risk of skin cancer, being adequately prepared involves personal protective equipment including a visor or hat with large bill, special extra dark sunglasses, and nasty, greasy, disgusting but unavoidable sunscreen.

I wanted to dress cute, around the PPE, maybe a sundress. But then I have to worry about thigh chaffing, and it was too hot to wear something thigh protective under the dress. So I wore shorts, but not cute little 5-inch inseam shorts that would show off my cellulite, those 8-inch shorts that make you look like a frumpy old lady (because it is apparently physically impossible to make longer shorts that look cute). And sensible shoes because I can’t walk if my feet hurt, and why can’t comfortable shoes also look cool? Is this Heisenberg’s uncertainty principle** in action?

I needed to bring water and back up water, because I am always desert-drought thirsty and cannot rely on the public availability of water since I full-out will-die-in-minutes-panic when without water. I brought food, because my blood sugar sometimes dips without warning and I need to eat immediately or I zone out into some sort of minimally-conscious and unresponsive liminal state. Then there’s the pouch of medication, just in case. And a dozen or so other items, also just in case.

I ended up dressed like a total dork, carrying a bag that was so heavy, I had to hold it in front of myself with both hands, like a pregnant belly. I got to the Planetary Society, and texted my date. I looked all around for him, but he didn’t show up. I pictured him seeing me approach with all my accessibility gear and saying, oh hell no, and slipping out the back to get away from me and my high maintenance needs. I couldn’t blame him—I hate being seen with me too.

I have been having dreams
Heavy dreams
Thick dreams
Stick in my body dreams

I have been denied access to my dreams
It feels deliberate 
Like something happening to me from outside 
My unconscious saying no

Like it rants all night then
Seals it all off in the morning with a
Nothing to see here
Like it doesn't believe I can handle the truth

I asked my unconscious
What it is keeping from me
She gave me a
Peak at last night's dream 

Ug. It was one of THOSE dreams. A stress dream. Sometimes I dream that my family (parents, siblings) is moving and we have an incredible amount of stuff to pack, but no one is packing anything but me. It's our moving day, there is junk everywhere and nothing is ready to go, people are waiting on us and I am panicking but no one else is all that concerned. 

But in this dream, it seemed that we had already moved, and instead of unpacking we just... exploded the boxes. It was an absolute disaster of a mess everywhere, inside and out. I went around trying to plan a strategy to clean the mess, trying to figure out where to even start. Then I did something extraordinary and totally out of character for me. I gave up. There were wrapped candies scattered among the mess. I grabbed up a big handful, and plopped down to eat sugar poison in surrender.

I thought: 
I guess I live in this mess now.

So ANGRY!
Internal betrayal!

I'm out here protecting myself 
With laundry baskets and cardboard lids
Fighting climate disaster and seasonal affective disorder
Wrestling delusion and paranoia
Pulling false beliefs out by the roots

So she can just give up?
I don't think so!
She needs to step up!
Stand next to me!
Work with me!
Have my back!
Cheer me on!
Not give up!?

So yeah, I'm not on good terms with her at the moment 
My recreant unconscious.

Hmmm?
This is why you didn't want to open up?
You knew I'd get mad at you?
Ah. I see.
Well...
Why do you feel like giving up?
Because someone has to be realistic? 
You are pointing to a pile of evidence collected for over 50 years
Matching patterns with dire forecasts 

Convincing 
Until I realize you've been cherry picking candies off the lawn
Ignoring all the incremental progress
We see what we look for

This mess isn't even ours!
Let's go for a walk.
(I'll grab the bag.)

Sweetheart? 
Did you forget that we are meant to fly this thing together? 
If we work in synchrony
We have some measure of direction over the trajectory.

Let's agree on a lofty destination 
And take the easiest 
Most effortless 
Joyous
Fulfilling
Rejuvenating 
Path from here
To There 
Together.

Please?
Thank you!

For well over a decade, I have assumed that man saw me and ran away because I’m overwhelming and embarrassing. It only just occurred to me that perhaps that dude was a total dick and never even showed up. Just got distracted and blew me off without bothering to let me know. It’s entirely possible, likely even, that him standing me up had absolutely nothing to do with me and everything to do with him being an inconsiderate jerk.

It also finally occurs to me that my Divine Masculine (in addition to being telepathic and honest) will not be hindered by my special needs. In fact, he’ll work with me to help me make sure I have everything (just in case) and then he’ll carry it for me.

Subscribe now

Share

Leave a comment

* “The Planetary Society is the world’s largest community of space enthusiasts, started by famed astronomer Carl Sagan and today led by celebrated science educator Bill Nye. We’re working together to increase discoveries in our Solar System and beyond, elevate the search for life outside our planet, and decrease the risk of Earth being hit by an asteroid. Space is vast, and there’s a lot of exploring to do! Everyone is welcome. Become a member of The Planetary Society, join our community, and take your place in space today.”

** The Heisenberg uncertainty principle is a concept in quantum mechanics stating that it is impossible to know both the exact position and momentum of a quantum particle simultaneously. The more accurately one property is measured, the less accurately the other can be known. And no, this principle does not explain why cute shoes must be uncomfortable, because shoes are too large for quantum mechanical concepts—they follow the laws of classical mechanics.

Happy May Day, May 1st, Beltane!

It’s a full moon and the moon is in Scorpio. My moon sign is Scorpio, so I thought I’d look to see if this is an important day for me.

According to astrology.com, having their moon in Scorpio indicates a person is highly emotional and obsessively driven to find the truth. Huh.

Positive descriptors include devoted, focused, intuitive, sharp, unshakable. Okay.

But negative descriptors include defensive, guarded, mistrustful, resentful, unforgiving. Oh.

Apparently, very little gets past them because they are basically human lie detectors. That tracks. “They drip with and crave intensity.” Lol. “Powerful emotional experiences help them shed their old skins.” Yes. They often act as a catalyst for change. Check.

But they are terrified of treachery, and this may cause them to cut others off. They can get down right thorny and hostile, if they are not careful. Cough.

Now, according to the internet, a full moon in Scorpio is a time to bring darkness to light for emotional clearing. Hidden fears and mistrust come to consciousness so we have clarity on what we need to release.

Right. I understand this assignment.

Announcement: The stars have brought to my attention the fact that I sometimes overuse the stinger on my Scorpio moon tail with my words.

It’s giving Queen of Swords. She can symbolize independent, unbiased judgement and clear communication. But she can also shred people to tatters if she lashes out from a threatened, unhealed, triggered place. This is not the legacy I wish for my writing.

I’d rather write from an embodied Queen of Wands. She inspires people with warm and creative nurturing. That’s how I want to bring the love and healing.

Announcement: I’m going to take greater care in how I wield my sharpened pen.

I’m going to go back through my writing so far and see where I need to calm my raging inner scorpion.

I bet I can turn this into an inner child healing practice.

Subscribe now

Share

Leave a comment

My first six months in Southern California were harrowing. I arrived in August and the temperatures got up into the hundred teens! Walking across the Caltech campus, where I worked, I couldn’t understand why I wasn’t sweating… until I noticed a white film of salt on my arms! Fortunately there is rarely humidity, so the moment the sun goes down, the temperature cools. Or at least that’s how it was 15 years ago.

Then my bike was stolen from the carport. The thief hopped over the security fence and looked right up into the camera—with the full assurance of complete immunity despite his easily identifiable face. I filed a police report with the security footage, but Pasadena doesn’t have the resources to concern themselves with petty theft. I never replaced my bike, because I heard about too many bike accidents—the bike thief may have saved my life.

Then the rains came and there was crazy flash flooding. I learned why the street curbs are so high and why you don’t see many places with an underground carport, like my poorly designed housing. I chose higher living locations in subsequent years.

Then the winds hit and dead palm fronds came raining from the skies. I actually looked up yearly death rates by falling palm frond, afraid to leave my house. It turns out that they are very lightweight and I found no injury reports.

Then my February birthday came and it was 75℉ and sunny and I celebrated with a hike. That’s when my mindset around SoCal shifted. Every location has it’s hazards, and once you learn to navigate them, SoCal has so much natural beauty to offer. You plan around the hottest times of day and year. You don’t leave things outside or visible in your car to be stolen. You take rain and wind precautions. Soon you get use to kicking the fallen palm fronds to the curb for city crews to collect.

The base end of a palm frond—the part that attaches to the tree—is composed of fibers that weave together in a loose burlap bag-like weave. One day while out walking my dog Abby, I noticed a little squirrel hard at work pulling fibers for her nest. She was up on her hind feet, holding the end of the fond in both front paws, laboriously pulling fibers from the frond with her little mouth, one single fiber at a time, creating a tiny pile. It was taking her so much time and effort to do a task that I could do in mere moments, and I very much wanted to help her.

So I asked her if she would allow me to pull the fibers off for her, as I slowly approached. Abby, who would normally have wanted to chase the squirrel, stayed quietly at my side, sensing that something different was meant for this interaction. As we neared very cautiously, the squirrel abandoned her hard earned little heap of nest material and ran up the nearby short palm tree to watch us curiously. I went to the frond and easily pulled free a nice big pile of fibers and added them to her little pile.

Abby and I then moved a safe ways away and waited calmly to see what she would do. After watching us for a bit to be sure we would keep our distance, the squirrel scampered down the tree and back to the frond. After a quick sniff of the pile, she gathered up as much as she could carry and ran off happily to her nest in the trees across the street.

My heart swelled with gratitude that this little critter had allowed me the privilege of saving her so much time and effort! We humans have these marvelous opposable thumbs that give us so much dexterity, that we far too often employ to destroy the habitats of our fellow earthlings. What an honor it is to instead use my hands creatively to help another being in their work of survival!

Subscribe now

Share

Leave a comment

She has to take care of herself now.

Since she was four years old and all her support abandoned her in a single move. Now she is the support. She helps heat the hydroculator on the stove for mommy. She takes care of her baby brother while mommy is confined in her bedroom, laying down. She is quiet and well-behaved while mommy is sick. She helps by never ever being bad. She figures out all the problems on her own, because mommy doesn’t like to be disturbed.

The new house is huge. Three floors and long enough for her to do ten summersaults from back to front. That doesn’t include the porches. Mommy is sick in bed. Brother is asleep for naptime. It is very dark.

It’s about to storm.

The winds are picking up, filling the huge house with loud wailing noises she’s never heard before. Her ears are super sensitive and the wind sounds like a crowd of anguished spirits lashing at the walls and windows, entreating to come in. Her baby brother sleeps.

It begins to rain, a rapping that sounds like BB bullets pelting the glass of the windows winding around her on every side of the big, dark, foreign feeling house. It begins to pour and the roar is an ocean tsunami wave breaking down upon the house, at least to her ears. Her baby brother sleeps.

There is a flash that leaves scars on her retinas. She holds her breath and counts. Four seconds later, the house is torn asunder by the fourth biggest thunderbolt of Zeus. Her resolve to be good vaporizes and she flees to her mother’s room. Her baby brother sleeps.

Read more

I awoke to find myself deep underground. I seemed to be in a cave lit dimly with an otherworldly glow whose source I could not see. A veiled woman sat quietly next to me, deep in the shadows. She was calmly companionable, and I felt safe in her peaceful presence.

I saw movement, and noticed she was holding a knot of colorful snakes that fanned out from her lap in a beautiful rainbow. Their iridescent scales caught the faint light, shimmering as they gently swayed before her. As I admired them with curiosity, one of the snakes broke away from her and moved toward me. Without thinking, I reached out and picked up the snake to hand back to her.

I realized after the fact that I had just handled a snake, and done so without fear or hesitation! The mysterious woman had no fear of the snakes, and her serenity reassured me. More snakes of every color of the rainbow moved slowly out of the shadows to come join us. Soon the dirt floor of the cave was undulating in shifting, shimmering living color and I was delightfully captivated.

The woman stayed with me until she was certain I understood that the snakes were no threat, then she retreated into the darkness. I became sleepy and lay down among the snakes, who curled around me for warmth and protection.

I interpret the underground cave setting of this dream as representing my unconscious. The mysterious woman is my unconscious self, as opposed to the physical “me” I recognize consciously. The snakes are the sinister memories hidden in that subterranean den, waiting for opportunities to bite or strangle or crush me, should I stumble into their depths.

The mysterious woman, my shadow self, came to show me that these snakes are not truly threatening. They are aspects of myself with messages I can learn in my sleep—in my exploration of the unconscious—if I am brave enough to let them close.

Snakes and humans both have the capacity to cause harm in self-defense. The trick to getting close to either snakes or humans is to provide a safe, non-threatening environment for interaction.* If we take the time to create safety first, then we can get to know each other slowly, carefully at deeper levels.

With the proper preparation, training, and mindset, we can explore the depths of our own unconscious without being eaten alive by the monsters and demons and snakes we fear hide there. We do this to become master of the buried realms within us.

We master these realms, so they don’t master us.

Subscribe now

Share

Leave a comment

*This is a metaphor. I am not advocating getting close to actual physical snakes or humans without proper training.