A Hope For Health

My body, generous and resourceful as she is, has been communicating with me in ways far clearer than little nagging thoughts and inconvenient feelings. She has been setting boundaries for me through chronic inflammation that keeps anyone from getting too close and defies clear diagnosis and effective treatment. I have spent the past year working with naturopathic and allopathic practitioners, and testing out remedies in on-line forums, and have experienced everything from subtle short-term improvements to painful side effects to doctors telling me there is nothing more they can do. Some of my friends caution me against reading too much into it, reminding me that sometimes a health issue is just a health issue, but I am convinced that whether in its genesis or its persistence, this condition is an alarm bell, alerting me to a deeper message I have not yet heard, and I am now desperate to listen as closely as I can.

No one likes to see someone they care about suffer and be unable to help, and the very nature of chronic distress carry hints of despair and resignation. Stories of the body can seem too vulgar or private for polite conversation. And any discussion of women’s issues, especially ones that compromise her desirability as a partner trigger shame and embarrassment. There are no marches or ribbons or t-shirts for the pain that festers in secret, enabling us to function, but gradually draining our vitality and hope. If I am willing to speak out about my anxiety and fear, and how they shape my world, I must own all of the things that threaten my spirit so that I can walk my path with acceptance, and offer companionship to those who also suffer in silence.

The first thing this did for me last summer was make it impossible to remain intimate with a man when I was over-riding my deeper knowing that he was not right for me. I have always longed for casual expression of my often-times overwhelming vitality, but I am built for bonding and my sensitive nature rebels against anyone, even me, forcing it into anything that will not last.

The second thing it did for me was persist past the demise of the relationship, not being satisfied with physical boundaries alone. I had to change my pattern of compromising my inner voice by eating and drinking copious amounts of baked goods and fine Scotch to both celebrate and tolerate an overly-stimulating life. What I required my body to put energy into processing, and the raw material that was becoming its every cell, had to be nourishing so that I was strong enough to hear and trust my own intuition about how to navigate the world.

The third thing it did was persist beyond even that, to a bewildering and desperate place where I wondered, “What am I doing wrong?! I will do ANYTHING – just tell me what it is!” On a hunch, I returned to a previous naturopath, who is also an acupuncturist and RN. She was appalled to hear how chronic my condition had become and gave me three promising new treatment options. True to my word, I was eager to start them all immediately. When my SIBO test came back positive for an overgrowth of bacteria in my small intestine, something that my doctor was increasingly seeing associated with chronic women’s health issues, I cried with relief and gratitude. I didn’t care about the complex, expensive treatment, the high relapse rate, or the long recovery tim, which often required permanent lifestyle changes. All I cared about was the hope that I could have my life back – not just the intimacy and connection, but the ability to truly enjoy food again for the first time in years – something I had not even realized I had gradually lost the ability to do.

Ironically, this treatment to address my loss of ability to enjoy the sensual pleasures in life, a craving sewn into my core, required me to become rigidly fanatical about the expression of my healthy appetites. I have had to learn to relate to men by prioritizing mutual interests and personality because I can no longer drown out incompatibility with a rush of endorphins. I have had to learn to prepare and enjoy the foods that are available to me and endure sometimes panic-inducing periods of mid-day hunger because of medication I must take on an empty stomach. I would prefer a life of moderation, but I also admit that one of the reasons I find myself in this position is that I seem unable to truly embrace that. When I face temptation, I indulge to the point of physical pain, and if I am to keep my body and spirit healthy, I must find satisfaction in a more subtle and measured relationship with my body.

Another layer of my treatment emerged through my naturopath’s recommendation that I explore the work of Tami Kent, an internationally celebrated women’s health physical therapist who addresses muscular and energetic misalignments in the pelvic bowl. I discovered that one aspect of my inflammation felt very much like the extreme muscular tension which has often arisen to shut out unwelcome touch. Suddenly, the chronic tension I hold in my upper back, neck, and shoulders, exacerbated by a series of injures, took on new meaning. And a visit to an energy worker revealed significant blockages in my first and second chakras – those that express creative energy both sexually and through one’s work in the world.

While taking all of this in, I realized that my core was preventing me from healing intimacy because of all the energy I was putting into holding back my genuine self-expression. I was flooded with all the times my husband had told me he was embarrassed by my full-bellied laugh, felt exhausted by the pace and pitch of my speech, ignored my spirited singing, or was frightened by my expressions of anger and discontent. I recalled all the times at work that I withheld my outrage, my anxiety, and my tenderness in order to earn approval and trust and belonging, and how that contributed to my deep sense of isolation. I had drawn all that energy inside of me, sacrificing my health and expression to keep the peace in my surroundings.

As I move into the intensive antibiotic phase of my treatment, my commitment to healing encompasses my decisions to leave my past relationships and my job so that I can feel emotionally safe and fully free to follow the guidance my body offers. It also includes a commitment to keeping the energy of my pelvic bowl flowing through meditating daily on what is held there, swaying my hips through dance, burrowing my fingers into the earth through gardening, full-throated singing and spoken word, and shaping, firing, and glazing bowls and pelvises from the clay of the earth. My body, my voice, and my thoughts are gradually feeling more deeply rooted and the inflammation is gradually withdrawing.

This journey to regain my health has taught me two things that I desperately needed to know: that hope is more important to me than achievement, and that love is more important to me than being right. I do not know if this treatment will work, but it is easier to do what my days require because the fact that this current plan has not failed me gives me hope. I also see how much energy I wasted criticizing and resenting myself and others for making mistakes, as if it is possible to really know the right course of action ahead of time, and as if my vision of success is the best or only acceptable outcome. Admitting that despite my best intentions, I do not know how to care for myself – how to earn a living in a self-honoring way, how to keep my body energized – has been tremendously humbling and has softened me to welcoming the world onto my path in a collaborative way. I am gradually learning to stay open to new ideas, exercise my power to decide for myself, and forgive missteps in myself and others as part of the broader experience of life.

Nancy

What lessons have you learned from your body through illness? What struggles have you faced to love and honor yourself first? What makes you feel hopeful?

Author’s Update (8/15):  Since a number of readers shared a desire for more specific details regarding my health issues, I’ve overcome my shyness in order to satisfy their curiosity and hopefully offer some fellowship for any women dealing with similar issues.  I have had bouts of vaginitis since the age of 9, which flare with new sexual partners, either immediately or within the first few months.  They involve redness and burning which worsen on contact and have made the use of spermicides, tampons, and latex condoms impossible.  The diagnosis is rarely yeast, typically bacterial, and recently has persisted even though my cultures came back normal.  I had a bout two years ago that oscillated between yeast and bacteria and took three months to clear with boric acid and probiotic suppositories, and positive visualizations.  My most recent bout began a year ago and has been by far the most determined.  Treatments have included anti-fungal and anti-bacterial creams (one of which triggered neurological side effects), boric acid (which made the inflammation intolerably worse), herbal suppositories (with the same effect), peroxide douches (which triggered a mean yeast infection and took the tissue weeks to heal), vitamin E oil topically, and efforts to identify both food and environmental allergies.  My current regime as part of the SIBO treatment included oral anti-microbials for six weeks, oral antibiotics for two weeks, enzymes to dissolve biofilms, vinegar douching, and two rounds of antibiotic cream (my naturopath found a new one that my allopath didn’t know about).  The inflammation remains unresolved and it is unclear if it is currently bacteria or irritation from the interventions.