Legacy

What is your life about?

Over the past decade, so much of my distress about being chronically ill stemmed not only from pain and fear of pain, but also from the fear that my life would be small, that I would not accomplish what I wished because of my limitations.

I recently heard an interview with a coach named Remy Chausse, who mentioned that our legacies can be a "beingness" instead of a "doingness;" that our gift to the world is not what we do, but how we do it.

I find in that little nugget of wisdom a great relief. A state of "being" is accessible to anyone, anywhere, while many types and ways of "doing" are restricted. I will never be a professional basketball player, or climb Mount Everest, but I can BE any way I want to be, and I can bring that wholly unique beingness to the things that I am able to do.

This concept lifts the question that plagues so many of us angsty Americans, "What should I do with my life?" Suddenly, finding the perfect job or spouse or living arrangement is not the goal, but rather showing up completely to whatever situation presents itself. This shift allows our need to control our external circumstances to fall away, while opening an easeful passage to attracting the structures that will most support us.

My life will therefore be as small or large as I choose, as disappointing or magnificent as I allow it to be. This notion is wonderfully comforting, satisfying my ambitious side while at the same time orienting me to what matters most in life: love. Being in line with my highest and best self.

No matter the ups and downs of your pelvic pain journey, I hope you remember or at least consider this idea. Yes, pelvic pain brings with it many losses, an erasure of some "doings," permanently or temporarily. But do not count among these losses your ability to live a rich, full, beautiful life. 

Healing is Easier when You Love Yourself

If you had asked me ten years ago if I loved myself, I would have said "Of course," and not given it much thought. Yet I have come to realize how little that was true.

Over the years, I have slowly noticed the many not-loving things I do and say to myself on a regular basis. Tracing back their origins, I see that these actions and thoughts were born from my upbringing, the culture I was raised in. Like most Americans, I was raised in a competitive environment. "Achieve, Succeed" was the mantra, and I was taught to push myself harder and farther, to excel, because nothing less was acceptable. Being okay was always another achievement away, tantalizingly close but forever out of reach. Accepting oneself in the moment seemed akin to failure - not only failing yourself, your family, your school, your community, but also God.

I took the mantra to heart and beat myself relentlessly. Years later, having left the religion of my birth, finished school, moved across the country, gone to hours of therapy, and adopted a new value system, the attitude remains. I am still learning how to quiet the incessant overseer of my mind, and listen to my higher self instead:

I am enough.

Exactly as I am today, with all my gifts and flaws, I am enough.

It has taken me a long time to realize embracing this attitude won't lead to atrophy. Quite the opposite. This change has redirected the energy I used to spend on anxiety and self-hate into the more pleasurable and productive activities of growing and learning, taking on new challenges and being ambitious.

And yet now and again I catch myself taking something as Truth that is not. "My work is not good enough," I might think, or "I don't measure up to so-and-so." I am grateful when I catch myself, because then I have the opportunity to correct the situation, amend it with love. "This work is excellent," "so-and-so has beautiful gifts to bring to the world and so do you."

Learning to love myself is a process that I will take the rest of my lifetime. And I am so glad to be doing it. 

As far as my background with pelvic pain goes, experiencing illness as someone who hates herself is much more difficult than experiencing illness as someone who loves herself. 

It is easier to look for help when you love yourself. It is easier to find and be a part of a community. It is easier to speak up for yourself at the doctor's office, to do your physical therapy exercises, to ice diligently when you love yourself. The whole process of healing becomes easier, more gentle through self-love.

Think of this post the next time you blame yourself for being sick, or beat yourself up for not getting better faster, or decide that you must be a loser because your illness prevents you from doing X. Take all of that frustrated energy and transform it, re-direct it with love.

We cannot change the facts of our illness, but we can endlessly transmute our response to it. That is where our power lies, our character lies; that is where we become who we want to be, regardless of the circumstances of our bodies.

When I look at who I have become through pelvic pain, I am very proud of myself. I have chosen to be tough, to be gentle, to never give up; I have chosen to be compassionate, to understand, to nurture.

I chose love.

What do you choose?

#imEnough

On Saturday at the BlogHer conference (again, I know) I saw the new band The Mrs introduce their first single, "Enough." The song brought tears to my eyes and I was not the only one. Here's the song, and the inspiration behind it. And if you are as pumped as I am about this development on the pop scene, here's where you can buy swag.

If you are anything like me, your pelvic pain has done a number on your self-esteem. Think of this single as good medicine. Yes, you may have pain, but you are not broken - you are enough, just the way you are.

Can't wait for The Mrs to come out with a full length album and go on tour. I'll be in the front row, screaming like a teenager!