Soul Chronicles: Shifting the Body from Enemy to Ally; How to Recognize and Honor the Process
Segment 1 of 6 in our Soul Chronicles for the Chronically Ill series.
by Shaler Wright
Audio Transcript:
My name is Shaler Wright. I’m 63 years old and I have Chronic Inflammatory Response Syndrome. I’ve had it for many years, but until this year, I didn’t know there was a name for it.
It’s not active all the time, so, for decades really, I’ve resented my body and felt like it was failing me when I had symptoms, But what if the truth was actually the opposite? What if, against all odds, my body had been fighting a magnificent battle, and was a strong warrior, deserving acknowledgment and celebration?
Imagine how it might affect our healing if we were to give our bodies the admiration they deserve…
When an illness becomes debilitating, it’s a crisis. But what if we can remain open? If we can keep an open mind, then chronic iIlness can actually become cathartic, and our healing can include a reunification of our heart, mind, body and soul.
What does it take to make that shift?
To make that shift in our attitude toward our body to get it from enemy to ally?
We need to see our symptoms through a new lens.
What if we can learn to see our symptoms as an awakening, as an opportunity? That would change everything. James Hillman is a Jungian psychologist and he had this to say about symptoms: “The right reaction to a symptom may as well be welcoming rather than laments and demands for remedies, for the symptom is the first herald of an awakening psyche that will not tolerate any more abuse.“
Wow, what a way to turn it around.
But how do we do that?
Well, I think we need to stop trying to package our symptoms in a neat little box. We need to see them as part of a bigger experience. As a clue, for parts of ourselves that need attention.
Like lost sheep, needing to be brought back into the fold.
I know what you’re thinking. You’re thinking “Why would I want to pay attention to something that hurts or is uncomfortable? Why would I want to focus on it? I just want to make it go away!”
I totally understand that because I think that’s what all of us with chronic conditions do. We teach ourselves to distract, I think that’s the first thing. We teach ourselves to distract ourselves from any unpleasant feeling. We just ignore it. We try to keep busy with other things, and eventually this leads to dissociation. Eventually our minds are not even connected to our bodies any more. We get really good at it. We get really good at doubting whether anything is actually real. When we feel pain we say, “Oh that’s not real. I’m just exaggerating in my head. That’s not anything.”
But it is. And we know it deep inside. And sometimes we even go so far as to feel shame. We feel shame that we feel that way. We feel like our body is failing us. And we alienate ourselves from ourselves. This self alienation is absolutely crippling. But I think it’s a habit almost all of us have. And habits are hard to break. Sometimes it takes an outside influence to help us make the change. For me, that influence was a new doctor.
After I rattled off my litany of seemingly disconnected complaints, instead of looking dazed and like he didn’t believe me (like other doctors had), he took a long pause and he said, “We’re gonna figure this out.” And poof! Just like that, I had a partner. I was validated. I felt legitimate. And it felt great.
Our journey together would take years. Two steps forward, one step back. But it was OK. It was OK. For the first time I felt like I was on a path instead of stuck in a hole. And, looking back, I think I needed that time to learn how to reconnect with the body I had abandoned. I need to learn to sit quietly, and pay attention. To visualize my pain without dismissing it.
I learned to respect my symptoms, and to learn that they were, in fact, trying to teach me, not hurt me. It can feel very humbling to admit to ourselves that we’re not in touch with our own body. It seems like such a natural thing to be able to do, and yet so elusive for those of us who have learned to ignore our discomforts. But once we take that first step, the next ones become easier.
My first step came with pregnancy. My illness makes it difficult to become pregnant because it messes with my hormones. So I had given up hope of ever having a child. Then at age 45, I found out I was pregnant. Not only was I pregnant, I was NINE weeks pregnant and I didn’t know it. I had lost–I had had several miscarriages–before that and just assumed that would continue to happen. But this was nine weeks. It was nine weeks, it was enough to count! I was pregnant!
And when I got over the shock of actually being pregnant I realized that I couldn’t feel it. I couldn’t feel my child growing inside of me. And that scared me. So I went to an energy healer for guidance. I wanted her to keep my child safe. I wanted her to reassure me that he - yes I knew it was a he - that he would be growing in safety.
She told me that he had a very strong presence. He had a strong, warm, bright light. And that he would most likely be a peacemaker, a builder of bridges. And I thought, “What a gift. What a gift that I get to bring this child into the world!”
And then I got sick. My symptoms started acting up and I got bronchitis. And coughing like crazy. They had to give me codeine so I wouldn’t cough so much and that’s kind of a tricky thing when you’re pregnant. I also got in a car accident and broke a rib, and I was terrified I was going to lose my child.
My ObGyn told me that my son probably saved my life. That thanks to him, I was like a big bubble-wrapped UPS package, and I just bounced off any harm from the impact. So my unborn child and I were partners. Not only in adversity, but also partners in change. Because pregnancy is all about change, constant change. And my pregnancy taught me not to fear change.
For the first time, I felt discomfort as progress, and I knew it would be temporary. I used to fear any changes in my body because change could be triggering. I feared an unavoidable cascade in symptoms. But you know, you know the old saying ‘the only way out is through?’ Well, that’s true for positive change as well. If you never chance for fear of losing, you’ve already lost. So change became my friend and my ally.
I often return to a quote from Marcus Aurelius’s “Meditations.” “Time is a sort of river of passing events, and strong is its current; no sooner is a thing brought to sight than it is swept by and another takes its place, and this too will be swept away.”
The first time I read this I thought it was distressing. “Such impermanence! Can we count on nothing?” Hmm. Yes, we can count on change. And that’s a good thing. That’s progress. And the changes needed to switch our chronic illness from a crisis to a catharsis are primarily changes in attitude. We need to trust our growing awareness of our body, and listen to it. And pause when a treatment is not working, instead of just being compliant because we’re ashamed and feel like we have no right to even be there.
Chronic illness can be a lonely road. We need to ask for fellow travelers. We may feel odd and unknowable but others know that feeling too. And if we can let down our guard and allow ourselves to be seen, we will find out we’re not alone. We’re not odd, we’re just challenged. Our bodies are challenged. And as soon as we can stop resenting our bodies for being challenged, then we can begin to appreciate the unfathomable resilience of our bodies. And even if we never come to understand all the whys and hows of everything that happens to our bodies, we can cherish the fact that mystery, as well as change, is one of our body’s greatest gifts.