Acupuncture and the Church of Hopeful Uncertainty

I had to loop around the block a couple times until I could find a parking space close enough to Amy's office. Her office is in a little house perched on the side of a little hill with a little street running in front of it.

Being on my feet for more than an hour per day is still a problem, so I needed to park close by.

I was greeted by the smell of herbs when I walked into the door.  The waiting room had plants, paintings and a little settee that I sat on while waiting for the acupuncturist.

I had hoped that as treatment for the Lyme Disease progressed, that my pain would decrease.  However, that hasn't been the case and I needed to pursue other options.  

My options included acupuncture, prescription narcotics or medical marijuana.

Little wonder why I decided to go with acupuncture.

Acupuncture isn't quite mainstream but it doesn't seem like most people lump it with voodoo either.

At this point, I'm willing to try just about anything, which is interesting because I am actually a strong proponent of the scientific method.  When possible, I like to base my decisions on science.

For example, after decades of research, we know that a person with diet high in processed foods is more likely to have negative health consequences.  We also know beyond a shadow of a doubt that cigarette smoke, either 1st hand or 2nd, causes cancer.  I've made decisions about how I treat my body accordingly.

The problem is that science is slow and I think there are types of knowledge and information that can't be accessed by science.  At least not right now.

Enter the Church of Hopeful Uncertainty.  I'd love to claim credit for this because it sums up my belief system so accurately, but I can't.  It is an idea I read about in "Why I am an Atheist Who Believes in GOD: How to Give Love, Create Beauty and Find Peace," by Frank Schaeffer.  Frank Schaeffer is a drop out of the Evangelical Christian movement, where, evidently, he was kind of a big deal. 

I don't know because that is not the crowd I roll with.  I just thought the title was interesting. 

Members of The Church of Hopeful Uncertainty hope that there is something greater than humans, this earth and our limited knowledge.  But we don't know for certain and we are not going to stake any claims.  We are not going to try to convince anyone that our hopes are correct and true.  And we most definitely are not going to condemn those who don't agree.  

My version of The Church of Hopeful Uncertainty also embraces alternative healing methods, like acupuncture.  As far as I am aware, science hasn't worked out why acupuncture or other aspects of Chinese medicine are effective.  But no matter, there are multiple paths to knowledge and science is only one of them. 

Science is my favorite path to knowledge but so far, modern medical science's offerings for pain management have too many drawbacks.  At least, pain management by prescription narcotics. 

I also belong to a group called The Fellowship of Pragmatics.  I want results and I am not going to cling to a certain treatment regimen because I adhere to a particular theory. If it works, I don't mind if I don't know why it works.  

So, I take my hopeful uncertainty and pragmatism to an acupuncturist named Amy.  

I Said Yes: An Ode to Daughters and Friendship

It is last Saturday and I am reluctantly sitting down to work on a sewing project I promised my daughter I would do a while back.

Actually, more than a while.  We bought the pattern, material and notions to make her a cat costume last summer.

Getting started with my husband's
grandmother's sewing basket

As I sat down with the pattern, I immediately had flashbacks of me as an 8th grader.  The 8th grader version of myself was tantruming in home ec room as I tried to untangle the mass of thread in my sewing machine for the 500th time.

Not only did I find it impossible to use the sewing machine, my burgeoning feminist sensibilities were insulted by the fact that I had to take home ec and auto mechanics was not even an option.  I wasn't especially interested in auto mechanics either, but it was the principle of the matter!

My best friend, Lisa, was always seated at a machine close to mine. This was primarily for my benefit as she would occasionally sneak over and bail me out.

Unlike me, Lisa was naturally skilled in the domestic arts.  She could actually use a sewing machine and made edible food.  I had a bad habit of doing things like accidentally putting in 1 TABLESPOON of salt in the recipe when it called for 1 TEASPOON.

At this point we had been friends for about a year.  In 7th grade she was the "new girl."  I thought she would likely end up in the "popular" clique because she had cute clothes and knew how to ski.

She didn't seem to like those girls though.  She asked to hang out with me.  I said yes.

And the rest is history.  We are still friends 27 years later. Collectively Lisa and I have experienced three husbands, one divorce, three children, three college degrees, a ghastly amount in student loans, twenty or more moves, several thousand panic attacks, much laughter and some tears.

Most of this is done via the internet, phone calls and text because we haven't lived near each other since 1995.

I texted Lisa as soon as I started working on my daughter's project. I thought she might be amused to know that I was sewing.

As an adult Lisa can do things like make borscht, or chicken kiev, crochet baby clothes and cross stitch. I don't even know what chicken kiev is!

After all these years of friendship, I knew she would appreciate the sacrifice I was making as a parent.

Lisa promptly asked if she should put 911 on speed dial.

As she should, because I really don't know what I am doing!

My daughter talked me into it.

The first piece of fabric I cut.

As the adult in this relationship, I have the option to say no but in my defense, she is a very persuasive speaker.

She is persuasive enough to convince me to sew a costume when I can barely operate a sewing machine and I have sewn nothing more complicated than a pillow.

I said yes.

The only reason I have a sewing machine is because I mentioned to my husband several years ago that I wanted to learn to sew someday and he promptly went out and got me a machine.

I've made some lovely pillows since then.

This is certainly going to be a learning experience.

But, I said yes to my daughter, so this will be an opportunity to work on a project with her and learn something in the process.

Because saying yes has brought good things into my life.

Three Fairy Godmothers

Debra, Brenda and Derenda.

Those are my three fairy godmothers.

Each of them has been gifted to my life.

Each at time when they were desperately needed.

Each when I was uncertain as to how I could continue as I was.

Debra is a psychiatric nurse practionner with jet black hair and kind blue eyes.  She likes to ride horses and has a flock of chickens.

She took a detailed life history and said "Have you ever thought you might have PTSD?"

Actually, despite the fact that I am a licensed clinical psychologist and work with trauma victims, the idea hadn't occured to me.  After all, the difficult experiences I've gone through are nothing compared to most of my clients.  I thought depression explained everything. But the recognition of my experiences opened up a new understanding that lead to growth and healing.

Brenda entered my life when I needed a my own therapist.

Brenda is a licensed clinical social worker.  She also had kind eyes but hers are brown.  She has her office in a Victorian style house surrounded by beautiful gardens.  

She took a detailed life history and asked "Do you think maybe you are doing too much?"

Work was overwhelming and I had a lot of child clients who where victims of trauma.  My extended family had a lot of needs.  I had trouble setting boundaries.  Again, the recognition of my experiences opened up a new understanding that lead to growth and healing.

Derenda is a naturopathic doctor.  She was named after her mom's best friend.  Her kind eyes are accompanied by gentle hands.  Derenda is a gardener and an herbalist.  Plants and people thrive under her care.

She took a detailed life history and said "I think you have a genetic mutation that causes you body to lack an important enzyme.  It is called methylenetetrahydrofolate reductase or MTHFR."

I'd been tired since 6th grade and medical providers had never been able to identify the problem or suggest a treatment.  I went 25 years needing at least 10 hours of sleep every night and still experiencing fatigue.  

Getting an injection of the enzyme once a week was like having a light turned on in a dark house.  

Derenda has also recently diagnosed me with chronic Lyme disease (which I wrote about here).  I expect that when treatment is done it will be like having all the lights turned on in a dark house. 

As with my first two fairy godmothers, the recognition of my experiences opened up a new understanding that lead to growth and healing.   

These three women have helped me reach, and continue to grow towards, contentment and peace.  That is way more valuable than a pair of glass slippers.  

Faith Renewed. Hope Reinstated.

Sunny Clark

July 14, 2012 at 5:40pm · 

Given all the things that have happened, especially in the last couple of years, I am having a hard time hanging onto the idea that being a decent person gets you any where....

So said I in a Facebook post in July 2012.  Facebook added this nifty "On This Day" thingy and it shows you all your posts on that day in previous years.

I made the above post a year after learning that my ex-husband did NOT take my name off the mortgage 6 years after our divorce and he stopped paying said mortgage driving my credit into the ground.

Thus rendering my current husband and I unable to buy a house and move out of the trailer park.

Nothing against trailers or trailer parks.  I really liked my trailer, we just wanted more elbow room and didn't want to hear our neighbor's phone ringing.  

We figured out a work around, which you can read about in detail here.  The short version is that we got a legal separation two months after the above Facebook post.  

We got our house 5 months and 17 days later.  

View from the deck of our house!

 Faith renewed.  Hope reinstated.  

It is a handy reminder, because right now I am tired and run down.  Treatment for Lyme doesn't have a specific timeline.  I like timelines, I am good at meeting goals.  I am not so good at taking it one day at a time. 

Photo taken by our daughter at the courthouse
on the day we filed to legally end our separation.

The two years or so it took from learning that my name was still on the mortgage to moving in to our new home was agony. Mostly because I was learning to take it one day at a time and have hope that everything would be work out.  

The Facebook memory reminded me that life obstacles that have no definite end, do actually end and everything does turn out okay, even if it is not how you originally planned.  

Faith renewed. Hope reinstated.  

Sometimes you just have to wait for it.  

Sunny Clark

July 18, 2014 · 

We made it to the courthouse today! By Tuesday or Wednesday next week we should be legally reconciled! 

Leave Love Behind

I don't take much stock in the claims of seers and holy men.

I don't stake any claims about the here after.  

I have no assurances about life after death.

But I know my heart.

My heart says it doesn't matter how we begin or how we end.

What matters is the love you leave behind.  

Trail Magic

Over the past several months I have been reading memoirs of individuals who have completed a thru-hike, which is what is it called when someone hikes the entire length of the Pacific Crest Trail, the Continental Divide Trail or the Appalachian Trail. Each trail is a couple thousand miles long, give or take a few hundred. These journeys take months.  I've only day hiked, so this is not something I know about first hand.

Probably the most well known of these books is Wild, written by Cheryl Stayed.  It was turned into movie starring Reese Witherspoon.

I've read more and more of these as my level of activity has gradually decreased.

The irony is not lost on me.

I'd blame Kindle Unlimited for suggesting books similar to ones I've already read but I started reading them in the first place.  It is not like Kindle is holding me hostage until I've read a certain number of trail books.

A day hike in May 2010, it ended up being uphill.  We carried
our then 3 year old daughter most of our way.

I'm probably living vicariously through their ability to walk 20 or more miles a day.

All the authors describe their joy at the discovery of Trail Magic.

Trail Magic happens when something good is bestowed upon a thru-hiker, such as a cooler of soda and candy bars sitting by a stretch of dry trail miles from civilization.

At the top of the 3 mile uphill hike!

Or when a day hiker gives all their left over snacks to a hiker who has been subsisting on ramen noodles for weeks on end.

Or someone offering a ride to the nearest grocery store to get resupplied.

Most Trail Magic focuses on food, water and shelter because thru-hiking strips life down to those bare essentials.

Trail Magic is really the result of simple human kindness but the boost of morale and energy it gives thru-hikers is magical.  Those bestowing Trail Magic are known as Trail Angels.

All thru-hikers believe that Trail Magic is vitial to completing a thru-hike.

Here's the thing though, I think Trail Magic happens in everyday life too.

When the person a head of you in the grocery store line, with approximately 500 items, lets you and your 5 items go ahead?

That is Trail Magic.

When you thought you had 8 loads of laundry to wash, dry and fold but it turns out there is only two because your insomniac husband did laundry while you were sleeping?

That's Trail Magic.

When someone lets you go through a 4 way stop first, even though it is clearly their right away?

That is Trail Magic, too.

I think that it is harder to see, though, because life off a trail isn't stripped down.  It is complicated and busy and full of other humans.

Humans preoccupied with their complicated and busy lives.  Humans who are hurting, who in turn do hurtful things.

It doesn't mean the magic isn't there.  It just means that you have to be looking for it.  It is not going to be as obvious as a red Coleman cooler in the middle of a desolate trail.

My husband and daughter on a day hike in
August 2009

And, the more you look for it, the more you see it.  The more you see it, the more you keep looking for it.

It becomes a great positive feedback loop.

There are still hurt humans out there hurting more humans.

But I have a nice cushion of Trail Magic to buffer me from the negative that happening in the world.  It keeps me from becoming cynical and negative.

Cushions are good.

We all need cushions because life, like walking a 2,000+ mile trail, is tough.

And it encourages me to put good out in the world. When I go through life with positive energy, people respond to me in a much more positive way as well.

That encourages me to put out more good.

It is another one of those positive feedback loops.

I supposed we could call it Life Magic.

I prefer Trail Magic, though.

Life is a journey, after all.

My daughter and I during the same day hike, August 2009.

Talking Body, Part 3

My brother, my dad and I were carrying our canoe full of our gear over a short portage in the Boundary Waters Canoe Area (BWCA).  Since it wasn't a long trail, we opted just to haul the whole thing over, rather than taking all our gear out and carrying the canoe separately.  I was about 12 years old, my brother was around 9.  

We went to the BWCA every summer to camp a week or two.  My brother and I looked forward to putting all our gear in the canoe and heading out.  We didn't relish paddling for hours on end but the result worth it. 

As we were hauling the canoe through the woods, we passed four men carrying their own canoe full of gear. Four large men.  The four large men looked at us, one lean, moderately sized man and two little kids.  I could see them evaluate the situation.  On top of everything else, one of them noticed I was barefoot. 

He looked me straight in the eye and said "Do they call you 'Nails' or do you just eat them for breakfast?"

My brother and I in the BWCA around the time
I earned "Nails" as a nickname.  

We all laughed and I squared my 12 year old shoulders, proud that I was tough.  Proud that my dad was teaching me things that made me different from other little girls.  Proud that he was teaching me to be strong and determined.  

Welcome to my new reality.  

I am not confined to a wheel chair all day, every day, thankfully.  I use a wheel chair or scooter in situations where there is a lot of walking, such as when my daughter's class had a field trip to a science museum.  

But I am always limited to being on my feet for about an hour per day, tops.  I haven't timed it but there was an app on my phone that would send me nasty messages when I didn't spend at least an hour a day walking.  I was getting a lot of nasty messages before I finally got rid of that app.  It is supposed to encourage people to be active and healthy but healthy for me at this point in my life is not something that can be measured by an app.  

Right now, healthy is defined by making choices that limit time on my feet.  Too much time standing and walking create a lot of pain.  I can stand the pain actually, I wasn't called "Nails" for nothing.  I am an expert at pushing though, ignoring discomfort and carrying on.

I got tons of practice canoe camping in the BWCA.

The difference now is that the pain never goes away, so there is no pushing through.  And, to make matters worse, I hurt so much that I can't sleep.

I am super non-functional when I don't sleep.  Other people make proud statements about how they get by on only 4 hours of sleep.  I am practically narcoleptic when I sleep that little.  I am unsafe to drive because I cannot stop myself from falling asleep.  And my poor clients do not deserve to have their therapist falling asleep in their session.  There is not enough caffeine in the world to keep me functional.

So, I have to stop doing and focus more on being.  

I'm not super great at being idle.

Especially in the summer.  In the summer I want to be digging in the dirt and transplanting flowers.  Or walking along the river. Or canoeing.

I'm coming to grips with the fact that I need to turn my determination towards not doing.

Which requires that I confront the fact that this disease is interfering with my functioning and grieve the loss of my physical abilities.

Sometimes I'd rather just live in a denial bubble!

I thought that since this was temporary, it wouldn't be such a struggle.

Wrong.

It turns out that a substantial portion of my self-image is tied to being physically able.    And being able to do things for the people I love.

I still feel valuable as a human being, I know that my worth is not tied to my productivity.  Although, at times I get a little wobbly on this.

I'm just having to answer the question "Who am I?" with a different set of variables.

And grieve my losses, even if they are temporary.

I think regardless of the circumstances I can safely say that I am strong.  I'll let you know when I figure out the rest.



You can read Talking Body, Part 1 here and Part 2 here.