Balance

I continue to struggle with my peripheral-neuropathy symptoms (tingling & numbness in my left foot and toes). I rather feel like a yo-yo in terms of the emotions that go along with all of this. Some days, I am almost “normal.” Other days, like today, totally unexplainably, I have symptoms that are more acute and I get depressed. I had an acupuncture treatment today, but it brought little relief. I requested that we get as aggressive as we possibly can with treatment, so we’ll see if anything will happen. As it stands now, I am, for the first time, “wearing” a few tiny magnets in my left ear (taped in on top of traditional acupuncture points) to see if this will help. This particular technique is a first for me.

Fortunately, my condition does not really limit me. It’s more nuisance-like than anything. So, given that it got up to a sunny 56 degrees this afternoon, I went for a walk through Mt. Tabor park – one of my favorite places here in SE Portland to take a stroll.

I came across a person recently who said, surprisingly, she “didn’t believe in acupuncture.” I really hadn’t heard anything like that from anyone in quite awhile, perhaps due to the company I typically keep. I haven’t necessarily ever thought about “believing” in acupuncture or not. The practice has been around at least 5,000 years, and though it’s considered “alternative” therapy here in this country, it is traditional Chinese medicine. I believe it is as legitimate as anything “western” medicine has to offer…it’s merely an option to explore. Once you can get past the idea of having a bunch of needles in your body (I know that’s difficult for some folks), it can actually seem quite “normal.” I was so relaxed during my session today that I went to sleep and, at one point, woke myself up with my snoring!

Let’s hope I can get my body’s energy force, qi, back in balance. [FYI: I’ve heard some variations in the pronunciation of qi, but am told that it roughly should be said “chee.” And, now that I’m trying to write about this, I am unable determine whether or not it should be capitalized: qi or Qi? I don’t know…]

Anyway: balance. That’s my goal.

Qi

At this point, as you know, I find myself in a position in life that’s pretty challenging. Wherever I turn, it seems, I am encountering instability, uncertainty, rejection, loss, and heartache. Love and appreciation, two terms I used in my last entry, are not universal elements that have been flowing my way. Chinese culture uses the term “qi” to denote “life force” or “spiritual energy.” My qi is in decline, I suspect. One small example: I’ve talked about the East Wind here as “spirit-sapping.” Then, on a more profound level, I’ve found myself showing up to a spiritually-bankrupt environment everyday for months now that, I know, has affected me to my core. To turn the corner on my spiritual (as well as my mental, physical & emotional) health, I know deep down that I need to make significant changes. I’m hoping that I can make this happen soon.

I’ve started to visit an acupuncturist. I haven’t done this for a few years, but I’ve begun again in a conscious attempt to alter the decline of my qi. As part of the treatment, my current practitioner uses moxibustion, “a traditional Chinese-medicine technique that involves the burning of mugwort (a small, spongy herb) to facilitate healing.” This practice has been used for thousands of years and, as with most forms of traditional Chinese medicine, is supposed to “strengthen the blood, stimulate the flow of qi, and maintain general health.” The symptoms of peripheral neuropathy I’ve been exhibiting for months motivated me to pursue this course; the physical-therapy techniques I tried, dead-ended. I’m hopeful that I can get back on track, health-wise, this way.

Generosity

I spent the night of the science fair sleeplessly. The energy expenditure of the day was considerable, though I guess my adrenaline concentration stemming from the experience was too high to be ignored. Fatigue has turned into utter fatigue as insomnia continues. I’m guessing that this condition only serves to enhance my typical, transitory, post-event post-partum depressive tendencies.

I know that I’m exhausted and overly-emotional. And, as happens to me in this kind of space, I tend to socially withdraw a bit and reflect on my existence. What am I doing here? Is this really my life? What can I change? How can I change?

I was touched by a couple of folks who gave me huge compliments today on my leadership ability. Their comments were exceptionally kind and generous, I thought.

Am I that generous with others? Oh, I would like to think so; but I’m not always so sure. Extending sincere appreciation to those around you, I believe, is a mark not only of exemplary leadership, but of generosity and simple humanity. In whatever form it takes, saying out loud words like “I appreciate you” is a powerful thing. The message can be as significant and affirming as “I love you.”

Can we live without being loved and appreciated? Yes, I guess so, but it makes the difficulty level of life much more significant.

I frequently think of the May 2002 episode of “ER” that marked the passing of character Dr. Mark Green. (Yes, Jim, again with a TV show!?) Why this comes to mind for me at this particular moment, I’m not sure, except that is has to do with the concept of “generosity.”

In this episode, Mark is near death and he makes the decision to spend his final days in Hawaii. With him are daughter Rachel, wife Elizabeth, and their baby daughter Ella.

The most moving moment, and the one that has kept flashing into my psyche over the years, is his final piece of advice: “Be generous Rachel,” he says, “with yourself, with your life, with your love. Just be generous.”

I would love to be known as a man of integrity – and generosity. For now: I’m working on it.

Soundtrack Suggestion

And the seasons they go round and round
And the painted ponies go up and down
We’re captive on the carousel of time
We can’t return we can only look behind
From where we came
And go round and round and round
In the circle game

(“The Circle Game” – Joni Mitchell)

Cellular Response

Last spring, after the breakup of a significant long-term relationship, and during the most anxiety-producing days surrounding the decision of my “interim-position” status, I developed extreme muscular tension in my legs which had some other, rather scary, side effects. Ever since then, I have taken a, more-or-less, physical-therapy approach to the problem and, after long months, was making progress: almost able to see light at the end of the tunnel by December. However, over the holidays, I had somewhat a reversal of fortune, and I seem to be more symptomatic these days, rather than less.

I’ve approached this as primarily a muscular issue, with anxiety as the root cause. I've done many, many sessions of deep-tissue massage and ultrasound in order to attempt to settle my leg muscles down. Some of the early work, with the deepest massage treatments, produced rather dramatic emotional responses on my part. The work on my body would result in waves of feelings of sadness and loss, for example, and I would end up crying in the office before I was able to gather myself together and get dressed to leave. As I started to get better, less symptomatic, I stopped having such responses. But, yesterday, again, as we worked and probed and pressure-pointed spots on my lower body, I was once more similarly affected. Like a tsunami, feelings of extreme sadness rapidly, and without warning, totally engulfed me.

Although there are a number of possible explanations for what's going on (including neurological), I suspect my body is sending me some kind of message that, to date, I've not totally deciphered. But, my working theory is that the overwhelming loss, and potential for loss, that created last spring’s anxiety led my body to react the way it did, and that the depth of the physical pain — memorized at the cell level — is reflective of the severity of the emotional wounding. Further, when my physical being is poked and prodded in just such a manner, there’s a direct link to the emotional scar tissue. The physical part of the experience yesterday was quite painful, of course. But, the emotional aspect, for me, was profound. And, today, twenty-four hours later, I'm still processing and asking “what is this all about?”

Which part of my being do I heal first: my body or my soul? How do I go about doing that?