how to heal

you are the medicine. by Erica Kathleen

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so, this whole, healing thing. it’s pretty amazing.

my last doctor appointment, my blood doctor said, “I’m so happy for you! I’m so proud of you! Not many people would willingly do this work. They’d rather keep going from doctor to doctor.” Now, I don’t know if that’s true or not. I for sure, went to a shit-ton of doctors. Specialist after specialist. I wanted an answer. I wanted a reason for the pain. I wanted an explanation for why I felt like I was dying. I told him, “I just wanted to know why! And now that I know, and I know that I have the power to change it, I’m going to do everything in my power to fix it!” He smiled. He hugged me. Again, he said, “I’m really proud of you.”

I still have my blood disorder. It’s genetic. So I’ll always be dealing with that. But it’s not taking center stage anymore. It’s not getting the limelight.

Eventually, I did get my answer. I got my reason. I got my explanation. Complex PTSD.

You may think, like I did, that this is a mental thing. You may think, like I did, that it’s “all in your head.”

I was wrong. VERRRY wrong.

Complex PTSD (C-PTSD) is a disregulation of the nervous system. Meaning, your nervous system is out of whack.

Your nervous system is a pretty important thing. It’s in charge of healthy digestion, sleep, immune system functioning, heart rate, blood pressure, breathing, relaxation, digestion, regeneration and SO MUCH MORE.

Do you even know what C-PTSD can do to your body?

Medically unexplained physical symptoms . . .

chronic pain

sleep difficulties

irritability

poor concentration

depression

anxiety

dysautonomia

irritable bowel syndrome

nonulcer dyspepsia

fibromyalgia

chronic fatigue syndrome

autoimmune diseases

rheumatoid arthritis

psoriasis

insulin-dependent diabetes

thyroid diseases

and a TON more

You starting to get the idea? Your nervous system is in charge of a LOT of important stuff. So, when your nervous system is messed up . . . it can wreak havoc on your body.

I could go on & on, but at the risk of sounding like a biology teacher. I’ll leave it at that. If you' wanna know more, THIS book has a LOT of scientific stuff on C-PTSD, which personally, I find fascinating ;)

Anywhooo . . . one thing that I find absolutely LIBERATING . . . is that I’m in charge here. I’m responsible for my healing.

No doctor, no needle, no pill, no infusion, no surgery, no procedure . . . no, me laying there & having someone else responsible for fixing me.

Me.

Yes, there are people who are helping me on this journey. Yes, I am seeing a therapist. Yes, I am taking a class. Yes, I am reading books.

But do you see? Without my effort. Without my determination. Without my willingness to DO this hard work, nothing would change.

and so, I offer you my newest art piece.

“I am the medicine.”

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I’m pretty sure I’m gonna get this tattooed on my bod somewhere . . . maybe above my port or the iliac crest of my pelvis? not sure yet ;)

but

it’s true.

I AM THE MEDICINE.

and my friends,

YOU are the medicine.

You are YOUR medicine.

We got this.

We can do this.

We are doing it.

We are healing.

and I’m so fucking proud of us.

xo, EK

ps. “I am the medicine” is an 11x17” (BIG!) original mixed media painting, on mat board & is up for a 24 hour LIVE Auction over on Instagram HERE. If you don’t have an IG account & want to bid on it, shoot me an email HERE & let me know your highest bid. I’ll bid for you ;)



too much. by Erica Kathleen

"If you don't have anything nice to say, don't say anything at all." Right?

Hence, my silence.

Who wants to hear about my laundry list of physical ailments? Who wants to read about pain & suffering? Who wants to hear . . . blah, blah, blah.

And then I remember, If I am not REAL, who am I? If I am not HONEST, who am I? If I am not a TRUTH-teller, who am I?

So, here is my truth . . . it's all gotten to be TOO MUCH. I went off social media over a month ago. Too much noise, too much chatter, too bright, too loud, to scratchy, TOO MUCH.

I find myself on this "healing journey" . . . has a nice kind of romantic ring to it, doesn't it? Emotional healing. Physical healing. Body, mind & Spirit. Romantic.

Until, it all gets to be too fucking much. I used to subscribe to the idea that, "everything happens for a reason", and "physical ailments have emotional roots" . . . It sure makes the tough times a lot easier to swallow, when you have these beliefs.

But last week, I was sitting, having a conversation with my love & I said, "What if it's all fucking bullshit? What if there is no "reason" for my fibromyalgia or my gallstones or my sick liver? What if it just fucking happened & there is no deeper meaning? Because, if it WAS caused by traumas, & to 'heal the physical ailment, you have to heal what caused it'.....I have done NOTHING but work on healing these traumas . . . I have dug so fucking deep, my entire world as I know it has fallen completely fucking apart because NOTHING is what I thought it was . . . I have worked SO FUCKING HARD at healing these traumas . . . every single day, my sole focus is healing . . . and my body is falling apart. I feel like I'm dying. What if I do die? Does that mean I didn't work hard enough at healing? FUCK THAT."

I told you I didn't have anything nice to say, but this is where I'm at, LOST on this "journey". Even that word . . . JOURNEY, makes me want to fucking vomit.

It doesn't feel like a journey. It feels like death.

Oh yes, I've always been fond of the "caterpillar in the cocoon, turning into a butterfly" idea . . . another romantic notion to help us make it through hard times . . . which, also, at this point, brings an instant gag reflex to my whole body. 

To describe what it feels like, when I close my eyes . . . there is No "journey". No caterpillars & cocoons. No steps on a path, leading me to a better place. No healing light. No one guiding me. No amazing metamorphosis. . .

What it is, is this . . .

dark. pitch black. no evidence of light, anywhere. it doesn't exist here.

cold. bone-chilling cold. cold that can never be warmed & never goes away. 

aches. in the very core of my bones. feeling that my body has been beaten & smashed by a hammer, from the inside out. 

muscles that are so weak I can barely move, yet are so tight, they burn like I've been weight lifting for hours.

a head that is so heavy, it feels like it's made of lead & my body can barely hold it up.

sleep, that is so elusive & hard to find, even when I am so exhausted I can't move. muscles that won't relax, nerves that don't shut 'off' . . . waking up feeling like I was run over by a semi truck.

that's just for starters.

so, you see. I'm having a really difficult time finding the "reason". I'm having a hard time with the "caterpillar & the cocoon" deal. 

I don't write this to complain. I don't write this for pity. I write this for the reason I share anything personal . . . in the HOPES that it will help someone else. Personally, I find great comfort in knowing I'm not alone in my struggles.

Please share this if you feel it might help someone. Please let me know if it touched you, or helped you.

Because maybe, the whole idea of "sharing my pain to help other people" is just another romantic notion that needs to go.

I don't know.

Frankly, I don't know what the fuck I know anymore.

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