Central Sensitization, Chronic Pain, Creative Writing, eating disorders, Favorites, Inspiration, My Story, Sacroiliac Joint

Healing our bodies, and the things that ripple across generations

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A little over a year ago, I started a second blog to focus on what I’d come to think of as this weird hip problem I’d had for years that no one seemed to understand (sacroiliac joint dysfunction).

Among friends, I usually tried not to talk about it too much, because I didn’t think anyone else would want to hear about it.  Sometimes I wondered if it was all in my head, since so many of the doctors and physical therapists I’d seen didn’t seem to know what I was talking about.  I was embarrassed to tell people about it, since only my chiropractor seemed to believe it was a real problem (and you know how skeptical I am about most things alternative health).

I started My Sacroiliac Joint Saga one warm day in May.  I’d had an absolutely awful day, and was just about reaching my breaking point with this problem and thinking I might need surgery.  I didn’t really think anyone would want to read what I wrote, but I left it set to “public” just in case.

But a funny thing happened.  Once I actually gave myself permission to focus on the issue, instead of judging myself for it, I found I had a lot more time to problem solve.

I used the mental energy I’d once devoted to questioning myself instead to research the problem from every possible angle.  Not everything I read was helpful to me, but by giving my full energy to the problem, instead of wondering if I was crazy, I ended up finding the answers I needed.

And it turned out there were people out there who were familiar with this problem– patients who had experienced it themselves, and doctors and PT’s who treated patients with it, and were even contributing to research on the problem.  I just hadn’t had the luck to come across any of them.  Looking back, I think the reason why is that I stopped searching too soon.

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Last spring, I wrote a post called “Inner Limits,” about how I was coming to realize my past with an eating disorder was haunting me more than I knew.

Internally, I had set certain limits for myself on how much time or energy I was willing to spend focusing on fixing a “problem” with my body, and so I held myself back.  I did my exercises, I went to the chiropractor once or twice a week, I maybe read one or two articles a month on it, but that was it.  Other than that, my main focus was sticking to my routine, as if pretending I didn’t have a problem could somehow limit the effect it had on my life.

But really, as I wrote in the post, there was more I could do.  I could do more exercises; I could do more stretches.  I could spend an hour a day researching, if I really wanted to.  I had the time… for some reason, I just wasn’t.  Because I was afraid to devote my full attention to it.

Funny, right?  Here I’d been working on this blog about my journey with central sensitization, and how much it took me to find answers for it, and how for so long I’d felt misunderstood when I had a legitimate medical issue.   One of the main messages of Sunlight in Winter has always been “Believe in yourself.  Your pain is real and you deserve help.”

And yet here, the same patterns were playing out with my sacroiliac joints.  Deep down, despite what I’d already been through, part of me was still afraid that if I fixated too much on my body, and trying to “change” it, it would trigger the same level of obsession that drove my years of starvation and overexercising.  So I held myself back.

***

I haven’t written much about my family history on this blog, and I probably won’t say more than this anytime soon.  But in the past few years, I’ve come to realize that some of these thought patterns of self-doubt didn’t start with me.  Often we learn them from somewhere– usually, consciously or not, from our families.  These patterns can be passed down, and I think they very much were in my case.  There were things that happened in my family long before I was even born, that sent out ripples across generations.

I realize now that I have been on a long road– not just with my health, but with learning to believe in myself; to trust myself.  There were events that occurred in my family, long before I existed, that have affected my life and my ability to believe in myself.

Now that I’m aware of how the past has been affecting me, I’m learning to see things differently; to create my own future and way of seeing things that’s healthy, and works for me.

I won’t always be able control what my body does (I’m sure anyone reading this blog can relate to that!).  But I can control the way I see myself, and I don’t have to let health issues affect my self-perception.  Just because a doctor can’t give me an answer for something, it doesn’t mean the problem is in my head.  It doesn’t mean my problem isn’t real.  I can’t make a problem worse by “dwelling” on it when what I’m actually doing is researching and trying to find answers.

***

I don’t believe that everything happens for a reason.  I believe that, most of the time, the best thing we can do is to try to make meaning out of something for ourselves, whatever that turns out to be.

I don’t know if all my health issues happened for a reason, but now that I look back, I  know this common thread was there all along.  Compartment syndrome, central sensitization, sacroiliac joint dysfunction.

All of these problems were real; all of them were hard to get diagnosed, and hard to find the right treatment.  But for each problem (and I know I’m fortunate in this) there were eventually answers out there.

I know this is not true for everyone who writes under the “Spoonie” banner, but for me, my major health issues have all turned to be manageable.  There were answers out there, and I probably would have found them sooner if I had taken myself more seriously, and believed in the possibility of finding answers.  Or, I should say, the possibility of being understood.

***

Over the past weekend, My Sacroiliac Joint Saga hit 10,000 total page views.  I still can’t believe this blog I started a year ago as a somewhat embarrassing side project has grown to this extent, and helped so many people.  (And I know this because of all your kind comments and messages– thank you!).

And, aside from page views, 2016 Me still can hardly believe how fortunate I’ve been to finally find answers to this problem.  When I was at my breaking point that day in May, getting better wasn’t something I could really even picture.

So let this be a reminder to me, and to you if you’re reading this, to never let our health issues change the way we see ourselves.

We are so much more powerful than we realize… we just have to be able to see it in ourselves.

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Sacroiliac Joint

Sacroiliac joint updates.

Hi everyone!

I’m honored to say that these days, people follow my blogs for many different reasons– the main ones being, of course, chronic pain and sacroiliac joint dysfunction.

Sunlight in Winter is, of course, the site I began first, and it’s my more personal site, where I first began to talk about my story with chronic pain.

About a year ago, I started My Sacroiliac Joint Saga, mostly as a place for myself to take notes in a way that was open for anyone else who wanted to read them.  Over time, I realized I was actually getting a significant amount of search engine traffic, so I decided to make it more reader-friendly, and actually begin to produce some of my own resources.  It’s a place where I get into some of the more technical details about the sacroiliac joint, which I don’t necessarily want to bombard my readers with here.

However, I know there are a bunch of people here who originally found Sunlight in Winter while they were looking for info on the SI joint.  So, with that in mind, I just wanted to share a few of the SI joint-related things I’ve been working on recently.

I really love creating these resources because it’s a great way for me to crystallize everything I’ve learned in my mind.  I also find it interesting to put up different types of resources, and seeing which posts seem to really catch on.  I have a dream of someday creating some sort of comprehensive e-book on the SI joint, so it’s been a really good learning experience for me.

So, here are some of the things I’ve been working on recently.   Several readers have asked for information on the exercises I do for my SI joints over the years, so I thought these would be good to share with you:

The importance of pool exercise to my recovery

Three major muscle groups to strengthen for SI joint dysfunction

The most important place to start strengthening: the core & transverse abdominis

One of the best things you can do for yourself in the pool: traction

Additionally, here are some of my most popular posts to date.  Somewhat disappointingly (to me, anyway), you can’t necessarily tell by looking at them that they’ve been viewed often.  However, WordPress tells me the number of views for each post, so these are the ones that have seemed to catch on the most so far:

Tight muscles can mimic SI joint dysfunction

SI Joint Concepts: Form Closure and Force Closure

SI Joint Concepts: Hypomobility and Hypermobility

What happens when an SI joint gets stuck?

Labral Tears

Turning Point #7: Learning to Adjust my own SI Joints

If you are struggling with SI joint dysfunction yourself (or just want to learn more about it) you may be interested in reading these.

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Thank you all so much for following my sites!  Your support and feedback mean the world to me.  I really enjoy hearing from you, and am definitely open to hearing what sorts of posts you would like in the future.  And, as always, feel free to let me know if you have any questions!

 

Sacroiliac Joint, Women's Health

Powerful female hormones, injuries, and pain

Something I’ve really come to notice during my time with SI joint issues is the effect of my hormonal cycle on my ligaments.

I saw a female pain specialist once who put it very plainly:

I have extremely healthy women come into my office– women who are runners, women who are training for marathons– and sometimes it seems like, during their period, all they have to do is bend over and tie their shoe, and they can throw their back out.

Why does this happen?

Basically, one of the hormones a woman’s body releases in the days leading up to her period is a hormone called relaxin.

As the names suggests, relaxin acts as a chemical messenger that tells our muscles and ligaments to relax.  Its main effect during childbirth is to cause the joints of the pelvis to become looser, meaning there is more room for the baby to pass through.

However, relaxin is also released during our menstrual cycle, beginning around day 14, so our bodies are prepared in the event that we do become pregnant.

And with more relaxin circulating in our bodies, our muscles and especially our ligaments are going to be a little more slack, meaning there is more risk for injury.

This article from BBC News outlines a few studies that have shown women are more likely to experience injuries in the second half of their menstrual cycles, due to higher relaxin concentrations.

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I have definitely noticed this going on in my own body.  For me, it begins 3-4 days before I get my period, right when I get my other PMS symptoms.  All of a sudden, I’ll feel my SI joints start to move around a lot, because my ligaments are not holding them in place as tightly.

There were times when I’d have to promise myself, in those days leading up to and during my period, that I wouldn’t judge my overall progress by the way things were at that moment in time.  (I’m sure my plummeting mood didn’t help with my gloomy outlook, either).

I’d really have to talk myself through, and say, I know things really seem that bad right now, but your joints ARE doing better.  Just wait a few days and see.

And then, sure thing, once my period had passed, things would go back to normal (or at least, back to baseline anyway).

***

Since my SI joints are doing better now, I don’t notice quite the same extreme fluctuations in my level of function.  I have more muscle strength to hold things in place, and my ligaments have had more of chance to heal after my original injury.

However, every month, I can still feel things become a little looser, and my SI joints seem to have a wider range of motion (and not in a good way).

I also notice my hormonal fluctuations impacting other joints in my body as well.  I particularly notice it in my knees and in the joints of my fingers.  (That sounds totally random, but interestingly enough, finger joints were one of the joints that doctors studied, according to that BBC News article).

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So, for my female readers, this is something to be aware of.

If you are struggling with chronic pain, it might be worthwhile for you to track how your menstrual cycle impacts your pain.

I honestly was totally unaware of the connection, until that doctor suggested I start paying attention.

Once I knew, it did make things a little easier.  I learned not to freak out if things felt worse during a certain time of month, and instead knew to wait, and that it would probably pass (which it did every time).

**

For more, check out this really informative article from Lindsay Matthews at Breaking Muscle on Relaxin: Facts Female Athletes Need to Know.

The BBC News article

I also just started using the Clue period tracker app.  It seems pretty easy to use so far.

My Story, Sacroiliac Joint

The end of my SI joint problems is officially in sight.

I’ve held off on writing this post until I was absolutely sure, but the time has come for me to make my official pronouncement.

In my post at the end of this past June, I explained how my SI joints were unexpectedly doing better following my 3 weeks in California. At first, I had thought it was something different about my routine, or being distracted by being around friends. However, once I got home and attempted to resume my regular chiropractic visits, I found myself feeling less stable. Maybe it wasn’t Boston, it wasn’t the East Coast weather, it wasn’t my routine… it was the chiropractor.

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Now, let me back up. When I first developed my SI joint problem 5 years ago (God, has it really been that long?) my chiropractor was literally the only medical professional who could even begin to explain what was going on, much less free my leg when one side of my pelvis locked-up.

I saw several medical professionals, including two physiatrists and an orthopedist. I also saw a total of four different physical therapists. No one could tell me with any clarity what was wrong.

I saw one misguided physical therapist who specialized in “manual therapy,” meaning she actually put her hands on my hips and lower back and tried to use pressure to re-align me. This resulted in absolutely no change.

The ONLY person who seemed to be able to help me at all was my chiropractor. I walked into his office with my pelvis completely locked up, feeling as though someone had tied a belt around my legs– that’s about how well I could move them– on the verge of tears. “Oh,” he said calmly. “It’s your sacroiliac joint.”

And with a few clicks of his “activator” tool, my legs and I were free.

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I wanted to give you this backstory so that you can see how, at one point in time, I was so grateful for the help of my chiropractor. He truly helped me at a time when no one else was able to; when all anyone else gave me were strange looks and exercises I was unable to do– followed by more strange looks when I tried to explain that it’s not that I didn’t want to do the exercises, it’s not even that pain was stopping meit’s that I literally did not have control over my legs. When my hips were stuck, my legs were stuck.

My chiropractor was able to explain to me the anatomy of the joint, and how this mysterious pain on the sides of my lower back could actually be related to me being unable to move my legs. He made me feel that I wasn’t a freak– he told me that this problem was actually quite common– and on top of that– he could make the problem (temporarily) go away.

It’s also my chiropractor who convinced me to finally work out in a pool. Despite all of my hesitations, and insistence that I really just wanted to work out on land… he repeatedly did his best to convince me that this problem was probably going to be permanent unless I found a way to strengthen my muscles without putting more stress on the joint. The adjustments were only going to be a temporary fix, he explained, until I created more muscle strength to hold the joints in place.

He was right about that, too. I didn’t really start to get better at all until I finally joined a pool. Up until that point, my land exercises just seemed to make things worse. (The pool was turning point #1).

I got even better, still, when I truly began to follow a thorough stretching routine. For a while I didn’t know how to stretch because the simple act of getting down on the floor was enough to throw my SI joints out of whack. Undoing my entire chiropractic adjustment just for the sake of stretching seemed backwards; like undoing the foundation of the building in order to adjust something on the roof.

However, I eventually found this really awesome stretching table on Amazon, and honestly– it changed my life. Finally I was able to lie down and do all of my stretches in a way that didn’t impact my hips. So that was turning point #2.

That was my life for a few years: pool, stretching, chiropractor. My life revolved around this problem, because there didn’t seem to be much of an alternative. Once my hips locked up, all else ground to a halt. As I said before, when my hips were really locked, it was as though my whole body was in chains. It honestly felt as though someone had tied a belt around my upper thighs; it was sometimes really difficult to put one foot in front of another.

But it wasn’t a permanent disability either. It made no sense to just give up, accept that I couldn’t walk, and sit in a wheelchair. Because I could walk, when my hips were aligned. During those first few moments after I left the chiropractor, I felt totally perfect and free. It’s just that things never stayed that way.

So I did my best, doggedly. I was afraid to drive– afraid that if something went wrong and I had to slam my foot on the break, I’d hurt my hip. So I had my parents drive me to the pool at the gym. Almost every night, I’d go just before closing, trying to find a time when the water wasn’t so choppy. I was so weak and out of shape when I first started going that everything hurt, if I went at at time when there were tons of lap swimmers.

So I’d try to go right before closing, when most people had already gotten out to shower. I’d stay in until the very end and then more or less have to rush outside, with my hair still wet.

There are a lot of pictures of me taken during that time period, of me out with my friends in downtown Boston. All of them are dressed up– high heels, makeup, straightened hair. And there I am– my outfit is cute, but my hair is still wet. (It sounds like a small thing, but honestly– I think my inability to keep up appearances actually affected some of my “friendships,” which I later realized weren’t really friendships.  More on that later).

I was willing to make sacrifices for the sake of getting over this problem. But now I am so frustrated, looking back, because the whole thing seems so pointless.

Turning point #3 came when one of my physical therapists finally showed me how to adjust my SI joints myself using the Muscle Energy Technique. As I’ve mentioned in previous posts, this was also life-changing, because now I did not need to depend on my chiropractor. When my leg got stuck, I was able to free it myself.

That brings me up to where I was in February, when I wrote my post about how I was doing better and things were feeling more stable. I had a feeling the end was sort of in sight, because I was starting to be able to do more and more. But I wasn’t out of the woods yet; I still had to check my SI joint and do my self-adjustments several times a day.

Then, this summer I realized that, after going all of June without having a chiropractic adjustment to my SI joints, I was actually doing better. I decided to experiment with not having any further adjustments to the area, to see what happens.

Here it is: turning point #4.

I can honestly tell you that my SI joints have not locked up once all summer. Things have not necessarily felt perfect, but I can tell it’s just muscle imbalance; it’s not the joint.

That same horrible dull ache at the intersection of my spine and pelvis? Gone. Just a memory at this point.

That awful, painstaking feeling of not being able to move my legs, of having a belt wrapped around my upper thighs?  Gone.  I’m almost starting to forget what it felt ike.

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It is at once exhilarating and frustrating to realize that I think the very thing which got me started on my road to healing– the chiropractic adjustments– actually became detrimental in the end.

I have seen at least one bad chiropractor who I don’t trust, and would never for a million dollars allow to touch me again.

I don’t see my chiropractor that way.

I think he was, actually, able to correctly diagnose the problem, and I also do think his adjustments were putting my joints into proper alignment.

It’s just that, to an extent, I think my body also needed to be able to find an equilibrium.

The adjustments became too much, somehow.  Perhaps they were too much force for my ligaments, or perhaps they overly disrupted the pattern my muscles were used to holding everything in.

I definitely don’t feel that I was permanently injured by them, or anything like that.

It’s just that, at some point, my body just wanted to be able to locate some sort of homeostasis.  For my muscles and nervous system to have a chance to adapt to the way things were– even if, alignment-wise, it wasn’t “perfect.”

Now, I am certainly not suggesting that I would have gotten better if I had just left my SI joints alone, and allowed them to stay “stuck.”  That absolutely 100% would have failed.  When I think back to that horrible, dull, aching, grinding sensation, of two parts of the joint rubbing together in a way they were never meant to rub together… no.  Absolutely not.  There was no way any form of healing could have come out of that.  You can’t build muscle and get stronger when you can’t even move one of your legs.

But the chiropractic adjustments were just too rough.

I wish I had been shown how to do the self-adjustments from the beginning.  As I’ve learned in all of my PT prerequisite classes, your body has built-in reflexes that keep you from injuring yourself during normal movement.  When you perform a self-adjustment for the SI joint (which involves contracting certain muscles around the joint in a particular way), your nervous system will use these special reflexes to ensure that you don’t injure yourself, or put unhealthy levels of strain on the joint.  There is a level of precision here that no chiropractic adjustment can re-create.

Now, to be fair: I don’t know that I would have been able to develop the skills necessary to identify which way I needed to actually adjust my SI joints, without all of the feedback I’d gotten in my chiropractic visits over the years.  Compared to my PT, I actually think my chiropractor is better at diagnosing exactly what’s happening in the joint.

It’s just that his actual method of fixing that problem ends up backfiring.

Now that I know what I know, I have a lot of ideas for how someone like me could have been helped out of this situation a lot more quickly.

For example, having a PT who really took the time to teach about the SI joint, rather than just prescribing exercises.

Not just about the anatomy of the joint, but how to self-diagnose which way your pelvis is rotated, as in my experience, the self-adjustments have been the way to all healing.

Of course, as I write this,  I also reflect back on the fact that I was lucky to find a PT who knew about the SI joint at all.  Back in 2011, it did not seem that most physical therapists did not know it could cause problems (although thankfully, that seems to be changing).

I am going to continue to talk about the SI joint– both in terms of chronicling my own healing, as well as just to hopefully raise awareness.

I’m also now working on a second site, My Sacroiliac Joint Saga, where I will be talking about everything I’ve learned.

Looking back, all of the tools exist that would have allowed me not to suffer for so long.  It was only ever a matter of finding them.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Sacroiliac Joint

Could my frequent chiropractor visits be making my SI joint problem worse?

Normally, I tend not to share work-in-progress type posts. I don’t like to take up everyone’s time talking about something I’m not sure about.

I’ve just been through SO much– filled so many notebooks with my scribbles, had so many “epiphanies” thinking I’d figured it all out– only to find out that so many of the things I discovered turned out not to be true.

Now I tend to hold off on making pronouncements– much less asking other people to read about them– until I know I’m not barking up the wrong tree.

But there was one very interesting issue that came out of my trip from San Francisco, and I have a feeling it might be relevant to other people, too.

I think my frequent chiropractic adjustments may have been making my sacroiliac joint problem worse.

Since I developed my SI joint issues in the fall of 2011, I’ve gone to the chiropractor, on average, once a week. (Let’s not even talk about how much money I’ve spent).

When my SI joints first locked up, my chiropractor, Dr. K., was the only one who could even explain to me what was happening. I saw several different physical therapists, as well as a back specialist, and none of them were able to offer any type of diagnosis.

Dr. K., on the other hand, was not only able to explain what was going on– he was able to fix it.  (At least, temporarily).

However, I always noticed that during the first few hours after an adjustment, I seemed to be extra prone to having a setback. I used to try to go for walks following my appointments, but I found that even though my pelvis was “aligned,” one misplaced foot on uneven ground could make me “lose” my adjustment and end up even worse off than if I hadn’t gone to the chiropractor at all.

So I stopped doing anything extra after my appointments. I would try to sit in the car and rest for 20 minutes before driving. Then I’d come home and move gingerly throughout the house, knowing I would be extra prone to setbacks for the next 3 or 4 hours.

I’ve been in this holding pattern with this problem for years. Things are a lot better than they were in 2011, that’s for sure. But my pelvis is still unstable; I still can’t do everything I want.

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Before I left for San Francisco, I found an interesting comment on one of the SI joint Facebook groups I follow.

Someone wrote that her physical therapist had cautioned her against getting chiropractic adjustments for her SI joint. The reason given was that the force of the adjustments could actually cause the ligaments in the area to stretch out, while they need to “tighten” back up in order to heal.

Something about this idea resonated with me, but I was about to get on a plane in a few days, and I didn’t want to try anything new. So I put it out of my mind, and actually went to the chiropractor twice in the week before I left, hoping to get myself in as good as shape as possible. Both times, my body slid back out of alignment afterwards like butter, and I got on the plane frustrated and expecting to limp for the entire trip.

Yet, during my two and a half week trip, I actually started to feel better.

At first I thought it was my imagination.  After all, it’s a new city– I was excited.  I was distracted.  I had my friends around me all the time– I was happy.

But now that I’m back home, I think a big part of it had to do with the fact that I went two and a half weeks without any chiropractic adjustments.

***

Two days days ago, I went to see my chiropractor. It was actually my neck that was really bothering me– my SI joints actually felt okay.

During my visit, Dr. K. confirmed that my pelvic alignment was actually pretty good. He only performed one small adjustment to the pelvis (at the lumbosacral junction) just to be sure.  Why not have him correct an imbalance while I was there, right?

But on the drive home from that visit, I felt noticeably worse.  I had to drive through a bit of road construction, and although I hadn’t really noticed it on the way there, the way back was different.  I felt every single bump and dip in the road in my lower back and pelvis– little twinges of pain each time.

At one point, the car “thunked” down several inches off of the smooth, finished pavement onto the rough, unfinished surface that came next.  A pain started there that I still had when I got home, and when I got out of the car, I was limping.

That’s when it hit me. Maybe the adjustments are making things less stable. Why, after all, would I come home so much worse off than before I had gone?

To be clear, I wasn’t limping after the adjustment itself. When I walked back out to my car from the office, I felt like everything was fine.

But the adjustment itself may have put too much stress on my SI joint ligaments (and possibly other tissues as well), meaning that the bumpy drive home immediately afterward had a harmful effect.

***

It’s been two days.  Instead of going back to the chiropractor, like I used to do when things felt worse, I’ve been waiting, trying to see if things start to feel more stable.  And, guess what, they are.

I’ve had this funny feeling all along, like something about this problem didn’t add up. After all, I’d met other people with SI joint problems and they’d recovered much more quickly than I had. Why was I the one who could barely move, who I felt as though I was addicted to chiropractic treatments just to keep things lined up?

What if part of the problem has been the chiropractic treatment itself? Is it possible the adjustments have been creating a vicious cycle where, although my joints are put into alignment, my overall stability and ability to maintain that alignment is undermined?

I don’t know for sure, but given how much better and more stable I am beginning to feel again, two days later… I think it’s pretty likely.

It’s a pretty frustrating realization to have, after all the time and money I have dedicated to this “project.” Yet it is funny to note how, again, that San Francisco trip I was terrified of ended up teaching me something I could never have come to realize otherwise.

For now, I am going to forego the chiropractic adjustments, at least on my low back and pelvis, and see how things go.

***

Update #1: It turned out that chiropractic adjustments were absolutely making my SI joints worse.  I’ve stopped receiving adjustments to that area, and the SI problems I had for five years are beginning to fade into the background!  To find out more, check out my follow-up post The end of my SI joint issues is officially in sight!

Update #2: I’ve started a second blog, My Sacroiliac Joint Saga, to share what I’ve learned with others.  Please be sure to check it out!

Creative Writing, eating disorders, Favorites, Inspiration, My Story, Sacroiliac Joint

Inner Limits

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I’ve realized something about myself recently– something that has implications for my ability to heal. I’m sharing it with you all, in case it can help spark a similar realization for anyone else out there.

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As many of you know, when I was in high school I had an eating disorder. I was very rigid; every day I ate a specific number of calories, and every day I burned a specific number of calories. If I wanted to eat more than my designated limit, I had to exercise even more.

Through obsessive calorie counting, and running an average of 5 miles a day throughout most of high school, I managed to keep my weight a good 10-20 pounds below my body’s natural set-point.

Sometimes, now, I forget what a big deal that really was. After all, it was something that was ultimately within my control, unlike the years of inexplicable chronic pain that came afterwards.

However, it recently dawned on me that my eating disorder past was affecting me more than I’d realized, in unconscious ways.

Right now I’m dealing with the very complicated and frustrating process of trying to stabilize my hypermobile SI joints.

I was finishing my exercises the other day, and after a good 2.5 hours of going to the gym, using the pool and then coming home and doing even more exercises– and then stretching– I was feeling exasperated. Why, after all of this time, am I not better?

Fuck it, I thought. Why don’t I just keep going? Sure, I just spent two and a half hours exercising, but there’s more I could do. I could do more exercises. I could do more stretches. I could get on my computer, and research more.

Then it hit me. A tiny voice, from 16-year-old Christy, telling me I was afraid to do more. I didn’t want to invest too much; didn’t want to give myself over completely to anything that involved fixing or changing my body. Because that’s what I did with my eating disorder. It was an around-the-clock process to keep my weight that low, and I ended up losing all other perspective.

Now I had regained perspective, but unconsciously, I was terrified of losing it again. In fact, I was keeping my fist tightly clenched around it, restricting the time I spent trying to fix my physical problems in a way that wasn’t all that different from the way I had once restricted my calories. In both cases, I was using an artificial number to place external limits on something that scared me.

Of course, as soon as I realized this, I was automatically able to write it off as a fear that wasn’t worth holding on to. 31-year-old Christy knows that just because she spends more time trying to fix her SI joints, it doesn’t mean she is going to go back to a rigid way of thinking and denying her body what it needs. If anything, it means the opposite.

So I’m going to listen to myself. I’m not going to force myself to do anything, one way or another. If I want to only do my exercises for one day, and then stop, that’s what I’ll do. Another day, if I feel like exercising, and then doing some research, and then going to the chiropractor, that’s what I’ll do.

It’s not about the numbers; it’s about the process. It’s not about imposing limits; it’s about flow.

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Creative Writing, Inspiration, mindfulness, My Story, Sacroiliac Joint

Lessons from an amazing weekend

I had a crazy, fun-filled weekend. The kind of weekend I haven’t had in at least five years. 4634683686_d575b661b5_o

Five years ago, my friends and I went to a “tango night” at a local restaurant.  It was an amazing evening.  The teachers were professional dancers, and a lot of the other students were from other countries.  There was such a fun, friendly, open vibe to the night.

The evening started out with a free tango lesson, and then afterwards, the dance floor opened up to anyone who wanted to come and dance.  Some truly amazing dancers showed up.  I was in my element, starting to picture myself traveling through Argentina.

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But as the night went, on my knees started to hurt. At first, I tried to ignore the pain, but it got worse and worse until eventually, I had to sit down and watch everyone else for the last two hours.

“We’ll go back,” my friends and I all said at the end of the night. I thought I’d fix my knee problems, and organize another group outing in a few months.

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Of course, it never ended up happening.  People got busy; the friend who organized it the first time moved away.

And I ended up spending the next five years having trouble walking.  My knee problems got a lot worse before they got better, and the months I spent limping and carrying my weight unevenly led me to develop the SI joint issues I still have today.  Basically, it’s been five years since I could stand, or walk, or dance without so much as a thought.

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Yet somehow, this weekend, everything clicked. I didn’t plan it– I just got caught up in the flow of things, and went where my friends went.

I guess all my strengthening exercises are starting to really pay off, because somehow, I went out dancing Friday and Saturday night. Friday night, I was in one of those loud, crowded bars I normally hate, but the band was actually amazing, and I found myself out on the dance floor with the group.

And then Saturday? Well, it wasn’t tango, but some friends went to a salsa night. I didn’t make it in time for the lesson, but I did make it out onto the dance floor afterwards. I wouldn’t say I wowed anyone with my salsa skills, but I also didn’t need to sit down once the entire night.

But here’s what really shocked me: I was back to where, physically, I had left off five years ago. But nothing about it felt monumental or life-changing.

What was life-changing? Everything it took for me to be okay, in the past five years, when I couldn’t have a weekend like this. All of the restraint it took; all of the patience I was forced to cultivate.

Don’t get me wrong– I haven’t stayed at home for five years, I’ve gone out– but it was never without compromise, never without having to constantly be aware of the nearest chair.

I’ve had to make peace with the fact that I’d be sitting by myself when an amazing song came on and everyone else wanted to be on the dance floor. I’ve had to perfect the art of looking calm, confident, and busy doing things on my cell phone.

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I’ve been through so much pain, frustration, and effort with my SI joint, I can’t even tell you. As much time as I’ve spent actually exercising, I’ve spent about three times as much time trying to learn about the problem. Researching the joint, consulting different doctors, chiropractors, and PT’s. Learning what movements not to do, which has been just as important as finding the right exercises.

That’s the thing– and I think anyone with chronic pain and health issues knows this– mind over matter doesn’t work. And actually, it’s counterproductive to push yourself into doing something that isn’t good for you.

You have to listen to your body: fine-tune your balancing act of when to push and when to rest. You have to become still.

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Something that’s helped me immeasurably is learning how to meditate. I actually don’t meditate every day, but learning how to be in the moment in that way has really spilled over into my daily life.

For me, meditation is like an experiment. You take everything that’s bothering you– whether it’s physical pain, or emotional, or stress and anxiety– and you just tell yourself, “Yes, this is all happening… but what if I was okay, anyway?” The problems are all still there, but just for a few minutes, you stop trying to fight them. They exist, but you see that underneath it all, you actually are okay.

Even after I’d only had this experience a few times, I felt as though it began to change the way I saw the world. I just felt calmer; more at peace. Somehow, it started to feel easier for me to notice the good in the world.

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There are different ways to grow as a person. You can go on a journey through the world– you can travel, meet people, and see fascinating things.

But you can also journey inside of yourself, and that can transform your perspective just as much.

I have had to learn how to find peace in the moment. I haven’t had the option of going out and losing myself in the way people describe when they talk about travel. I’ve never backpacked through Europe… I’ve never even backpacked through the White Mountains, like just about everyone else I know.

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But I have been transformed, no doubt.

It’s tempting for me to try to compare myself to other people, to suggest that maybe I have actually learned more by being forced to stay still, compared to people who have been able to leave their problems behind by going out and doing things. But that would be wrong– I don’t know what journeys people are on, or what they are learning.

But I can compare myself to my past self, and say that the things it takes to make me happy now are very different than the things I used to think I needed to be happy.

That night that I was forced to sit down at Tango Night, I thought I was losing a piece of myself that I wouldn’t get back until I could come back and dance again.

Now I see that I didn’t lose anything at all.  In fact, I gained something.

And that is a lesson I’m grateful to have learned.

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Credits for the photos in this post:

 

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Chronic Pain, Sacroiliac Joint

An Update on my Sacroiliac Joint Saga, Part 2

In Part 1 of this series, I explained how the learning the “muscle energy technique” from my physical therapist Paula marked a turning point for me in my SI joint journey.

Above, I’m including a Youtube video of a physical therapist demonstrating this technique.  (I actually use a few different variations on the moves she does, but the principles behind it are exactly the same).

By using this approach regularly, I’ve not only been able to keep my SI joints better aligned, I’ve also developed more of an understanding of how the pain and sensations I feel correspond to the anatomical reality of what’s actually happening down there.

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For me, this whole process has had to be very intellectual.  The movement patterns of the sacroiliac joints are some of the most complex in the body.  It wasn’t a matter of simply doing my exercises and getting stronger, because this joint is like a puzzle.

The SI joint reminds me of those old metal “tavern puzzles” they made in the Colonial days (http://www.tavernpuzzle.com/).  I don’t know if most of you would have ever seen one—I grew up in a town with a lot of Revolutionary War history, so I feel like I grew up playing with these things.

They are impossible to figure out by just looking—they’re too complex.  Instead you have to just start moving the different parts around, hoping the solution somehow becomes clear as you go along.  Half of the time, you move a piece and realize it actually just made things worse.

That’s been my experience with the SI joint.  It’s been so unpredictable, the things that will cause my SI’s to “slip” and lock. Walking on a flat, well-maintained trail at my favorite conservation land?  No big deal.  Going to a party and sitting on someone’s dilapidated old couch?  I sink in instantly, and my hips are locked again.

It doesn’t help that everyone’s SI joints are different.  Obviously we all have the same bones down there, but the shape of these bones and the way they fit together can vary widely from person to person.

For this reason, things that can work well for one person might not work at all for another.  I’ve tried techniques and exercises that other people have sworn by, and found they made me worse.

Only by learning, and developing a sense for exactly which types of motions and textures are going to create instability in my pelvis, have I been able to make sense of my own SI joints at all.

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What about mind over matter? a lot of people have asked me.  Why can’t you just push through it, even if it hurts?

What I wish they could see is that it has been mind over matter, just not in the way they think.

There’s no pushing through an SI joint that has locked.  Anyone who’s experienced this will know what I mean.  It makes about as much sense as trying to use brute strength to unlock one of those tavern puzzles.

But you can use your mind to learn about the anatomy of the joint, and solve the puzzle that way.  Technically it’s still mind over matter, but in this variation it’s about being open, receptive, and mindful, rather than trying to harness sheer force of will.

To be continued in Part 3!

 

My Story, Sacroiliac Joint

An update on my sacroiliac joint saga

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For some reason, my post on my issues with the sacroiliac joint has been getting a ton of views recently.

I’m not sure what happened– whether Google decided to rank my blog more prominently in its search results, or if more people are aware of the sacroiliac joint in general, and looking to find answers.  (Hopefully both!).

But a lot has changed for me since I wrote that post, and to be honest I cringe a little bit when I see someone’s read it.  I wrote it from a place of doubt, when I was feeling really lost and wasn’t even sure I had identified the correct problem.

I’ve learned a lot since then.  I no longer doubt myself, or doubt that I have issues with this joint.  In fact, I’m starting to realize that sacroiliac joint dysfunction is actually way more common than it had seemed.  It also seems to be a pretty common experience for people with this issue to have trouble finding treatment, and to feel misunderstood.

With all that in mind, I wanted to provide a little bit of the perspective I have now, because luckily, I am no longer coming from that place of doubt.
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First, a little background info:

I developed my sacroiliac joint problems in the fall of 2011.  I would be walking along, until all of a sudden one of my legs would get “stuck.”  I wouldn’t be able to lift that leg more than an inch or two off the ground.

The first time it happened, I went and saw a chiropractor who explained that it was caused by my sacroiliac joint getting “jammed.”  He adjusted that joint, and like magic the problem was gone: I could lift my leg and walk normally again.

But the same thing happened again and again.  I would go to the chiropractor, and feel better, but inevitably my leg would get “stuck” again the next day.  And nothing I could do would fix the problem, or allow me to lift that leg more than a few inches off the ground.  So back to the chiropractor I would hobble again.

It was confusing, and infuriating.  I’d never heard of anything like this happening to anyone before.  No one I talked to about it had ever heard of anything like it before, either.

And me, with my long history of chronic pain and unexplained physical symptoms that often just turned out to be my nervous system freaking out and being overprotective… it was hard not to wonder if this was just more of the same.

After all, this situation had a lot of parallels to problems I’d had in the past.  The times I was convinced I had injured part of my body, only to finally realize months later the pain was caused by my nervous system freaking out over nothing.  Was my SI joint really becoming stuck?  Or was my nervous system just “amplifying” the pain, and making a small problem feel worse than it was?

It didn’t help that none of the physical therapists I saw really seemed to know what I was talking about.  I would tell them about my leg getting stuck, and they would give me blank stares. “I didn’t learn about that in school,” they would say.  “The sacroiliac joint doesn’t really move.”

Doctors were not really much help either.  I saw two physiatrists and one orthopedist.  The physiatrists didn’t tell me that I didn’t have a problem– they just said it was out of the scope of their practice.

The orthopedist talked about doing some cortisone injections, but he didn’t seem to have any idea what I was talking about when I talked about my hip “locking.”  I passed on the injections, since it didn’t seem to make sense to receive a treatment from someone who didn’t seem to understand the problem.

So I just kept going to the chiropractor and getting adjustments, but ultimately, these adjustments were no more than a temporary fix.

A big part of the problem was that none of the chiropractors I saw seemed to be very interested in actually talking to me about what the problem was.  They all seemed to think that the long-term treatment was someone else’s problem– that I could just walk into any physical therapy clinic, do whatever exercises they gave me, and everything would work out.

There was nothing I could say, it seemed, that would make them understand.  How was I supposed to get a physical therapist to give me exercises for the sacroiliac joint, when none of the PT’s I saw even thought that could be my problem?

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A lesson I’ve been forced to learn, over and over again, in different contexts, is this:

Don’t stop.  Keep looking.  Things aren’t always what they seem.

This has happened to me at so many different points in my life, where I felt stuck, miserable, and afraid my life would never get better.

It happened in high school, when I was caught in a vicious cycle of depression and an eating disorder.  It happened in my early 20’s, when I lived with unexplained pain throughout my entire body for five years.  And it was the same, with this problem:

Don’t stop.  Keep going.  You never know when things could change.  The answer could be just around the corner.

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Every few months, I’d scour the Internet for anything I could find on the “sacroiliac joint.”  In 2011, there really were very few results (at least, very few that I could understand).  I think the first time I looked, the results were so pathetic and sparse that it was another six months before I looked again.

But as time went on, I started to find more and more resources.

Part of it, I think, is that maybe people are starting to become more of the sacroiliac joint.  And as awareness builds, more of that knowledge is finding its way onto the Internet.

Another part of it is that over time, my searching became more effective.  After all, at the same time all this was going on, I was also taking my prerequisites for physical therapy school, and beginning to understand more and more of those anatomical terms that had once been gibberish to me.

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Two years into my problem, I stumbled across the website for a physical therapy practice near me.  One of the physical therapists actually listed the sacroiliac joint as one of her interests, so of course I made an appointment immediately.

That was the point at which things began to change for me.  Finally, I found someone who was willing to talk to me about what the problem was, and was able to think flexibly enough to give me exercises that would help me, but not make me worse.

She also taught me a way to use a foam roller to give my SI joints a self-adjustment.  It obviously wasn’t quite as good as going to a chiropractor, but it gave me the freedom to “unlock” my legs by myself, which obviously changed everything for me.  I no longer had to count down the minutes between chiropractor visits; no longer had to live in fear of my hips locking up on a Friday night and having to wait all weekend for an adjustment to free them up again.

This is getting long, so it will be continued in Part 2!

Favorites, Fitness, My Story, Sacroiliac Joint

Building Back My Muscle Strength

The more knowledge I’ve acquired about the human body, the more I realize that most of the problems I have now are due to lack of muscle strength.

When I developed compartment syndrome at the age of seventeen, it was due to over-training for the spring track season (combined with the fact that I had an eating disorder, and was also starving myself).

But everything since then—that’s all been the indirect result of muscle weakness.

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I first learned about the concept of muscular atrophy when my friend fell in second grade gym class and broke her arm. I remember the gym teacher telling us then (after the ambulance had taken my friend away) that when she got her cast off in a few months, her arm would look small and shrunken compared to the other arm.

The teacher explained that when you don’t use a muscle at all for a very long time, your body lets it get weak because it doesn’t think you really need it. And that it can happen quickly– really quickly. That it would take my friend a lot longer to do these exercises to build her arm back up than it had taken for her muscles to get weak with the cast on.

That concept—atrophy—scared me so much when I first learned about it then.

But when it actually happened to me, following my leg injury, it was gradual. I didn’t really notice the rest of my body getting weak, because it was overshadowed by the pins and needles in my lower legs.

If I could go back in time, I would have worked out in a pool every day, so that I could I maintain all of the other muscles in my body I wasn’t really thinking about– back, shoulders, trunk/core– despite the fact that I couldn’t really use my legs.

I didn’t actually feel the atrophy as it happened. I felt like I was choosing not to use my body to do certain things because of the pain in my legs, not because of weakness.

But when I threw my back out, a month after my leg surgery—that probably wouldn’t have happened if I hadn’t come so weak.

And that, in turn, is when my nervous system really went crazy—which of course, started off its whole chain of problems, which of course my regular readers already know about.

But I’m coming full circle now.

I’ve addressed the pain—or, more specifically, learned how to address it. (This process of learning to manage chronic pain—it’s not something you do once and are done with. It’s about learning how to think. The knowledge that the more you feel you have control over what’s happening in your body, and that you truly understand what could be causing the pain—that’s an equilibrium that you must continually strive towards and re-create).

And now I see the underlying problem– that I am weak. Less now, of course, now that I’ve been working out in the pool for so long. But nowhere near as strong as your ordinary, average person who might not work out regularly, but has never had an extended period of time where they had to stop using their body.

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When I first started to voice my idea of becoming a physical therapist, there were actually quite a number of people who discouraged me.

“But it’s such a physically demanding career,” they would say. “Can you do that?”

And yes, I’ll be honest—sometimes that question makes me a bit nervous too.

But there’s no reason I can’t get strong again. I am lucky not to have anything wrong with me that is permanent. I just need knowledge.

When I took Kinesiology last summer, that was the point at which everything started to click for me. I learned about the motions each joint of the body can perform, and how the different muscles work together to produce that movement.

I started to understand why some of the exercises I’d been doing hadn’t helped that much, and I actually began to see holes in some of the exercise programs past physical therapists had given me.

I realized how specific muscles can be.  Especially relevant to my case were the muscles of the back and shoulders. You can be doing two almost identical motions with your arm, but a ten degree difference in the angle your arm is at can completely change which back muscles are working.

I’d never known things were that specific. I’d always progressed through my back exercises based on my level of pain, doing the easiest, least painful exercises first, figuring I’d work up to doing the tougher ones after a few weeks.   What I know now is that those easy exercises were never going to prepare me for the harder ones, because they simply weren’t working the same muscle groups (despite how similar they all seemed).

It’s frustrating– I’d always told my physical therapists what I was doing, and none of them ever warned me the plan might not work.

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Part of the problem, I believe, is the physical therapy model (at least, in the United States) where the therapist can only focus on one specific diagnosis or part of the body at a time. This means that your physical therapist has to send you back to your primary care doctor, to get a new prescription and a new insurance authorization, just to be able to answer a question about a different part of the body than what they were treating.

Now, all the PT’s I’ve seen haven’t been like that. But there were enough, over the years, that I’m sure it cost me a lot of potential progress.

All of my various diagnoses had the same underlying problem—I was weak and extremely out of shape.  My whole body was the problem, not just one part.  Treating each problem one by one wasn’t going to stop the next problem from developing.

I have a great physical therapist now, who is able to think abstractly, and answer all of my questions about strengthening various parts of my body. And that is the kind of physical therapist I would like to be for other people.

The type who understands that strength is important—overall strength. And that you aren’t really helping the patient if you help them strengthen one part of your body, but leave the rest totally weak.

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So now I’m strengthening everything.

The problem is not, primarily, my sacroiliac joint (although that’s obviously what causes me the most grief right now).

The problem is that my muscles are not strong enough to hold my sacroiliac joint securely into its proper alignment.

I’ve had to completely change how I think about my physical problems. When I work out in the pool, I’m not just focusing on fixing my SI joint, or my knees.

I’m troubleshooting.

I’m strengthening everything. Every major muscle group, and every major joint motion. (At least, as best as I can).

I’ve finally broken through the mysterious veil of pain that clouded everything I did, and made me afraid, and made all my physical therapists think I needed psychotherapy.

And now I’m back.  I’m building myself up, back to the level of strength I should have had all along.