There are many things you can forgive your body for, but there are moments, relationships, days in life you miss which you will never get back, unforgettable, unforgivable events you are denied in the face of disability. My body is broken, and she continues to break my heart.
This is how those of us with chronic diseases struggle so deeply to have “self love.” Trapped inside bodies that attack us, and hearts which shoulder the guilt of our loved one’s pain from the hurt our illnesses have caused- child, love thyself. Love your abuser. Forgive the one which harms those you love the most. Forgive, forgive, forgive….
Body, you have taken my choices from me all of my adult life. Body, you are the abusive relationship I have never been able to flee. Body, you have stolen my health, my career, fun, freedom… my dreams. No permission was granted to you, yet you take all you touch. You are a jealous, volatile disease, and you only care about your own needs. I have suffered abuse and trauma at the hands of doctors on your account, though, you still batter me without compassion. I’ve been abandoned and made to feel worthless, INVISIBLE because of you body; I’ve had enough of your games!
Body, I break up with you. Sorry, not sorry.
I tear you from my soul and leave you. I will still care for you, because I am obligated. I am bound to you in ways I cannot choose, but I will no longer adore you. I will not call you my own. We are committed to one another, but I turn my back to you, body. From here on out, you will be “Body” and I will go forward being Me.
This is my self love. This is my self compassion. This is my choice.
I rage against your victimization. Your assault on my essence is over. I choose to make my life despite you, in spite of you!
I choose, I choose, I choose.
My flesh and bone surrenders, but my spirit rises up! Your reign, your emotional and psychological torture is over. Call it dissociation, call it compartmentalizing, call it what you will- it IS a detachment, and it is necessary.
I sign the papers and I box up your things. You can live in the basement and I will now and forevermore preside upstairs, in charge of THIS HOUSE.
Sign here X _________________
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A nightmare, a gauntlet of choices… of invasive procedures. Pills, so many pills. The looming threat of addiction, as I searched to end what seemed to be endless suffering. RSD: a constant adversary.
Written by Marcie Ann, Guest Contributor.
I asked, where are the heroes and the heroines of this nightmare I’m trapped in? Who will save me from this monster?
Abandonment: As friends, family, and the medical community tire of my seemingly infinite needs. My very existence is a constant reminder for those who love me and those sworn to heal. They too are helpless.
It’s the never ending story; it’s the song that never ends.
And then, in the heart of a man named Giuseppe lays a seed and the courage to nurture it, to fight this relentless beast. And so the heroes and the heroines enter what seems to be a losing battle for for the victims, the characters caught in the RSD nightmare.
Calmare Therapy, and those with the courage, compassion and integrity to stand beside us. And those with the determination to end our suffering enter the storyline, rewriting our never ending story, splashing its pages with hope for a life free from pain and suffering.
My innocence and naivety lost, with overwhelming thoughts of suicide, I set out on what I believed to be my last and final voyage to live.
Standing in a small clinic all the way across the country, 3,000 miles from home. Instead of being faced with the anticipated judgmental glances of typical doctor’s offices, I am greeted with hopeful smiles.
Now, I sit across the desk from Dr. Stephen D’Amato who explains to my skeptical mind the wonders and success of “Scramble Therapy” in fighting RSD. As he spoke, it came to me: HE CAN SEE ME. Although sitting across from him appears to be a healthy woman, this hero knows my enemy. The internal implosion, the woman trapped in the burning inferno. A spark, a small ember of belief ignites in my numb heart.
I walked into the room to begin this Calmare journey. In the corner stands a seemingly insignificant machine. In this machine and in the hands of my hero and heroine, I place my last hope.
This is that moment.
And so nurse Brandi, Dr. D’Amato and me, Marcie Ann with Giuseppe’s machine set the pen to the parchment, charging into the story together. And after 9 treatments, we win.
Calmare isn’t a cure; RSD is a lifetime foe. But because of one man’s dream, and some courageous men and women, I no longer walk alone. I no longer walk as a helpless victim. With Calmare, my hope is alive.
Marcie Ann, our guest contributor is involved in the online RSD/CRPS community where she has been an educational advocate for Calmare Therapy ever since her first treatment. Many individuals have received pain relief after hearing Marcie’s story. Marcie and others are advocating to make Calmare more widely available. I am so grateful to include Marcie Ann’s powerful story on my blog.