Author Archives: thechronicpainchallenge

I was told when I was younger, that courage is……those really big things…………When you do that bungee jump, when you climb that steep mountain, when you go on the highest slide.

I was told it was the cliff dive, swimming in the middle of the ocean, the fastest roller coaster ride, a speech for an audience….

I now think that courage…. can be that.……for some….

but:

Dear bungee jumper, roller coaster rider, cliff diver, ocean swimmer and public speaker:

Have you ever had the courage to:

Speak your mind and truth, even when everyone opposed you?

Be different than the crowd?

Overcome the panic attack, that hit you alone, in the middle of the night?

Do you have the courage to:

Live with chronic pain and still show up?

Carry the disappointment of wishes and dreams unfulfilled?

Really deal with challenging, deep emotions, passing through you?

Set a boundary, for the first time?

Keep your personal space only for those who value you?

The courage to:

Work on addictions?

Be a cycle breaker?

Start your healing journey?

Regulate your own emotions during your child’s meltdown?

Show up as yourself, unmasked?

Fail repeatedly and still start over the next day?

Be the nail that sticks out?

Realise reality is not what you thought it was?

Have you ever shared the untold story that burned your insides, restlessly waiting on your tongue and fingertips for the longest time?

Can you be courageous enough to:

Know that some of those who mistreated you, will project and see you as the villain in their story?

Hold the shattering pain of grief, in any form, of a life no longer existing, but a coat you still have no choice but to wear?

Let a biting rage run through you?

Would you go for the adrenaline rush of the roller coaster, without a second thought, but prefer to avoid self-reflection?

Courage can be many personal things. Some of the above, none of the above. The cake you refused. The person you confronted. The boundary you set. The page you wrote. The tears you shed. The step you made out of bed. The meeting you declined. The trip you booked. Big or tiny, anything that feels as the dragon in that cave FOR YOU. Until you have faced your own inner shadows, have you fully known courage?

“The moment you are unafraid of the crowd you are no longer a sheep. You become a lion. A great roar arises in your heart. The roar of Freedom.” ~Osho

“The cave you fear to enter holds the treasure that you seek.” ~ Joseph Campbell

“Our deepest fears are like dragons, guarding our deepest treasure.” ~Rainer Maria Rilke

Much love to all you courageous ones, in any personal form. I am rooting for you. Freedom and treasures await. 💖

Silvia

Sometimes I stop.
You know.
A stopping, if you will, like the hosts in Westworld,
if you have watched this,
where they are told to go offline.
I tell myself, sometimes.

Frozen, inward, I stop.
Numb and empty,
it feels like there is nothing left inside,
nothing left to say.
This is the bottom of the frozen lake, yet….
there is life to be found there
and there where it feels numb and cold,
work is being done,
slow and silent, deep down.

It stops the stopping at one moment,
the ice starts thawing
and where you thought,
that everything always stays the same…
so much has actually changed.

You go online.
There is numbness and cold left,
emptyness and nothingness
and also……something…fresh.

No will to prove yourself
A desire to show who you are
And a deep strength…..in your core…
that knows the courage you need and have
to walk with silver hair,
to be different than everyone else,
to speak your truth
with both a shaky voice and thunder
to not seek approval for your stories
to not ask for permission to become,
to not beg for them to believe your pain, any longer…….
…….makes the confidence grow, even more.

Sometimes I stop
and I know why I do
The old self goes offline
and I start anew.
How about you? ❤️

(I wrote this when I was about six months into my silver journey. I am now over ten months in and nearing my one year ‘silversary’……They say ‘a year to the ear and in my case that is partially true: the top part won’t reach the ear and is still very bronze shade (I wish it would go sooner, but it is pat of my journey) The under parts and some sides will. Like I used to read from other silver ladies, you don’t know how yours will look…until you know! I find it a beautiful salt and pepper! Now I can say……If I had known then what I know now…I would have stopped colouring ten years ago…I keep feeling I lived like that horse who stays in one place all day, while he is just tied to a plastic chair….The stories we tell ourselves……of the programming that has taken our minds…..like the mindvirus that it is……Interesting times…..I’m glad I’m on this journey now though…..My confidence is even stronger than at the start. I have surprised myself. I have no care at all about what others think about my hair. Although I have many challenges and struggles at the moment from chronic pain and c-ptsd, this gives me strength and inspiration. And this confidence…..it shows….and that is what makes you beautiful :-))

———————————original text:

This might be a story about hair, but it is actually a story of freedom and liberation.

My grandmother had her hair coloured, literally till the very end of her life.
Aged 81, she had it done, three days before she passed away.
She was in bed, unable to walk, never left her house and was taken care of by two women.
And yet…. She left with deep shades of ‘chocolate middle-brown’, as the bottle said.
My mother coloured her hair till the age of 65 (and now has a lovely salt and pepper colour)

My cousin found her first grey hair at 16. I did aged 18.
I have been colouring my hair for at least 25 years.
I always did it myself, even when I had very long hair.

With my chronic pain, this was never an easy task; far from that…….every few weeks grey hair would reappear.
Because of sensitivities (allergic reactions even) and being conscious of toxic ingredients, I would choose ‘natural hairdyes’ which would fade even sooner.
It was a race against the grey and a race against nature.
I used to pick the growing grey hairs with a tweezer every other day, which would then break off,
resulting in spiky, grey, nylon looking threads on the top of my head. I could not stand nor accept them.
I would wear hats and scarfs in the periods between colouring.
I would avoid getting my hair wet, as much as I could. I actually avoided washing! ( I have known a few ladies who did the same…)

Even though it was an ordeal, every single time (extra pain and flares incoming) I somehow never truly wondered, nor asked myself, in those 25 years:
‘Why am I doing this?’
What am I denying?
What is it that I cannot accept?

It’s just hair, Is everyone doing this?
Why? Why!?
I didn’t.
I just continued the same way.

Until this year.
I was abroad and had bought hairdye to colour my hair before returning.
I decided to wait to avoid the usual hassle and do it once I came back home.
In the meantime I had been thinking about it, for the first time ever.

I saw a woman my age (fourties) with fully grey hair on social media. Then I saw more and more ladies doing the same……Something is brewing, indeed.
It awakened something in me.
I found it beautiful. Stunning.
Something about how they all presented themselves.
Confidence. Strength. Something…inspiring….and positively contageous 💗

Should I?
Could I?

It was an overnight decision that started like a tiny flame, which turned into a raging fire, more and more.

Can I stop?
What if I stop?

I am so done, I said out loud, I am sick of it. How did I continue for so long? Why did I?
I don’t want to colour my hair any longer.
I am not going to colour my hair.
I am never going to colour my hair again.
What just started as a thought, quickly became bigger and bigger.

Less than a half year in at the moment of writing this,
a seemingly small, trivial decision, became life changing.
If someone had told me I would make this choice, less than six months ago,
I would have not believed it.

I just stopped. That was the easy part.
After all, not spending money on hair colour any longer,
never struggling to put the hairdye on anymore with my chronic issues, waiting for hours, cleaning up the aftermath, no matter the pain,…….Washing my hair whenever I want to. Standing in the rain without hair worries! It would be pure joy.
That was the easy part. The difficult part would be the reason why I did it for …….25 years…… in the first place:
–Society.

I am an ‘older’ mother (another label…) and I imagined the grey hair would make me ‘look even older’ and it would be unfair to be seen this way, as I have a nearly seven year old daughter and people would think I’m her grandmother and not her mother…(!) Gasp.
I asked myself how I felt about that and realised that whatever people would think or say, would not change reality.

I then asked myself the most important question:
‘How do I want my daughter to see me, what do I wish her to learn, what example do I want to set for her to model after?’
One where I conform to society’s backwards standards?
or
One where I stand for what I believe in, where I show myself as I truly am, even if I stand alone, mastering all the courage that I have?
The answer itself was easy and instant and I knew what I had to do and what I wanted to do.

It changed everything.
I imagined myself walking with hats and scarfs for the few years it would take to completely grow out. So?

Courage can be a whisper. Courage can be a roar.

I am less than half a year in and as I hear, this is ‘the most challenging part’. Your grey pattern may not be what you hope or expect, but it will be yours.

I have not covered my hair, yet. Yet!
Not on the bus, Not on the street,
My mantra so far: “The best defence is a good offence.” I say ‘yet’ as this can change and probably will. Nothing wrong with scarfs, hair-ties and hats to get yourself through this time! No wrong way to do this 💗

It is scary. If you don’t believe that, you are probably not doing it.
Try it and you will know. It is.
If it was not scary, almost everybody would be doing it.
But….the scary part….also hides the reward.

“The cave we fear to enter, holds the treasure that we seek”, right? (Joseph Campbell)

I have learned so much in the past months.

*How many (younger) women would be grey if they stopped colouring?
What we don’t see, is hidden underneath. (those who hide the grey underneath might just be the ones who ridicule you…..remember)
Grey hair does not equal old age (I had greys aged 18)
Everyone ages but we are not allowed to look older. So what if the grey hair makes us look ‘older’. Why not? (I don’t know anyone my age who is also letting their grey hair grow out….)
Society is deeply dysfunctional and deeply insane (I knew this, but now even more)
People are deeply conditioned, indoctrinated and programmed to believe and follow a sick standard (lies)
If you believe you are free, try doing something that goes against society’s opinion.
You will be the nail that sticks out. You will make some or even many people feel uncomfortable. You will face jealousy. You will not be understood.
Most people’s mainstream opinions are programmed opinions and not theirs. Remember that.

People will look, stare, state ‘their’ opinion, ridicule and comment as if there is an award for that 🙂 (pssst…..society approving of you is not the reward to strive for)

Listen, let me tell you this:
They will say “She let herself go.”
and you will say:
“Aha!
She let go……..of the opinions of others
She let go…….of the weight of being labelled
She let go……of having to conform…and be defined….by a deeply dysfunctional society.
She let herself….finally become 💗”

She realised the freedom it brings.
That you don’t know, until you know.
The strength it takes and the strength she gains, by having the courage to show up like this.
She realised exactly this, that stepping into this strength, she is becoming a beacon to others, to those who want the same…secretly……but are still too scared. You may be the call for them to step forward.
You might just be the one…..who helps others find the courage to do it.
She realised…that such a simple, ordinary act, of showing your natural hair, could be so big at the same time.
Nothing short of revolutionary, perhaps.

She unleashed something inside of her that was unknown up to then. Even though her reflection in windows would make her gasp at times and make her realise the remnants of her own deep conditioning, she also surprised herself.

“Wow…..perhaps… this colour, these different shades of brown and silver on top….are not that bad at all…”and perhaps…for the first time….I am now fully becoming myself, unapologetically.”
She might have impressed others before, in those 25 years….but now…she impressed herself…and that is ALL that truly matters. 💗

A story of hair, but truly, a story of liberation.

(*see the points below)

Shine on, sisters 💗

*1)It is alright if this decision is not for you. Perhaps it will be one day. Perhaps not. That is fine too, no judgement. It is the right one for me :-))

2) This post is about women and how we are defined, boxed in, forced to sacrifice and made to behave and act a certain way according to society’s standards and how defying these is deemed unacceptable and inappropriate. There are ‘younger’ men who let their hair ‘go’ grey and that is great, but men are usually applauded for this choice/decision, praised and called ‘silver fox’, described as looking even more handsome, wiser, while women are labelled as ‘looking older, rejected, shamed and mocked (‘she let herself go’, ‘did you miss your colouring appointment’, ‘you look awful, ugly’ etc.)

This is about exposing these sexist, ageist, backwards standards and lies, realising the extent of the programming within ourselves, getting to know and become who we truly are and deserve to be – and being liberated in the process.

3)I have days I really like the shiny silver hair coming through, especially when the light is right. I have days I don’t like the mix of it all. I have days where it shocks me how I look and my own inner voice=the voice of the critics……..Some days I despair that I am only at the start of a very long process.

Besides courage and determination, it is patience that is needed most. But every day is a tiny step further towards your goal. Onwards! 💗

How many times have you told your story to a professional?
The story of your chronic pain?
When I say ‘told your story’,
I mean fully and unabridged to the point of what is reasonable.
When I say ‘professional’,
I mean someone in the holistic or allopathic field whose job it is to help/treat//support/listen to you.

How many times have you been given a chance to do this?

I was thinking of this again the other day, going through a series of treatments with someone new
and I told my story again.
We tell our story again, because the person treating us needs to know, in order to treat us the right way.
We tell our story again, because someone might need a reminder.
We tell our story again, because we wish to be understood and acknowledged.

It is necessary and often comforting, but can also be very difficult to tell your story over and over again.
It can be hard because it functions as a trigger; we relive the memories,trauma and pain again and again.
It can be awkward, frustrating, infuriating and anxiety inducing when the person we are talking to is not listening, belittes, misunderstand and rushes you, while you are at your most vulnerable.

A few examples of situations with new ‘professionals/'(or familiar ones who need a reminder)

Situation 1.
You come to your doctor and you are eager to tell your story once more. They need to know these facts in order to proceed correctly. Let’s say you have a specific nerve pain, meaning you cannot be touched on your face/head/scalp.
The doctor makes no eye-contact and looks on his laptop while you are trying to give as much information as possible.
You feel rushed as he does not look at you, but does glance at the clock several times.

Situation 2.
You go to a physical therapist for the first time and you are expecting this first appointment to be an assessment only.
You look forward to telling your story and have written down a few bullet points in order not to forget the most important things.
You start talking and follow your bullet points but the therapist quickly tells you that you have to lie down so they can do an assessment.
Before you can resist, they immidiately begin speaking about your posture and start a deep tissue massage, without having listened to the briefest version of your story and concerns, completely disregarding your fears and sensitisation due to years of chronic pain, resulting in a ‘freeze-reaction’ due to trauma (inability to refuse the treatment) and weeks of extreme after pain. ‘

Situation 3.
You visit a new dentist, dreading you won’t get enough time to even briefly touch upon the crucial parts of your story that NEED to be addressed before treatments can start.
You have had too many bad experiences (or exclusively) and don’t have much faith that it will be different this time.
To your surprise, the dentist listens patiently, the dental nurses listen. They sympathise with your situation and condemn the ‘professionals’ who treated you so badly.
You are treated gently and with respect. In spite of your trauma’s and the unpleasant treatments, you even feel somewhat at ease.

I know you have been in these situations. They have happened to me. Mostly the first two, unfortunately, but I have experienced the third one as well.

We cannot control the unprofessional ‘professionals’. The rude, disrespectful, imhumane approach of some.

What we can do is start to do the work on ourselves to learn to speak our mind as much as we can and stop accepting inferior behaviour and hold them accountable and to the appropriate standard.
It is a challenging task, but we are worth it.
If we all did this, the unprofessionals would be out of business.

To most medical fields, I would say,
avoid as much as possible.
Sometimes it is what it is.
They don’t have much time for you.
They have too many patients.
Some fields attract narcissists.
Not only in the allopathic, I have seen in it in the holistic field as well. Less, but yes.

Make a tiny step.
I replay situations in my mind, so I can change them next time.
-I was caught off guard. I felt intimidated- (as we often do with ‘professionals’)
Next time, I will not cooperate with a treatment if it is too soon/against my will/not what I expected.
It’s a commitment to self ♡

Which tiny step to start with is yours?

Retell your story and reclaim your space and your health ♡

Much love ♡ ♡

Of plastic bags
crystals and stones
books, plants, old receipts
and used mobile phones

Of countless shoes
scarfs and just as many coats,
bracelets, necklaces
and grandma’s vintage clothes

Of drawings, sweet letters,
toys and wooden cats
emotions, clumsiness,
bags and quirky hats

Of unwanted gifts,
photo’s, birthday cards,
baskets, boxes
and weathered pots in the backyard

Of odd socks,
pens and empty jars,
random thoughts
and unfinished memoirs

Of uneasy memories
under duress,
poetry, ideas, forgotten notes
and nothing less.

As a collector, in the physical and mental sense, how does one become a minimalist? I seem to have a longing lately, to carry less.

Collecting so much, one must confess, sometimes there is a wish, not for more, but for much less. For less creates more space. More room for ourselves to appear and show up fully, as we are.

As we awaken more to self and bring shadows to the light, the need to park, discard, put away more luggage arises…

Perhaps the burden we carried was too heavy and we didn’t even know, until we stopped, paused and suddenly noticed the invisible collections of pain, fear, sadness, grief, struggles, memories, patterns……and pain and courage collided, doubt and trust, fear and love.

Time for the collector to clean ‘house’ 🙂

(or, how I have felt all my life, while the true, naked imposters are guilt-free and perceived as ‘well dressed’)

I have always believed that it’s a matter of time
before I’m exposed as an imposter
and proven guilty of that crime

“Your writing is substandard”,  they would say,
“your poetry, your stories, 
nor would you manage to write a simple essay.”

I would defend myself and have this already prepared, since I have questioned all my work,
their accusations would not leave me scared

“I’m a master of self-sabotage,
you must take that into account
and it might even leave you impressed
how I analyse everything to the ground.”

“I write in three languages”, I would proceed,
“or is it more proof that you need?”

When the sentencing would commence,
I would say the final words in my defence:
“The true imposters are the others hiding out there,
as the emperor’s new clothes and they don’t even care.”

I would hand in a simple essay
which I had analysed to the ground
They might even say it reads like a poem
and that my words are quite profound

It’s a matter of time before I am exposed
Until then, I must confess, I will write and nothing less.

(written in 2019. by Silvia R.F)

@theholisticpoet

I had a ‘vision’ the other day, more a deep thought, perhaps, which appeared quite vividly in my mind. This idea grew and is a potentially powerful and transformational exercise for/during shadow/inner child/trauma/any healing work. I will share it, as I feel it might be helpful.

Imagine that there is someone, on the other side of your town, country, continent, Earth- and that someone is your “double” in everything, an identical twin in all aspects. You are and look the same, have the exact same lives, circumstances, past, interests, ailments, struggles and so on. It is you, but it is someone else at the same time; someone who could be standing next to you physically and people would think they have double vision.

Now, imagine you were to meet this person and you had to say something encouraging to her (or him), knowing the she is going through the things you are going through, carrying the same burdens as you do and even looks just like you. Do this as if it were happening in this very moment. What would you say? What would you ask? I did this myself and the compassion, love, warmth and understanding I felt for my ‘identical twin’, brought tears to my eyes and filled my whole heart centre to the core. It surprised me. If I could speak so lovingly, so full of compassion and understanding to someone who is just like me, why then is it so difficult to actually speak to myself like this?

The ‘other’, the twin, it is me. It is you. If you (also) find it hard to speak to yourself in this compassionate way, without judgement, with unconditional love (due to a wounded inner child, due to trauma’s and patterns going back to your childhood and so on) then I hope this can be of value to you.

The vision continues. I step into an (underground) train/subway and walk through, till I see her sitting. I sit down next to her. There are no words, we know. We hug. Then we merge together. We were already one to begin with.

Much love and blessings, always. ♡ 

Silvia

You have probably heard of the tale of the two wolves about the ‘battle’ of the two sides within (good/evil) and the one that you feed, wins.

When I think of this story I also have my own take on it, considering how we perceive ourselves. (and how very important it is for our health, especially when living with chronic pain and how this affects our self-worth, which means we have to be even more conscious of it)

How do we talk to and about ourselves? Do we sabotage or motivate ourselves throughout the day? Are we our own worst critics or motivational guru’s? Which one do you want to be and are you? Which one do you feed?

I am a master self-saboteur or, let’s say it this way, I was for the longest time. As an INFJ (an introvert personality type; search for Myers Briggs) I’m a natural self-critic and analyst (perfectionist. over achiever, ocd) This can be handy at times, but can go too far into perfectionism (=fear based and paralysing) and will be detrimental to your (mental and physical) health.

If thoughts become things, imagine for a moment what effect these thoughts of toxic negativity have on us in the long run…(!)

Most of us have (childhood)trauma’s and often we are completely unaware of it. Add the insane world and system we live in (PTSD is almost guaranteed) and (‘social’)media influence (behaviour modification, priming, highly unrealistic and fake body images, oversexualisation, porn and rape culture and so on)

I was (again) reminded that I was feeding the saboteur and starving the motivator, when I heard my daughter (6 yrs.) speak to herself the other day:

She was sitting and said to herself in the mirror :

“How do you make yourself look gorgeous?”

I had just come into the room, overheard her and was expecting (but dreading) the answer would be exterior/body-oriented (make up, hair, clothes) -although she is not familiar with that ‘world’, yet hard to escape it altogether- but this is what she said:

“You just look at yourself and then you say: ‘I’m so pretty and I know it. That’s it”

I thought that was amazing and surprising. (I ‘taught’ her well, what a relief…;-))

We should all talk to ourselves like pure six year olds, don’t you think? No self-sabotage at all, it just makes sense. I’m pretty (swap with good/talented/smart/capable/courageous and so on) because I know it.

If you are that eternal inner-critic that never takes a break (opposite to the type who knows no self-criticism at all, those who push toxic positivity and narcissists) then consider this to be your cue.

Find a mirror ( or without one, but it can be confirming) and say that you are smart/pretty/worthy/loving/successful/perfect as you are/talented/ready for greatness (you get it; positive affirmations) ESPECIALLY do this if the other (insecure, scared) ‘wolf’/ego voice/saboteur/eternal critic starts to fight back and resist (no, of course you are not smart/pretty/worthy because of ‘xyz’ and so on)

This is a simple exercise (but not easy) we can do in any given moment, any day, every day, throughout the day (let’s say, every time you have a cup of tea; every time you look in the mirror; while you shower; just before bed; when you comb your hair…) Come on, we have to be THE ONE who is on OUR OWN SIDE! Who else should do it if we don’t?

Yes…not that easy, but we should actually repeat to ourselves that it IS.(remember: thoughts become things) We already ARE enough, what we need to do is not add anything, but remove the lies and untrue stories we were made to believe and rid ourselves of those blocks and hurdles (they can be heavy.. but pebble by pebble will do it too)

See it as the artist making a sculpture. Her experience is that even though she is staring at a formless rock, the finished form is already there, hidden within. She ‘only’ needs to uncover it. Peel those layers and reveal the masterpiece that you already are.

Starve the critic and feed the motivator. They say it takes 30 days to form a habit, so let’s make this one. The time will pass anyway. 30 days of loving, positive affirmations, ‘carving and polishing’ our way to ourselves.

I once noticed I had significantly less lines on my forehead (wrinkles…. those eternal pain frowns will do that to you…..Not that wrinkles should be a worry; they are most often a part of life and aging, but we all have programming within) and I wondered what I had done, but I had used no special creams and had not changed my diet at that time. All that had happened (during those months, besides being more hydrated which definitely helped) is that I felt very connected to and at peace with and within myself 🧡 The peace within was better than any make up could be and relaxed those frown muscles, if you know what I mean. Interesting to keep in mind……(I have had a lot of baggage to carry and struggles since then…..I long to get back to that blissful state)

How did you make yourself look gorgeous?

Well: *When you feel the peace within you and you know it,

your eyes will surely show it*

(wasn’t meant to sound like the nursery rhyme, but since it does, it is a good way to memorise it! :-))

Make the one you feed, the one who loves you unconditionally 🧡

Much love, Silvia

(tip: for positive healing affirmations go to vitalaffirmations.com. Search for ailments A-Z- Mind-body connection)

The lengths we go to in the pursuit of pain relief!

Always remembering the personal story of someone on the website Earth clinic (which I once frequented a lot, but it has changed) who put a garlic clove in a syringe and injected it into his ear canal (! Have mercy !) hoping it would provide relief, but this turned out to be a very dangerous undertaking (might seem glaringly obvious, but I understood and really felt for him as a fellow accidental warrior and those lengths we go to..) that caused an emergency worse than the one he was seeking relief for….(he recovered from the ordeal)

Sometimes these are dangerous endeavours, sometimes ‘silly’ ones, sometimes both….I had a goofy one myself!

One extremely hot summer, in my maternal land of Serbia (it might have been 2006/7) with a not so balmy 43 degrees in the shade, I decided I wasn’t the type to dangerously inject garlic cloves from a syringe, but opted for another route, perhaps also less taken (or not, in these regions)

I had heard about a psychic (clairvoyant) in town, who could- and this is what I was told, “could help you with your physical issues“. I had my reservations and doubts, but thought it couldn’t harm (no garlic/syringe, right?) so I asked my aunt, who had heard positive reviews about this individual, to take me to her and see what she had to say.

She scheduled an appointment, to be held at the psychic’s house and we set off, one afternoon, a legendary hot summer in July, in my aunt’s car that had a broken air conditioning. (desperation was high to decide to go in the hottest time of day) Puffing away in the car I kept asking my aunt if she was sure about this lady and if she had not shared personal information about me and she reassured me she did not (I wanted to be sure that what -information she would present me with was genuine) When we arrived we waited in her front garden to be let in (no shade) and it took half an hour (and several attempts of knocking, shouting, walking around her property, dialling her number and we nearly gave up, but it was far too hot and we were too close to a heatstroke to go back in the car)

When she finally appeared (bad start as I was quite p*ssed off at that point, besides the fact that it was twenty degrees warmer than what I can cope with) she could not have come out more nonchalant. In a floaty night gown and smoking (which she did not stop doing the entire visit) Pointing and addressing us like we had met before and like we were the ones who were much, much too early, (we were exactly on time) and she had so much other important things to do and still found it in her heart to help those in need who stop by unannounced (it had been booked in advance and we were paying costumers)

She gestured us to come inside in the ‘nice cool house’ (could not have been warmer if she had tried to) Once inside she immediately started arguing with a teenager (her nephew, she later told) about what sounded to be money issues (His. I afterwards thought this could have been set up between the two of them, to make you part with more of your money as you feel for them. If that was the case, it had the opposite effect on me)

Every time she made eye-contact with him, she looked back at me and winked and this happened multiple times during the visit (as the boy walked in and out repeatedly) which was puzzling to me, as he most certainly was about twenty years my junior.

Anyway, short story longer, she started and during the short time of her ‘work’, I repeatedly wished we had risked going back to the car.

“So, you have some issues, I hear.” she said. (I hoped she meant it as a conversation starter, not that my aunt had lied to me. I had already decided to confront her about who the h*ll she had brought me to) What then followed was not from a movie, not a stereotype gypsy story, but what really happened. We sat at a table in a dark room (thick, carpet like curtains) with some thin rays of sunshine managing to sneak in, somewhere, revealing lines of dust and ashes. It was unbearably hot, while she kept saying how cool it was in the house.

There was a jar of beans on the table. I thought it was an ‘inside joke‘ for psychics, a symbol so to speak (who even still uses beans to predict the future, I thought. The metaphor of ‘spilling the beans’ is not used in the Serbian language) However, it was not just decoration. She moved around some ashtrays. Kept smoking. (which made it even harder to breathe in the hot room)

She coughed (the entire time) and asked: “Do you want to see your past, your present or your future?” I wondered why I would want to see my past or present and I said I was here because I wanted to hear more about my issues from another (non-medical) perspective, for a change and how to heal. At least we were going somewhere now, I thought.

While I was trying to wave some cool air on my face, with a coaster (you use what you have) she picked up the jar of beans, seemed to weigh it carefully, unscrewed the lid and spilled the contents over the dusty table with the ashes and thin sunrays, She carefully laid a pattern, which had me amused for a while. Then she would pick them all up, put them back in the jar, shake and start the same process all over again (about five times, without speaking) I did not see the point and started to think it was meant to impress and distract from the fake facade of it all, but was anxiously awaiting the ‘big reveal‘ at this point, that would help me with my chronic pain issues’. (naive, but hey, when you know, you know)

I was used to my grandma ‘reading’ the coffee residue from cups but with non-coffee beans was a first for me. A few members of my family have had several predictions in the past (bean-less) that came to pass and were eerily spot on and with this in mind, I still had hope.

At the moment I was nearly dozing off (the heat and smoke were suffocating) she suddenly got up and hit the table with her fist, making the beans jump up from the table and nearly me off my chair.

“I knew it!” she shouted, “I knew it!!” I looked at her, waiting for the answer. Knew what? *anticipation growing*

Well…*cue sound of balloon being deflated* ….Not only was she not a real psychic but as phony as they come, a snake oil seller, a fraud, a con….thinking of more suitable descriptions. I wondered if I was even at the right address, as I would have done a better job myself….There were no words spoken about (mine or any) health issues, nor predictions that could be helpful (just a few that were complete nonsense)

What was the fist on the table and the “I knew it”? She said “the beans” confirmed my personality to her (?not sure why she thought I would care) and she uttered some vulgar words about my ‘sexy’ personality (exact words she used. Not sure what that is even) that I will not repeat here and that she could ‘see me with her nephew’ (? the teenager) I’m sure she had a goal with all this (she thought she was telling me what I wanted to hear) and money was the main one (she got paid what we agreed on beforehand and not a bean more) and we soon left her oven of a house, this time happily exchanging it for the microwave of my aunt’s tiny car, with the broken air-conditioning.

She spilled beans though…but not in the metaphorical sense. She had no shame at all in what she was doing and happily seems to join the other frauds and rake in the money from those in need, with no effort at all. When we left, there were people outside waiting their turn in the full sunshine (“Lethargic high five! Aww, you too guys….the lengths we go to…”) I took the opportunity to quickly tell them about her…..(while I kept walking) They looked dazed. Could’ve been the heat, their ailments, sorrow….but some things need to be experienced, perhaps…(and there was no physical danger)

I understand you, man with the garlic-syringe. Haven’t we all done ‘stupid’ things for relief? Now, others may not understand the logic or sense behind our reasons and reasoning to do what we sometimes do….but I say, those who know…they know….

So, this is for you ‘crazy’ accidental warriors! (at least we have the stories to ‘laugh about’ later on ;-))

Silvia.

P.S 1: I am not a psychic/clairvoyant, but I have seen people’s ailments through distant energy healings, without knowing them and with accuracy, just tuning in. That is to show you I know this can be done and exists (if you are a doubter) The charlatan bean-thrower clearly had no clue.

P.S 2: Might come as a surprise, but going to a (phony) psychic for help with chronic pain is not that much different to going to a very mainstream Big Pharma ‘specialist’ for the same thing (fill in which one, neurologist, rheumatologist…not talking about the few good ones that give value, i.e true healers) Crazy? Think about it 😉 (I reckon, the fact that you are still reading this page is because you are at least a bit open minded and a conscious being ;-))

I have written about them before.
You know, those when you are unaware in that particular moment, but much later, you realise it was a point in time that defined the rest of your path, “sealed your faith”, (if we are to be poetically
dramatic) changed the course of your journey and so on.

I`ve had many of these moments that I can now clearly see as “defining”, but none as unmistakable as this one.

It happened fifteen years ago this month. The start of my chronic pain journey. The memories of it so intensely vivid and clear, like I am still lying there, trapped in a perpetual moment.

Staring at the window. Outside the Snow was falling down like cotton balls. I was numb from the local anaesthetic, happy that it would be over in half an hour (so I thought)
The snowflakes comforted me somehow, made the world outside look clean, quiet and soft, so very strongly contrasting the harsh, noisy environment I found myself in.
I was unaware that what ensued after that moment would hold me captive for another fifteen years.
It`s good that I did not know.
The snow seemed to know, though, distracting me tenderly from what was to come, lovingly, knowing it was unavoidable. Lying there and hypnotically staring at the snow, I felt disoriented. It almost looked like the snow was rising up, instead of falling down. What appeared as a consoling dream, was an omen of what was to come: the total upheaval of everything I knew. Once I left, after my surgery, dizzy, bruised, confused and still comfortably numb, outside in the, somehow, liberating cold air, I noticed the snow had stopped falling. There were no signs that it had even fallen at all, that morning in March, fifteen years ago.

It started my chronic pain journey, one I never thought I`d embark on.
Is it something to honour, remember, celebrate even?
A quick search told me fifteen years are crystal anniversaries.
I seem to have been through cotton, iron, bronze, wool tin, silk and lace already (who comes up with these things)

I wish I could challenge myself to see this defining moment like an observer, without judgement. As if I don’t have, nor ever had a horse in this race. To see it as a stepping stone that brought me where I am now.

We start seeing it as a “Before and After“: Who I was before that moment…and who I inevitably became after it. I am not who I was that day any longer. The day that the snow fell down like cotton balls. But she is a part of me, the part of me telling me I can now stop, tenderly or less tenderly distracting myself. Like the snow did that day. It is what it was and is.
Raw, horrible, unfair, destructive and disruptive, sad, disempowering and infuriating.
The trauma, relentless despair, the perpetual claw of pain that won`t loosen its grip, the deep grief and loss of self, loss of precious time (weeks, months, years, decades) loss of understanding, dreams, relationships, jobs (loss of finances) hobbies, opportunities…The endless journey through allopathic and holistic medicine, the rejection, misunderstanding, abuse you endure along the way. The falling apart, losing hope, the never-ending search for help and answers, the loneliness and fear…..

Rope-dancing through your days, because, how else do you find balance between feeling the necessary compassion for yourself (and the heavy burden you carry) versus feeling the victim of the situation and being stuck in a “why me?” mindset.
Then…there is…. also.,. a rising up, finding strength you did not know about, the tiny courage that grows, how you keep showing up, regardless of
the pain you are in. People who are not on this path really have no idea (and cannot possibly know)

The defining moment. How do you not let THAT moment and all the challenges that it brought and brings, define your whole life, your experience, your whole journey? How do you not identify with it? How do we remember we are not just our bodies when the pain makes our bodies all we can focus on? So we build our identity around it. I did. You maybe do as well. I know I should not. Maybe you do too. As many different life experiences and paths there are in this strange realm we are in, as many moments there are to say:

“This tried to break me and (nearly) did,

but it is not the real me and never will be.”

Can we mourn and celebrate at the same time? Mourning the loss of our old (pain free) selves and, in my case, the fifteen years I was robbed off like I was sent to prison for a crime I did not commit.
Mourning but also celebrating? Perhaps, by honouring ourselves in that moment and today, for who we were and who we became, despite or because of it all. A time to let that tiny courage grow into something bigger, to give it permission to do that: the courage to see ourselves as worthy of health, love and wholeness, no matter what happened to us. To love ourselves now AND then. To forgive ourselves now AND then.
To say we are still here and we continued and we are amazing because of that.
No matter the number, the amount of years or what happened before to make you think the opposite.
We can heal in any moment. We might be unaware we are healing at this very moment.
Now let THIS be the new defining moment. The moment we started to heal and love ourselves, no matter what, It is said that we ‘lose’ parts of ourselves, along the way. But we can Reclaim and re-define some parts we lost and liberate who we are now.

Now, imagine again, if you like and remember, where you were and what you where doing that day and I will too. Send love. Keep sending love to who you were BEFORE and who you became AFTER ♡

Much love and blessings ♡
Silvia

(this was very emotional to write. When I sound like I am giving ‘advice’- hands up if you have enough of those- please know that I am speaking to myself as well :-))