It is brave to stay in my body, it is wise sometimes to leave it

If you are someone who struggles to stay in your body.
If you are someone who has leaned into dissociation as a survival strategy.
If you are someone who struggles to connect with the sensations and language of your body.
If you are someone who encounters deep pain when you touch into your bodyscape so it’s like: okay, why the heck would I even go there?
If you are someone who has been should on to stay with your body as if it’s easy.
If you are someone who has been admonished and shamed for shutting down, numbing out or disconnecting from parts of your body.

This love note is for you.

There is wisdom in living in our body. In embodying the skin and bones, the muscle and cells - the nervous system that works towards equilibrium and survival in any way possible.

There is wisdom in leaving our body. In disconnection, in dissociation, in numbness and avoidance and not being ready to go there.

If you are someone who has experienced or experiences chronic pain, chronic illness, or traumatic experiences, the body might not always feel like a safe place to be. It might not feel like a thing we can trust. It might be a place that betrayal has happened, or is happening. We might feel or have felt this from the hands of someone/thing else, or in the disappointment we may feel about our own body and its processes and how they impact us and our lives.

I want to say that this (this being whatever you feel, whether I have named it or not) is so fucking valid.

It makes sense if connecting with our bodies is hard. It can be wise to move slowly. It can be helpful to work with someone who gets that bodybased approaches might be super challenging and that it’s not a one-and-done deal. It can be affirming for someone to say:

Look at you. Look at the ways you have survived.
Look at the ways you are surviving.
And before we try to change a thing —
Let’s start with honoring the hell out of that.

Shall we?
[ ] Yes
[ ] No
Jess

P.S. I am over the moon to be sharing so much about bodies, embodiment, pain, the nervous system and trauma with y’all! Like, really and truly. ❀ Tending to Chronic Pain, a 4 week journey for meeting our pain & our selves with growing compassion is opening soon. Click here to join the waitlist!

Gratitude is not required on your chronic pain journey

Gratitude is not required in your journey with chronic pain.

Sure, folks will foist it upon you.

Tell you your pain is a gift.

And it might be.

But the truth, as with most things, is that you get to decide.

And often it’s not as simple as a gift with no sharp edges.

Perhaps it’s easier for someone else to declare your experience a gift when it isn’t theirs to hold.

Your gratitude is welcome. Same as everything other feeling (and there can be so many).

But it’s not required, even if you’re repeatedly told otherwise.

There can be glimmers of gifts and beams of gratitude and even the occasional appreciation for a lesson, but folks often paste these bright spots over the intensity and immensity of the pain you might experience.

Today, I’m here to say that wherever you are in your experience is okay.

You need not fastforward or find the silver lining in the storm cloud that threatens a flare.

Sometimes we just sit on our front porch as the clouds hang low, limbs restless and heart thudding deep, and whatever we feel is not a thing to usher in or push away, it’s just a thing that’s there and true because our bones sing of it. Maybe it’s a cloud, and it might float on or stick around. We might not know yet. And whatever we see in it or make of it is ours, a thing that can’t be lassoed by someone else’s hollow words because they’re not the ones on the porch in the weather, eyes toward the storm.

Sending care though the clouds,

Jess