Mostrando entradas con la etiqueta healing. Mostrar todas las entradas
Mostrando entradas con la etiqueta healing. Mostrar todas las entradas

jueves, 18 de enero de 2018

My life with POP


Esp/Eng

Part 01

Cuando comencé con el Blog 'Susie Intima' hace ya varios años, lo hice con un artículo sobre Endometriosis, escrito en inglés y que luego fue premiado por una asociación internacional de endometriosis.  Escribir fue en aquel momento una manera de hacer las paces con la enfermedad y de dejar registro de un camino de sanación emocional y una elección de tratamiento personal basado fundamentalmente en terapias holísticas, fitoterapia y suplementos naturales.  Escribir en inglés me ha resultado siempre (desde la adolescencia) una manera segura de mantenerme a distancia de las emociones y de filtrar lectores cercanos que tienen fácil predisposición a juzgar o a creer que saben lo que es mejor para mí.

El camino con Endo fue un viaje de autoconocimiento, de aprendizaje y una ceremonia para honrar este templo donde habita mi alma. Entonces, cuando creía que ya todo estaba bien y podía tener una vida 'normal', apareció POP en mi vida.



Writing in English has always felt safe, it's a way of keeping myself emotionally dettached from whatever is bothering me or keeping me out of alignment, and it is also a good way of keeping unwanted readers from judging my spiritual path or my personal choices regarding treatments and health care.

I started writing this blog to make peace with Endo and to reach other women suffering from the same disease and sharing my experiences with holistic treatments, herbs and emotional healing journeys. When I was happy enough with my life, going to the gym, going for fast and long walks and when I was starting to believe that my life could be quite 'normal', POP showed up in my life.  Once again the pelvic area was calling my attention and looking for the spotlights.  That was almost four years ago.  Far in the distance, I can now tell, there are no coincidences, there are still unhealed wounds related to the emotions which are manifesting in that southern region of my body.  I should admit it: most of my spiritual life was based on the hard work and practice  with my heart and mind, becoming totally disconnected from my navel downwards, as if it was a piece of useless flesh of which I could get rid.  You name it.



Me ha llevado casi cuatro años poder sentarme frente al teclado y comenzar a escribir sobre eso que no se nombra, que da vergüenza mencionar, porque apenas si tengo 53 años y en aquel momento, la doctora que me atendió dijo que era una condición que sólo afectaba de ese modo a personas de más de 70.  Por momentos leí mucho, investigué, tuve algunos intentos fallidos de buscar soluciones y luego me fui encerrando, aquietando, avejentando y de algún modo oxidando; multiplicando las dificultades para movilizarme, trasladarme o mover mi cuerpo sin experimentar dolor o molestia.  

Así como había sucedido con Endo, los médicos que visité en su momento, no supieron darme ninguna solución viable, segura y libre de efectos colaterales adversos.  Mi intuición, mi cuerpo y mi sabiduría interna me decían a gritos que nuevamente, la cirugía no sería la solución.

Una deja de hablar, por vergüenza, por miedo al rechazo, por todas las veces que intentó explicar y los rostros incómodos nos llamaron al silencio, para callar anticipadamente los juicios y las opiniones que no respetan nuestras decisiones, y porque simplemente nos cuesta aceptar que nuestro cuerpo ya no pueda hacer libremente lo que antes hacía.

Sin embargo, una conversación a corazón abierto con una mujer menor que yo, donde cada una se mostró vulnerable y compartimos experiencias de una misma dolencia, me sirvió para recuperar mi instinto de conservación, archivado con los estudios médicos que decretaron esa incapacidad latente que no alcanzaba para pedir una pensión pero sí para limitar mi vida.



We all have that inner wisdom which tells us what our body needs, but there are times when we forget about the wild woman's instincts and we try to be normal enough to find magic solutions with a GP or a soulless gynecologist.  I started behaving like an elderly woman because I was told my condition was only usual with women above 70 and there were no effective solutions for someone who was about to become 50 years old. ( I am 53 now.)

Words can be dangerous and powerful when we give away our power.  We do not realize how deep they go into our emotions and mind until we feel how  fast our body is aging.  We keep ourselves isolated, not only because it is hard enough to climb on a bus, but because if we do not go out it is easier to avoid awkward questions about our health.  People tend to ask far too many questions when you don't look sick and your condition is invisible to their eyes.  We prefer silence, we are ashamed of talking about what is going on with our organs but we also keep people from judging our choices and we avoid nasty looks when we give accurate information and too many details.  Hence, we feel lonely, helpless and hopeless.  Loneliness brings misery and misery calls defeat.

I was talking to a woman the other day,  just out of the blue we ended up talking about prolapse and how difficult it is for her to go to work every day.  She is younger than me and she also believes surgery is not the way out and it cannot improve our lives but make them worse.  She told me how her mother, who is more than 80 years old now, had taken some pills (I guess they were hormones.) and her prolapse was just reversed when she was about our age.  It was  like tapping on the wild woman's head.

I started researching and reading again and I found the way to start moving my body.



Como terapeuta holística, sabía que mi cuerpo estaba envejeciendo por la falta de movimiento; podía sentir, más allá de las limitaciones por el desgarro muscular interno, que todo estaba dejando de funcionar, que las articulaciones habían perdido su capacidad y que la flexibilidad había pasado a ser sólo un recuerdo.  Intenté varias veces en los últimos años buscar ayuda, pero después de una o dos clases, abandonaba.  La mayoría de los centros holísticos que ofrecen actividades físicas, están diseñados para gente joven, sana y sin dificultad alguna para moverse.  Todas las actividades implican sentarse en posición de loto, relajar o elongar sobre una manta o apenas una colchoneta fina y poner en riesgo la poca salud que queda.  La primera experiencia fue Pilates, porque en sus orígenes era una practica para generar movilidad en las personas que no podían moverse o levantarse siquiera de la cama (pacientes con heridas de guerra en aquel entonces).  Sin embargo, la mayoría de los centros de pilates, poco saben de limitaciones y te indican una rutina que debes repetir tú sola y que es igual o parecida a la rutina que hacen todas las personas que asisten.  Luego vinieron lugares con escaleras empinadas, actividades de piso que nunca podía seguir y explicaciones (lágrimas mediante) sobre porque no podía sentarme facilmente en el piso.  También había intentado al principio con Tai-Chi, que me había servido muchas veces para recuperarme físicamente y conectar con mi cuerpo, pero las molestias me desalentaban demasiado rápido.

Luego de la charla de hace unos días que me hizo recuperar mi instinto de conservación y las ganas de estar bien, retomé la lectura y la investigación: descubrí Chair Yoga y recordé los videos específicos que había visto alguna vez con secuencias para fortalecer el suelo pelvico y retraer el prolapso en muchos casos.  Con POP son todos 'baby steps', hay que tomarse todo con calma, ir despacio, prestar atención a la forma en que caminas, te mueves, respiras, te sientas, te paras, te acuestas y haces las cosas rutinarias de todos los días.  Uno de los comentarios que había hecho 'click' en mi cabeza, durante la charla, fue la historia de su mamá, que a nuestra edad, hace más de 30 años atrás, el médico le había dado unas pastillas que habían hecho que el prolpaso retrocediera y los organos volvieran literalmente a su lugar.  Esta anciana mujer no recuerda qué tomó, pero, luego de leer e investigar, supongo que fueron estrógenos, alguna terapia de reemplazo hormonal.  La anécdota que contó fue muy específica porque ella recuerda cómo sus órganos de algún modo se 'desinflamaron'  y nunca más volvieron a salir fuera de su lugar.  Ya había leído  y visto unos videos en inglés sobre los ejercicios de suelo pélvico y cómo con fisioterapia se puede revertir POP, pero creo que escucharlo en mi idioma nativo y de alguien que conozco, produjo el efecto que mi mente necesitaba.



Cuatro días consecutivos han marcado mi propio record.  Sé que han sido varios años de posponer mi propia rehabilitación.  Afortunadamente he sido lo suficientemente cuidadosa para que la condición no empeorará.

El primer paso, el primer día fue probar la secuencia de Yoga en una silla y un ejercicio de meditación/respiración específico para restablecer la salud en el cuerpo.  La secuencia de ejercicios que estoy usando se usa con pacientes de cancer, con adultos mayores y con personas que sufren de dolor crónico.  Entrando en el quinto día, puedo decir que el cuerpo se siente diferente y el sólo hecho de recuperar la esperanza en una mejor calidad de vida, determina una actitud de salud emocional que nos conecta nuevamente con el amor, respeto y cuidado que merece nuestro cuerpo.  Al segundo día agregué la rutina de la primer semana de una de las series de Lift Pelvic Organ Support Series de Fem Fusion Fitness.  Eso significó animarme a trabajar en el piso con la asistencia de una silla.  Volver al piso es todo un desafío, las articulaciones hacen ruidos extraños como bisagras viejas; pero el alivio tenue, leve, a cuenta gotas, es una gran bendición y hasta parece que el cuerpo pesara menos.



Chair Yoga was a great discovery and the first step.  It is practised by people who suffer from cancer, chronic pain or elderly people.  It has allowed me to start moving again without pain or discomfort.  I also started doing the Breath of Ten Meditation to Become Dis-Ease Free. On the second day,  I was brave enough to start working on the floor again, with the help of a chair; thus, I started with the first week of the Lift Pelvic Organ Support Series from Fem Fusion Fitness.  It's been four days without giving up and that's a lot for me.  Relief, flexibility and moments without pain or discomfort are slowly increasing;  but every tiny achievement is a blessing for my body.

There are other natural remedies which I am trying, but I will only share them when I am quite sure they work.  Meanwhile, just being able to write about POP for the first time represents a bungee jump into the vast ocean of light where my soul dwells. It means starting a whole new journey of self healing.



Estoy experimentando con otras medicinas naturales para mejorar y reparar los tejidos, pero sólo hablaré de ellas cuando tenga seguridad de que funcionan.  Mientras tanto, haber tenido el coraje de escribir sobre POP y animarme a publicarlo (Porque hay muchas mujeres allí afuera, de mi edad y más jóvenes que se sienten tan perdidas como yo lo estuve.) es como saltar en caída libre y navegar ese océano de luz donde mi alma reside para descubrir que así como puedo ayudar a otras personas, puedo ayudarme a mí misma.  Es comenzar un nuevo viaje de sanación emocional y arrodillarme frente a mi cuerpo para honrararlo, perdonarlo, pedirle perdón por tantos años de descuido, amarlo, respetarlo y reconocerlo como el templo sagrado donde mi espíritu habita.

Susie
Writing before dawn
January 18th, 2018

Nota: El próximo paso, quizá sea escribir una historia como hice con Besos Amarillos.



lunes, 25 de diciembre de 2017

Falling to pieces at Xmas

When you feel you are finally getting out of the darkness or that even when you face dark moments, you can go beyond them and find peace and light in just being yourself, pain bounces back cracking the wound which you thought was already healing.  Here I am, once again falling to pieces.




Thoughts
It looks like if you grow too much, if you think too much, an army of ghostly bodies will try to empty your heart and mind until no traces are left of the original soul, which lives beyond your shadows.
From the book ‘Pieces’
Soledad Lorena

I’ve been busy building, designing, crossing, knitting and writing bridges.  I’ve been even helping people to work with their own bridges.

I’ve gone through a very deep and intense healing journey to bless all the wounds and to leave the past where it is.  Living in the moment, being present and trying not to worry about the future, has been my personal lesson this year.



But you know, every time there is a blast of anger, words and resentment; I realize my children still dwell in the past.  Their own wounds keep them broken, so broken and so damaged that they cannot but hurt other people and themselves.

For every bridge I have repaired and mended, they have grown so distant or maybe it’s me; walking into the light far away from remorse and guilt has kept me so distant from the people I love the most: my own children.

Their hearts are so close and full of anger and pain; they are so far away from God, their own soul and the Holy Spirit, that we do not talk the same language any more. The bonds and bridges among them are also broken and when crossed, they are only used for times of war.

As a mother, on this Holy day of Christmas, I ask myself: how can I be happy or even fill my heart with joy when my own children are so hurt and so broken that my heart is in pain?  Few friends know the story, the nest was destroyed too son, this family was broken long ago and since then, we have survived trying to do as if everything was ok, trying not to miss each other, trying not to ask for a moment of love and joy.



I know, if they are in their thirties I can do nothing but pray and let them live their choices.  If I get closer, toxic relations bring me down and seem to be useless because we live in different worlds and dimensions.  If I keep distance, then they can come shouting and swearing for whatever tiny thorn is bothering them.

My hands are tied and that makes me feel helpless and useless.  They do not want help; they do not even believe they need it.

When you are a single mother and you have raised them on your own, they tend to blame you for everything, it is not the missing parent who did nothing, but the mother who was always there making all the decisions and choices, for better or worse.

Coming to my place, spending a moment of peace, surrounded with good energies and beauty seems to stir their most negative emotions and behaviours.

For some reason, the lighter the place, the stronger I feel, the healthier my heart looks and the sole look of tended gardens and mended bridges; the deeper the darkness in them which comes out as poisonous words and aggressive manners.

I cannot dwell in the past any more, I no longer wallow in my wounds and I am not willing to wallow in their pain either.

It is said that when we become mothers pieces of our hearts live outside us, walking around and making us feel their paces, we breathe what they breathe and whatever hurts them hurts us the most.

A warrior of light learns to walk away from parents, brothers and friends;  a warrior of light feels at ease walking along the less travelled path, a warrior of light gives away her own colours to knit perfect wings for her children and remains empty and colourless for years, a warrior of light learns about loneliness and solitude;  a warrior of light has not country, town, home or even a planet.



But setting boundaries with your own children can be the most challenging lesson.

Let go.
Let God.
Only God knows.
Susannah
December 25th, 2017 

martes, 7 de mayo de 2013

An ocean of waves




“I have sea foam in my veins,
for I understand
the language of waves.”
~ Le Testament d’Orphee


Reading these verses helps me understand why I keep myself far away from the sea and the ocean.  I know if I am close to the sea I will just surrender, I will not be able to take so much water without feeling disturbed.

And so it happens with certain energies.  There is no grey shade, either I keep them flowing like a roaring river or I keep them buried under peaceful graves.

It should not amaze me, but it does.  When you think everything is quiet and running smoothly and you are making your way out of the darkness, when you are seeking for light and healing and you even dream of ancient voices taking care of your wounds, then it happens.  The river, the grave, the feelings which were thought to be dead and the connection which was thought not to work anymore, burst altogether into burning lava.

I know the rules, if you try to align your chakras and if you dance to the moon, all the hidden secrets will wake up and look into your eyes.  There is no possible clearing if all sources are not open and alive.

Therefore, Mother Mercy, nothing have I learnt, for my heart longs for a soul not ready to shine under the sun of love.  It is just so hard to take when you have so much to give and there’s no one willing to receive.

Once again, there is the trick, I start to believe the Goddess can live in me, I find my path to light and forgiveness, I reach peace and harmony and smile at all what I am but your name knocks at all the locked doors and I become a mess in the blink of an eye.

Susie
Soledad Lorena
May 7th, 2013

viernes, 1 de marzo de 2013

Being an Unmothered Child



My whole life has been an endless voyage seeking for healing, for understanding and for peace.  From the very beginning (at the age of two or three), I thought something was really wrong with me and I was all the time trying to fix that.

I’ve read books, I’ve joined groups, I’ve talked to people and no matter how high my spirit could fly, I would always have to go back because there was something missing.
There are times when clues are just uncovered and we can put all the pieces together and finally say: this is it.


A friend of mine sent me the Audio for “Warming the Stone Child” by Clarissa Pinkola Estés last night.  It was just a “coincidence” because I was looking for one of her new books.  Nevertheless when I started listening to it I realized I have been an unmothered child with collapsing syndrome and orphan complex altogether.

On one hand, the fact of being able to name it helps to understand things from the point of view of the left-hand side of my brain.  On the other hand, it makes me feel less weird and it gives the emotional right-hand side of my brain a relief for not being wrong, for knowing that everything up to now has been a natural response to a very unlucky and painful childhood.

On the audio, Clarissa advises unmothered children to look at their favourite stories or books when they were children.  It does make sense, my favourite stories were:

Alice in Wonderland: what shocked me more was that the characters in the forest went for Happy Unbirthday and they had a tea party almost every day of the year but for one day.  I was delighted by the idea that each day should be celebrated and there was a reason to be happy.  I myself was not happy even on my Birthday “parties”.

The Wizard of Oz: I wanted to be Dorothy with my red shoes.  I wanted to be able to click my heels and find my way home, my true home where I could feel safe.  I wanted to find each of the witches and ask them all the questions nobody around me could answer.  I also wanted to help people find their heart like she did with Tin Man, because I was so sensitive and I had been born in a family who were Inuit themselves.

Heidi:  I read that book hundreds of times.   I can still recall the images I could see and the feelings I had when I read it.  I was Heidi. I wanted to be wild and free.  I wanted to be happy.  I can still see the fireplace at her grandpa’s cottage.  I can see the mountains; I can see her (myself) running and laughing in that place.  I can smell cheese melting and tasting it with homemade bread.  Melted cheese is still one of my favourite ingredients in meals and it comes from that reading.


Now, I can understand where my intuition comes from.  I can understand why the coldest the environment was the strongest my intuition grew.  I can also understand why I feel alive when I write.  As Estés states:

“One of the great gifts of the unmothered child - and also the healer, and the writer and the musician and all those in the arts who live so close with their ear against the heartbeat of the archetypal unconscious - one of their strongest aspects is intuition."

I would like to share one of the stories on the audio, there are many, but listening to this one was like reading Heidi through the eyes of the adult woman I am now.

The Stone Child – An Inuit Story
Told by Clarissa Pinkola Estes
 
There was an orphan that was so lonely and so hungry that no one wanted to be near him.  His mouth was open all the time and his teeth were always showing and tears were always running down from his eyes, and he was so wild with hunger that they had to tie him in the entrance to one of the skin houses so he’d not try to eat the hunters on their way to the seal hunt; that’s how hungry he was. 
They would, on occasion, leave him some rancid reindeer meat or maybe some spoiled intestines to eat, but, as we know, it was more than hunger that was gnawing at him.  Those deep needs that not even the person themselves understand.  So everyday he stretched his chain a little bit and a little bit more, until he could get near a stone that was more or less the same size as himself.   
You see, his mother and father had died one night, and their bodies had been dragged off by bears, and all that had been left behind by them was this one particular stone.  So he wrapped both his arms and his legs around that rock and he wouldn’t let go of it.  And, of course, his people thought he was crazier than ever, and on their way home from the hunt, with animal carcasses slung over their shoulders, they would jeer at him, and they would say, “Analuk has taken a stone for a wife, ha ha.  It’s good for you to have a wife who is a stone, for then you cannot use your hunger and eat her.”  And they went on their way.   
But the boy was so lonely and so hungry that he really had reached the end of his feeling for life.  And even though he had that terrible loneliness and that gnawing hunger, he kept his body wrapped around that stone, and because the stone began to take the heat from his flesh, the boy began to die.  The stone took the heat from his hands, and then it took the heat from his thighs, and it even took the heat from his chin where he rested it on top of the stone.   
And just as the boy was living his last breath, the hunters of his village came by again on their way home from the hunt, and again they called him down, and they said, “You crazy boy!  You are nesting with that stone like it is an egg.  We should call you Bird Boy, you good-for-nothing creature.”  And because the boy was near death, his feelings were hurt more than he could ever say, and great icy tears began to roll down his face and across his parka, and his cold, cold tears hit the hot, hot stone with a sizzle and a hiss and a crack, and it broke the stone right in two. 
And inside was the most perfect little female the boy could ever want.  “Come,” she said, “I am here now, and you are an orphan no more.”  And she gave him a bow and arrows and a harpoon she had brought with her, and the boy and the girl made their house and had babies.  And, if they are not yet dead, they are in that land where the snow is violet and the night sky is black.  They are there, living still.
The story was transcribed from Estes’ audio recording, Warming the Stone Child: Myths and Stories about Abandonment and the Unmothered Child.  
Transcription taken from Keri.
You do not have to be good.  You do not have to walk on your knees for a hundred miles through the desert, repenting.  You only have to let the soft animal of your body love what it loves.- Mary Oliver
Susie
March 01st, 2013


Spiders and Webs


I've loved Dream Catchers since a friend from Montana gave me one as a precious gift and told me the legend when they were not so popular in this country yet.

Now that you can get them anywhere, I always have a couple of them at home although I doubt they are made with the same care and purpose.

Lately, spiders have been invading my house and my bedroom.  I tend to think in terms of signs, clues and symbols.  Therefore I asked Melissa and Lloyd (Fox & Owl) their opinion and this is what they replied:



"Spiders are really quite lovely!! 
Spider (Major Totem Energy Surrounding You) Protection, Aid, Wisdom, Creativity, Dreamer, Architect, Manifesting, Communication, Messages
Spider sits upon the wheel (web) a delicate creature, doing delicate work. Weaving her web (or weaving a tapestry, a story, connecting the past, present, and future. A Seer in her own right, wisely discerning what to communicate and what to remain silent about. 
The Ojibwa people hang hoops of spider webs over their infants to protect them from harmful influences.
Southwest American Indian Tribes associate spider with grandmother spider, a grandmother spirit that lives underground. She rises from the realm to offer advice, particularly before a dangerous undertaking. Spider grandmother is linked to past and future. 
Spider holds the thread, and weaves it between the spiritual and physical worlds. 
Spider reminds us that we weave our own fate. We make the choices. It is our story to tell. 
Turn spider on her side (two sections to a spider) and you see the infinity symbol.
Fear is also associated with spider. As well as overcoming them." 

I've chosen a picture of a Light Catcher made by a magic friend Romina.  This Light Catcher is hanging in my bedroom, it looks wonderful at any time of the day and it always gives me a sense of peace and belonging.