The Way Out

Most of the time when I tell people that I have chronic, full body pain- they look at me like I’m lying. 

Sometimes they say- there’s no way my pain is like their pain. 

They don’t think I get it. 

But here’s the thing. 

I do. 

Once upon a time – not so long ago – my pain was so debilitating that it would literally freeze me mid-motion, and I just had to stay like that until that sharp, stabbing, relentless pain finally decided to let me loose. 

Some days I couldn’t get out of bed. 

And at one point- my pain got so bad that there was only one thing that made me feel better. 

Getting comfy on the couch and eating comfort food. 

It started off fine. It felt like a nice relaxing hobby but then my habit changed.

It escalated. 

I noticed it when my plate was empty- I felt let down and kind of sad. 

I didn’t want that moment to end. 

It felt so good. 

So I started adding more chips to my plate. 

And then more chips. 

And more chips. 

Pretty soon I was going back for seconds, thirds, and sometimes fourths of everything. 

I started ordering larger meals. 

I started stocking up on snack foods. 

And pretty soon it felt like I blinked and I went from being an athlete to 250 pounds of couch potato. 

I couldn’t tie my shoes comfortably.

I couldn’t breath comfortably. 

I couldn’t move well in my body. 

I was completely uncomfortable in my own skin. 

But it didn’t matter how uncomfortable I was making myself. 

The only time I felt peaceful anymore was when I was eating – after the day was done and I could just relax. 

I truly believed that. 

All of it. 

That it was good for me. 

That I was peaceful. 

That it was needed. 

I didn’t think that it was truly hurting me. 

I learned that you can ignore anything that you really want to-

Until you can’t. 

I had to face everything. 

When I started yoga- that was when I realized that I couldn’t lie to myself anymore. 

I was literally dying. 

I couldn’t breathe, I was sweating profusely, I couldn’t move – my body felt like a prison. 

As I laid on my mat at the end of that class wondering how in the world I even made it to the end of that class, all I could do was try to catch my breath. 

I went home after that class and I didn’t want to eat. 

I didn’t want to crack open a bottle of wine. 

I wanted to write. 

I wanted to move. 

I wanted to have great conversations. 

I wanted more life. 

I didn’t think that I would keep going because it was honestly too hard. I didn’t think that I had it in me to keep going and mentally, I was mortified in that class. I didn’t belong there. I honestly thought that I needed to get into shape on my own before I tried going to class again. 

But I knew I wouldn’t get in shape on my own. 

I knew that if I quit I would go right back to my old habits. 

My brain said I wasn’t going back- but my body walked me right back into the studio over and over and over again until my brain finally realized that this was happening. 

I was fundamentally, once again, changing the core of who I was. 

I will never forget all those classes that I straight up struggled through. 

I will never forget the first time I touched my toes and I almost started crying right there in class. 

I will never forget the tears that I did shed on that mat when certain poses opened up my heart, opened up my hips- and the emotion just fell out of my body. 

I had no control over it. I had no idea that I had so much stored energy in my body begging to be let out. 

I had no idea that so much of the way I walked through life was because of my reaction to what I had been through in life. 

I had no idea that I could choose anything different than what I had been choosing – until those classes set me free. Before that, it didn’t feel like a choice. It felt like a life sentence.

Every time I walked into a new space or a new instructor’s class, or a new type of class- I was scared. I felt unprepared and out of place. I acknowledged the feelings and then I went anyway. 

I showed up. 

I let people think whatever they wanted about me. 

It wasn’t about them. 

This was about me. 

I had to find a way to shut off all the eyes and the voices that were watching me and telling me that I didn’t belong. 

I knew that it didn’t matter if any of this was actually true on the outside. 

The place that I believed it the most- was internally. 

That was me vs. me and now that I was aware of it, I was determined to find ways to change it. 

I started getting a lot more comfortable in my body and the weight started to fall off. 

I thought my pain would leave with it, but it didn’t. 

And then, I fell. 

I was at the grocery store with my hands full of items to put in the cart. I stepped straight down into a puddle of liquid that had been spilt in an isle. 

I slid.

I pulled the entire muscle in the back of my leg. 

I couldn’t bend my foot. I couldn’t bend my leg. I couldn’t put any weight on it. 

I was screwed. 

It felt like fire screaming through my body. 

I tried everything to heal it – but it wasn’t healing quickly. 

Life forced me to slow down and all I could see was everything slipping away from me. 

I went right back to my old habits and I was wallowing in self pity. 

I started gaining weight back and my mental health was tanking fast. 

I started drinking a lot more again and I started sealing in that this up and down rollercoaster was just the story of my life and it always would be. 

I would never get ahead. 

I would never be successful. 

I would always be 2 steps forward and 10 steps back. 

I was drowning. I was depressed again. Everything sucked. 

And I could not see, even a little bit, that I was what was wrong. 

My mentality was creating this. 

My reaction to what had happened was keeping me down. 

My pain was worse. 

It jumped all over my body. 

That was the first time that I started to connect that when my mental health was like this- my body pain was at its worst. 

A little sliver of truth was starting to make its way through. 

I was choosing my reaction to what happened, was I also choosing pain? 

That felt insane. Of course I wasn’t choosing pain. 

What a stupid thing to think.

Or was it? 

Time went on. 

I stayed in this way of living for a bit until one day I was over it. 

The thought of sitting on the couch watching tv and eating made me want to jump out of my own skin. I was so tired of feeling like life was passing me by again. 

I got up and started working on yoga that I could do. I started researching ways to rehab my leg at home. I had a wonderful human that let me borrow a boot so that I could get around a little easier when I needed it. 

I started looking at what I could do instead of wallowing in what I couldn’t. 

When it hurt, and my brain immediately wanted to create an excuse to allow myself to quit and go back to the couch- I said no. 

I said “try it differently” instead. And I did. I found ways to move that didn’t hurt. I found ways to lightly advance my muscles and show them and my brain that they were safe. I wasn’t going to push myself too hard. I was listening. I was following their lead. 

Something magical happened. 

I started hearing my body. 

I started understanding it differently which impacted my movement in the best way. It allowed me to move with my body and all of a sudden I didn’t feel like we were at war with each other. I wasn’t thinking that it was “in the way” or “out of shape”. I started seeing the progress. I started seeing all the stress that I had put on it over the years. I started thanking it. 

I started seeing my pain as reminders to straighten up and check my posture, check in with my mental health, and I started seeing the parts of my body that I hated differently too. 

I didn’t see fat, or flab or weakness that I hated anymore. 

I started to see why I was weak in those areas. I started to understand why my body held fat where it did. I started to see which muscles had been overworked, underworked and how to unify them. I started understanding the trauma and stress I had put on those areas.

I started to truly understand that it was just a bunch of little shifts that I need to make and consistently check in with. 

I started treating all the different parts of my body as my home. 

I started caring for all of it. 

I still have pain, but I can genuinely feel good even when I am experiencing pain. 

When it is overwhelming I have learned to listen to it. 

I have started to understand neuroplastic pain and the loops that we get into that causes “untreatable” and “undiagnosable” pain in the body. 

I stopped feeling like I didn’t stand a chance at healing. 

I stopped venomously hating the medical world for the lack of support and information. 

I started trusting myself and strengthening my inner world connections. 

I learned that absolutely anything is possible the more we learn to love ourselves exactly as we are. 

This is just a small part of my journey with full body pain but I write this today in hopes that someone out there reads this and feels seen, heard and less alone. Chronic pain is lonely, isolating and can be completely devastating. It can stop your entire world as you know it.

This little piece of my story serves as a reminder that things can change no matter how dire they seem. I cried leaving more doctors appointments that I can count thinking that I would NEVER have the answers that I needed. I would never have a solution that gave me a beautiful quality of life- but I found it, and every single day- I find more. Every single day- I am trying – and every single day- life looks a little differently than it did before. 

For anyone that reads this and heard neuroplastic pain and felt a glimmer of hope inside – I encourage you to read “The Way Out” by Alan Gordon. It is an easy, quick read that completely changed my life and not only the way I viewed my pain- but also the tools I have within to manage and understand my pain. 

Thank you for being here- thank you for staying hopeful even when it feels completely lost. 

I see you. 

You are not alone.