Mindful Camino Lesson #3: Stop Hiding Your Scars

Mindful Camino Lesson #3: Stop Hiding Your Scars

by | Sep 28, 2017 | Anxiety, Personal Growth, Self Care, Trauma

Scars. We all have scars and we all hide them. Today I’ll share with you one of my biggest insecurities, as well as some steps to embrace your scars.

I confess that my insecurity is rather superficial. As deep as some of my thinking may be, at times I get down on myself in a petty way.

We have visible and invisible scars that leave imprints on our lives. Yet, scars tend to have one thing in common: shame. Shame comes when we lack acceptance of our imperfections. We often see ourselves as flawed and unworthy…of love, success, belonging, happiness, etc. We struggle to see ourselves as whole. You don’t have to look far to see how prevalent lack of self-worth is in our society.

The Scar That Makes Me Self-Conscious

I have my share of emotional scars. But it’s the physical scars that make me feel insecure. I’ve dealt with acne for a whopping 23 years of my life. Its severity has waned at times, but it has always been a part of my life.

I love being my most natural self. I feel best when I’m barefoot and braless. I have two gray hairs that I adore. Feeling free of societal concepts of beauty is what makes me feel alive and feminine. But then there’s my concealer…

My concealer has been my crutch for years to cover up pimples and scarring. I’ve tried multiple elimination diets, dermatologists, medications, and natural remedies, but little changed.

And when people ask you what’s wrong with your skin–you tend to want to hide it. So that’s what I did. I used to get anxious and sometimes angry when a boyfriend would watch me put on makeup. I wouldn’t crash at a friend’s if I didn’t have my beloved concealer to go to brunch the next day. I envied the “perfect skin” people I’d meet.

For as long as I can remember, I’ve had this idea in my head of people saying, “Melissa would be pretty…if just her skin…” Do we all have these inner imaginary voices?

Removing My Mask on the Camino de Santiago

I wore a little concealer on the first day of the Camino. But the next day, I awoke with a sense of simplicity, so my concealer stayed buried deep in my backpack.

I encountered many pilgrims that evening at the albergue. No one commented on my skin. They all asked about my knees.

A couple of days later, when I sent a bag of belongings away to lighten my load, my concealer and a couple of other small makeup items went with it. I didn’t even think twice. I was ready to spend the next 10 days unmasked.

And I did. I got used to not thinking about my skin other than to wash it and apply sunscreen. I got so used to not wearing makeup that when I actually arrived in a larger city and went out to a restaurant with my fellow pilgrims, I didn’t even think about my scars. And you know what?

I’m not saying I’ll never wear makeup again. But I developed a sense of freedom and self-love in my process of allowing myself to be vulnerable and embracing my skin as it is.

There is great strength and empowerment in allowing our scars to show, whether physical or emotional.

How to Embrace Your Scars

  1. Remember you’re not alone. Everyone has scars. If you’ve experienced past trauma, you’re not alone. If you have stretch marks, you’re not alone. If you’ve lost a breast, you’re not alone. When we realize this, we have an ability to choose to share our scars openly to encourage and support those around us.
  2. Give up perfection. We need to let the unattainable illusions of magazines and Instagram go. I am seeing a trend toward more people sharing photos of cellulite and talking about their depression openly on social media, and I think this is the path. If you want to be perfect, be the real and authentic you. That is perfection.
  3. Embrace your scars. So, in the case of a more profound scar like emotional abuse, that scar is part of your story, but it doesn’t define you. Rather, it’s an indicator of resilience and perhaps lessons learned. I look at my example of acne scarring and I believe it’s made me more compassionate toward others. I have a friend who has struggled with her self-image for years. Her insecurities are different than mine, but I realize we both have them and my scars help me to arrive at greater empathy.
  4. Let your scars shine. When we stop concealing our perceived flaws, we give them less power and stop living in fear. A sense of freedom and love is invited into our bodies and minds. Our scars then can become a tool for sharing our vulnerability, and that vulnerability just might mean the world to someone else.

What scars are you hiding? How are you giving them power?

Mindful Camino Lesson #2: Pain is a Teacher

Mindful Camino Lesson #2: Pain is a Teacher

by | Sep 27, 2017 | Anxiety, Grief and Loss, Highly Sensitive Person, Personal Growth, Self Care, Trauma, Travel

Today I’d like to share a few ways I see pain as one of my greatest teachers.

If you’re human, you’ve experienced pain… many kinds of pain. Loss of a loved one. A broken bone. A break-up. Discrimination. Chronic illness. Bullying. An absent parent.

Sensitive people can be particularly affected by pain. We’re more susceptible to stimulation, and we feel it on multiple levels.

That said, we also have a special skill in transforming pain into the fuel that makes our lives meaningful. I saw this within myself during my recent knee injury while hiking the Camino de Santiago. When pain struck, I used it to learn and make sense of my experience.

So what does pain teach us?

 

1. Pain teaches us resilience.

Sometimes it feels like it’s too much to bear. You may know that feeling intimately.

My knee pain was excruciating, but it paled in comparison to the sudden loss of my mother. Yet, the physical pain on my Camino reminded me of just how much we can endure, particularly if we have healthy coping skills at our disposal.

I met a German woman one day. In the few minutes we chatted, I learned she was carrying her husband’s ashes. He had hiked the Camino de Santiago annually since 2009 until his passing in 2016. This was powerful for me, as the thought of losing my partner is something that makes me anxious. Her sense of ease in carrying him with her made me realize just how strong we really are.

When we can sit with the challenges of our lives and incorporate it into our sense of strength and resilience, we become empowered beings that can handle almost anything.

2. Pain teaches us to listen.

It alerts us to a problem and urges us to listen.

It would have been wise to listen to my body sooner. But I was intent on finding a solution so I could keep walking. Meanwhile, I ignored the call from my body to take rest and made it worse.

Far too often we ignore the physical and emotional pain of our lives. We cope by working harder. We turn to alcohol and drugs as a temporary fix. We’re too good for our own good as we frantically help others while ignoring ourselves.

One of my yoga teachers, Morgan Lee, once said to listen to yellow lights to prevent injury. I’ll take this further and say that yellow lights come in many forms. Sometimes it’s a warning from your body. But maybe it’s a sign that you’re overloading your plate. Or maybe it’s a sign that it’s time to let go of that relationship that feels destructive or imbalanced.

3. Pain teaches us presence

On the Camino de Santiago, it’s very easy to get into “pilgrim mode” of walking quickly without taking time to talk to a local or notice the purple flower growing out of the ground. My injury forced me to pause and appreciate the beauty around me. And when I took the time to notice something other than myself, it helped me manage my pain.

Emotional pain is no different. When we power through or ignore it, we often miss an opportunity. If we allow ourselves to feel pain, then we can tap into a collective experience that all living beings share. When we are present with pain and notice how it shows up, we have an opportunity to reflect and transform it.

4. Pain teaches us gratitude

I caregive for a woman who had a stroke five years ago and spends her days sitting in a chair. She and her husband used to hike and travel all over the world. Now he goes alone.

While she has good days and bad days, she frequently talks about being thankful for her family and travel experiences. She’s thankful for the days when she’s not in as much pain. I thought of her a lot during my Camino.

I felt grateful for my ability to walk despite the pain. I felt grateful for the moment. I felt grateful for my breath, my eyes, and my ears. I felt grateful for the earth and trees, and all of the things that are more powerful than pain. I felt grateful for the small moments I photographed (see below).

Ultimately, that gratitude is what led me to stop my Camino. I thought of this woman and how her Camino shifted to an “inner camino” years ago.

That, my friends, is what the Camino de Santiago is all about for me. It was never about arriving, but about how we face ourselves and live as the highest expression of who we can be.

What have you learned from pain in your life? I’d love to hear from you if you feel inclined to share.

Mindful Camino Lesson #1: Lighten Your Load

Mindful Camino Lesson #1: Lighten Your Load

by | Sep 26, 2017 | Highly Sensitive Person, Personal Growth, Self Care, Travel

Last week, I returned from hiking the famous Camino de Santiago in Spain, but I never made it to Santiago.

Over the next few days, I’ll share with you what happened along with some Mindful Camino Lessons I learned along the way that just might resonate with you. 

But let me first explain the Camino de Santiago and my purpose for hiking it.

The Camino de Santiago was traditionally a religious pilgrimage to the city of Santiago de Compostela, the alleged burial site of the apostle St. James. Camino pilgrims hike the many different Caminos for many different reasons.

The Camino I chose was the Camino Primitivo, which is off the beaten path with beautiful natural landscapes. It seemed to be the most introvert-friendly, and in theory, I could hike it in under two weeks. The Camino Primitivo also happens to be the most physically challenging Camino.

My purpose for hiking the Camino was to have introspective time in nature. I wanted to know how I’d feel hiking alone for a long period of time–how my mind and body would respond. I’ve traveled solo quite a bit over the years. Each time I do, I’m reminded of my own strength and resilience. I was at a place in my life where I was craving that reminder again.

I got that reminder and much more.

One thing I realized is sensitive folks like me have a knack for tuning into the silver lining of challenging experiences and making deep meaning out of them.

Despite the setbacks that caused me to terminate my Camino early, I learned a great deal in the short time I hiked this epic journey. I’d like to share those tidbits of wisdom with you this week.

Mindful Camino Lesson #1: Lighten your load (even more)

What are you carrying in your pack?

As an introspective person who faces anxiety, these are questions I ask myself regularly in my practice of self-care. But this inquiry was incessant during my recent trek of the Camino de Santiago.

The Camino forces you to examine the physical and emotional baggage you carry. I believe it’s one of the key lessons the Camino has to teach us.

For me, I get that less is more. I’ve lived out of the country for two years with everything I needed in a backpack. I value minimalism and I thought I was good at keeping my load light.

But there’s almost always something more we can unload. And we carry baggage in many forms, all of which I believe contributes to greater anxiety.

Starting to Let Go of Heavy Baggage

I carefully sorted through my backpack multiple times before my trip to pare down extra weight, as I knew I’d be hiking 20-30 kilometers per day. Yet, I was convinced each item was necessary.

On Day 1, a knee issue that has visited periodically over the last five years crept in on me. I found myself almost unable to walk at the end of the day. The struggle persisted over the next couple of days. And as I struggled, I realized I was bogged down by the weight of my pack.

As soon as I arrived in a town with a post office, I sent six pounds of belongings to some friends in Madrid. I also started carrying less water and food. My pack was lighter, but it wasn’t enough.

The pain continued. Many Camino pilgrims told me it was normal and my body would adjust. I wasn’t so sure. But I listened to them and continued experimenting to continue walking.

I tried sending my pack from one town to another so I could walk without carrying my baggage. I felt free and light at the start of this day, but eventually, the pain came back.

Why was I so set on continuing my trek and what else could I let go of at this point?

How Emotional Baggage Causes Us Pain

Before starting my Camino, I visited a friend in the south of Spain. One day we were talking about expectations of others. I said I felt that I let someone in my life down just before I left. He said, “Your pack might be light, but you arrived with baggage.”

My friend was right. He encouraged me to communicate with this person. I did… and to my surprise, this person responded in an understanding manner. A weight was lifted.

But was it?

One thing that became clear to me during my long walks was how much of my anxiety comes from the expectations of others, and probably more importantly, the expectations I put on myself with respect to others. And well, I could also add the expectations I have of others.

As an introvert, I often get overwhelmed with social obligations and family expectations. I hold high expectations for myself to be able to be a better yoga teacher. I judge myself for letting go of social work and not doing enough for social justice. The list goes on…

If I don’t check myself, I can easily get caught up in a cycle of needing to be all things to all people, including myself.

And well, these expectations showed up on the Camino. I was subconsciously carrying emotional weight and it was permeating my experience.

I expected a lot from my body. I expected it to be able to climb up and down mountains with little preparation, as it did ten years ago. I expected my mind to be able to handle the challenges and thought all this would require was mind over matter. I expected to be able to work through any discomfort. I expected the people around me to be right when they said my pain would go away after a few days.

I carried the weight of expectation in a range of forms during my Camino. I cried the day I let it go. And then, I realized that I felt lighter as I let go of the pressure I put on myself.

The pain in my knees did not go away, but I was able to move into the Camino my body and soul were asking of me.

Take a deep breath and ask yourself these questions:

  1. What is weighing you down?
  2. What does it feel like?
  3. Who are you carrying it for?
  4. What would happen if you let it go?

Below I’ve shared a video of my thoughts on baggage during my Camino.

I’d love to hear from you if you feel inclined to share your process of “shedding baggage” and “lightening your load”. 

8 Special Superpowers of Highly Sensitive People

8 Special Superpowers of Highly Sensitive People

by | Aug 7, 2017 | Anxiety, Highly Sensitive Person, Personal Growth, Self Care

Have you been told you’re too sensitive? Unfortunately, it’s rather common in our society for highly sensitive people to be teased or criticized, even by loved ones. Our friends and family typically mean no harm. At times they may think they’re “just having fun” or maybe even showing affection.

As highly sensitive people, we may be able recognize the spirit of this way of relating. And so we get used to laughing it off and “letting it go”. But do we really let it go?

Over time, the hurtful words we hear settle deeply into the psyche.

We learn there’s something inherently wrong with us. The outside world tells us we’re weak and flawed. We’re too serious. We ought to be able to talk about certain issues without getting emotional.

Have you heard these words and statements?

I felt that way about myself for a long time. I wished I weren’t so sensitive. I felt so misunderstood and alone in my experience. Thinking of myself this way, made me feel anxious. I struggled to see the strength in being sensitive.

In recent years, I’ve begun to change my perspective on being highly sensitive.  

And then something happened recently that blew my mind.

My dad (who has historically called me sensitive) told me that he sees the positive traits my mom possessed in me. The first and only trait he mentioned in that conversation was my sensitivity.

In a separate conversation, my partner also told me that one of qualities he finds most attractive in me is indeed that I’m sensitive.

The thing about being a highly sensitive person is that it’s only a problem if we internalize our sensitivity as something negative. When we can tap into our sensitivity as a strength, or even superpower, then we truly begin to shift the paradigm.

Superpowers of Highly Sensitive People

  1. We’re deeply empathetic. Highly sensitive people frequently possess a strong ability to feel what loved ones and even strangers are experiencing. When we tune into these emotions, we truly feel them. This gives us a unique sense of open-minded compassion. I’ve had times when I was angry with someone, but still felt compassion toward that person knowing her pain. Of course, this superpower can also be a curse. Self-care is vital for highly sensitive empaths to avoid holding the suffering of others.  
  2. We’re considerate. We find ourselves extra conscious of our body language and respect the personal space of others because we know how it feels to be both shunned and invaded. We’re conscientious about the volume of our media and voices because we’ve been the quiet neighbor in a noisy building. Not everyone is sensitive to the same things, but we prefer not to infringe on the freedom of others to enjoy peaceful space.
  3. We’re flexible thinkers. My partner once told me that if I were to have a gravestone, it would be etched with “part of me feels like…” While this phrase sometimes pertains to decision-making, it also comes out when I’m discerning between right and wrong. Even with matters that are black and white to many people, highly sensitive people are able to think less dualistically and see where others are coming from before judging.
  4. We’re acutely aware. We are extraordinarily perceptive and intuitive when it comes to people and our surroundings. Sensitive people can often spot red flags in people and situations leading us to sniff out phonies or scam artists more quickly. I’ve taken a lot of risks in my life that make some people balk. But for me, I find I have a special knack for sensing the character of those around me.
  5. We’re creative. Highly sensitive people are often very imaginative and adventurous in their thinking. We tend to prefer thinking outside the box rather than linear thought process, which can lead to innovative problem-solving or vivid works of art. As a social worker, thinking creatively was imperative to helping my clients and changing systems.
  6. We’re sincere listeners. We tend to engage with others in a genuine manner that allows others to feel our support. Friends and family of highly sensitive people can typically feel our unique ability to hold space for their pain and struggle without getting overwhelmed or imposing our opinions. As an introvert, I sometimes disappoint my friends by not attending every party, but they know I’ll sit down with them for hours to lend a loving ear.  
  7. We embrace life experiences. Our nature is to connect to joy and sorrow equally and to experience the depth of human emotion. Highly sensitive people find meaning in life’s obstacles and use this to tap into our resilience. My journey of living with anxiety has taught me to integrate past pain into a resilient sense of self and thereby work with anxiety rather than resist it.
  8. We love deeply. Highly sensitive people love a lot. We really do. We feel love in our bodies. We love with our eyes. We love with our touch and we love with our souls. No one feels love in the heart center like sensitives do.

What are you greatest superpowers as a highly sensitive person?

A Meditation to Practice Love and Acceptance

A Meditation to Practice Love and Acceptance

by | Jun 7, 2017 | Meditation, Personal Growth, Self Care

Photo courtesy of Madeline Northway Photography and Room to Breathe Chicago. 

Have you heard of “metta meditation”?

It’s an important word everyone ought to know.

I’ll get into why, but I’d like to take a moment to talk about judgment and criticism.  

If you’re like me, you can be highly critical of yourself… and others at times. Although I know none of us wants to admit the latter.

But even if I think I am accepting of others, of course there are people in my life that I judge. Or maybe they’re people I don’t know… politicians, for example.

Did that ignite a jolt of energy through your body?

The criticism and judgment we carry is human. But if left unchecked, we harm ourselves and the world around us.

Anxious feelings surface. Anger bubbles up. And then what?

We destroy… ourselves and connections around us.

Want to know how to transform that judgment into something positive?

Well, it takes moment-to-moment awareness to remember to be kind to myself. And when I do it genuinely, I can be kind to others.

One way to practice moment-to-moment awareness is through the practice of “metta“.

“Metta”, the Pali word for “lovingkindness”. Metta meditation comes from the Buddhist tradition. It integrates intention, feelings, and visualizations to elicit compassion.

Based in love, this practice has the power to develop compassion toward ourselves, as well as those “hard to deal with” people in our lives.

You can spend as little or as much time as feels right to practice. I recommend aiming for about 10 minutes to start.

The steps of Metta Meditation are as follows: 

1. Begin by sitting in a comfortable position. If you are sitting on the ground, you may sit on the edge of a folded blanket or cushion in order to elevate your hips so they are higher than the knees. This helps elongate the spine.

2. Take a moment to allow your body to rest and soften. Then take a few deep breaths in and out to let go of any worries.

3. Start to feel into the heart space at the center of the chest. Draw your breath into that area and allow it to soften resting in the natural flow of your breath.

4. We begin with ourselves, as it is difficult to feel compassion for others if we cannot first practice with ourselves. Repeat the following:

May I be at ease.
May I be healthy.
May I be safe.
May I be free.

Feel into the intentions that are expressed. You might imagine yourself just as you are with light and warmth around you. Or sometimes it’s useful to visualize yourself as a young child in need of nurturing. Spend some time cultivating love and compassion toward yourself.

Notice what sensations and feelings arise and continue to send kindness inward.

5. After directing lovingkindness to yourself, repeat the same process with the same intentions for a loved one for whom you care deeply.

May you be at ease.
May you be healthy.
May you be safe.
May you be free.

6. You can continue by bringing other loved ones or more distant friends, pets, or acquaintances into your awareness, generally moving from people who are closest to you and then continuing on to those that are less emotionally close. Eventually, you might even bring people into mind who you find challenging–family members, co-workers, politicians, etc.

Throughout this process, feelings of sadness, anger, anxiety, etc. may arise. Allow whatever feelings come up to be there and then draw yourself back to the essence of lovingkindness.

With greater lovingkindness, we repair the relationships of the world and unfold greater ease in our minds.

P.S. If you want to learn more techniques to cultivate self-love and live in Chicago, you might check out my Rewriting Your Self-Contracts workshop on June 17th. This has been one of my most popular workshops and it typically sells out fast.

The Way Travel Really Helps Me Cope With Loss

The Way Travel Really Helps Me Cope With Loss

by | Sep 26, 2016 | Personal Growth, Self Care, Travel

I know traveling through grief sounds cliche. What a perfect way to escape pain, right?

Maybe you’re thinking this. Or you hear others suggest that traveling after a major life issues is an escape. But is it?

I’ve found my travel experiences to be profoundly helpful in coping with loss.

But it might not be in the way you think.

Let me explain…

I have traveled solo quite a bit over the last decade, sometimes for weeks and sometimes for years.

In the last nine years, I’ve experienced the loss of my mom, stepdad, stepmom, grandma, and grandpa. About a year ago, my grandma started experiencing symptoms of the early stages of Alzheimer’s.

My stepmom had been successfully battling cancer for six years. But in September 2016, just as I was leaving for Colombia, we received news that she has very little time to live.

Pain hit hard.

I felt guilty for leaving. All the thoughts ran through my head… “My family needs me. I can’t go”, “Why am I even bothering with these retreats?”, “How silly this trip feels…”, etc.

Then I thought, no, I need this. And yeah, that thought crosses the minds of many when we recognize a need for reflection and self-care. Those are all real and valid needs. I’m not dismissing them. But this is not about a cushy vacation in the sun with warm waves that melt away problems.

My travel journey has been about coping and learning to die while I’m alive.

Here me out…

It’s a need that started in my teens… a need for preparation.

You see, I’m an empath. When someone close to me is experiencing pain, I feel it. I’m not talking standard empathy. I tend to take it on and I have to work to come out of it. My mind goes to the suffering of the other, frequently much more than my own.

Sometimes the pain feels like it’s too much. Like I’m going to break. I don’t want to see my loved ones suffer. I’m tired of loss. Of cancer. Of addiction. Of death. I start thinking of losing the other people in my life. I think of dying alone with dementia with no children or grandchildren to be there for me.

And I freak the eff out. Anxiety kicks in and knocks me out. The future feels unbearable and I forget my own strength completely for a time.

This is where travel enters.

Travel is not an escape. It’s my resilience training.

That week in Colombia, I posted photos on social media of idyllic landscapes, vibrant villages, and even a few of me sporting a sincere smile. But my week entailed a lot more.

As an adventure traveler, I often choose the path laden with obstacles. For this trip that meant food poisoning, nauseating bus rides, getting caught in torrential downpours, an Airbnb host who wouldn’t give me a pillowcase, and relentless quests to catch a bus, obtain wifi, or find a house to host a retreat…a couple of times to find no one there to greet me.

At times these challenges were met with a steady mind, but others with tears and frustration.

But then there were moments of great beauty and wonder as I greeted a small box fish under the sea during a dive or gazed up at the Dr. Seuss-esque towering wax palms of the Valle de Cocora. These moments of awe made me feel connected to those I’ve lost.

And then those moments pass and I need to reconnect.

I started the practice of Kriya Yoga at age 16 with my mom. I remember my then guru saying we should pray to live 100 years. I thought about what 100 years would look like. My friends and family would be gone. My youth and mobility would be gone.

It was then that I knew I would need to cultivate peace inside me in a way that keeps me in touch with impermanence.

I have made it my life’s path to stay in touch with the essence of death. Denying or escaping it only brings us greater anxiety later because it eventually smacks us in the face.

Instead I lean into the discomfort.

So, I choose the path that allows me to hold death in what one might call a liminal space of the mind, the intermediate place in between two states.

It’s a challenge to express into words. But what I can say is that sometimes when I am positioned within a room with four walls, pain hits me in a way that it is hard to move past. It’s too much. On the other side of coping, I could seemingly escape pain by taking up any number of addictions, attach myself to material possessions, or overachieve on everything.

Where I find balance is the space between… It’s the place where I can hold death and fear right in the forefront of my mind and allow it to sit there in a way that moves me toward living. I find I can do this best while doing things like hiking… in those moments when I am surrounded by obstacles or environments that place me outside of comfort.

The obstacles prepare me and grow me into a more resilient human being. And the vast perspective these experiences bring is what keeps me knocking on the door of life… all while recognizing someday the door won’t open.

I know it sounds morose, but I swear there’s freedom in this path.

An Essential Reason We Need Others for Self-Care

by | Apr 25, 2016 | Personal Growth, Self Care, Yoga

You know, in the last week I spent $435 on self-care in two seemingly disparate areas of my life.

As a yoga teacher, social worker, and someone who underwent a fair amount of therapy in her youth, I strive to cultivate self-awareness as part of my self-care practice. I also happen to have a partner who relishes self-analysis as much as I do… you can imagine what it is like to be a fly on the wall.

With this proclivity, it sometimes feels like we’ve got life covered. I can talk to my partner. I can do yoga. I can journal. I can cook. I can figure it out. Until… maybe I can’t…or even if I can…I need more.

So, I spent four days in a yoga workshop with senior teacher, Kim Wilcox. I wanted additional training on class sequencing to grow my anatomical knowledge, enhance my creativity, and make me a better teacher. I got all this from the training.

But what’s more is that I also found a new way of practicing that energized me and relieved my chronic back pain–for the whole day.

Kim was my mirror and she didn’t even know it. She reflected back to me some of what I was already feeling in my body, but she also provided me with a framework for moving toward greater health and energy to take care of myself.

The same phenomenon occurred last Wednesday when visited a therapist.

I have been struggling with certain personal relationships for a while and recently started to notice that I was sacrificing my own truth while letting others write the relationship contracts.

Shrinking my own voice has been a common theme in my life (I was doing this 17 years ago too).

I needed an extra boost to push me in the direction of truth. I needed another mirror.

And the truth is that sometimes we cling to unhealthy, but comfortable patterns when we have fear. Fear of change. Fear of discomfort. Fear of someone not loving us. Fear of having to face ourselves.

And even when the right answer is deep within our cells, sometimes it does not always feel clear…and of course, it is that much more difficult to implement it in our attempt to practice self-care. 

This is the time when we learn to listen to the voice inside that says she needs support to find clarity.

That support comes in countless ways and we must honor it when we need it.

I live in a country that prides itself on independence—and well, I think sometimes we internalize this concept and take it too far. We are ALL interdependent. I do believe our answers lie within us and at the same time I know the value of having teachers, mentors, therapists, and guides.

One of our greatest strengths as human beings is to be able to ask for help when we need it.

For me, asking for guidance moved me in the direction of creating healthier contracts with my own body and mind, as well as my relationships.

Having support in living my own truth is what allows me to take care of myself and hold space for others.

3 Key Components to Practicing Compassion During Injury

by | Nov 9, 2015 | Personal Growth, Self Care, Yoga

It can be difficult to practice compassion toward ourselves when faced with an injury.

We get frustrated with our bodies. We become self-critical when we don’t heal fast enough.

But to heal, we need kindness and compassion.

Today I want to share with you 3 key components of practicing compassion.

But first, a story.

I recently went backpacking and camping for a week in the southwest.

On day two, we were canyoneering through the Narrows in Zion National Park when I began to feel intense shooting pains in the joint capsule of my knee.

We were in the middle of a canyon applying agility with every precipitous stepping stone–and a good 10-hour hike away from being out of the canyon the next day.

Thoughts whirled in my mind.

How was I going to hike all this way?

Why is my body behaving like this for? I am a yoga practitioner and avid hiker. I don’t have knee problems.

Ow, it really hurts.

What if continuing this hike jacks up my knee permanently? I’m turning 34. How will I hike in my 60s?

I don’t want to complain. How would my stepdad have reacted? He never complained of the suffering he endured with Mesothelioma. Let me be like him. And what about my mom–her response to suffering? Oh god, this is just a knee…

Ouch.

Trauma sprung. Tears came pouring. There’s a lot I could say here, but…

I made it out of the Narrows. My knee returned to its strength and I returned to my mat.

When I got back to Chicago, a clumsy collision with a door frame at home landed me with a broken phalange. Bam. Crack. Uff.

I hobbled for 8 days with a poor tape job on my baby toe before seeing a podiatrist (apparently, taping the fifth toe to the fourth is a no-no).

I also hobbled along with a poor excuse to not do my yoga practice, but continued to walk, move things, teach yoga, and even audition at a studio–all while in a great deal of pain.

One of my yoga teachers advised me to do standing poses. Inside I balked, but realized maybe he was right. It is just my baby toe after all. Maybe continuing through the pain would help the healing process. Stop creating excuses, mind.

Then I asked the podiatrist if I could do yoga, he replied with an emphatic, “Nooooooo. Stay off it. It needs to rest.” And the mind said…”Yep, best to stay off of it. Excuse okay here.”

As competing thoughts patterns inhabited my mind, I acknowledged that what lies between is a middle path…a middle path that honors ahimsa, the Sanskrit word for “compassion” or “nonviolence”.

Ahimsa is rooted in the notion that violence can take place in our thoughts, words, and actions and when we have ill thoughts, they lead to derisive words and harmful actions. These, in turn, create destructive habits and ignorant conditioning. When we do harm to ourselves, we harm others and vice versa.

I constantly remind myself that yoga is not just asana (physical poses). The yoga practice takes place off the mat in how we lives our lives, interact with others, treat ourselves, etc. But to only practice off the mat can impede our ability to practice tapas (self-discipline). And providing space for tapas serves as our point of reference to continuously do the work of yoga.

I would be a fraud if I suggested I am over this battle in my head. It is never over. It’s always there.

It is a constant practice of listening to the body and choosing compassion. Nonviolence is not passive; it is active, intentional thought, word, or action or absence thereof. It is a balance of allowing rest and still forcing myself to move past excuse and onto my mat in a way I know is good for me right now. I have adapted my Mysore practice accordingly. See below for more info.

3 Ways to Practice Compassion During Injury:

1. Track your thoughts:

In yoga, we practice observing our thoughts when faced with discomfort and challenging emotions. Still, we tend to disavow both our strengths and weaknesses, breakthroughs and shortcomings. This is a balance of examining where you can push and where you can pull back, where you need perseverance and where you need gentleness. Where are you being too harsh? Where are you making excuses? They both warrant a turn to ahimsa.

I have been taking 10 minutes each morning to meditate and 30 minutes to journal. It is a practice of stillness while simply observing thoughts and then allowing time to reflect on paper. Even if you can only devote 10 minutes to sit in stillness and observe what comes up, this will have a profound impact on your life.

2. Watch your words.

Words often follow thoughts. And they have power. I have found myself uttering the words “my stupid broken toe” or “my friggin’ knee”. Each time, I have immediately recanted my words as I realized these words were unkind and not useful for my body. I love my toe. I love my knee. I love my body.

Words also make actions more real. I recently told my boyfriend, that I was making a commitment to self-care and compassion for myself–a commitment to myself and the women I will be holding retreat space for in January. I wake up at the same time every morning to meditate for 10 minutes, journal for 30, and then practice yoga for an hour in a way that honors where my body is that day–the same practice I will be asking of the women. Stating that commitment aloud has made it easier to stay on track with my own self-compassion.

If you are working through a particular issue and find the same negative thoughts, words and speech arising, take a moment to journal the new thoughts and words you would like to generate in place of the negative ones. Use those affirmations in your thoughts and verbal processes.

3. Attend to your actions.

You only get one body. If you are experiencing an injury or pain of any sort, let this be a time to make friends with your body. We are hypercritical of our thighs, skin, achy joints, and lack of flexibility. Make a conscious choice to fall in love with yourself–every aspect of you.

The only way you will hear how to best nourish your body is if you take time to really hear it. I went to a talk last night by a wonderful teacher and storyteller, James Boag. He reminded us that wild animals are always fit. They know exactly how to eat, when to eat, and how to move as part of their inherent instincts. I would go further and suggest they also know what their abilities and limitations are in times of injury. And they bounce back. They recover quickly.

Through these last two minor injuries (and they are minor!) I have experienced some fear and uncertainty. But it is only fear. When I really listen, my body tells me what it needs. It is unnecessary to follow all of the other voices around me. And it always needs movement and yoga–in a way that respects the principle of ahimsa.

How I adapt my Mysore practice:

You may have seen this video circulating on Facebook at some point. It shows a great way to modify the entire Ashtanga Primary Series without standing poses.

If this guy with a broken femur could continue his practice–anyone can practice. My little toe certainly is not going to stop me. The practice certainly feels different, but I find it still creates heat and offers most of the same benefits.

Have you had an injury that has affected your practice? How do you practice compassion?