This, in turn, reminds me that the brain is malleable. CRPS changed it,
Persuading the brain to remap itself is a remarkable process, because the brain uses the language of vision and metaphor and it responds most strongly to longing and fear. (This is one reason why mythology is so helpful, given the right story: myths tend to have powerful visual metaphors and visceral emotional force.)
The brain is also a monument to inertia: once it has started going down a certain path, it’s very hard indeed to persuade it to change course. I find I have to be firm, focused, and relentless, and since I also have CRPS-related ADD and periods of unbelievable vacuousness, that’s tricky… (I’m working on how to construct a webpage that has all my tricks and routines easily accessible, so I don’t have to remember what to do when my memory is at its worst. It’s a heck of a design problem.)
One good way to access the central nervous system (CNS) in a way that specifically rebalances some of the most critical areas of the autonomic nervous system (ANS) is through bodywork, like therapeutic massage and craniosacral therapy (these link to my providers — both warmly recommended.) Here are a few of the reasons why.
- Humans, and other mammals, are hardwired to respond deeply to touch. The “safe touch” of good bodywork is profoundly soothing to the ANS, and since the ANS drives the multi-system dysregulation of chronic CRPS, this is a powerful thing.
- The rocking motions of massage stimulate the parasympathetic nervous system, which has a lasting calming effect.
- It releases endorphins, which reduces pain and brightens mood.
- The tissue stimulation improves and stabilizes blood pressure and circulation, major factors with CRPS and dysautonomia.
- Swelling goes down, as circulation is mobilized.
- Hyperesthesia (pain to light touch) and allodynia (blunted sense of touch) improve because of something that clinicians call “desensitization”, a hostile sounding word which really means, “developing appropriate sensation.”
- Hormones stabilize, perhaps due to the improved circulation and more stable ANS.
- More stable hormones improve mood, reduce pain, and stabilize immune and inflammatory responses.
Therapeutic bodywork does all that. There is no pill or surgery in the world that can come close. Once I get my links sorted out, I’ll rewrite that for the medical blog. The value of good bodywork simply can’t be overstated.
A couple of weeks ago, during several treatments in a row, I had the curious sensation that my right arm and shoulder were being knitted back into my body. I hadn’t realized until then just how completely I had succeeded in shutting them out.
The still, quiet voice inside me indicated that dissociation should be intentional, purposeful, and temporary; if I wanted to be well, it could not be habitual. My inward guidance wasn’t telling me to stop dissociating (that is, mentally and emotionally separating myself from that part of my body), but to do so only when I needed to, to separate from too much pain.
Remaining dissociated is like disowning that part of my body, and I can’t persuade it to do anything when I’ve essentially cut it off. I need to persuade it to heal, and that’s a tall order.
During today’s craniosacral treatment (from the delightful and competent Sonja Sweeney), I remembered standing on the wall of my French-bed corner garden a few years ago, right before I fell off it and smashed my tailbone on the edge of a ramp. Pathetic lavender and dying weeds filled most of the bed, since I hadn’t gotten far with digging it up. Behind the glorious, fragrant, massive rosemary against the back edge, a 20-year-old growth of climbing roses spilled green and pink everywhere.
I had just completed a course of treatment that put my insides in the best shape they’d been in years. My stomach no longer bothered me, I was healthier and stronger, my stamina was better, and I was still inside the five-year mark with RSD.
What’s interesting is that, during this treatment, I was remembering the moment right before I got injured, not right after. My eyes were filled with roses and my nose with rosemary, and I was sketching out great plans for my bit of garden.
As I walked away after my treatment, that quiet inward voice said, “Remember pre-injury, not post injury. Remember that.”
It had to start with the rosy garden, because before the CRPS injury, I was working at Borland and was so involved with my work (which I loved) that I really had no idea how magnificently fit my body was, by the time I got injured. I simply didn’t notice it.
I enjoyed the activities of riding to work and running miles through the redwoods, but when I thought of my body, it was to criticize function, appearance, or both. (Except occasionally when I noticed those legs… :-))
In the rosy garden, I was aware of being better. And that was the point.
My brain needs something to reach for that has inward meaning and emotional oomph, so vague dissatisfaction is not a helpful point of reference. A sturdy inward “YES” is the goal: re-remembering this body, with all attached limbs fully integrated, blood coursing warmly throughout, everything moving and working, and that radiant feeling of blooming health and returning vigor.
I’m 46. I don’t expect feel the way I did when I was 34. But I know 60-year-olds who could kick the ass of me at 34. Being well is not an unreasonable idea, keeping in mind that I’m going forward, not back.
I’m inventing a frame of mind that doesn’t exist yet. Both remembering and re-membering give me important clues as to what it should be. I’m delighted to have figured that out.