Without planning to do so, I shared with the other hikers and the group’s leader that I although I have tremendous energy and gifts to share, the shadow side of my life that I do not yet understand is the battle that has been labeled by a few as “Chronic Fatigue” or “Fibromyalgia.” I have moved forward and given with great love and energy to those around me who have need, only to find myself exhausted – seemingly beyond what would have made sense for the level of energy I had expended. Although I am aware that physical symptoms in the body are often connected with unresolved emotional issues and I am vigilant about keeping my store of unresolved issues to a minimum, some symptoms still remain. (If you would like to read more about unresolved emotional issues leading to physical symptoms, read
The Mindbody Prescription: Healing the Body, Healing the Pain by John E. Sarno.)
In the time since they have passed, I have felt some very real and profound connections to my grandmothers who have died. And now, as I stepped across the threshold of the ceremonial circle from which I was launched by the group leaders, I was keenly aware that the symptoms I carry in my body today are part of some kind of legacy I carry from my mother and from her mother – my maternal grandmother. So the questions I asked as I stepped out in the beginning of my journey were: “Why am I carrying something that does not belong to me? What am I to learn from a legacy of shared, passed-down pain? How does my carrying the symptoms of unseen pain connect me to those from whom I was born? What am I supposed to do with this pain?”
As I walked, I became aware of so much in nature that combines life and death in the same moment. I passed a huge, fallen tree trunk. It was dead, but covered in life that seemed oblivious to the death in the host: moss, weeds, insects, small animals thrived in spite of their dead host. I became aware that Fibromyalgia is life and death in the same body. So many times, we move through our lives striving to avoid looking into the darkness of the cocoon that holds painful memories and past injuries. I believe that it is this cocoon from which the symptoms of death (Fibromyalgia and Chronic Fatigue) arise because we would rather die than open the cocoon to explore its contents. But yet, we live. The conflict between life and death in the same body is where physical pain and mysterious symptoms find their birth.
And yet, this awareness does not help me answer the question as to why I carry symptoms. So my question changes: “How do I carry life and death together in my body?” I hiked deeper into the wilderness along the trail that ran beside a brook. Thirty feet below where I stood, I saw a clearing that called to me. I had to get down there, even though the way down was not marked by an path. Taking a deep breath and pausing for a moment as I climbed down to ignore my own question as to whether I had the ability to get to my destination, I moved deeper into this dark, damp, tropical alcove. Almost at the bottom, I found it necessary to “fall” about 4 feet to get to the stream.
This was a very shady, secluded place where I was alone – except for a million mosquitos, interesting flies that walked on the water’s surface and a California Newt that I spent some time playing with. It was amazing to see a “lizard” who never seemed to come up for air and who moved in slow motion against the current of the stream. I stepped across the brook using rocks that protruded out of the water and sat on the other side, deep in thought. “How do I carry life and death together in my body?” I thought about my mother and my grandmother and how they have carried pain that manifested in their bodies.
As I sat there, I looked around me and about 50 feet upstream. I saw a different little spot in the clearing I wanted to sit at. Impulsively, I got up – only to realize that the other spot wasn’t any better or worse than the spot I was sitting in. Then, as if the Newt that was crawling against the current could speak to me from his hiding place in the water, I realized that I often want to be somewhere I am not. I didn’t need to move. I needed to appreciate where I was and keep asking myself questions. Then, it came to me . . . . the most significant way that I want to be somewhere I am not is with my body.
For me, the legacy of life and death in the same body is manifested in self-rejection and shame about my body. Like the lizard who puffs his body up to make it bigger in the face of a threat, we women do the same thing. We make ourselves larger to protect ourselves from threats. Then, we torture ourselves trying to make ourselves small and berating ourselves for not being able to do both: make ourselves bigger to be safe and make ourselves small enough to disappear or to be loved. During my own adolescence, I was taught these lessons through the osmosis process that happens in the subtle signals passed down from generation to generation. I created my own form of self-rejection from the shame I learned. I never learned to love my body or to be comfortable in my physical form. Instead, I tried to make myself disappear. Then, in my first marriage I was faced with real threats to my well-being and made myself larger. In both paths, I followed the example of being unhappy with my own form that was passed down to me.
As I write this, I am ever aware that this pattern I’ve found in my own life and in the lives of women I love is pervasive in our culture. We are taught to hate ourselves. We are taught to look at the surface appearances and make judgments by comparison. So we diet. We cut ourselves. We allow ourselves to live inside of relationships that degrade us. We abuse our bodies with alcohol or drugs. How can we live this way? How can we wash ourselves clean of shame that doesn’t belong to us? How can we learn to treasure the flesh and bones that make us human and allow us to move and breathe and act and love? Even if trauma happened in our own life stories, that trauma was not about us. It was about the person who hurt us not being worshipful of the divine creations that we are. The disconnection was in the other person, but we took the disconnection deep within ourselves and carry it forward every time we treat ourselves with disrespect. We must do something to change our relationships with ourselves and re-claim our bodies as our own wonderful, lovely, divine gifts.
Alone in the wilderness in this secluded grove of fern, moss, mosquitoes and trees, I created my own rituals for reclaiming my body. There I used the mud from the earth to dress all of those parts of myself that I had rejected. I admired myself. I felt like Eve in the Garden of Eden before she knew what shame was. Then, I bathed to wash away all of the shame. All along, I felt the comfort and support of my grandmother. Healing in a way she had not been able to do. But I could and I did. The healing, cleansing ritual I created there seemed to meet her approval – as if my healing was also her healing. And my mother’s.
As I walked away from my secluded ritual grove (once I figured out how to climb out of the hole I had to fall into), I had a renewed sense of strength and peace. Yes, I felt exhausted. So I lay in the field and listened to the birds and the wind.
In the days to follow, I’ve discovered that I have a new appreciation for my body. My size hasn’t changed much. About two years ago, in fact, I got a “download” telling me to stop trying to change myself – it was a download that I have been aware of, but incapable of heeding. During that walk, the rest of the mystery was given to me so that I could actually stop trying to change myself. A woman who is full can feed the world from her essence. The Earth Mother Goddess is full, fertile, nourishing, radiant, alive, vibrant. She gives from her full being and is beloved and honored and worshipped. That is the image after which I choose to pattern my self-worth and my appreciation of my own body.
So when I got home, I carried that experience into my daily life by creating a painting that reminds me of what I learned. And I realize that what I learned is still fragile and can be affected by the pressures of my daily life. In fact, yesterday I was aware that when some things didn't go the way I needed them to, my first line of attack was toward my body. Aware because of my newfound appreciation, I was able to talk to myself in a gentle way that helped me keep the two issues separate. The disappointment had nothing to do with my body and I refused to lay my body on the altar of disappointments where it didn't belong.
I hope my sharing at this personal level has helped you to think about your relationship with your body. If you would like the assignment that I will send out on Friday about reclaiming your body from shame, fill in your e-mail address and first name, then watch your e-mail on Friday. As always, I respect your privacy and will not share your personal information. Thank you so much for listening today. All my love and best to you! I'm Tamara Johnson