I am a woman who, according to the Texas government, lost my fetus during delivery at 38.5 weeks. When she died, I was given a “fetal death certificate.” There was no birth certificate and there was no birth despite the fact I spent 17 hours in labor and delivered a 7 pound 11 ounce “fetus.” She was a much loved and desired baby in our family, and her death 23 years and 2 weeks ago was devastating to us all.

For most of the past year, abortion has been illegal in Texas where I am after a “heartbeat” occurs at 6-6.5 weeks, two weeks after a person misses their period and only four weeks after conception occurred. These rapidly dividing cells are not viable at all. Many people don’t even know they are pregnant at that point. Yet the right wing in our country insists these cells are a baby, not a fetus, as my term child was labeled.

The short version logic of why my child was a fetus and not a baby: to prevent us from claiming a stillborn child on our tax returns. Had she lived for even one second, that tax credit would have kicked in. However, the government wants to make sure we and other bereaved parents didn’t get an ounce of money out of our child’s death. Therefore when it suited them, she became a fetus rather than a baby.

And now, in 30 days, all abortion will be illegal in Texas thanks to Roe v. Wade being overturned. If I should need an abortion due to my advanced age (48) and multitude of health issues that would make carrying a pregnancy to term dangerous for me, I will have to travel many states away, a huge challenge with my health problems. I use birth control when I have sexual partners, but we all know that the only birth control that is 100% effective is abstinence and/or removal of reproductive organs. Even vasectomies and tubal ligations fail. In the cases of rape and incest? Birth control is often not an option for the person with a uterus.

After losing my oldest daughter, I spent a great deal of time on infant loss boards in the early days of the internet. I met so many people who lost children to genetic conditions that were incompatible with life. I met people who chose to have late pregnancy terminations when they discovered their child was not going to live no matter how hard they prayed. Conditions like anencephaly, the absence of a brain, are not compatible with life. None who had late term abortions did so without extreme grief.

There is a huge hypocrisy of conservative leaders. My life and its safety don’t matter, nor do those of any other person who have a uterus. What matters is controlling women. It’s not about babies, as my daughter’s fetal death certificate demonstrates. It’s making sure those with penises control the bodies of those with vaginas.

My throat began screaming as soon as I read about the Roe v. Wade decision. The throat is the seat of our fifth chakra, the place where communication arises from, the place where we often react when we feel unheard. I feel so unheard today, as do so many millions of other Americans who lost the rights to their bodies.

©2022 Elizabeth Galen, Ph.D., Green Heart Guidance, LLC

(My first post about receiving the Moderna COVID-19 vaccine can be found here.)

I have experienced two other significant side effects from the Moderna COVID-19 vaccine that most people aren't experiencing. However, as the saying goes, correlation is not causation, and I cannot prove that these side effects are from the vaccine. However, the results, especially when compared to what is happening with others in the world, are highly suspicious.

The first side effect requires a bit of a preface. In February 2020, I came down with viral bronchitis. I never get bronchitis; it’s just not one of the things I tend to be susceptible to. It was an odd case as well: I wasn’t coughing. I only had severe upper lobe pain on my right lung. No one else around me got sick. I went on herbs including goldenseal, and in two weeks, it had resolved.

Then, a few days later, the bronchitis came crashing back as a bacterial infection. It’s not unusual for a viral lung infection to become bacterial; this is one of the primary concerns with viral pneumonia following the flu. However, this time the lung pain was accompanied by coughing and fever any time I was not on herbs, antibiotics or anti-parasitics. The various herbs and drugs were helping control the infection but never eliminating it. Thus began an entire year of fighting a persistent and unending lung infection. I struggled to be minimally functional during this year because the infection was so draining on top of my already exhausting chronic infections.

My practitioners and I quickly became suspicious that it might be related to COVID-19, but in those early days, there was no testing available, and when it became available, it was only for those who had traveled or had been exposed to confirmed COVID-19 (which I had not). Initially government agencies weren't admitting that COVID-19 was in the US before February 2020, but reviews of blood donations and autopsy tissues have shown COVID-19 was here as early as December 2019.

Once antibody tests were available, I got one in early May 2020, but it was negative. Again, the accuracy of the antibody tests was not 100%, so the results were questionable.

The infection persisted for an entire year until February 2021. I took lots of herbs, lots of antibiotics, and lots of anti-parasitics. What was most suspicious about the drugs I was taking was that they were selected using applied kinesiology, not random guessing. The drugs that worked best for me? Levofloxacin, Augmentin, azithromycin, mebendezole, and ivermectin. Some of these are drugs that others with long haul COVID have found helpful as shown through the links above.

Because I have chronic fatigue syndrome, any of the other side effects of long haul COVID are already a part of my life. It makes it very difficult to differentiate between chronic issues and new acute ones at times. The only “new” problem was constant shortness of breath and right upper lobe lung pain.

Then I got the first COVID-19 Moderna vaccine, and within one week, the symptoms I had been battling for a year vanished completely. Nothing else changed to cause the disappearance for the pain. I no longer needed the lung herbs or drugs. And while correlation doesn’t equal causation, that result is mighty suspicious. All of my health practitioners are fairly convinced I was battling long haul COVID that cleared up with the vaccine. None of the other chronic infections in my body were impacted from the first injection, so it wasn’t just a result of my immune system being impacted from the vaccine. 

I'm not the only one who has experienced such a remission in lung symptoms after the vaccine. Others with known long-haul COVID have also found relief after the vaccine. 

The second vaccine injection side effect is one that the general population will not experience because most people don't have late-disseminated Lyme Disease as I do. In a very oversimplified explanation, the COVID-19 vaccine, like all vaccines, triggers the immune system to ramp up and respond to the vaccine. This is how it builds immunity to that particular invader. However, the immune system doesn’t necessarily differentiate between other infections and the vaccine invasion.

With the second COVID vaccine, about two weeks after the vaccine, a week after other symptoms had resolved, I began experiencing Lyme die off in massive amounts. This usually results when I have exercised too hard or have started taking an antibiotic or herb that attacks the Lyme. In this case, none of the above was true. My immune system seemingly switched from processing the vaccine to working on another chronic infection in my body.

For an entire month, I was experiencing continuous Lyme die off. Again, this is not typical. Usually Lyme die off periods only last for a week with this intensity for me. We had removed all supplements from my regime that might be provoking the die off, and yet it continued. My immune system was very ramped up and continued to fight hard against the chronic Lyme infection. Pain in particular regions of my body was the most prevalent symptom for me, but I was also dealing with overall inflammation, drowsiness, brain fog, and exhaustion. 

This Lyme die off was a good thing in the long run. It means there will be less Lyme in my body. In the short term, it meant I was in major chronic pain. I was taking herbs and drugs to manage the pain, but otherwise there was nothing else to do but let my body fight. I’m grateful that my body is fighting so hard, though there are times when I would like a lot less pain.

I’m now six weeks post-second vaccine and seem mostly back to my typical self. As I noted, there’s no way to prove causation, but it seems unlikely that anything else triggered this change in my immune system. 

​©2021 ​Elizabeth Galen, Ph.D., Green Heart Guidance, LLC

Vaccines are a topic I have generally avoided on my blog. This is because I believe there are shades of gray when it comes to vaccines, but most people see the issue as black or white. For some with compromised immune systems and severe allergic reactions, vaccines can be more deadly than the diseases they fight. However, those issues are rarely brought up in public “discussions” which are usually more like one-sided diatribes. 

For me personally, I do not do well with vaccines. I have to consider whether the vaccine side effects are worth risking compared to the prevention the vaccine will give. My immune system reacted terribly with Gardasil and thus, I only received the first vaccine; there was no way I could consider the subsequent two boosters.

​With COVID-19, though, there was no question for me that the risk of disease was way higher than the risk of vaccine reactions because I am diabetic, obese, immune compromised, and asthmatic. I knew intuitively that I wanted a Moderna or Pfizer, and as someone in group 1B in Texas, Moderna was the only widely available vaccine at the time I received my first shot in February. (If I could pick at this point, I would choose Pfizer based on the lesser reactions of those around me who got it compared to the reactions of those around me who got Moderna. My adult daughter who received Moderna feels the same way.) I was told intuitively to expect to be down for two days with the first shot and a week with the second, and that ended up being true for me.

I documented what I went through with each shot so I could let others see what someone who does not do well with vaccines went through. It was miserable, especially the second shot, but it still was better than a tube down my throat in the ICU. I will get a booster when they are available to help against variants in the future. The reactions below are also far better than what I've gone through in the past, and I would love if mRNA technology is used to revamp other vaccines so I could get boosters for some of those.

​**
​First Vaccine:

A few weeks ago, I went to an appointment with a new pain specialist. The appointment, from start to finish, was a royal disaster. The receptionist was rude, the nurse who checked me in and took my vitals was demeaning, and the doctor spent three total minutes with me before telling me that he refused to accept me as a pain patient because… wait for it… I have chronic pain. You can’t make things like that up. As I left the office, I was devastated by how things had gone. I felt as though the world was rejecting me.

I had some time before my next appointment, so I decided to do some self-care by walking a labyrinth. The Westlake United Methodist Church was on my path to my next appointment, so I stopped there. It’s a labyrinth I’d walked several years previously, and I knew it was by the entrance and parking so I wouldn’t have to walk too far on a day when my pain levels were high (and rising due to stress).

When I got to the parking lot, I was greeted by a surprise that I didn’t remember being there the previous time I’d visited. In addition to the legally required disabled parking spots, there were also a large number of parking spots labeled “For The Less Mobile RESERVED.” I almost cried. While I have a disabled parking permit, there are often not enough disabled spots at large event venues. I’m guessing this church has an aging population that knows they need more disabled parking available. They also probably recognize that not everyone with limited mobility has a disabled parking permit. When I was eight months pregnant with twins, my mobility was very limited but I was not legally disabled at that point nor did I have a disabled parking permit. I definitely would have been grateful for a closer parking spot, though!

Since I was there on a weekday morning, the parking lot at Westlake UMC was almost completely empty, and I had my choice of parking spots. However, knowing that this church recognizes those with disabilities and physical limitations and not only accepts them but makes them feel welcome was incredibly powerful. I had just come from a medical office which shunned me for having the very medical condition they treat, yet this church welcomed me with open arms before I had even gone through the doors. The wording on the signs in their lot is compassionate and accepting to all those who might need a little extra assistance in the form of closer parking. If I were looking for a church, this is the type of thing that would let me know that my presence was very much wanted in their community.
​
©2017 Elizabeth Galen, Ph.D., Green Heart Guidance, LLC

(Potential spoilers about Parenthood, season 4, below)
 
As I watched Parenthood a few months ago, the Braverman family began dealing with major health issues in season four. Grandfather Zeek was diagnosed with heart trouble, and daughter-in-law Kristina was diagnosed with breast cancer. What these two family members had in common was that they began lying to their adult children about their health. Zeek didn’t want his adult children to know that he was having health issues since the problems might not lead any trouble. He didn’t want anyone fussing over him. He preferred to use denial to cope with his health issues. For reasons that are hard to define, Adam and Kristina didn’t want to tell the family that they were facing breast cancer; they outright lied to their college aged daughter because they didn’t want her to worry or get distracted from her education.
 
Unfortunately, this tactic of coping with stressful issues is all too familiar to me. My family of origin and my ex’s family of origin tend to take the same approach to health issues: Adult children are still seen as children, and parents try to “protect” the adult children from bad news.  Yet adult children are actually adults. They are, for the most part, capable of understanding and coping with issues about life and death.
 
In my own family, my father was not going to tell me when my uncle died of ALS until after the funeral. My widowed aunt made it clear that my father had to inform me. The death was not a surprise as ALS is horrible degenerative disease. My health was not going to allow me to travel to the funeral, yet it still was the right thing to tell me about the death. My father didn’t want me to tell my children (who were ages 10 to 13), but I insisted otherwise. They weren’t close to my uncle, but they needed to know that he had died. As my father finally came to terms with my decision, he said, “I guess it’s better than them coming to visit and him not being here.” While this attempt to protect us from the pain of death was well-intended, it also failed to respect our right to know and grieve about a loved one.
 
While they say we often marry our parents, I never believed that my ex-husband was that much like my father until after we separated. Soon thereafter, my ex’s aunt died. Even though I had been a part of his family for more than twenty years, I was very much not close to her. She was an odd bird, and that’s coming from someone who proudly identifies as weird. Her health had been declining, so to me, the death was not a surprise. However, my ex chose not to tell me or our kids about the aunt’s death for 48 hours after she died. When I asked him why he delayed the news, he told me that he didn’t want to upset me. In reality, I suspect he just didn’t want to face the reality of her death by speaking to me or our kids about it.
 
With my children, I’ve broken free of this dysfunctional model of hiding important information from younger family members. I treat my teenage children as human beings who deserve to be respected; I've always done so even when they were little. While I might filter information to frame it in a way that is age appropriate, I am honest with my children about big information even if it is painful. I believe that with children, both when they are young and when they are adults, honesty is the best policy. As a result, my children know that they can always trust me to be honest with them even when they ask difficult questions that other adults won't answer for them.
 
© 2016 Elizabeth Galen, Ph.D., Green Heart Guidance, LLC

(As always, I am not a medical doctor.  This information is based on my personal experiences and should not be substituted for medical diagnosis or treatment.  Please speak to your health care providers about your personal situation.)

During the 2016 Super Bowl, I was taken completely off-guard by one commercial: a thirty second spot drawing attention to opioid induced constipation (OIC). The black and white ad was not promoting any drug in particular: It was sponsored by five pain related organizations to bring attention to this major issue for those with chronic pain who rely on opioids to reduce their misery. After it aired, I tweeted, “Wow. Attention on chronic pain in a #SB50 commercial. https://www.oicisdifferent.com/.”
​
However, the popular response to the commercial was not the same. There were many uncomfortable poop jokes since our society is embarrassed to talk about natural body functions like bowel movements. Most of the negative comments, though, incorrectly and discriminatorily deemed the commercial as contributing toward junkies and the “opioid epidemic” that the CDC has decided is destroying America. Public figure Bill Maher even insensitively tweeted, “Was that really an ad for junkies who can't shit? America, I luv ya but I just can't keep up[.]” I was fairly outraged at the popular reaction, tweeting in response, “Less than amused at the abundance of ridicule by Twitter followers for the OIC commercial. If you haven't been there, don't laugh. #karma” followed by “Also, not all opioid users are junkies. That prejudice is unacceptable when so many people are in chronic pain. #oic #sb50.”

I have blogged before that I see a pain specialist. I am not secretive about this fact because I want clients and future clients to know that I truly understand their pain on a level that many are blessed not to. While my first methods of approach to almost every health related issue are natural ones, I am more than willing to admit that natural healing has its limits. When those natural methods fail, I am grateful that there are drugs available to help make life more bearable. I do not judge others who need Western medical treatment either.

I am not a wimp about pain. My twins were born in unmedicated vaginal breech and breech extraction births. For those unfamiliar with the terms, breech births are when the baby is born feet or butt first rather than head first which is the norm in about 96% of births. A breech extraction is often done in twin births when the second twin is breech. After the first baby has been born, the doctor inserts hir* entire hand into a woman’s vagina and up past the cervix, grabs the second baby’s feet, and then pulls the baby downward so that the breech birth can complete with the baby being born feet first. This is not exactly a comfortable procedure, but I did it without drugs. During the labor for those same twin births, I was arguing medical studies with the doctor on call in between contractions. This is not something most women without epidurals can do at that point in childbirth because the pain is so overwhelming, but my ability to handle the pain allowed me to do so. In my planned homebirth with my 10+ pound youngest child, I labored by myself through ten centimeters, the time when pushing begins. While I was waiting for my then-husband to shower and the midwife, assistant and doula to arrive, I had to distract myself from the pain of back labor. So to do that, I worked on putting away clean laundry while I was in transition. Again, this is the point where most unmedicated women are incapable of doing anything but laboring, yet I am a woman who is able to mentally overcome a great deal of pain through determination and personal strength.

Despite my strength and ability to overcome the pain of childbirth without drugs, I cannot conquer the chronic pain of my ongoing health battles without drugs. To be sure, I use alternative methods including meditation, acupuncture, craniosacral therapy, massage, manual lymph drainage, chiropractic, energy work, an organic gluten free diet, and over the counter legal herbs to help minimize my pain. However, even after spending thousands of dollars each month on complementary methods which keep me minimally functional, it’s not enough. I still require several prescription drugs including an opioid to allow me to be able to do things like take showers, prepare food, get myself dressed, and sleep. Without the opioids, I have absolutely no quality of life and become suicidal due to the unbearable levels of pain. With them, I am able to keep my pain levels at a 5 out of 10 instead of being at an 8+ continuously. In order to completely be pain free, I have to take doses of drugs that render me very heavily spaced out if not unconscious; as a result, I am never pain free.

When I made the decision to go on long acting opioids 24/7/365, one of the major considerations for my holistic practitioners and me was the impact that pain was having on my adrenal glands. In an oversimplified explanation, our adrenal glands sit on our kidneys and are responsible for the hormones that guide us during the “fight or flight” reflex. For someone in chronic pain, the body interprets this as trauma and is constantly in the “fight or flight” response. The adrenals are being asked to do a job they were not created to do, and often they “burn out,” leaving a person deprived of hormones they need to get through every day. The body then begins robbing hormones from other glands (such as the thyroid and reproductive system) to create the necessary adrenal hormones to keep a person functional. There then is a cascade of health problems because one’s body is so depleted from constantly fighting chronic pain. My health care providers and I agreed that the damage I was doing to my endocrine system from the pain I was enduring was not helping my healing process. It was time for me to turn to a pharmaceutical solution for pain relief.

Unfortunately, most drugs come with side effects. Opioids are no exception. The almost universal reaction to opioids is constipation. When I switched between my first and second pain specialists, the new doctor asked me, “What are you doing for constipation?” It was not a “Do you deal with constipation?” question. He presumed, rightfully, that l like others had to battle constipation in order to take opioids. While my battle has never been as horrific as it has been for some others, I still must take action every single day to make sure that I have a daily bowel movement to keep myself functional.

So how do I approach opioid induced constipation? Full force, with determination. Anything less results in a great deal more misery for me. When I first began taking opioids on an infrequent basis, I would use psyllium husks to relieve constipation. However, after a while that began to fail as my body built up tolerance to them. The next place I turned was vitamin C. I had previously been taking vitamin C to assist my completely wrecked immune system. At one point, I switched between brands of powdered vitamin C. The old brand required one tablespoon of crystals for four grams of C. The new brand required one TEAspoon of crystals for four grams of C. Not reading the label carefully, I took one tablespoon or 12 grams of C. The result was that within 30 minutes, everything, and I mean EVERYTHING, in my bowels was evacuated. That’s a mistake one only makes once! However, it also demonstrates how powerful of a laxative higher doses of C can be.

For many years, magnesium was my next approach to handling OIC. Lyme bacteria and other parasites rob the body of magnesium, so it is something I almost always need more of. However, due to absorption issues, it’s difficult to get the amount of magnesium I need in me through oral means. When one hits bowel tolerance for magnesium, the result is loose stools. In the case of OIC, it means that magnesium can act as a natural laxative. However, more recently my body has started using even small doses of magnesium to rapidly kill Lyme creating additional unbearable pain, so I have had to abandon magnesium as a laxative for the time being.

My first pain specialist had recommended Smooth Move tea available at health food stores. However, I am using Get Regular tea which, despite its long list of herbal ingredients, simply tastes like a pleasant mint tea. A web search finds many other herbal teas designed to help with constipation. I am taking Vitamin C in conjunction with the tea, and the two together are very effective for me. At some point they may stop working, and at that point, I will switch to another natural means of coping with OIC.

The public response to the commercial discussing OIC is an indicator of why those with chronic health problems which create horrid pain are treated terribly by the medical system. Those who use opioids are indiscriminately labeled “junkies.” People with chronic pain are automatically presumed to be drug seekers who are addicts contributing the downfall of the so-called “War on Drugs.” Ironically, many of the football players in Sunday’s game will end up suffering from chronic pain after having put their bodies through such intense physical trials in their younger years, and many of them will have to use opioids for pain relief as well. For the 100 million plus people who live with chronic pain, opioids can make the difference between being in bed all day every day and being able to enjoy life. They are not used to get a high for the vast majority of those in pain. They’re used to try to be remotely human.

Like most of those who struggle with chronic pain, I am not a junkie. I am a mother who eats an organic diet and keeps a chemical free home. I am a woman with a Ph.D. who runs a successful business helping others find complementary means of healing. I personally decrease the amount of drugs I can take any time my body will allow. None of these are behaviors of “junkies,” or to use a more compassionate term, people with addiction problems. However, I deal with OIC just as millions of others do. While it might have caused “your Super Bowl party [to come] to an uncomfortable pause with a black-and white ad aimed at chronic pain drug users who suffer constipation,” the commercial was speaking on a wider problem about chronic pain and its daily impact, one that our society needs to accept and research rather than judge.

© 2016 Elizabeth Galen, Ph.D., Green Heart Guidance, LLC
 
*I use the words ze/hir as gender neutral singular pronouns.

(Apologies in advance for an insanely long blog post. ~Elizabeth)
 
I am a huge Josh Groban fan. I’ve loved his music since I first saw one of his earliest PBS specials. When I came out of my years of silence, his was some of the first music I found myself able to tolerate. On the nights when I was going through horrible intestinal pain that would last for untold hours on end but my now ex-husband was unwilling to be there to hold my hand and support me through that hell, it was the music of Josh Groban (and others) that I played on repeat all night long to keep myself as calm and relaxed as possible. His albums are still my default when I am dealing with pain that medication and meditation cannot control.
 
I have been battling health issues for 13 years; I was all but bedbound for two of those years and homebound for six. Slowly I have been fighting my way back to health. After successfully attending an event at a local church in September, I realized that I probably could start attending live theater and concert events again. This was something that I hadn’t expected to do be able to do for another several years, and it is a huge milestone for me in my healing journey. Fortuitously, my 15 year old daughter is taking a costuming class as an elective this year, and she’s required to go to a live performance every six weeks, anything from a free one person poetry reading in a coffee shop to a Broadway musical. As I looked for options for her (and me) to attend this school year in Austin, I found that Josh Groban was coming to Austin in October and that tickets were all but sold out (two individual tickets available in different balcony sections). I was crushed. I was talking about this with one of my health practitioners who encouraged me to look on Craigslist or to just show up the night of the show to find tickets from someone who needed to sell.
 
So back in October the week before the concert, I was looking at Craigslist for tickets to see Josh Groban. I was thoroughly annoyed at the number of businesses scalping tickets, but after a few days I eventually I found some seats on Craigslist for original purchase price located in the back of the orchestra section that were being sold by someone with a death in the family. As I sat there debating buying them, I got an intuitive hit to go check the concert hall website where I'd unsuccessfully looked for tickets previously: When this happens, it feels like there is someone in my brain loudly saying, “GO LOOK AT THE OFFICIAL SITE!” When I searched this time on the official site, there were two adjacent front row orchestra seats available (plus two adjacent seats a few rows back from that). This was actually fourth row seating because the pit was covered and three rows were added, but it was still close enough that my daughter commented after the show that Josh had a loose thread hanging from the back of the blue suit jacket he wore in the first act that was bugging her. (Yes, she is Type A, and yes, I do know which parent she got it from. Sigh. :) )
 
Josh Groban got seriously ill with a lung infection in October and had to reschedule the Austin concert. I knew when he canceled his New Orleans show a few days before that there was a huge chance that he would cancel Austin as well; I began praying for a reschedule because I didn’t want to lose those amazing seats I had gotten! When the rescheduled concert was set for December 19th, I looked at the calendar and discovered that my ex had just bought Star Wars tickets for the exact same date at the same time for the kids. Fortunately my daughter was able to grasp the concept that she could see Star Wars any time but Josh Groban wasn’t going to be available to sing at any other time. Her cousin took her Star Wars ticket, and our girls’ night was back on, just delayed by two months.
 
Last night, after overcoming all the hurdles of a disabled individual trying to attend an event at a major auditorium, my daughter and I were finally in the theater. Honestly, I sat there in shock for a bit with my hands shaking, so amazed that I was actually in Bass Concert Hall once again. A few years ago I would have said that this might never be possible. If Josh Groban had decided not to sing, I would have been disappointed but I still would have gone home incredibly happy because I simply made it into the theater. That’s how huge of a deal it was that I went last night.
 
Fortunately, though, Josh Groban performed last night despite a “full-blown sinus infection” which he claimed had him performing at only 86% though I don’t think anyone in the audience would have noticed if he hadn’t shared that information. I certainly wouldn’t have! His music was every bit as amazing as I expected it to be in person, and I enjoyed every minute of the evening. I didn’t take notes as I wanted to be fully present in and enjoying the moment, so my retelling of the evening probably has the setlist in the wrong order though it’s somewhat close to the original experience.
 
While I was expecting to be powerfully moved by this concert since Groban’s recordings can leave me in tears depending on the day, what I didn’t expect to happen was that the evening became a life review for me. As song after song unfurled, images from my life, past, present and future, marched through my mind’s eye. Some of the songs that weren’t favorites before suddenly took on totally different meanings as I found new, deep, and very emotional acceptance about parts of my life.
 
Josh Groban walked onto the stage opening with “Pure Imagination” from Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, a song that speaks to me of the innocence of childhood. I spent my childhood with my head in a book, the safest and happiest place for me to be, though I was actually kind of freaked out by most of Roald Dahl’s books. Groban followed this with “Try to Remember” from The Fantasticks which was the school musical in my sophomore year of high school. While our El Gallo sounded nothing like Groban, the memories still flooded back to me of that time in my life when I was the stage manager and one of my still current friends ran one of the spotlights, terrifying me by scrambling up to its rather unsafe perch. This, too, was a time of partial innocence. While my life was far from happy, I still had my health, and in no way could I foresee the struggles ahead of me in life. Only three months after that production, I began my 22 year relationship with my now ex-husband.
 
After these first two songs, Josh Groban began talking to the audience. My daughter had asked before the concert started if Groban would be doing anything about Donald Trump like he did on Jimmy Kimmel. I told her that I doubted it, and while she was disappointed in that answer, she was not at all let down by the other humor that Groban amused his audience with between songs. During this first round of talking, he explained that he knew that Bass Concert Hall was probably named after someone with the last name of Bass, but he preferred to think of it as one of those talking bass fish like the ones he gets from his aunt for Christmas each year. After having an amusing conversation with an imaginary talking bass, Groban then said for the first of two times that evening that he was highly medicated. I still can’t imagine being able to perform that well while medicated!
 
From there, Groban sang “Old Devil Moon” accompanied by an Austin trumpeter. The song has been going through my head since then including when I woke up during the night. Groban was subsequently joined by the incredibly talented singer Lena Hall for the duet “All I Ask of You” which he sings with Kelly Clarkson on the Stages album. Hall performed a solo afterward, singing “It’s a Man’s, Man’s, Man’s World” originally sung by James Brown. I could tell my daughter was really impressed with Hall’s singing as she was Googling Hall during intermission. I listened to the song thinking about the strong woman I have had to be to survive this life and knowing that my daughter is also a strong young woman, filled with self-confidence, who is going to be able to make her way in a world where women often still aren’t treated as men’s equals.
 
As he had promised earlier yesterday on Twitter, Josh Groban began a few of the songs that he has not performed on tour or in recent history starting with “Dulcinea” from Man of La Mancha. That was probably the low point of the evening for me; both my daughter and I found the red moving images on the curtains behind Groban to be disorienting and distracting. Groban also sang the first of two Christmas songs he performed last night, “The Christmas Song.” He introduced the song by saying that his album Noël (2007) had been very successful, but after its success, he was very Christmased out and didn’t want to sing Christmas songs again until now. I found this amusing because when I announced to my sons that I had bought tickets for Josh Groban in concert, my youngest asked, “Is that the guy who sings Christmas songs?” It made me realize that I play Noël around my kids far more often than any of Groban’s other albums though it’s not the album I listen to most often by any stretch of the imagination.

To close out the first half of the evening, Groban sang “What I Did for Love” from A Chorus Line. This song was one of the most moving parts of the evening as the song touched a pain in me I hadn’t known was there. As I had been thinking about my love of theater throughout the evening, I realized during this song that it was something that my ex-husband had never truly shared. He came with me to various events, but he never understood the joy they brought to me nor the passion they ignite in me. Like many other things in our relationship, that power of music and theater was something that I abandoned, and now I am regaining that lost part of my life again. Yet despite what I gave up in my relationship with him, I looked at our beautiful daughter sitting next to me, and the lyrics “Won't forget, can't regret/ What I did for love” hit me hard. Everything I put myself through in my relationship with him and everything I sacrificed was worth it for the three amazing children we are raising. Though I wish I hadn’t gone through so many years of emotional pain in a toxic relationship, I would never give up the blessings of my children.
 
The second half of the evening was no less entertaining than the first. Josh Groban began after the intermission by singing his medley of “Children Will Listen/Not While I’m Around.”  This opened a whole new level of emotional processing for me. As I had dressed for the evening, I tried putting on a labradorite pendant, but I couldn’t do it. I was intuitively being told that I had to wear my clear quartz pendant. I didn’t understand why until this medley when my heart chakra began aching terribly as the music released a great deal of stored emotional pain and the crystal helped fill the emptiness it left with healing white light. The release continued through the next few songs. This medley in particular forced me to acknowledge how horribly painful it has been for me not to have had someone on the journey who would tell me “Nothing's gonna harm you/ Not while I'm around.” This journey has certainly been one where “demons are prowling everywhere,” yet it’s one that I have had to fight without the support of a partner.
 
Rejoined by Lena Hall in a different sparkling dress than she wore before, Groban sang the duet of “If I Loved You” with her; I actually enjoyed their version more than the one with Audra McDonald on the Stages album. As I listened to these lyrics, once again I was shown some of the happiness that awaits me in the second half of my life just around the next bend. I am impatiently waiting for the day when I have a partner for the first time in hundreds of years who will love me in the way captured so beautifully in the lyrics of this song. Lena Hall then followed this with another solo singing “Maybe I’m Amazed” by Paul McCartney and which she had recorded in honor of her father, a huge Beatles fan.
 
Moving on to another set of songs not on the Stages album, Groban announced he would be singing another Christmas song. Someone from the audience screamed out, “O Holy Night” which would have been my choice had I been able to vote on the song selection. To accommodate that request, Groban instead offered up a short version of Eric Cartman of South Park singing “O Holy Night.”  It was truly remarkable; Groban is a better Cartman than Cartman I think. (I also believe this is the point where Groban again blamed his medication again for his actions.) Having somewhat satisfied the audience member’s request, Josh Groban moved on to “I’ll Be Home for Christmas” which he dedicated it to the troops who are not able to be home for Christmas as he does on Noël. During the song (which is actually my least favorite on Noël but which I enjoyed last night), I was flooded with an understanding that Christmas will never again be for me what it was in the past. It’s still a very fun event with my children who so far this year have put R2-D2 in the manger in lieu of the Baby Jesus, but it will never be the Christmas of my childhood again.
 
The next offering was “Unusual Way” which is from the musical Nine. As Groban related yet another one of his very amusing stories which in no way is captured by my summary, he said that this song was recorded but not released on the Stages album. He had seen Nine live with Antonio Banderas, and he was close enough to grasp one of Banderas’ chest hairs (ok, not really) and make a wish on it and now he was on a stage in Austin singing this song. “Unusual Way” is a song which I had never heard before but which is now on my playlist of favorites. I hope Groban releases the recording of it on a future album! This song again lead me to reviewing scenes from my past while simultaneously having an understanding of what is to come in my future.
 
When I was leaving my house for the concert, I had meant to put a wad of facial tissues in my purse because I was afraid that if Groban sang “Anthem,” I would melt into a puddle because his rendition of that song makes me cry every time without fail. Fortunately or unfortunately, “Anthem” was not on the setlist since I forgot to stock my purse. However, one of the last songs was the one which left me in tears, and not too unsurprisingly it was “Empty Chairs at Empty Tables” from Les Miserables. Groban dedicated it to the victims of Paris, San Bernardino, and all affected by the recent terrorism and violence in the world. For me, it brought on a reflection of all those from my life who are no longer alive, a melancholic reflection that often happens for me around the holidays anyway.
 
As his closing song, Josh Groban sang, “You’ll Never Walk Alone” from Carousel. If the tears hadn’t already started during the previous number, they would have commenced here. This was a song that had never particularly hit me when listening to the Stages album, but it’s now my favorite. Over the past year and especially in the last months, I have struggled with how lonely my journey back to health has been. Few of my friends have been strong enough to make it all the way through the years of illness. When I was separating from my ex-husband 4.5 years ago, I was terrified by the prospect of being alone in fighting the health problems, but what I rapidly learned was that I had already been facing it all on my own for a very long time. It was actually easier to fight the health battles without him in the same house as me draining away more of my energy. Yet that still hasn’t made it easier to walk this path alone. Finding faith and hope that I’m not truly alone has been the hardest challenge for me, especially in the recent months.
 
I’m also at a point where I’m deciding if I am going to be able to go forward in life without a wheelchair. I can walk, but on my bad days, trying to go more than a few feet is draining in an inexplicable way for those who haven’t traveled this same path I am on. So hearing Groban singing about walking, even in the metaphorical sense, prompted more tears. If the choice were just between attending events like this amazing one or not attending them, then I would have no hesitation in getting a wheelchair. However, it’s so much larger of a decision with so many other implications and issues attached that the decision isn’t simple. Thus, I was hearing something in the song that I suspect most other people in the audience didn’t hear: I was trying to understand if the “golden sky” is just around the corner or if I’m going to be living with this level of limited mobility for the rest of my life even once my health battles are done.
 
As the audience gave the first standing ovation and waited for Josh Groban to return for an encore, I couldn’t believe the show was over. It was like I had blinked and the evening was over. I felt like Groban had only sang a few songs until I came home and listed everything and realized it was really a longer evening than I thought! I also went into a bit of shock again. I had done it. I had attended a concert from beginning to end at Bass Concert Hall. I was so amazed and proud of myself for having conquered this hurdle. All I had left to do was get home which actually turned out to be easier than I feared.
 
Josh Groban returned for an encore with “Somewhere Over the Rainbow.” This song has never been the same for me since it was used for Mark Greene’s death on ER in 2002; it now carries a connotation of heaven and the afterlife. I’m sure Judy Garland’s youngish death also impacts the association of the song for me. Yet somehow I left this song with an impression and a hope that the second half of my life is going to lead me to happiness that I’ve never experienced in the first half. My journey through hell is almost over and I will be emerging on the other side, somewhere over the rainbow, in a much better place than I’ve ever lived in.
 
When Josh Groban returns to Austin, I will definitely be going to see him again. The privilege of hearing him sing in person was more than words can describe. Hopefully the next time he returns, the struggles I faced in getting to the concert last night will be a distant memory, replaced with an abundance of health and love.
 
© 2015 Elizabeth Galen, Ph.D., Green Heart Guidance, LLC

Bass Concert Hall is one of the the major performance venues on the campus of The University of Texas at Austin. I first entered its doors in 1991 in my first semester at UT as an undergrad to hear Maya Angelou speak. I had no idea whom she was before attending, but everyone I was friends with was going, so I went too (for free!) and experienced an unbelievably powerful evening that I will never forget.

Since then, Bass Concert Hall has been the site of many memorable events in my life. In 1996, my now ex-husband and I went to a Spanish guitar concert on gifted tickets from someone at the church I worked at. In 1998, we went to see an opera on gifted tickets from friends that were in the second to last row of the second balcony; we left after two hours because we were utterly bored and because my vertigo had become so horrific at that point. Feeling like Scarlett O'Hara, I vowed never to sit in the balconies there again! In 1999, my ex-husband walked across Bass’ stage to receive his doctorate, and I did the same in 2001. When our twins had weaned, we finally had a night out, going to see Les Miserables in 2002. We also saw Blues Clues Live with our kids. (Not exactly the best show I’ve ever seen, but our kids loved it.) In 2003, the last time I was at Bass Concert Hall, I was 37 weeks pregnant with my youngest when we went to see Dora the Explorer Live. As my 15 year old daughter and I sat within the walls of Bass Concert Hall last night waiting to hear Josh Groban sing, I was telling her the stories about all of those events as well as others in other theaters.

Since 2003, I have been terribly ill. For two years I was all but bedbound, and for six of those years I was homebound. I still am restricted by extreme fatigue, very high levels of pain and chemical sensitivities. This triumvirate has left me disabled and limited in where I can go and how long I can stay once I get there. Live theater productions have simply not been an option for me in a very long time. Only in the past few months have I reached a point where I can go to large gatherings such as a concert without getting very sick afterwards due to liver problems. However, my newest challenge in life is being able to gain access to buildings when my body is struggling to move. Despite the 25 year old Americans with Disability Act, many buildings still are not very accessible to the disabled.

Parking is a challenge for anyone on the UT campus. This is a fact of life that any Austinite knows well. When we arrived on campus a full hour before the concert, my daughter asked if there was a game at the stadium adjacent to the concert hall. I explained there is no way to hold stadium and concert hall events simultaneously at UT. There simply isn’t the parking. The chaos she was seeing was only for the concert hall. However, despite the fact that everyone deals with this situation, parking for the disabled is even more challenging when it comes to UT’s campus.

After I bought the tickets to see Josh Groban in concert, I looked into parking to see what disabled options there were. As I looked at the parking website, there were absolutely no instructions for people who are disabled as to what to do or where to park. When I looked at Bass Concert Hall’s website, there were no instructions there either even though one page claims to have “directions, parking, and accessibility info.” This is something that is free and easy to fix if one knows how to update a website. There’s really no excuse for a major venue not having instructions for disabled parking and assistance on a website.

I then called the 1-866 number for the parking website and got a customer service assistant who told me that I should buy a parking ticket in the San Jacinto garage. I asked him if he was in Austin, and he confirmed my guess that he was not. Anyone who knows anything about UT and/or disabilities would not have made that recommendation. Hence, I called Bass Concert Hall, and the woman there said that they tell people with disabilities to buy in the Dedman Drive lot (which is what I had planned to do but I was verifying my instinct). To my horror, the woman at Bass Concert Hall also confirmed there was very limited disabled parking and there was no way to buy or reserve disabled parking spots even with a state disabled parking permit. So while I had just spent $352 on two concert tickets, there was absolutely no guarantee that I would be able to get parking that would guarantee my ability to have access to the building. This seems outrageously wrong.

The day of the concert, I did almost nothing. I ran two loads of laundry so I would have clothes to wear. I ate food that didn’t require much preparation. I napped and otherwise stayed on the couch all day. This is what I have to do in order to have enough energy to attend an event like this. I stayed on the couch until 6:15 pm with my legs elevated and braced to reduce pain. I got ready to leave and departed the house at 6:30 pm. On the way there, we encountered not one but two accidents delaying our arrival time to 7:05 pm, almost a full hour before the concert. (And today, the day after, I don’t even have the energy to run a few loads of laundry. The couch is my best friend again for the entire day.) 

When my daughter and I arrived at the Dedman Drive parking, there was only one disabled spot left and only about 10 spots total available in the vicinity of Bass Concert Hall; all were quickly filling. The non-disabled spots had orange cones in front of them to reserve them for concert permit holders, so one had to get out of the vehicle to move the cones to park in them, another layer of difficulty for a person with disabilities who may or may not have an able-bodied plus one in the car. I chose not to park in the sole remaining disabled spot but instead parked a short distance away because I was in good enough shape that I could walk it that night, plus I knew it would make our departure easier by parking in the correct direction facing to get off of the campus. However, that one remaining disabled spot was filled by the time we had walked past it after parking.

When we got to Bass Concert Hall itself, my daughter and I went to the restrooms where there was already a line out the door for the women’s. The men’s, of course, had no such queue. The women’s restroom is on the total opposite corner of the building from where our tickets were. In future, I will try to buy tickets on the other side of the building. There really is only one women’s restroom on the main floor, something I wish could have been remedied during renovations a few years ago, but space doesn't exist to put one elsewhere. I knew there was no way I was going to make it back to the restroom during the intermission because I couldn’t have stood in a line of the length that would have been there at intermission. It’s simply not physically possible for me.

My daughter and I headed toward our seats at 7:15 pm. The auditorium, however, was locked until 7:30 pm. There was nowhere left to sit at this point as the benches lining the hall were filled. I am not capable of standing for 15 minutes, so my daughter and I sat on a staircase in a way that I was able to put my legs at a comfortable angle. At 7:30, we were able to take our seats and remain comfortably there until after the show was over.

I have three major suggestions for Bass Concert Hall, The University of Texas at Austin, and the services they subcontract with in order to be more disability friendly for patrons of events.

1. Put directions for patrons with disabilities on your website and/or include a phone number of a contact for those needing additional assistance.
2. Allow patrons to designate themselves as disabled when they purchase tickets or create a system of allowing patrons with disabilities to identify themselves upon arrival. Those who have done so should be allowed to have priority seating for events before 7:30 just as those who are disabled get early boarding for planes. This solves the problem of there not being enough seating in the halls for those who are disabled yet who have to arrive an hour early in order to get parking for an event. There was also a woman in my aisle who arrived later who normally used a walker; it was very difficult for her climb over all the people already in the row. She could have benefitted from advance seating as well.
3. Please designate the entire Dedman Drive lot immediately adjacent to Bass Concert Hall as disabled parking only until fifteen minutes before the event. Patrons should be required to have a state issued disabled parking permit or license plate to park in this area before that time. Tickets sold in advance for this area should require patrons to enter a disabled permit number or disabled license plate number. The current disabled parking available is severely insufficient for the number of patrons with disabilities (especially at events like last night’s which had a median age of about 50).

I have tickets to attend The Sound of Music at Bass Concert Hall in February with my daughter, and we are both excited about that. Last night’s experience will help me to have a better idea of what to do for attending this next event, but it would be nice if patrons with disabilities didn’t have to learn these lessons the hard way.
​
© 2015 Elizabeth Galen, Ph.D., Green Heart Guidance, LLC

Many years ago, I met a woman through a local internet mothering group who had been diagnosed with stage IV breast cancer. Doctors had given her six months to live, and she was determined to prove them wrong. She lived-- truly lived-- for another four years before her death. The woman (whom I’ll call K) entered a healing path even though she was going to be dying in the near future. She was determined to lengthen her life as much as possible. K undertook many holistic healing protocols. Among her discoveries that helped her to find more happiness and more health was facing whom she really was. After two heterosexual marriages that ended in divorce, K finally realized that she was a lesbian. By “coming out,” K found happiness that had been missing all of her adult life.

Around the same time, I was friends with a woman, C, who was in a national internet support group for people with illnesses like mine. We were in and out of each other’s lives via email for quite a while. As we both walked our healing paths, C made a personal discovery. While C identified as pansexual, she’d had many relationships that ended unhappily including a recent divorce. It wasn’t until C realized that he was actually a man named J that deeper healing began for him.

As I watched these two people find happiness as a result of the deep work that chronic illness prompted in their lives, I began to question what was holding me back in my personal healing. Given what both of these two people discovered about themselves, the first things I questioned were my gender and sexual orientation. After much introspection and internet research, I discovered that I was a heterosexual cisgender woman, exactly what I had identified as all my life. Thus, I made no amazing life changing discoveries about my sexuality as my internet friends had done.

I remained puzzled for many years about what was holding my healing back. If it wasn’t my sexuality, then what was it about myself that I needed to find? In my case, it turned out that it was my spiritual self than I needed to rediscover. I had spent the past five lifetimes trying to deny, repress and ignore my metaphysical abilities. Because I grew up in a family in and then married and divorced a man this life ​who aren’t believers in the metaphysical, it didn’t feel safe for me to be my true self. However, a major illness in this lifetime forced me to to come to terms with my metaphysical gifts and my need to use them for healing myself and others.

For many people facing chronic or terminal illness, finding oneself is one of the challenges that can help alleviate a great deal of emotional pain and suffering. Because our emotional pain often manifests as physical pain in our body, finding oneself can sometimes bring improvement or even remission of one’s physical misery. Regardless of its impact on one’s physical symptoms, being true to oneself always brings happiness that was previously unknown in this life. There is nothing comparable to being able to say, “This is whom I am. I am proud of me, and I love being me.”

© 2015 Elizabeth Galen, Ph.D., Green Heart Guidance, LLC

loneliness is a sign
you are in desperate
need of yourself
-rupi kaur

This poem recently showed up in my Facebook feed. It’s intended to be an inspirational thought. I believe that what it means to convey is that if someone feels lonely they may need to do some soul-searching to find out why they are lonely and what it is within them personally that is causing loneliness. While I can see this statement being true for someone who is surrounded by people and activity yet feels lonely, I found the thought pretty ignorant and insensitive as someone who was homebound for six years and is still limited in her ability to socialize.

The life of someone who is homebound is generally pretty lonely. Our society often forgets about or chooses to ignore homebound people when they stop attending various events as I discovered all too well when I was so incredibly sick. With the multiple chemical sensitivities that I have thanks to Lyme disease and weak genetics, my reactions were severe enough that not only was I homebound but I had to limit who could come in my home. Unless people used all natural and unscented detergents, soaps, and body products, I would get physically sick from people coming in my home. At one point I had my least scented friends come over and help me clean since I couldn’t do it and my ex-husband was not able to keep up with cleaning, everyday tasks, parenting the kids and working full time. The day the friends spent in my house was a highlight of my years of being homebound, and yet I ended up with a three day migraine after they left as “payback” for them being in my house and not being 100% chemical free.

Unless a person has a disease like cancer which is considered a socially acceptable cause to rally around, most people who are homebound end up being abandoned by a large number of their friends. While internet “friends” helped me maintain my sanity while I was home alone, it really wasn’t enough to stave off the loneliness. Most of my former friends didn’t even call any more since they felt awkward and didn’t know what to say to me. Once a month or so I would see my doctor, the nurse and the receptionist at his office. The only other physical contact with adults I had during that time on a regular basis was with my now ex-husband. However, as his way of punishing me for being ill and not being the person he wanted me to be, he would use the silent treatment against me frequently. Thus, I was living with a person who would not talk to me or acknowledge me for days or weeks on end, yet I was too sick to leave this toxic relationship. I was too chemically sensitive to have other people come into my house without giving me migraines. I was also too chemically sensitive to function in the world. It’s a horrid situation of isolation and loneliness that I wouldn’t wish on my worst enemy.

Loneliness may be a sign that some people are in need of themselves, but it’s also a sign that some people have been ignored and forgotten by their family and so-called friends. Some people may have spent ten years alone with themselves and have gotten to know themselves pretty darn well as I did. However, that won’t ever fulfill the need for socialization and love. There is a reason that isolation and solitary confinement are used as forms of extreme punishment in prison systems. They cause all kinds of physical and psychological effects such as warping the mind and causing delusions, hypersensitivity to noise and touch, insomnia, PTSD, and uncontrollable feelings of rage or fear. Isolation can also cause severe cognitive impairment, as well as impairing the immune system and lengthening healing time for those with health issues. As one article on the topic states, “They have proved that long-lasting loneliness not only makes you sick; it can kill you.” The reality is that while we all need to spend some introspective time, we also all need friends to survive. It doesn't just take a village to raise a child. It takes a village to be a healthy human being.

In my case, loneliness certainly was not because I needed to spend time with myself. Loneliness was a horrible side effect of having an isolating illness. Before deciding that loneliness is a sign that someone is out of touch with their needs, perhaps people should consider all the true causes of loneliness and how they might be contributing to others feeling isolated and alone.

© 2015 Elizabeth Galen, Ph.D., Green Heart Guidance, LLC

I am still at a point in my recovery where my health (or lack thereof) occasionally overrules my desire to participate in events. Most of the time, it’s no big deal. I just don’t end up going to whatever Meetup or festival I had in mind. It’s disappointing, but I understand that it is still my reality. The bigger problem comes with buying tickets for events that will sell out before the night of the activity or performance. I’ve unfortunately had it happen to me more times than I would like that I am not able to use a ticket for an event that I really wanted to attend. It feels like insult added to injury. It is hard in that situation to find happiness for others when not only am I in pain, but my body is denying me the chance to go to a live event I really wanted to go to. One of the ways I find to soften the blow is by finding someone who really wants my ticket and giving it to them.

Several years ago, Susan Piver was in Austin for a small discussion on meditation. As the evening approached, I knew I wasn’t going to be able to attend. As I was getting ready to find a friend to give my ticket to, Piver sent out an e-mail stating that there was a waiting list for tickets, and if anyone knew they couldn’t attend to please let her know and she would issue a refund so that someone else might use that ticket. I thought that her offering a refund was incredibly generous, and definitely not something most people would have done. I had already made peace with losing the cost of admission, though. So when I e-mailed her letting her know my spot at the evening was available again, I also let her know that I didn’t need a refund and I would prefer she gave my spot to someone else, asking them to pay it forward in return. She was happy to do so. Thus, even though I was disappointed not to attend the event, I was left with a feeling of happiness knowing that someone who had wanted to attend was not only getting to attend but was attending for free, and hopefully in turn that person would be passing on the love to someone else in the future.

This week, my practitioners and I have opened up a new level of healing for me. As we clear out a bunch of stored trauma from my body, I am going through very intense pain in my psoas muscles and my lumbar vertebrae where the psoas attach to the spine. Despite having seen my acupuncturist, craniosacral therapist, massage therapist and chiropractor on Tuesday and Wednesday, my back was still spasming and making life a little (ok, a lot!) less enjoyable. I am not enjoying this process, but I know that once this trauma is removed from my body, my health is going to be able to move forward immensely.

Wednesday night, though, I was having to accept that I was not going to be able to attend Stephen Jenkinson’s lecture promoting his new book, Die Wise: A Manifesto for Sanity and Soul, on Thursday night. I have been talking about this event for weeks to people I know because I was so excited about it. Our society does death so poorly, and I was looking forward to hearing someone speak who clearly understands that there is a good way to die. As I was struggling with my reality, an e-mail from the organizers of the event came in. It stressed the level of parking difficulty for the event. I pretty much knew I was sunk at that point. I sent an email asking if extra disabled parking had been allotted for the event because of the population that the talk was likely to draw, but I got no response. I was going to have to show up over an hour early to get parking next to the event rather than a few blocks away, and then the event itself was two hours long. Combined with the hour commute, it would have been a four hour evening. I knew my body simply could not do it in the condition it is currently in.

One of the people whom I had discussed the event with was my backup massage therapist. The tickets for the event had been sold out for quite a while when I talked with her about it, but I could tell she was very interested in it. She talked about a similar course she had taken that really enabled her to just be with her aging grandmother on her last visit. So when I accepted the fact that I could not go, she was the first person I thought of to offer the ticket to. She fortunately had no plans and was happy to take the ticket off my hands. She looked for a copy of one of his other books for me, texting me before the event started, though there were none to purchase. We’ve ordered some of his books from Canada, and I’m looking forward to getting together with her to hear more about the evening. Her getting to attend the event helped lessen my pain of not being able to.

Time passes, and speakers often returns to Austin. Susan Piver will be in Austin at the end of November to discuss her new book, Start Here Now. I am determined to be there this time! I’m going to be reading Stephen Jenkinson’s books which I have ordered, and I will watch his Griefwalker video online. While I was disappointed to miss events like these, knowing that someone else got to enjoy the event instead really helped soften the blow for me.

© 2015 Elizabeth Galen, Ph.D., Green Heart Guidance, LLC ​

Several years ago, I began changing my Facebook usage. I realized that most of my 300+ “friends” were actually people whom I had no real contact or relationship with. Some lived out of state and rarely checked Facebook. Others were people whom I felt like were gawking at my life like a trainwreck: They wanted to watch the pain in my life to comfort themselves that their lives weren’t nearly as bad as mine. Those people had very little desire to actually be involved in my life. When I asked someone to help, they were never there for me. Having confronted the reality of how much time social media was taking from my life, I pared my “friends” list down over several cuts eventually landing on a list of less than 45 people.

More recently, I became aware of a very disturbing pattern among the remaining people on my friends list. Very few of the people whom I let see my most intimate posts were able to support me in my disability discrimination struggles. When I post about being discriminated against, there were crickets chirping on a regular basis. Had I posted that I had been told to cover up while breastfeeding, a large portion of of them would have been outraged and would have called for a nurse-in. They would have stirred up online protests and would have gotten the media involved. Had I posted that I was stopped by the police for driving while black, another large portion would have been up in arms, ready to protest against racial discrimination. But when I post that I am experiencing disability discrimination, almost none of my “friends” could be bothered to say something to me either on or off of Facebook.

To me, that is very telling. Friendship is supposed to be in good times and in bad. Friends are supposed to want to celebrate your joys and support you in your suffering. As Stephen and Ondrea Levine state in their book Embracing the Beloved, “To be in relationship is to open to the life pain of another on the way to yourself.” I am someone who gives to the limits of my being when others are hurting, yet I often do not find people who want to give in return. Furthermore, it is very hard to find friends who want to support you when your issues are not a hot cause or something they can identify with personally. Perhaps they are too influenced by the media and choose to only support causes that are popular right now such as #blacklivesmatter or #breastcancerawarenessmonth (not that those aren't extremely valid causes). 

Let’s have a reality check: Every single person in this world who is not disabled is only one major accident or infection away from being disabled themselves. Perhaps that is why no one wants to see the blatant ongoing discrimination I and many others face on a daily basis in our society. They are too scared to recognize that someday they, too, may be disabled and in need of assistance. If you have ever told yourself that disability discrimination is an issue that doesn’t affect or matter to you, stop and ask yourself: Why don't you actively support the disabled in our society? What are your prejudices? What are your fears? What makes you potentially unable or unwilling to support this problem even on the very local level of saying, "I'm sorry you got treated like a second-class citizen" to one of your friends when they experience disability discrimination?

So many people have told me, “But I don’t know what to say.” That, too, is an indication of personal work that they need to do. When these friends see other friends or acquaintances struggling with personal troubles, the death of a loved one, or another life challenge, they have no problem offering support. They offer up generic words of encouragement: "I'm sorry you're facing this." "I am sorry you hurt." "I hope things change for you." "I wish you weren't having to go through this." Using the examples above, even when friends don’t understand struggles on a personal level because they aren't black or they haven't had breast cancer, they still know how to say, “I’m sorry you are having a rough time” or even "That sucks!" It's Basic Friendship 101. That is part of what being a friend is about. If they chose to, they would be able to apply the same skills to their disabled friends and their struggles. However, with the topic of disability discrimination, people, even those who purport to be my friends, want the issue to be invisible. They don’t want to have to face it.

The sad reality is that I’ve done another Facebook purge as things like this show me clearly who my friends and acquaintances really should be. They are the ones who understand that my life is a roller coaster, just like most other humans', and if they want to be my friend, they have to be there for both the ups and the downs. I have found that fair-weather friends are abundant in this world, and I really don’t have a need for them. It’s the friends who are with me through thick and thin that really count.

© 2015 Elizabeth Galen, Ph.D., Green Heart Guidance, LLC

(Apologies in advance for the super long post!)

Three years ago when Jenny Lawson published her first book, Let’s Pretend This Never Happened (A Mostly True Memoir), I was still mostly homebound, not yet well enough to attend social functions. The night Lawson read at BookPeople, I threw myself a pity party as I sat at home staring at the clock knowing that just 20 minutes from my house there was an event happening that I wanted to attend but my health would not let me be at. It was crazy making for me.

This time around, my life is very different both personally and professionally. I am so grateful to be in a much better place. I’m still not able to do nearly what most people do on an ordinary day, but I am doing so much more than three years ago. Hence, I made plans to attend Lawson’s reading of her new book, Furiously Happy: A Funny Book About Horrible Things, switching custody nights and various appointments so that I would have enough energy to attend the event. Yesterday afternoon, my body tried to give me a migraine, but I wasn’t going to let that stop me from attending. I took the drugs I can take for migraines and headed out.

As I sat waiting to turn left onto Lamar to get to the bookstore, my stomach started churning with nervousness. Despite how much better I am doing, there’s always the fear that I will get to an event and not be able to physically handle it. I do still have to leave certain situations when the chemical fragrance is more than I can handle. After the issues I had last week around disability accommodations, I was really worried about what the Universe might throw at me. It’s still a physical challenge for me to get from point A to point B, and sometimes I just can’t do it no matter how much determination I have.

When I arrived at Bookpeople, the parking lot was full but mercifully the two disabled spots closest to the door were still available. Once in the building, I debated the stairs versus elevator issues I have, and I decided to take the stairs mainly because it was what other people were doing and since I haven’t been in BookPeople for 11+ years, I wasn’t sure where I was going. When I arrived at the top of the stairs at 6:40 for a 7 pm reading, it was already standing room only. There were no chairs available in my vision nor were there any places to sit on the floor anywhere within visual range of the podium. I approached a store employee and asked him if they had disabled seating; I let him know that I could sit on the floor but I couldn’t stand for the event. He asked if I had called ahead, and I had not because it hadn’t dawned on me to do so. I now know for next time! However, they had a few extra seats set aside as reserved for those who needed them. The reserved seats were in the first and second rows. At first, former Catholic that I am, I tried to sit in the second row (because Catholics never sit in the front row in church unless it’s the only available seating, and even then, sometimes they prefer to stand). However, I quickly discovered that I couldn’t sit in that second row because the seats were too close to the row in front of them and I couldn’t bend my legs at an angle that was relatively painless. So I moved up to the front row between another woman who was likely in her 20s or 30s and a senior citizen couple. None of them were loaded with perfume, thank heavens, so I was ok for the entire reading.

While we were sitting there waiting for the presentation to begin (15 minutes late), the older couple next to me were chatting with each other. To preface this, I have to say that I have issues around fame and people’s private lives being in the public eye. I had to do a great deal of personal work before I could be comfortable with having a website with my picture on it on the web. So part of me still feels strongly that what people choose to share publicly should be respected as the limit; paparazzi, reporters and fans should respect those limits. However, this couple next to me were talking about Hailey and Victor, Jenny Lawson’s daughter and husband, in a weird way that sounded like they knew everything about the Lawsons just from her blog. It was kind of freaking me out that I had managed to end up seated next to a couple of senior citizen stalkers who seemed to think they were actually part of Lawson’s life. It also was a reality call for me to recognize my own prejudice that stalkers are only young people. These senior citizens were teaching me otherwise.

Before the reading began, a BookPeople manager came over to our section with another employee and told us that he would be escorting us upstairs via the elevator to get our books signed first. I actually had not bought a book because I wasn’t sure if I was going to be able to handle the full evening and because waiting to get it signed at the last book signing I attended at another store was hard on my body. If I had known that BookPeople was aware of this kind of issue for the disabled, I definitely would have pre-ordered one; I now know that for future events as well. However, I’m actually grateful I didn’t order the hardcover because after listening to Lawson read two chapters last night, I really want to listen to the audiobook. I’m not a fan of audiobooks 99.9% of the time which makes this is an exception to my norm. Lawson also mentioned during her “no pants party” on Tuesday night that there is an extra chapter in the audiobook, so there’s that incentive as well.

When Jenny Lawson finally made her appearance, she looked around with grateful and amazed tears in her eyes and said, “Holy shit, you guys! There are so many of you here." She was greeted with a raucous round of laughter that along with her comment set the tone for the whole evening. It was a truly amazing crowd; I’d bet there were 250-300 people there. Lawson’s phone wouldn’t let her take a panoramic of the whole crowd because it was too big! (My leg is on the far right of the top photo; I’m cut out of it mostly, though.)

Lawson began by reading two chapters from Furiously Happy. After reading one in which she describes the advantages of passing out with a speculum in one’s vagina, she commented that she had been practicing looking up and making eye contact while she read about her body parts at the gynecologist’s office. When she actually did look up during the reading, she saw her grandparents listening to her read about her vagina. She then said, “Hi Granny and Pop-Pop!” and waved at the senior citizens sitting next to me. Oh. No wonder they sounded like they knew the Lawson family so well. They weren’t actually crazy stalkers after all! Not even once did it dawn on me that they might be relatives of hers even though she lives in central Texas.

Moving on to the Q&A session, Lawson began by addressing a question about parenting with mental illness; she gave a similar answer during her No Pants Party. She said that the amount of openness one can have with a child about one’s condition is going to depend on the age and personality of the child. Lawson said that her daughter Hailey knows now that she has mental illness, but Hailey knows that no matter how bad things are for Lawson that Lawson will always have time for her. Even if all they can do is watch Doctor Who or Miss Fisher’s Murder Mystery Series together on the couch, it’s still time spent together. Lawson does not allow her daughter to read her blog though many of her daughter’s friends do. Hailey does get to read anything written about her and has veto power about what is said. There are some things about Hailey that Lawson doesn't share because she doesn't want her to be tormented by mean 14 year old girls. When Lawson does share something to Hailey, she reads the blog entry out loud so she can censor the language in it. Lawson believes that most kids are far more perceptive than we realize when it comes to what is going on around them.

Another woman from the audience asked how one balances taking care of one’s self when dealing with a mental illness and still actually managing to get writing done. Lawson responded that a great deal of it is about respecting the need to not write at times. She admitted that writing about certain topics can be triggering for her, especially the darkest parts. At those times, she had to give herself permission not to write and just take care of herself. She said her editor helped her to see that sometimes the best breakthroughs for writer’s block come when engaged in recreation such as when she was refilling her creative cup such as watching Doctor Who or reading. In addition, Lawson mentioned the phrase, “If you can’t write, just sit down and write.” She said that while that used to make no sense to her, she’s learned that some days that she has to write stuff that’s not very good but which will eventually evolve. Lawson said she’s got a thousand pages of stuff that may someday actually be good enough but they’re not there yet.

On a lighter note, someone asked Lawson if there was a piece of taxidermy she really regretted not buying. Lawson said that she limits herself in that the pieces must not be too expensive, they must have died a natural death, and they need to be old. She said the one piece that she is still haunted by is a unicorn at Paxton Gate in San Francisco which is actually a French horse head. She said it’s not white like the typical unicorn but brown and actually rather jinky looking. The unicorn is missing some of its teeth and is “so messed up.” From there, Lawson went on a very long-winded and extremely funny diversion about her Bank of America credit card recently being put on a fraud suspicion hold because Victor had bought a taxidermied beaver for her at Paxton Gate while he was there with a friend. Any transcript of the story would simply not do justice to Lawson’s fabulous storytelling ability. She’s just one of those people you could listen to for hours while she talked about almost anything because she could find a way to make it funny.

When asked which author Lawson herself would line up to meet, she said that she still has difficulty doing this because she’ll get in line to meet an idol and then panics when she gets close to the front. She said she is a fangirl of anyone who manages to finish anything, but more specifically she loves Neil Gaiman whom she got to meet backstage at an event. She also loves David Sedaris but she hasn’t met him; her friend Dylan Brody opened for Sedaris and got him to autograph a book to Lawson which says, “Any friend of Dylan’s is a whore.” (See comment 68 here). Most of all, she would bring Ray Bradbury back from the dead because he really does it for her.

A more recent fan asked Jenny Lawson why she began the Bloggess. Lawson said that many years ago she was working at a non-profit in human resources ironically teaching people how to act appropriately. She had actually started writing as a child as an outlet for her anxiety disorder. Eventually another mom blogger in Houston decided to quit her job because that blogger didn’t think one could be a good blogger and a good parent. Lawson decided she must be the crappiest parent ever because she volunteered to not only write on that blog but to do it for free. However, she was frequently getting in trouble for what she wrote, so eventually she started her own blog where she could write whatever she wanted without censorship. She said she now blogs to read the comments because the humor from her readers makes her laugh quite often. (And it's true. While I generally abide by the rule "never read the comments," I love reading the responses on her blog.)

Lawson ended the evening with a great question from a man in the audience: “What do you think of The new Doctor [Who]?” Lawson asked if they couldn’t discuss something easier like abortion. After loud laughter from the audience, Lawson said that she is still getting used to him. She thinks that it is an interesting take on The Doctor, and he is “way alien” but doesn’t make a very good human. He’s definitely not her favorite, but for her the pinnacle was Doctor Donna. And with that, Jenny Lawson closed the Q&A and headed upstairs to beginning the signing portion of the evening.

After 75 minutes sitting in the same chair, my body was definitely ready to leave. So much has changed for me physically since just four months ago when I went to see Chris Harrison's book release. When I left the book signing this time, I could feel that my body was exhausted, but I wasn’t having many of the symptoms I had when I walked out of the last event. I didn’t go into a lot of pain last night (aside from the migraine I was already trying to fight off), and I slept really well-- no fibro flares or any other assorted misery. I am so happy that my health is finally returning to a place where attending events like this is a reality for me. It was a wonderful evening filled with great people watching an abundant laughter. I was also incredibly grateful to have a positive experience around disability accommodation thanks to BookPeople instead of the obstacles I’ve encountered in so many other places of late.

© 2015 Elizabeth Galen, Ph.D., Green Heart Guidance, LLC

(I received an Advance Reader Copy of Upside from the Goodreads Giveaways program. The opinions expressed in this review are mine and mine alone. Previous blog posts I have written on Upside are located here and here.) 

One of the things that drives me nuts in life is when people use denial as a justified coping technique. They create distorted and dysfunctional mythologies around their particular issues which allow them to believe that they have healed when the reality is far from it. I am not unfamiliar with this technique on a personal level: I used it unsucessfully for many years myself. I often see the Law of Attraction warped in this way as people believe that if they confront negative aspects of themselves, then they will draw the negative to them. Thus, they believe it's best to ignore and deny those negative issues. However, the reality couldn't be further from the truth. When we have something negative festering within us due to repression and/or denial, we continue to attract similar energies to us in order to help us heal that wounded part.

As I read through Upside: The New Science of Post-Traumatic Growth by Jim Rendon, I cringed far more than once as I read the words of those who had purportedly experienced post-traumatic growth. Rendon held these people up as examples of those who had been able to turn a traumatic life experience such as cancer or an accident into a motivation for positive growth and change. All of these people had done just that, and all had experienced growth and gratitude for the positive change their traumas brought to their lives. However, many of the people who were quoted used words that clearly demonstrated that a deeper level of healing was still needed in their lives.

Rendon recognizes denial as a problematic coping technique. He writes, "Some people try to block memories of the trauma entirely. Unfortunately, that doesn't work. The memories remain and can be triggered with little warning by seemingly unrelated sights, sounds, or semlls. Other people protect themselves from the trauma by separating all emotion from the events. But this often leads to behavior problems... And some people simply try to duck the issue entirely, using what is called avoidance-- making great efforts to avoid any events or siutations that might bring traumatic memories flooding back." Yet even though he recognizes the problems around denial and avoidance, Rendon's book still utilizes examples of people in denial as those who have experienced post-traumatic growth.

One common method of avoiding one's one true situation and one's horrible pain is by comparing one's pain to others'. In Upside, one man in a wheelchair states, "'I feel normal because I can help these people. I have the use of my hands. Some people can't feed themselves.'" This is a very clear example of using someone else's pain to ignore the reality of pain of one's own situation. The author's own father denies the true depths of his own pain from World War II by stating that "he hadn't gone through anything like what today's soldiers experience in combat." A researcher cited in the book even advocates this method which I see as a cousin to avoidance as uplifting and healing. She says that by "comparing their terrible plight to the even worse situation of so many, they could begin to see how they were in fact better off than some. And that might give them a tiny strand of something positive to hold on to." However, as I've written before, many people are the "worse off" ones, and being placed at the bottom of the healing heap by others with struggles does not help those in the worst case scenarios. Instead, this method of healing can lead to a great deal of pain for both those using it and those who are compared against.

Rendon also presents patients who are obviously still living with horrific side effects of trauma in their lives. One former soldier in Iraq still suffers from severe sleep deprivation and difficulties in relationships. Rendon writes that "The horrors that he witnessed have not faded with time," a true sign that healing has not happened on a deep level because the pain should fade during healing even if the memories remain. Yet Rendon holds this person up as one who has experienced post-traumatic growth because even though he has not healed, he is still able to help others. Examples like this lead me to question how much healing is necessary to achieve post-traumatic growth and how much healing is needed to be fully healed because the two are clearly not the same.

In some cases, I feel what Rendon has lauded as post-traumatic growth is actually denial and not post-traumatic growth at all. He shares the story of Bob Carey and his wife Linda Lancaster-Carey's Tutu Project which has brought laughter and healing to many who are dealing with cancer. Yet at the same time, Carey states, "'One of the reasons I do what I do is that [the possiibility of Lancaster-Carey's death] scares the hell out of me.'" Rather than confronting his own pain and fear, Carey is avoiding it through humor and art. To me, it's questionable whether this situation should be called post-traumatic growth even though it is using a trauma to create good in the world. According to Rendon, Carey continues to talk "critically about himself, his motives, and his work, as if the entire enterprise might fall apart if he were to relax and enjoy the good press and the success the couple has earned with the Tutu Project." To me, this is a sign of someone who is not willing to actually process grief and fear rather than a sign of growth.

While Rendon's work does not examine these options, I have experienced great healing from alternative therapies which address PTSD from different perspectives. Unlike the mainstream therapeutic desensitization technique which re-traumatizes patients with PTSD by forcing them to relive and discuss the worst of their experiences, it is possible to slowly and carefully unpack the traumas that contribute to PTSD in such a way that the patient will minimize new trauma. It is not a 100% pain free method, unfortunately, but it is a far less painful one than what the mainstream offers. I am going to periodically be offering a low-cost trauma and PTSD workshop for therapists and patients discussing how one can truly process and relieve trauma which is stored in the body. It's a workshop I wish that I could give to many people who are suffering from deep pain and not finding relief with current mainstream therapeutic options.

Unlike one bereaved parent in Upside who declares that "Five years is nothing for a grieving parent. The pain lasts a lifetime," I believe that it is possible to lessen or eliminate the pain of trauma without desecrating the memories of those whom we have lost in death. There are ways to find this peace without retraumatizing those who have already suffered greatly. The memories will always be there, but being free of fear and grief is truly a possibility. I know because I have experienced it as a bereaved parent. Not only have I reached a point where I no longer feel that brutal pain relating to my daughter's death, but I am also able to see all the positive things her death brought about. While I would never say I am grateful for my loss, I am able to say that I am incredibly grateful for the changes it has brought about.

© 2015 Elizabeth Galen, Ph.D., Green Heart Guidance, LLC

Full disclosure: I am friends with the owners of Medsavers Pharmacy. However, they did not ask me to write this blog post. The opinions expressed are entirely mine.

One of the problems of chronic illness is the cost of prescription drugs that are needed. Drug costs keep rising, and insurance companies are becoming more stubborn about not paying for drugs that patients need. A study by AARP reports, "In 2013, retail prices for 227 widely used brand name prescription drugs increased by 12.9 percent." The study also notes, "Brand name drug prices increased more than eight times faster than general inflation in 2013 (12.9 percent versus 1.5 percent)." Other drugs increased as much as 113% over eight years. Yet in 2013,the cost of living increase for Social Security payments was only 1.5%; in some recent years it was 0%. 

I have most of my drugs compounded. This means that the pharmacy takes the drug powder which they obtain from the manufacturer and put it in gelatin capsules in the correct doses for me. If filler is needed, they use probiotics. It means there are no food colorings, no dyes, no artificial flavorings, and no gluten in the pills. For me, it's the difference between tolerating most drugs and not tolerating them. It also allows us to create non-standard doses that aren't usually available. For example, I take between 7mg and 9 mg of one drug four times a day. It's only available in 10 mg, 25 mg, 50 mg, and 75 mg dosing in the standard pills. For me, the 10 mg would be too much. Because I need my drugs compounded, I am limited to using compounding pharamcies. The one I normally use is also a regular pharmacy, and I usually get any prescriptions the rest of my family needs there as well. It's a small local business with only two stores, and I appreciate that the staff there recognizes me.

One of my sons has been facing health problems for the past six months. We finally got a true diagnosis, and he's begun treatement, involving flower essences, herbs and Western drugs. One of the drugs was no issue; my son's prescription insurance through his father covered it with no problem. The second drug the insurance company refuses to cover at a rate that the pharamcies can afford because it's less than the pharmacy's costs. They end up having to sell it at a loss, so many of them refuse to dispense it. I asked the pharmacy what it would cost if we paid out of pocket, and I was told $450 for the 30 days supply we needed. Eeks. 

At that point, I called Medsavers Pharmacy. Medsavers does not accept insurance, and they only stock generic drugs. These two things allow them to sell drugs at a lower cost than most pharmacies. If a patient needs a prescription drug, then Medsavers will order it but the patient must obtain a prescription for the entire bottle. When we had older dogs with health problems (including congestive heart failure and Cushing's disease), we actually got a large percentage of their drugs at Medsavers because it was so much cheaper than buying them through a vet. 

The woman who answered the phone at Medsavers was pleasant and let me know that they didn't carry that particular dose of this drug, so we would need to get a prescription for the entire bottle from our doctor. The total cost for the entire bottle which would last my son a month? $62.42. That's versus the $450 I got quoted at my compounding pharmacy. So I got the doctor to write the prescription as needed asking him to respect the almost $400 difference between the two pharmacies. Because the doctor is very sensitive to patient's financial issues, he had no problem doing so. I've known many friends with prescription insurance who've used Medsavers for some of their prescriptions because it was cheaper to pay out of pocket at Medsavers than to pay a copay at another pharmacy. That's essentially what we did here. 

Medsavers Pharmacy advertises themselves as specializing in helping uninsured customers. They are centrally located in Austin, and they will ship wherever it is legal to do so. I think Medsavers is a fabulous example of a business which works to help those in need yet at the same time is a financially profitable business for the owners. It is possible to help others without engaging in extortion, though our health industry would like us to believe otherwise.


© 2015 Elizabeth Galen, Ph.D., Green Heart Guidance, LLC

I do not serve the world by false humility. I serve the world most by humbly accepting that God uses me, because God uses everyone and everything to serve the process of universal healing. ~Marianne Williamson, Enchanted Love

I very firmly believe that I endured all my health, psychological, emotional and spiritual issues in this life in order to force me to become a better person. What I have been through in the past 41 years has changed me radically, especially in the past 12 when I was forced to start healing old wounds on a much deeper level than before. I am certain that one of the purposes of this life was to heal my soul of much damage it had accumulated across lifetimes.

Yet I also am positive that I went through all of my trials and challenges in order to become a healer so that I could help others heal in ways that aren’t generally possible in our culture. Western medicine flounders around with so many misdiagnoses and with drugs that mask symptoms rather than curing problems. That’s not to say that it doesn’t do some good, too. However, there are many people in this nation who are very well-medicated but still in horrendous pain.

Earlier on the evening when I wrote this post, I questioned whether or not it becomes egocentric to tell others, “I suffered so that you might heal.” In a way, that sounds very Christ-like, and I certainly am not a god. Yet on another level, it is the simple truth. I developed my metaphysical gifts so that I might heal myself and then in turn heal others. I believe that is part of why I was put on this planet in this time in this form. To not use those metaphysical gifts to help others reduce or eliminate suffering would be a waste of my life in my opinion.

However, I’m also very conscious of the dangers of ego combined with healing professions. One of the most perilous things in energy work and healing work is practioners who are coming from a place of ego. When these practitioners forget that they are merely instruments of higher powers and instead believe that they are powerful in their own right, trouble often emerges for both clients and the healers. Spirit does not tolerate that type of ego, and it often induces a scenario that resenbles the famous phrase about pride coming before the fall.

As I enter a new phase of my healing work with others, I am constantly reminding myself that while I am an amazing person, I would not be the gifted healer that I am without the help of those who support me on the other side. My ability to receive healing messages greatly depends on the other side being willing to send them, too! I am grateful to the higher powers who support me day in and day out as we work together to bring about positive change in the world.

© 2015 Elizabeth Galen, Ph.D., Green Heart Guidance, LLC

One of our society’s common reactions to difficulties, struggles, and challenges is for people to respond, “At least….” So if you have had your foot amputated, a friend might tell you, “At least you didn’t lose your whole leg.” If you are struggling with finding a job, you might be told, “At least you still have a roof over your head.” If you were emotionally and sexually abused during a bad marriage, you might get told, “At least he didn’t beat you.” If you are suffering from health problems, you will  very likely get the statement, “At least you don’t have cancer.” If you experienced the death of a baby, someone might respond, “At least you won’t have to raise a severely disabled child for the rest of your life.” (Yes, I did get the last two personally.)

On one hand, there’s an element of truth in these statements that could lead a person to issue gratitude for what they do have rather than what they do not have. However, all of the statements are judgmental and opinionated. They deem to know better than the struggling person what would be worse for that person. To me at the time of my daughter’s death, the prospect of raising a severely disabled child seemed far less daunting than facing a future with no child at all.

Furthermore, this method of comparative trials can be devastating for those who are suffering with the “at least” situation. You may be telling your friend that they are blessed that their child died rather than ending up severely disabled, but what about all those who are raising severely disabled children? What is their comfort in this situation? What if someone has been physically abused? What about all of those people who do have cancer or who have lost multiple limbs or who are homeless? What does the “at least” statement that puts them in the worst case scenario do for their self-esteem, their confidence, and their motivation as they wrestle with difficult challenges in life?

It also can seem that when someone creates purportedly worse scenarios, their examples actually downplay the suffering that people have endured. Trauma is trauma, and all of it is devastating to those who are undergoing it. While it might seem comforting to some to pretend there is a worse case scenario, the reality is that the person undergoing challenges doesn’t need to hear those comparisons. What they need to hear is support for them in their own struggles. They need to come to terms with what they are dealing with, not what someone else has endured. What they need is not to be unintentionally judged for not suffering enough to merit sympathy or empathy.

The reality is that every human on this planet endures challenges and issues throughout their lives. Each of us has our own struggles, and each of us handles them differently. There really is that there is no better or worse when it comes to suffering. The reality is that the challenges we all endure are just different. The differences may lie in the type of trauma, the severity of the trauma, and the response of the individuals to the traumas. All of the various elements create unique situations. Each of the people involved must work through these struggles on their own but hopefully with a lot of support of those around them. As we work through these traumas, sometimes successfully and sometimes not, our souls grow and change. In my belief system, these are the struggles we are each meant to face to help us become the best people that we can be.

One of the hardest comments I had to endure in my time of being homebound and mostly bedbound was the statement from clueless people that they would think their lives were challenging until they looked at mine and then realized how much worse it could be. (Yes, they said this to me directly.) These people made me into the the worst case “at least” scenario, and they used my suffering to bring themselves dysfunctional comfort about their own struggles. That doesn’t feel great when you are the one at the bottom of the heap. Rather than making such awkward and painful comments to those you know who are struggling, the best thing to say is “I’m sorry you are struggling.” Or grieving. Or hurting. Or fighting for your life. Whatever it is that the person is enduring that you wish they didn’t have to go through, tell them that you wish they weren’t undergoing such a difficult challenge. Then, if you really want to show your support, ask them what you can do to make their burdens lighter during their time of need. Those are the kind of friends people need when they are in crisis.

© 2015 Elizabeth Galen, Ph.D., Green Heart Guidance, LLC

(This post is based on an Advance Reader Copy of Upside won through Goodreads’ First Reads program.)

As I read through Upside: The New Science of Post-Traumatic Growth by Jim Rendon, I had plenty of thoughts that didn’t necessarily fit in my official review of the book. The book certainly prompted some thinking and questioning on my part; I always appreciate it when a book stimulates my brain cells. Some of these questions I’m asking probably haven’t been answered by studies yet, so I can’t fault the author for not including things that don’t yet exist! The following are some of those thoughts shared in a rather random order.

- It wasn’t until very late in Upside that a divorce was mentioned among the case studies of those who have undergone trauma. However, I suspect that this representation is not accurate. Chronic illness and PTSD were major contributions toward my divorce, and I know I’m not alone in that. I’d be curious as to what the actual divorce rate is among those who suffer from PTSD as well as what the divorce rate is among those who suffer from PTSD but have come to a place of positive growth. Further questioning would ask how many people saw their divorce as a part of their positive growth (as I definitely do).

- As I read the chapter on family support, I questioned, “What about those who didn’t have family support?” I would like to see a study of how support for patients with cancer compares to those with other illnesses. Because Rendon focused on cancer, he may not be aware that other diseases actually can cause families to abandon loved ones. This certainly was my situation with extended family, and again, it was a contribution to the end of my marriage. In my experience with late disseminated Lyme disease which is legally diagnosed as fibromyalgia and chronic fatigue syndrome, compassion and support was not overwhelming. In many cases, friends and extended family abandoned me and my family unit. One extended family member pointed out to me not so subtly that two other family members with type 1 diabetes and gallstones had REAL health problems (implying that mine were not significant, real and/or valid despite the fact that I was homebound and mostly bedbound at that point).

- While Rendon completely failed to discuss the problems surround childbirth and infant loss as they apply to women, he did devote a chapter to a group of dads who have lost children. This is a rare perspective that is often ignored in our culture, and I appreciate that he shared this reality with the world. Too often, men’s grief is poorly processed and disregarded contributing to the ongoing problem in our society of men who are out of touch with their emotions including grief.

- I felt like the chapter on religion and spirituality was one of the weakest. From what was written, I suspect that the author does not identify with religion or spirituality and may in fact be hostile towards them. I felt like he neglected the major differences between religion and spirituality, for they are two different things. It is very possible to be spiritual without being religious. I also wondered as I read the chapter how many people with PTSD experience a radical change in their beliefs or spirituality. In my life I went from being Catholic to being agnostic to experiencing PTSD and becoming highly spiritual without identifying with any religion (and in fact shunning most of them). I suspect I am not alone in this process of spiritual growth that is a part of personal growth with PTSD. This spiritual growth I experienced is a far different experience than someone becoming more vested in an established religion or turning to their pastor for counseling.

- Rendon argues that support groups are instrumental in the personal growth of individuals because they allow those with PTSD to be with those “who get it.” On one hand this is very true. However, I am curious about the reality of support groups for a wider population. I actually found that the pessimism and negativity of many support groups were pulling me down and were impeding my personal growth. They weren’t “better-informed optimists” as Rendon writes. Instead, they were people filled with unhealthy attitudes, bitterness, and often ignorance. I switched to digest for many online groups to avoid reading the posts of the worst offenders; some groups I left altogether. The two health related in-person groups I tried attending, one for those who had lost a baby and one for those who were chemically sensitive, I quickly left because the energy in them was awful. My better-informed optimism did not fit there. Thus, I would be curious about studies that showed that support groups actually have an ability to hamper personal growth rather than assist it. My experiences show that this is a potential reality.

- I cringed at the idea of 46 pills being a lot as Rendon dramatically presents when discussing a cancer patient. I currently take 14 Western medical pills per day plus 65 pill supplements, seven doses of liquid supplements, and a nebulizer treatment per day. At times my pill total has been well over 100 a day. This is what it has taken to get me functional and to continue to heal. I look forward to dropping back to “only” 46 pills and then the day when I need less than 20 per day to maintain my health. Again, if Rendon had talked to people with other health issues outside of cancer, his perspective would have been broadened and enlightened in many ways.

- Rendon has an implicit (and very valid in my opinion) judgment of how deficient psychological treatment is for soldiers and vets with PTSD. He also notes how others involved in other traumas also received very little or no psychotherapy as part of their recovery processes. It would be great to see what the studies show about why this happens other than the lack of funding for mental health care that is an endemic problem in our nation.

- I appreciated the way Rendon approached the topic of “gratitude as a way of life.” As I’ve noted in another blog post, gratitude is the only way I got through many days when my illness was at its worst. I think most people who have not undergone a major trauma understand what gratitude really is and what it can do for us.

- The chapter on activity and exercise as healing was very frustrating to me. I think this is a concept that is fairly well understood in our society as almost all less-than-informed healthcare practitioners I have worked with over the years have pushed exercise as one of the main solutions to healing. However, there is an important distinction between using exercise during a time of hellish illness and using it after one has regained significant health. Rendon discusses women who have survived breast cancer and now row together; he mentions but does not dwell on the fact that they could not have done this kind of activity when they were in the worst phases of their treatment. That distinction is very important for those undergoing health trauma because the overwhelming pressure to exercise when they are too sick to do so can be very emotionally defeating. As someone whose Lyme disease has caused chronic fatigue syndrome, I have had to deal with the conflict that exercise can actually cause more damage than good a great deal of the time, and our society does not seem to understand that because it is so pro-exercise as the cure to all that ails you.

- I really loved that Rendon stressed the importance of not pushing post-traumatic growth on those with PTSD. This book would have been devastating to read in the worst years of my illness; I was not ready to hear its message. I definitely would not give the book to someone who was at a point when they were at rock bottom. The lesson of “bitter blessings” is one that each person has to come to individually on their own time.

- When discussing one person who has survived brain cancer, Rendon reveals the very unhealthy brave face platitudes that are a very problematic part of emotional health in our society. However, Rendon doesn't expand on the problem that "the brave face" ideology creates in relation to PTSD. Rendon writes, “[The patient with brain cancer] maintained a brave face, but beneath it all he was terrified. ‘He never once said, “This really sucks,”’ said [his best friend]. ‘But you could see it in his eyes, you could see him thinking, Holy heck what am I going to do?’” Society expects those with chronic illness to hide behind those brave faces. They’re expected not to show the pain they’re in or the suffering they’re enduring. If they do show that illness, that fear, that pain, that loss, then they risk losing those around them who are unwilling or unable to deal with the realities of health challenges including the possibility of death. This only contributes to the issues surrounding PTSD when one is expected to put on a brave face but is actually falling apart inside.

- I would be curious to see studies about those who manage to achieve positive post-traumatic growth without most of the key items that Rendon cites as contributory factors. I am someone who is lacking in extended family support. I was isolated and alone because of my chemical sensitivities. I was the person whom others looked at and said, “It doesn’t get much worse than that.” Yet somehow I have grown in ways I never would have believed possible. I wonder how other characteristics such as personality and intelligence factor in for those whom growth seemed to be unlikely to happen even according to the standards Rendon establishes.

- Finally, in the last paragraphs of Upside, Rendon writes, “And given that they came so close to death, that they lost so many things they once took for granted, they understand on a much deeper level, in a much more informed way, what it means to be alive.” This association of PTSD with facing death is a flawed one, and it’s something that contributes to a large portion of people enduring PTSD not seeking appropriate help in my opinion. Our society erroneously interprets PTSD to mean former soldiers or those whose lives were endangered. Yet as Rendon demonstrates throughout the book, for many people, PTSD does not result from a life threatening event. I would have added a clause to this sentence about how “some have come so close to death.”

(I do have another upcoming blog post motivated by Upside that I will link to once it publishes.)

© 2015 Elizabeth Galen, Ph.D., Green Heart Guidance, LLC

Since I started dealing with late disseminated Lyme disease over twelve years ago, I have had to nap almost every day. It's not an option for me to stay awake: my body shuts down every afternoon whether I want to keep going or not. There is nothing I can do to stop it. By 3 pm every day, if I haven't gotten a nap, I may be curled up on the floor in an office building somewhere because I can't force myself to move another step. Most days I fall asleep at 1 or 2, but some days I don't even make it to 11 or 12 before I absolutely must nap. It's like the baby who falls asleep in his high chair at the dinner table: nothing can stop sleep when it hits hard.

One of the crueler things that people unintentionally say to me surrounding my illness is that I am "so lucky" to get to take a nap daily or how they wish they could take a nap as often as I do. While I understand what they are saying about craving more sleep, what they are actually saying is coming from a place of ignorance about my health issues and their true impact. I've even had others with chronic fatigue syndrome or late disseminated Lyme disease tell me to just skip a nap on a certain day in order to attend an event. Clearly their health issues do not come with the same severity of restriction that mine do.

The problem with napping daily is that it really interferes with life. I can't easily book appointments in the afternoon. I can't do social activities in the afternoon. I have to book in my daily nap. I sleep 2-4 hours in the afternoon (usually 2), and then I will sleep another 8-10 hours at night (usually 8-9). That means I am sleeping 10-13 hours per day compared to the average adult who needs 7-9 hours but gets less than 7. One can quickly see that means that I have 3-6 less waking hours per day than the average adult which adds up to 21-42 hours a week. That's as much as a part-time or full-time job!

Thus, it's very difficult for me to respond politely to those who make comments about how they wish they could nap as often as I do. I almost always reply that I wish it wasn't a requirement for me but my health necessitates it. Most people realize at that point that they have really stuck their feet in their mouths and backpedal with awkward comments about how they know I have health problems but they still wish they could get more sleep. It's one of those conversations that I know will never end well.

Thus, if I can not meet your requests for a mid-afternoon appointment time, please know that it is not for a lack of wanting to be able to help you at that hour. It's simple biological reality for me that I will be asleep at that time. I currently do book late afternoon, weekend and evening appointments on occasion to help clients who are also limited in their scheduling availability. I look forward to the day, though, when I can give up my naps and I am able to work a 9-5 day just like the majority of the population.

© 2015 Elizabeth Galen, Ph.D., Green Heart Guidance, LLC

(I am reviewing an Advance Reader Copy of this book won through Goodreads’ First Reads program.)

I came to Upside: The New Science of Post-Traumatic Growth by Jim Rendon as a woman who has endured PTSD caused by multiple sources: abuse, childbirth, health trauma, and if you believe in past lives, World War II. I have been able to achieve major healing with most of my wounds through alternative therapies; conventional therapy was only serving to retraumatize me. Yet as someone with a Ph.D., I have a great deal of respect for science and the advances it can help bring. Rendon's work questions why so many people who have endured traumas and PTSD are able to come to a place of positive growth through examining the influence of personal narratives, community support, honest communication, optimistic thinking, religion, creative outlets, physical exercise, fellow sufferers, and therapy. The studies and examples Rendon cites demonstrate that these factors can all contribute to a lifelong positive change.

Rendon’s work is firmly grounded in scientific studies which demonstrate how trauma can lead to growth. The book is well-researched, fluently integrated and easy to read. Rendon’s writing style makes academia accessible to the general public. Despite the heavy topic, I breezed through Upside much quicker than I read most nonfiction books. The stories Rendon relates about others who have suffered traumas are painful to read, but only one was horrifying to me because of the explicit violence it contains. (For those who are highly sensitive like me, I recommend skipping the details in the last chapter on Jake Harriman's trauma, an event that occurred in the war in Iraq.)

Rendon was drawn to the topic of post-traumatic growth because his father was a Holocaust survivor; he makes no indication of having endured major trauma in his own life either explicitly or implicitly. There were times where I felt his text would have benefited from an extra reading and feedback before publication by those who have lived through trauma themselves because Rendon’s perspective sometimes doesn’t quite grasp the full reality. However, for the most part, Rendon does an excellent job of vividly relating the pain and the growth that his subjects experienced. He also gives one of the best summaries I’ve read about how PTSD creates a hypersensitive response in individuals whose “fight or flight” response is perpetually in overdrive. The first few chapters of the book could be incredibly helpful to someone trying to understand their loved one’s new reactions to the world.

If one were to survey the trauma-inducing events that Rendon discusses in detail, one would conclude that trauma is caused by cancer, accidents, warfare, and natural disasters. I realize that Rendon had limited space in his book, but he chose to relate cancer patient after cancer patient’s experience. This is typical of our culture which actually creates additional trauma for those who aren’t enduring cancer: they are second class citizens in the world of medical trauma. This blog post discusses how Lyme patients like me are abandoned by friends and medical practitioners in their search for health while simultaneously being told, “At least it isn’t cancer.” By not addressing other illnesses beyond cancer and accidents, Rendon contributes to the cultural mythologies of what illnesses “should” look like.

My largest complaint about Upside is that it contains a blatant disregard for women’s traumas. It was not until chapter five that Rendon discussed a female case study; from there on, women were mentioned fairly regularly in the book. However, Rendon does not discuss a single case of rape, sexual harassment, or abuse in detail. These are major causes of trauma, but they are barely mentioned in passing and there are no specific examples of them in the text. Most frustrating to me was how Rendon described trauma from childbirth: “People can be traumatized from the happiest of situations: childbirth.” While on one level this is a true statement, on another level it shows a total lack of understanding for the epidemic proportioned reality of what most women still endure during childbirth in our nation. There are two primary times when no doesn’t mean no: when a woman is being raped or when she is in labor. Had Rendon taken the time to talk with women who have experienced what is known as “birth rape” in some circles or tbose who have lost their babies, he would not have made such a flippant comment about the joy of childbirth, and the trauma around childbirth would likely have merited more than a few brief paragraphs in this work.

I will definitely recommend Upside to many clients, primarily the family members and friends of those enduring traumas around war, cancer, or accidents. I will also recommend it to individuals who, as Rendon notes in the text, have already come to the recognition on their own that their traumas can serve for positive growth. The book would serve well in a college classroom of psychology, medical, nursing or social work students trying to begin to understand trauma. However, for those who are dealing with childbirth trauma, rape, or abuse, Upside is not necessarily the best place to find information about healing.

© 2015 Elizabeth Galen, Ph.D., Green Heart Guidance, LLC

One of the quickest ways to piss me off is to tell me directly or indirectly that my pain is not real. I’ve spent the past 12+ years living in chronic pain. I don’t function in the world in the way most people can because of that pain and the associated disabilities that come along with it. No part of my life has been untouched because of what I have endured. Yet despite knowing I am a much happier and better person now than I was 12 years ago, I wouldn’t wish the hell I’ve been through on anyone; the only exception to that is when someone tells me that my pain doesn’t exist. Then I would like those people to spend a month in my body. I would bet you anything that when they came out of my body after having spent a month literally walking (or unable to walk at all on some days) in my shoes, they would be singing a very different tune.

Today, I managed to let someone push this button of mine yet again. In a discussion about the overprescription of antidepressants in our society on Facebook, I put up a links to blog post I had written that talks about Lyme patients being erroneously misdiagnosed as depressed and put on antidepressants rather than the physicians actually looking for the real problem. I also linked another post I had written about how depression is sometimes caused by issues beyond brain chemistry but that most Western doctors are ignorant of those other causes. One of the people involved in the discussion, clearly not my lifelong friend, immediately responded that chronic Lyme does not exist and there’s no scientific proof that it does. Wow. You mean like this recently released study from a researcher at Northeastern University talking about the biological mechanism through which borrelia burgdorferi survives the standard antibiotic doses recommended by the CDC? That kind of evidence?

This is the point at which I hit the block button on Facebook. I have a zero tolerance policy for people who will directly attack me or my life. If you want to believe differently than I do, that’s your choice, but don’t tell me directly and rudely that my diagnosis doesn’t exist and that the pain I’m in isn’t real. What was most stupefying to me was that this person stated that she has a mental illness that requires antidepressants. I would bet that at some point at her life she has been told that she just needs to pull herself up by her bootstraps and she’ll be fine. Mental illnesses are still not accepted by our society, and they are poorly understood. However, that doesn’t give this woman the right to turn around and tell others their diseases don’t exist either. Compassion to all who are suffering is appropriate even if you don’t agree with their diagnosis or choice of medical treatment.

The cyberbullying that our culture continues to foster in this regard is amazing. So many people believe that they are anonymous on the internet. They don’t have a problem spewing hateful words and demeaning obscenities at total strangers. Somehow the internet creates a situation that causes people to forget their basic manners. Most of the time strangers are polite to each other in public, but the internet removes that civility and results in a great deal of anger and pain.

Last week on The Bachelorette: The Men Tell All, host Chris Harrison and bachelorette Kaitlyn Bristowe addressed the problem of cyberbullying. Bristowe has made choices that not everyone agrees with this season, and she has been the recipient of a lot of vitriolic criticism as a result. During the show last week, Harrison read some of the worst of the tweets that Bristowe has received including death threats. As he read the tweets (with the usernames blacked out to protect the not-so-innocent), Bristowe’s eyes filled with tears. A great number of the comments on Twitter at that point were in support of The Bachelorette’s decision to address cyberbullying. However, many were not. Even some people whom I usually find to be fairly level-headed and rational disparaged the decision to discuss this topic. I read quite a few attacks on Harrison for “torturing” Bristowe by reading those comments out loud. From what I can tell of Harrison, he is a genuinely nice guy who did not pull this discussion about cyberbullying out of thin air. I’m positive he had Bristowe’s consent before he started especially based on the quiet comments he made to her as they went to commercial break. Bristowe’s genuine tear-filled response was important for America to see even if (or especially because) it makes us uncomfortable. Those users on the internet whom the cyberbullies are attacking have real feelings and real emotions. The tears and pain are real, too. The mere fact that so many people bristled against this discussion shows how desperately it is needed. If television stars and societal leaders aren’t willing to speak up against this kind of bullying behavior, change will be much slower in bringing about its end.

I’ve mentioned before that I left online dating, tired of the rude behavior and horrid comments about overweight women. What was clear to me in the world of online dating and again today on Facebook is that cyberbullying is real. Compassion is sorely lacking on the internet. Our world is full of so many wonderful reasons for living, and the internet brings about so much positive change in the world in ways that couldn’t have happened before its existence. It is long past time for that change to include an end to discriminatory words, hateful posts, and demeaning responses. We can be better than this as a society.

© 2015 Elizabeth Galen, Ph.D., Green Heart Guidance, LLC

The people who don’t want me to heal are some of the most fascinating people for me to observe in my life but simultaneously one of the most difficult for me to experience. The closer I get to completely regaining my health, the more I see various individuals trying to deny my improvements. As with many challenges, the reactions of others towards my healing says more about them than about me. Their responses are not something that I take personally even though they seem to be directed toward me on a surface level.

There’s one group of people who refuse to allow me to heal because of their particular mindset. They continue to insist that I am highly incapacitated and am unable to do things that I am actually now able to do. While in the past my poor health limited my abilities, healing has allowed me to regain what I have lost. So even as I am attending events and participating in activities that I previously could not, these people around me continue to insist that I am not able to do so.

I’ve had to ask myself why these people won’t believe the evidence in front of them that I am healing. I’ve found a few different reasons. The first subgroup of people who refuse to believe that I am healing are others with chronic illnesses. For them, it is understandably frustrating that I am no longer sicker than they are. They see my progress and healing and outpacing their own recovery, and jealousy fills them. I used to be the one whom they would look at and say, “Thank heavens my health isn’t that bad!” Now that I have been able to heal in ways they haven’t, they can no longer console themselves by seeing me as beneath them. They are having to shift their world views because of my healing, and that’s too much for most of them to handle. Hence, they refuse to admit my life and health have changed.

The other subgroup who can’t accept my healing are those around me who have used my illness to define whom they are. They need me to be sick in order to be my caretaker, my hero, my healer. If am better, they no longer are needed in that same capacity, and therefore their self-definitions must change. This is simply too much for many people to handle. They’re set in their ways and roles. They don’t want to grow and change along with me. Unfortunately, that’s resulted in me having to leave some of these people behind as I move forward.

The last group is the most puzzling group to me. They are people who are very open-minded, very smart, and very important in my life. However, they’ve defined me as ill or disabled for so long that they have forgotten that I can change. They try to peg me into this role even when I’ve healed beyond it. I’ve been able to call many of these people out on their behavior toward me, and most of them are unaware they are even doing it. Once I’ve pointed out to them how they are treating me, most choose to evolve and allow me to be a healthy person.

My experiences in healing and recovery are one of the reasons I adamantly believe that individuals should not define themselves by their illness and/or disability. If their lives change in any way and they lose that part of their self-definition, it can be a huge challenge in living with whom they truly are. Fortunately my battle with Lyme and its associated troubles has forced me to figure out who I actually am. That person is not someone who is defined by the malleable parts of me including disability, and I refuse to allow others to define me in any similarly unhealthy way if they want to remain in a relationship with me. Were I to have defined myself through the illness that I experienced and if I had let others force me to believe that I couldn’t heal because of their personal needs for me to be ill, then my chances of recovery would have been close to nil. Instead, I was able to overcome a terrible uphill battle because I understood that I was not my illness. I am an amazing soul who had to face the challenge of a major illness in order to find my true self, but that illness is not whom I am at my core. All of us are much more than the challenges we face in life. 

© 2015 Elizabeth Galen, Ph.D., Green Heart Guidance, LLC