Creative Writing, Inspiration

Links to Inspire.

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When I was in San Francisco last fall, I did a ton of reading that I meant to share with you all.

Then, somehow, I got caught up in the ebb and flow of daily life back here in Boston and these links went on the back burner.

However, one of my goals for 2017 is to start taking more notice of pieces of writing that really catch my eye; that draw me back to revisit them them a day, or a week, or a month later.

I love when people are able to tell their stories– the things that are the most personal, or even the most painful.  There is just something amazing about telling your truth to the world– about getting the right words together, getting up the courage, and just putting it out there.

So here are a few of pieces of writing that really drew me in, and inspired me to get back to work on my own blog.  (Some of these are not super recent.  I mean what I say about amazing writing being able to draw me back months later!).

In no particular order:

Para Las Fridas: When healing our body is not an option, we can still heal from the inside

Anonymously Autistic: Washing away the alter ego and I’m not normal and that’s okay

Embracing Authenticity: Failure should not be feared because it is necessary to learn and grow and I will now strive for progress, not perfection

The Invisible Warrior: Dear Warrior: A letter to all my friends with CRPS

Life in Slow Motion Blog: 10 Ways to Flood the Pain Map to Reduce Chronic Pain and When pushing forward leads to falling backwards

Fire in Her Loins: One Girl’s Quest to Cure Her Chronic Pelvic Pain

I have more for you guys, but that’s all for now!  Enjoy!

My Story

A way of giving back (free photos!)

Some of the stuff I’ve been writing about on my blog has felt a little bit heavy recently, so I thought I’d just take a moment and share something I’ve been meaning to for a while:

When I first started blogging back in 2012, I had absolutely no idea what I was doing, or if anyone would want to read anything I wrote.

One of the things that really helped me was to search through Flickr and find Creative Commons-licensed photos to use.  (If you aren’t familiar with Creative Commons, it is a way for people to make their artistic work available for others to use under certain permissions).

Somehow, when I was writing my first fledgling posts, it would give me a little dose of courage to find that someone had just happened to make the perfect photo available to go with what I was trying to say.

These days, I take more of my own photos.  I find that nature, especially, inspires me to write so I’ve gotten in the habit of snapping shots of wherever I am that makes me want to write.  But there are definitely still times where I don’t personally have any photos that would be useful for a specific post, so I still sometimes go on Flickr to find the perfect image.

So, as a way of paying it forward, I’ve put many of my own photos up on Flickr under a Creative Commons license as well.

I definitely can’t claim to be the world’s most amazing photographer, but I do have a lot of photos that I put thought into, and that mean something to me.

So, if you see anything on there that is helpful for you, or might go well with something you are working on, you are welcome to use it (as long as it’s one of the ones I’ve posted with permission!  There are a select few that are too personal, like of friends’ pets and such.  So please check).

I hope some of these photos might be useful to you (or, at the very least, I’ve now given you a new idea about how to look for photos on Flickr!).

Happy blogging!

 

 

 

Creative Writing, Favorites, Inspiration, Uncategorized

A Returning

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“I have been away.

I have often thought of how to begin this blog again after a long hiatus and then more time would pass and there it stood waiting for me to speak, write, and reach out.

The reason for my silence is the same reason for beginning this blog. Living with chronic illness permeates everything we do. It is the scaffolding of which we build each day. It determines our daily plans, what we take on, and what we leave unfinished. As I dedicated each day to doctor’s appointments, physical therapy, medication changes, and rebuilding my life after a health storm, this unfinished blog provided comfort knowing that it was a place for me to return.

As the months passed, I was forced into long stretches of bed rest, breaking from work, my passions, the world, and my voice. This is the cycle, after all, of the chronically ill. It is a sequence of retreat and victory, of silence and stories, and of mining the telos of one’s spirit.  What incites us to account our narrative to others relegates us to silence in other moments in a life lived with chronic illness.

I have to admit that at first my silence was “put upon” me. I was so engulfed in pain, fatigue, and just getting through one hour after another that I had no desire to communicate about the latest health trial. Yet, resignation turned towards choice, as I again reimagined and redesigned a future. It is a truth we face when dealing with an incurable disease that we must rewrite our future story after it is continually malformed by our bodies.

The poet Carmen Tafolla wrote: “I was the fourth ship. Behind Niña, Pinta, Santa María, Lost at sea while watching a seagull, Following the wind and sunset skies, While the others set their charts.” This post is dedicated to the future, to the reciting of a livable future, and to exploring the why in a life filled with medical chaos.

Illness is an invasion of identity. Since living through surgeries, a nine medication regimen, and too many medical procedures, I have searched for an explanation, a pathway, and a satisfactory answer to why. Why did this happen? Why me? I have done everything from pretending that the illness part of my life is nonexistent to studying the mechanisms and pathologies of the body; nonetheless, illness continues to lead its assault.

To live with a chronic degenerative disease one must constantly engage in meaning-making. Why? It is because illness is unremitting and untrustworthy. A medical crisis can topple all that you have worked towards in a mere blink.

Therefore, we are professionals at reconstruction and rebooting our future.  Often times, it is a future tinted by professional and personal sadness. Professional goals wane under the weight of the body often causing an individual to lose their job or relinquish ambitions. Illness demands a personal reimagining of what family looks like sometimes forcing an individual to move in with a family member who subsumes a caregiver role or surrendering the dream of having a family and experiencing parenthood.

Illness fractures identity and makes us feel less complete because completion is continuously interrupted.  I believe searching for the “why me” is not out of anger, jealousy, or pity but out of the attempt to take all these futures interrupted and find fulfillment in a life that no longer looks like the life originally intended.

Chronic illness mandates that the individual who lives with it coat themselves in an extra layer of depth because it is a permanent state and the human mind has forever raised questions about immutability.

I spent the last year in renovation.  It’s frightening; isn’t it?  There’s a trauma processing that must be completed in order to move forward in life.

When I was first diagnosed with endometriosis and a chronic pain condition due to a spinal injury, I had no idea nor was it explained to me that I was going to have to go through a continual cycle of insecurity. I was oblivious to the fact that I was going to have to live my life in a temperamental space.

It is of my opinion that chronic illness patients do not fit easily into the usual experience of loss because our loss is not consistent.  The future is unpredictable and so our stories are discontinued and resumed and this process repeats infinitely.

Thus we are forced to mourn each time and rebuild our futures anew holding our breath again that the house will not collapse with us inside. Our narratives remain disjointed and so without any desire for it we gain a level of complexity that is difficult to communicate and share with others even those we love the most.

I don’t know if there is a way to rid ourselves of this anarchy that illness brings. What I am still learning is that inside this chaos we must pledge to coming out of the other side of it. We must promise to find our voice again.

I have been away but now I am returning.  Each one of us can say that.

Although it may appear like a small triumph, I am proud of my return and I am proud of yours too.”

***

The above post was written by my friend C. over at her blog Para Las Fridas.  I have re-posted it here with her permission because it is quite honestly one of the most amazing accounts of life with chronic illness I have ever read.  From the moment I first read it, I was struck by the way C. managed to put into words aspects of my own experience that I had been afraid to face, much less articulate to myself.

Like the feeling of having lost time, of living according to a completely different calendar than everyone else.  Of knowing I’ve disappeared from the world, for months and years at a time, while life has marched on unrelentingly for everyone else.

The feeling of resurfacing, of returning, without knowing if it’s an illusion, or for how long I’ll be allowed to stay before disappearing again.

The feeling that I’ve become an expert at remaking my identity: after each disappearance and returning, constructing meaning again as best I can, assembling the pieces that make sense, filling in the gaps in a way I hope no one else notices.

C.’s words give me the courage to come on my blog and tell my own story, when I’m afraid it’s been too long, or no one will be able to relate.

I am not the only one who feels this way; I am not the only one who has disappeared and returned.

***

You can check out the rest of C.’s writing at Para Las Fridas!  It is simply incredible.

I also wrote this post outlining some of posts C.’s site that meant the most to me.

Lastly, you can also see what C.’s up to on Twitter.

My Story

The road to physical therapy school

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It occurred to me recently that I really haven’t talked much about my progress towards becoming a physical therapist on this blog.

So, if you’re curious, here’s my deal:

I have a Bachelor’s degree in the humanities.  My concentration was social theory, with an emphasis on gender studies.

My goals, when I was in college, were focused in a pretty different direction than the path I’m on now: I wanted to study social policy, and travel abroad working for various non-profits and human rights agencies.  I also wanted to become a psychotherapist.

I started down that road immediately out of college, working at a mental health agency so that I could gain experience before grad school.

Before this, I’d already had a lot of struggles with chronic pain, and had to have surgery for compartment syndrome.  Yet after college, I’d managed to reach some kind of holding pattern where pain didn’t cause me to miss work.  That was, until the awful winter of 2010, when a few things happened in a brief span of time that caused my pain levels to flare way up.

That was my breaking point– when I tried, anew, to get answers.  Finally, after months of searching, I found my physical therapist Tim, who had studied pain neurophysiology education with Neil Pearson.

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Ultimately, I was so inspired by everything I learned from Tim that it led me to consider becoming a physical therapist.

I’d always found physical therapy to be a fascinating field.  As a high school runner, I’d had a few serious injuries where I really needed PT to get up and moving again.   I had formed some great relationships with my therapists, and hung on every word they said.  A part of me was always a little bit sad when they told me I was doing well enough that I didn’t need to come back.  I would have gladly come back back every day, just to hang out and learn.

When I was a freshman in high school, I partially tore my hip flexor during a cross-country race and was on crutches for months.  It was a physical therapist who helped me overcome my fear and eventually start running again.

Then, when I was 19 and had surgery for compartment syndrome, it was a physical therapist who got me back up and moving again.  While I’ll always be grateful to the surgeon who fixed my legs, my PT was the one who gave me the confidence to actually start using them again.

And now, when my life had ground to a complete halt at age 25 because of constant, debilitating pain, it was a physical therapist who gave me my life back again.

I’d always had so much appreciation for PT’s.  Now, the idea dawned on me: why don’t I try to become one?

***

Growing up, I didn’t really consider myself that much of a science person.  Looking back, I think a lot of that has to do with the environment at my school, and how our science classes were taught.

Once I started looking into becoming a PT– taking classes, shadowing practicing PT’s– I realized I always had been interested in health science, and exercise physiology, and human anatomy.  It had just taken a different form.

I’d always wanted to do the best thing for my body.  I loved when my running coaches talked about strengthening, building endurance, the benefits of stretching.

And I’d always been interested in nutrition, and being healthy overall.

It’s just that when I was younger, I didn’t have the healthiest mindset, and took some of these interests too far.  But my eating disorder was not all of me– it was a snapshot of a specific place I was in, at a certain point in time, at a certain age.  Although I had some distorted beliefs, that does not mean I wasn’t also genuinely interested in health and fitness at the same time.

The difference is that now, I am able to come at it in a much healthier, stable, and more grounded manner, and know that I will be able to help others with similar struggles.

***

Five years later, I can say that I ended up loving all of my prerequisite classes, and I’m so glad I made the decision to take them.

It’s been an incredibly long road.  You see, some of the classes I needed to take had prerequisites of their own.  At the same time, due to my SI joint issues, there were periods of time where I found it incredibly difficult to walk, drive, or even stand up for more than a few minutes.

Despite of all of this, I’m finally at the point now where I’ve basically taken all of the classes I need in order to apply to PT school.  (I might need to take one or two more, depending on specific programs I might try to get into, but most of my bases are covered).

And honestly, I’m so glad I made this decision.  I realized that, while the humanities will always be my first love, I am also a science person, and have been all along.   I couldn’t see it at the time, but I know it now.

Creative Writing, Inspiration

One foot in the real world…

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And one foot pointing toward my dreams…

I haven’t been able to write as much as I’d like recently, because I’ve been busy focusing on my real-world exploits: specifically, earning money for grad school.

It’s hard to find the right balance. Follow your dreams and the money will come, they say. But when your dreams involve $70,000 in student loans, and three years with no income… blazing ahead with no thought of the financial risk is a little easier said than done.

For now, I just have to remind myself to slow down, and check in with the part of myself that knows exactly what my dreams are. The part that, despite whatever else is going on in my life, never truly loses sight of what I want to do.

After all, a lesson I’m learning is that it’s not just what you do as you go about your daily life– it’s also how you go about it.

***

A mistake I’ve made in the past is to cut myself off completely from my dreams, focusing only on the pragmatics of what I need to get done. At times, it’s seemed easier. Safer.

But I’m realizing that was not a sustainable way to live. When you try to numb yourself to pain and doubt, and rush through life distracted trying not to feel anything… you also miss out on the good.

There is a certain pain that comes from trying to suppress your dreams. If you block it out for long enough, it will grow until you can’t ignore it anymore.

My goal right now is to remain focused on what I need to do in order to achieve my goal, without letting myself get so mired in the details that I lose sight of my original purpose.

***

I’ve written a lot about helping people through chronic pain, and that’s a huge part of what I want to do as a PT. But ultimately, it’s about something bigger.

Really, it’s about providing a space for people to begin, wherever they are. To create a space where there is no judgment; where I believe my patients when they tell me how bad it really is, without giving them any reason to feel ashamed, or to censor themselves.

And then, using that as our starting place, we’ll work together to find answers. I know how hopeless things can seem at times, because I’ve been there myself.

Sometimes it can take years to find the right answer– or answers. Sometimes you don’t discover everything you need at once– you discover what you need in stages.

***

I want to create a space for people to be in touch with their bodies, in whatever way works for them. To show my patients that you don’t have to wait until you are completely “better,” by some objective measure, to begin to create a sense of peace in your body.

You can actually begin the process right away– before you do anything else, before you’ve spent weeks in PT exercising.  It can actually be the very first thing you begin to work on. Sometimes, you just need to have the right person to show you the way.

I know, because I’ve been lucky enough to find those right people in my own life. And I hope, someday, to give back what I’ve learned, and be that person for others.

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I’ve come so far since the days when I was a terrified teenager with compartment syndrome and an eating disorder.  I may not have gone back to running 40 miles a week, but on the inside, I am millions of miles away from where I was.

There is so much that has gone into changing my perspective, and I hope to share it all with you.  I hope you’ll come along for the ride.

Creative Writing, Inspiration

Reading List: Vulnerability

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This is the question that has consumed me recently: how do people take their most precious and guarded memories, and spin them into stories, unfurling them to the world?

It seems so easy when other people do it– when you read a famous, heart-wrenching novel for class, and analyze its themes. “I could do that,” you say. “Someday maybe I will.”

But it’s so different when you begin to try– shockingly different. In real life, I haven’t begun– I’ve only hinted at my most personal stories. I’ve only begun to write them and tell them in my head.

In the morning I wake up too early, in a panic, short of breath. “What have I done?” I gasp. Then I relax. I haven’t actually written anything yet; haven’t hit publish.

I have so much respect for those who have. I’ve always loved and looked up to writers, but now I do so with a respect that is so much more real now that I’ve begun to consider the task myself.

So here, my readers, are a few things I’ve read recently that have inspired me:

Rian Kerfoot, Truth and Cake:

Mary Gelpi, Fibromy-Awesome: Getting Clean Real talk from a girl with fibromyalgia who talks about how, somedays, bathing is just not on the agenda. I’ve been there.

Bianca Sparacino: “You Are Not for Everyone.”

Beauty Beyond Bones: I love her whole blog, but I’ve recently discovered her early posts, which send chills through me. I so want to tell my story like this. (I was never hospitalized for my eating disorder, but her words resonate on so many levels).

Sade Andria Zabala: I discovered her a few months ago when I was heart-broken, and her words ripped me apart more and then healed me at the same time.

All of these pieces of writing are breathtaking — check them out!

Creative Writing, My Story

Fear of authenticity

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I’ve noticed something about myself, since I started this blog. I love, love, love sharing my writing with others, and forming connections. Every time I have a meaningful moment on here– let’s say I publish a particularly personal post, and people really respond to it– I’m exhilarated. I get totally fired up. I start planning my next post immediately, and come up with a long list of topics for future posts…

…and then somehow, I don’t end up publishing anything for like a month.

Something in me always pulls away. I get stage fright about telling my story publicly; I procrastinate. I decide I don’t want to publish something until it’s perfect, and the next post is never perfect.

For a while I just thought this had to do with my fear of putting myself out there and being judged by strangers; of writing something really personal and then wishing I could take it back.

But I’m realizing now that there might be a deeper level to my hesitations.

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I think it has more to do with the fact that sometimes it can be painful to get in touch with that deepest part of yourself. The part of you that’s really you, that knows exactly what you want most out of life. Sometimes it’s easier, safer, to pretend that that space within you doesn’t exist. To focus on the tangible, the everyday.

I seem to go through months- or even year-long phases where I focus most of my attention on the more surface aspects of life. I am practical; pragmatic; planning my future. What graduate program do I want to attend? (Been stuck on that one for a while). Where do I want to live? What do I need on my next trip to the grocery store?

I want to be put together; organized. I don’t want the future to catch me off-guard.

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Something I’ve learned about myself is that I’m happier when I’m busy; when I’m surrounded by other people, and by ideas. I get really focused on things– my classes when I was in college. Different internships. And then, after college, the various jobs that I’ve had.

And with each one, for a little while, I’ll think that I’ve made it; that I’ve finally figured it all out. But after a while, when I’ve been focusing exclusively on other people’s ideas and never on my own, I start to feel a creeping sense of emptiness.

I try to ignore it at first. I mean, it’s an unpleasant sensation—obviously, my first response is going to be to try to block it out.

But it grows, and grows, until there will be a night when I feel distraught and cannot sleep. I will no longer have the option to try to hide; it is time to return to my own center. To get in touch with what I want, not what I think I have to do.

And for some reason, it always hurts at first, to come back in touch with this place within myself.

Does that make sense to anyone else?

It’s not that my hopes and dreams and desires are painful– it’s that it was painful for me to suppress them. I was so busy being distracted that I didn’t notice the pain building up, and now there’s a scab.

It’s not as though there has always been one thing, one way of living, one career path that my inner voice has always told me to do. First, I wanted to be a psychotherapist. Then, I wanted to work in social justice, with more of an advocacy role. Then, a few years ago, when my own physical issues had opened my eyes, I decided I wanted to become a physical therapist.  It’s not like there was one thing my true self has been telling me to do, and I’ve ignored it.

Instead, I think it has more to do with a way of being, of remembering to be in touch with that space within yourself on a more regular basis.

Why do I block out that voice? I don’t know. I think it’s because I’m not completely sure there is a place for that part of me in the world. If I was to truly listen to myself, to rely on intuition, to push ahead nonstop, guns blazing… what would happen? I’m afraid everything would turn out wrong.

So I temper that voice. I focus on external ways of making sure I’m making the right choices. (What are my PT-prerequisites? What’s the best way to build my resume until then?).

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Working on this blog, however, requires me to get in touch with that space within myself.

It’s a totally different experience than writing when someone else is telling you to. I can write academic papers or reports in my sleep; I can edit your paper, and you’ll be shocked at how much better I make it (haha, really!).

But writing in a truly personal way– especially when others are going to see it, when it’s a representation of yourself that you’re putting out into the world– requires a certain clarity; a sense of purpose. It requires being in touch with that truest, deepest part of yourself.

And it’s honestly hard to do that, at least on a regular basis. It’s hard for me, and I have the feeling that it’s probably hard for a lot of people.

But I also have the feeling that it’s not an issue for everyone; that there are people who have found a way to live out of that most authentic part of themselves on a regular basis, and that for them, it isn’t painful.

How do people do that? I want to know.

I have started to look for answers. I recently watched the movie “Wild,” based on the book by Cheryl Strayed, and it blew my mind. I’ve also recently started to check out Brene Brown‘s work on vulnerability, after seeing some friends whose opinions I really respect rave about her.

I’ll let you know what I find out.

In the meantime, I am happy to at least have some insight into the problem, because I think that was probably half of the battle.

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Please, please, please, let me know what you guys think!  Does this dilemma sound familiar to anyone else?  I want to know your thoughts!

Photo credit: Magnus Karlsson

Creative Writing

A blog you have to check out: Para Las Fridas

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I have recently discovered the most amazing blog: “para las fridas,” by C. Luepkes, and I really think you all should check it out.

The following quote is from C.’s post “A Returning,” in which she describes her decision to return to her blog again following an absence. I identify with every word, and of course, had to share it with you. She writes:

“When I was first diagnosed with endometriosis and a chronic pain condition due to a spinal injury, I had no idea nor was it explained to me that I was going to have to go through a continual cycle of insecurity. I was oblivious to the fact that I was going to have to live my life in a temperamental space. It is of my opinion that chronic illness patients do not fit easily into the usual experience of loss because our loss is not consistent. The future is unpredictable and so our stories are discontinued and resumed and this process repeats infinitely. Thus, we are forced to mourn each time and rebuild our futures anew holding our breath again that the house will not collapse with us inside. Our narratives remain disjointed and so without any desire for it we gain a level of complexity that is difficult to communicate and share with others even those we love the most.”

When you have chronic health issues, your story doesn’t unfold the way others’ seem to. You end up taking breaks from your life; plans go out the window. You disappear for stretches of time, because you’re in too much pain to move. When you try to return to your normal life, there is still a distance between you and others. You’re afraid to let people see the things you must do to take care of yourself now.

I personally struggle with how best to express my stories to others. It’s not that I lack subject matter– deep down, I want to write about everything– but how do I assign a structure to something that is so often meaningless? There isn’t always a purpose or a point to what I go through. Not everything can be a lesson or a dramatic turning point when it comes to chronic pain and illness. Sometimes, you are just in pain. Sometimes, your time is just wasted.

What I love about C.’s writing is that I can tell she. too, has felt those feelings of emptiness, of frustration, of pointlessness… and yet she comes out on the other side, with insight, wisdom, and compassion for others.

She writes:

“We reshape our days, the structure of our thinking, our career path, our home, how we exercise…In short, there is nothing in our lives that is not rethought or reimagined. I think acknowledging that and once again reforming it into a strength or a place of courage is important.”

I recognize so much of my own experience in C.’s story, and I know you will too. She has a lot of other great posts on her blog– you should definitely check them out.

Some of my favorites:

Why the shame with chronic pain, anyway?

The possibilities of vulnerability

Private, secret, and alone: chronic illness and feelings of isolation

When Healing Our Body Is Not an Option, We Still Can Heal From the Inside

My body is a full-time job

Thank you, C., for sharing your words with us.

Creative Writing

To Be Professional, or Authentic?

So, you may have noticed that I haven’t written very much recently.

Since I started my blog, my policy was generally only to write if things were going well– or at least, to only highlight the positive.

The Internet is tricky. We’re all still figuring out– and as we figure it out, it’s constantly changing.

I’m honestly torn about what exactly I want this blog to be. Do I want it to be professional– kind of like my calling card, to start building connections in the field I hope to go into?

Or do I simply want to be what I’ve always “wanted to be” ever since I read the Little House on the Prairie series as a child– a writer?

I’m torn.

Do I want to create a “reputation” as someone knowledgeable about the body– a future healthcare professional? Or do I want to tell my story, in the hopes it will help someone else out there know she isn’t alone?

It’s awkward. Actually, it’s beyond awkward.

I’ve worked in the helping professions– mental health, specifically. And there, rule #1 is never to talk about yourself– at least, never to offer up anything you wouldn’t mind having attacked later on.

And I’ve seen it– how a person can turn on you, take something you only said in an attempt to be helpful, and try to turn it into something else, twisting your words into something ugly and unrecognizable. Even sinister.

Working in mental health changed me, that’s for sure.

But even without that experience, I think we are all coming to the realization that the Internet is a place that never forgets, where mistakes are never forgiven. In this day and age of screen-shots and screen-caps and whatever else, saying something on the Internet basically means you are saying it forever.

I mean, really. Can I pour my heart out here, admitting my mistakes and defeats… and also expect people to take me seriously as their physical therapist someday?

Honestly, I don’t know.

But I have always wanted to be a writer. To put my stories into the perfect words, to hold them up to the light and examine them, to extract all the meaning from them that I can, and then to share them– that’s always been something I’ve longed to do.

So I guess I’m going to keep trying. To step out on a limb, a little bit. To test the waters.

To see what will happen if I worry less about being “professional” on here (which, frankly, has resulted in me not writing very much at all) and see what happens if I instead focus on being authentic.

Wish me luck!

Uncategorized

Favorite Posts from My First Year of Blogging: Part One

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When I first started blogging, I had no idea if anyone would actually read what I had written.  I tried out all different types of posts, including more journal-like entries, pictures, and recipes, as I tried to figure out what type of blog mine would be.

Hitting “Publish” on each one of those early posts was such an adventure for me.  I got so excited about each new “Like” and each new follower (actually, I still do).  And each new comment totally made my day.

It’s fun to look back now and see how the blog has evolved.  Each one of my posts was a learning experiment, and each supportive comment I got was an inspiration, helping me to figure out the direction I wanted my blog to go in.

With that in mind, I wanted to include this little timeline of my favorite posts of the past year.  If you’re a newer reader, you probably haven’t seen most of these posts.  And if you’re an older reader, I’m hoping you might remember some of these posts as fondly as I do.

As always, I am curious what you think.  Was there a particular post that resonated with you, or a certain topic you’d like to know more about?  Let me know!

December 2012

A little bit more about my story—A slightly longer version of my story than what you’ll find on my About Me page.

The Pain Clinic—The story of my very disappointing experience at a highly-regarded pain clinic with a months-long waitlist.

Coffee: A Great Tool for Dealing with Chronic Pain—I am obsessed with coffee, and I swear it helps with my level of pain.  I got so sick of seeing so many “alternative health” sites post warnings about the dangers of coffee, without acknowledging some of its potential benefits.  So I wrote this.Photo12280915

Have you Ever Tried Yoga?  This is meant to be a bit tongue-in-cheek.  Please take it with a grain of salt. :)

Names for chronic pain—This is one of the first posts I wrote, to lay a foundation for the topics I would be writing about later.  It outlines some of the various terms that medical professionals use to describe chronic pain states.

Some of the terms are really helpful and interesting; others are unhelpful, or possibly even damaging to the patient’s chances of getting real help.  It’s good to be aware of both.

Christmas 2012— Just photos

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January 2013

Why You Should Learn a Little Anatomy— Please read this one.  I really think it’s great :)

February 2013

Violins and enhanced sensory maps – about how the same parts of our nervous systems that are responsible for talent and learning are also the parts that can cause us to develop chronic pain conditions.  Pain and talent might be two sides of the same coin.

violin on side

How to Talk about Pain: Central Hypersensitivity– I am always so happy when I read articles by a researcher who really gets it.

Know Your Enemy—I stumbled across an opinion piece on Medscape.com written by a rheumatologist who says he intentionally “weeds” fibromyalgia patients out of his practice because they do not “interest” him.

A Post for Aaron Swartz — In honor of a generous spirit and Internet pioneer.

aaron swartz flickr

So… I Lost an Ovary—The title of this one is pretty self-explanatory.  Ugh, what an awful month last February was.

Beware the Red Herring—Looking at how some medical issues—and the pseudoscientific fads that accompany them—can obscure other more important issues.

That’s it for Part One of this look back.  Stay tuned for Part Two!

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