From Pain to Equilibrium: Resources

I've been working my way up to posting a huge tome about best-practice methods for managing chronic myofascial pain but, truly, it's a massive topic that's so close to home, once I'm done living it, I'm scarcely motivated to continue the conversation.

Having said this, I've written at length about this sort of pain, over many years, so I would recommend - if this post is resonant - that you use the handy search field at the top of this page and type in your subject of note. Chances are high that I've spoken about it (at some length) before...

At the end, this post includes a repository of those methods and mechanisms for peeps who are interested to learn about what works best for me. The potential benefit here, from the perspective of one trying to understand how to manage his or her own chronic pain, is that I've tried just about everything - and many things I'd never be able to come up with on my own - to move the yardstick from pain to "normal". So there's a lot to go through in this blog. If I haven't covered the subject - the internet is vast and I recommend that you put on some good music and get googling :-) because knowledge is power, my friends!

Here's the thing: there is no one definition of chronic pain. What it feels like in my body - and what triggers it - is unique. It's that way for us all, though few practitioners will disclose this (they do need a raison d'etre) - and, statistically, few support practitioners wade through the chaos of chronic pain in their own lives. So the first thing I have to say is that your only way out is YOUR way out. While they may support in many meaningful contexts, it's very unlikely that your sports med doc and your GP and your rheumatologist and your psychiatrist (these peeps do know drugs) and your physiotherapist and your massage therapist and your pain clinic and your cardiologist and your acupuncturist and your yoga therapist and your INSERT NEXT DOCTOR HERE are going to provide you with the answer. Just ask anyone with chronic pain.

To drive this point home again... Put 2 people in a room, both suffering from the after-effects of a concussion, and you will almost certainly find yourself looking at 2 totally different presentations of pain and other symptomology. It's just that way with all chronic pain - myofascial, fibromyalgic, neuropathic and so on. What's the common denominator? A dysregulated central nervous system. As a macro, this intel is very useful. On the micro-level, it's almost meaningless.

I will also disclose, at this juncture, what with my being a fully-formed middle-aged person who can no longer be bothered to hide behind social mores, that I have experienced so many bizarre symptoms and forms of pain at this point, I scarcely know how to quantify them - except to say that I hid many of them from most of my medical practitioners for years because - you heard it here first - those symptoms freaked me out so significantly.

I think you'd agree, I don't come off as the kind of person who hides things cuz they're too scary to think about.

Chronic pain is also, 9/10 times, accompanied or defined by a series of co-morbid conditions that overlap - again, cuz central sensitization occurs at the centre - the CNS - spiraling out in a series of metaphoric floral motifs (what? I need to find some creativity in this topic). We might as well call it "one really nasty outcome of CNS dysregulation" because it never is one thing - it's everything. Which is why you can't fix it like a UTI.

But back to my special format: myofascial. In layperson terms, a swirly vortex of pain likes to inhabit various different zones in my body, almost like a poltergeist. That pain can be extremely intense, coming on like lightning and lasting mere moments to weeks, or dull and systemic, also lasting moments to weeks. It can be notably neuropathic (migraines, "sciatica") to utterly muscular (that phenomenon I refer to as "turtling" where every muscle within a certain zone becomes observably as hard as steel). Sometimes it tangos, elegantly, with SVT, producing an otherworldly sensation. I've also got some joint pain due to that lovely, early-onset osteoarthritis and all of the inflammation it brings to the fore. In some ways, the most problematic sensation isn't full-on pain but mass inflexibility. Though no one would define me as anything other than physically flexible, I feel internally stuck in a way that makes me want to tear at my skin so that I can be liberated from its confines.

For me, right now, fascia - that lovely layer that covers everything in the body, so it's got real estate - isn't functioning "normally". The fibers are unyielding, so replete with nerves that, for the "right" person, alighting the nerve response is like shooting fish in a barrel. Hilariously, I'm hyper mobile in certain ways. For example, in my years of fancy-ass yoga practice, I managed to bypass all of the myofascial triggers that warn me of an impending pain flare. And I suffered. Just cuz something looks pretty doesn't mean it isn't causing harm. And natch, just because it causes harm in one person in one time period, doesn't mean that it will in the next. Note: My yoga practice, in as much as it's brought on pain, is likely the thing that's saved me from the very ebb - so nothing is simple.

Believe it or not, while age has given volume to the pain, my management plan is so utterly sophisticated at this point, I'm faring far better than I did a decade ago. Of course, a decade ago, I wasn't having to manage it as constantly or fervently. And a decade ago my life had not spiraled into the complex landscape that it is today.

As I re-read this post, I imagine that you must be thinking: Lord, Kristin must be freaking out about the unknown end state of all of this. In case that's crossed your mind, let me assure you that I am not. I don't have that luxury and - mercifully - I don't have that mindset. Miraculously, I'm able to view this through the prism of experimentation. I believe absolutely in the power of my mental flexibility. To me, everything is a game, a puzzle. Pain management is how I occupy my time when I'm not doing all of the other things (or in lieu of, on occasion, suboptimally). Say what you will, I am incomparably fortunate to have this natural propensity. Other than money and my awesome husband, this is my strongest protective factor. These three things are a worthy triumvirate.

But other things also help immeasurably (and in no particular order):

• MELT Method (a type of myofascial bodywork done with a special roller)

• Yoga / Bodywork: For me it's traction and therapeutic, for the most part, these days (Note: I'm a teacher with 30 years of experience. Don't try this at home if you don't know what you're doing. Just look up by a couple of paragraphs and you'll see why.)

• Acupressure mats and pillows: I call these my head and bed of nails

• Body scrubbing: for those with fucked up fascia, this is way more useful than you might imagine. It takes a while though and it requires a certain amount of flexibility.

• Massage

• Acupuncture: combined with massage, this is extremely effective in a time-limited fashion

• Nutrition: I follow a Primal Lifestyle diet and avoid all grains, processed foods and sugar. We're all unique but this particular diet-style seems to work for lots when it comes to pain management.

• Supplements: You should talk to your naturopath about which ones are best for you. Magnesium glycinate and vit D are usually good for everyone.

• Sleep: improvement by whatever means necessary. Arguably, this is the most important one of all if you read through the studies.

• Extremely moderate exercise: (Is that even a thing?) Walking, but not as much as you'd like. Yoga or cycling - but not so much that you hit a limit. Managing pain is all about understanding the parameters. This has been my biggest challenge because I'm not moderate. People have been telling me for years to do weight work. Every time I do it, I end up in pain. For me, the optimal weight work is in using my own body in certain modified yoga poses I've spent years honing. Peeps with chronic pain often produce that pain with exercise not because exercise is bad but because those peeps have a dysregulated CNS, symptomologically exacerbated by certain exercise. Remember, everyone is unique.

• Meditation and CBT: At some point, you're going to have to wade into the depths of grief caused by pain that doesn't appear to be going away according to your timeline (or that dictated by your sanity). You're also likely going to be awake for that dark night of the soul. Learn these by whatever means possible. Bonus: Everyone should be doing this so you'll just be extra-sassy and ahead of the curve!

• Any functional neuroplastic method you can find or make up: And yeah, you can totally make it up. Seriously, if you can fake knitting, you can fake neuroplasticity until you get there!

• Pharmaceuticals: Ain't gonna wade into this topic, which is vast and laden with landmines. But if you've had chronic pain, chances are you've gone down this path. For myofascial pain, muscle relaxants that work on the brain (i.e. cyclobenzaprine) can be very helpful, if they work. Drugs can be long-term or short-term. Aim for short-term because the consequences are usually more tolerable.

• Medical cannabis: Another vast topic... One day I'll start a blog on this topic. Note: Most doctors don't know what the hell they're doing on this topic. I have to assume this will change.

• Trigger avoidance: Alas, you need to know what these are in order to utilize this method.
  

• Getting the co-morbid conditions under control: For example: If you have anxiety disorder that's contributing to your CNS dysregulation, consider an SSRI. Or, if you have structural TMJD, get a mouth gizmo. If you can't sleep, you MUST figure that shit out. Nothing will improve till sleep does.

• Learn by books and blogs: I won't lie. There aren't a ton of good pain blogs out there. This cohort isn't at its snappiest much of the time. I only hope that, if we consider mine a pain blog at this juncture, it isn't boring and it is helpful. There are a lot of studies out there to become acquainted with. Painscience.com speaks of them at length. (This blog is sometimes useful but often strident, be warned.) Also, there's a great book that provides tremendous insight and practical support re: the relationship between CNS dysregulation and pain: The Fibro Manual by Ginevra Liptan. You don't need to have fibromyalgia to benefit from this book. It pertains to all pain and sleep disorders. It's also written by an MD who lives with fibromyalgia so it's got some street cred. It's neither allopathically nor "alternatively" focused. It takes a multi-pronged approach, really, the only one works. I also recommend Healing through Trigger Point Theraapy: A Guide to Fibromyalgia, Myofascial Pain and Dysfunction by Starlanyl and Sharkey.

• A collegial relationship with as many of your doctors as possible: Note: When you need them most, that's when your ability to maintain and develop collaboration will be at its weakest. These people need to see you in good times and in bad.

• DNA testing, but not if you aren't one of those peeps who likes to learn about gene-coding and then to figure out science.

• Friends / Family / Pets: (though not if you need to care for these on your own) Don't discount the magic of community. When you can do nothing else, you can accept love and support from those who care about you - and give it when you see pain in your midst. Pain's one optimistic trait is the compassion that it brings to the fore. May we all leverage this to our advantage.

• Knitting: No joke, I am currently sane because of yarn an needles (and not just the acupuncture kind). You can swap in anything that brings you tactile joy, that soothes your soul, that creates beauty and that can be done anywhere. And then do it cuz it doesn't work otherwise.

It's amazing to me that this is just part of the daily regimen that helps me and is by no means an exhaustive list of everything I've tried to date - or will try in the future. Hope it provides a starting off point for anyone who may be able to benefit from my insight thus far.

From Pain to Equilibrium: This Really Is A Thing

A few peeps have emailed or commented to ask about how my “anti-inflammatory-esque lifestyle” is going, whether the pain is gone. I figure, at this point, I should approach the question more holistically than nutritionally because, while I understand my body differently, with more nuance in each passing month, I cannot attribute improvement to just one approach.

The thing about chronic pain (intermittent or otherwise) is that it often isn’t caused by one factor – and it’s generally resolved (or managed) by many solutions that take years to parse together. I’ve been on the anti-pain scavenger hunt for a few years now. In retrospect, I know I’ve had musculo-skeletal and nerve pain since childhood and it went entirely unheeded, because I didn’t understand what was happening and adults don’t assume that children are in regular pain. Then it went away, but would routinely recur in one form or another in my 20s and 30s– frequently in neck and head. Then I got pertussis in my early 40s and, man, that fucked me up. I’ve been dealing with the fall out ever since. Add some mid-life hormonal chaos into the mix and there’s my own personal factoral soup. (Note: It’s way more complicated than this but you get the gist.)

I spent the first 4 years of my pain-management experience focused on bio-mechanical fixes, diagnostics, body-work and supplements. The ones that have been infinitely most useful, depending on the day, include my Yoga Tune-Up balls, my acupressure mat and pillow (the bed and head of nails, as I call them), vitamin D, collagen powder, massage, acupuncture and my self-devised body-work plan (which focused initially on therapeutic yoga, traction/hanging, breath-work and fascial release).

I’ve spent the last year focused on diet, with the express aim of reducing systemic inflammation, specifically as I now know I have non-negligible osteoarthritis which is thought to be motivated by my genetics and a family history. Oh, and I’ve also given a lot of attention to neuroplastic techniques for pain reduction, which is more of a mental-shift than wholesale new activity, because all of my body-work is fundamentally neuroplastic.

Each of these things has reinforced the others while numerous other approaches seem to have had no impact, so they have been abandoned. It’s impossible to say whether – in the last year - a critical mass of techniques has finally started to yield more significant improvements than ever before, but I do believe that the dietary changes have been key. Mind you, so have all the others, as far as I’m concerned. The thing is, I may get a massage once a week but I eat multiple times a day. So I do think diet has created a kind of pathway to cohere all techniques – a metaphoric service tunnel in the house that is my body/mind.

Having said this, I still can’t quantify exactly how I am improved. I still experience pain and sometimes it is severe. I still crave sugar and that is emotionally very difficult. I’m still stressed out by all of the things in life that stress all kinds of people.

So what’s changed?

I’m glad you asked! What hasn’t changed? I’m older, I’m wiser, I’m more aware of interdependencies (of biochemical and other varieties). I now know why it is believed that I have pain (a diagnosis) – though I’m so naïve that I don’t realize there are many people with infinitely more gnarled skeletons than mine and they feel little or no pain. I have also come to understand how a mechanical issue (jaw malocclusion) has had rather significant impacts on my ability to sleep, breathe and pretty well do everything else one does with one’s mouth. I now have a bespoke mouth gizmo to undercut the negatives but I may need to get more extreme about the medical dental devices in the future.

There are people who spend less time on their careers than I’ve spent on my pain condition and I still have pain. But I’m less afraid of it than ever before because I don’t feel like it’s controlling me anymore. As we know, pain is something that happens in the brain, not in the muscles and bones and fascia and joints and nerves. Sure, all of those things express the impact, but the source of this issue is the best place to target it. I do believe that the huge shift I’ve undertaken – the essential flip in my ingestion of carbs and fat – has helped my brain tremendously but not in the ways you might expect. I don’t think my memory is any better. I’m still anxious (and BTW, I in no way begrudge my anxiety – it makes me who I am and I know it’s as protective as it is antagonistic). Anxiety is also comorbidly associated with pain – as are many of the other conditions I just naturally happen to have been born with. If ever there were a candidate for chronic pain, I am that individual. But I am mercifully introspective. My sensitivity and my intelligence (note: I’m not going to underplay this - I’m smart and I own it) have given me so many mechanisms for improvement. I feel everything, physical and otherwise. I feel all of the bad and all of the good. I feel it deeply and broadly and incisively in ways that sometimes threaten to smash me up. But my awareness will also fix me. Mark my words.

Somehow, stopping the sugar/grains/processed food, limiting the booze and legumes and amping up the fat has made me better able to understand the contingencies between my body and my mind. I feel the gear shifts in my brain that bring about the gear shifts in my body. And they are so calibrated, so nuanced, it’s bizarre. For example, eating fat has somehow allowed me to understand (convolutedly, of course) that I have to be less active than I’d like. Sure, I can do vinyasa yoga with the best of them but it’s not good for me. It looks good but it brings pain that lasts indefinitely because I by-pass all of the warning triggers that my biochemistry is sending. I’ve used body-work just as I’ve used sugar – as a numbing agent. If I don’t want to be in pain, I have to listen. I have to slow down. And that’s something I don’t do naturally. I’m not wired that way and it’s very hard for me, to vastly understate it. Fat curtails my natural impulse to act constantly. It’s soporific. For some people, that’s not helpful. For a person who is compelled by everything -it may be a saving grace.

I have one other ace in the hole. Another tactic that's vastly changed the pain situation for me, but I'm not going to discuss it on the blog. If you suffer with pain, you're a regular reader/I know you, and you'd like to reach out, feel free to email. What I will say is that, like fat, it targets the pain where it lives, and - along with the dozens of other things I do on a daily basis - it's been a game-changer.

Am I cured? No. Am I on the road? I suspect yes. I mean, if nothing else I am INFINITELY less puffy and I can wear my rings for the first time in 3 years. That's an external sign of reduced internal inflammation, which will eventually lead to reduced pain, I can infer. Moreover, when I have pain (even pain that would probably floor most people), I can generally live "normally" i.e. go to work and work hard. My family life, my non-work energy, definitely takes the hit, but no one said balance is easy.

So that's my update on this topic. I welcome any questions or comments - cuz sometimes these days, despite stats that prove I have many wonderful readers, I do feel like I'm blogging in a vacuum...

Where There's A Will...

I often refer to my immediate family members in terms of their wills of steel. No joke. There's so much will being expressed that it could put a person on the moon. I have always thought of myself as the odd one out, in this respect. In practical terms, I am the odd one out. I mean, I live in another country.

If you'd asked me, until very recently, I would have said I was the infinitely most malleable of the bunch. I'm the one who would back down, in the end. What I didn't realize is that I never relented. I subverted. I internalized every feeling that was unpalatable to the bunch because, frankly, there was no way to win. I was going to move to that new country (or house or school district). I was going to go on that crazy trip where nothing was really planned (because excitement came of spontaneity). I was required to attend church every fucking Sunday, despite the fact that I disagree with organized religion (and specifically Catholicism). I would eat that dinner that overwhelmed me, if I had to sit at the table with the timer on until I eventually got punished and then was re-presented with the same food at the next meal. (Look, it was the 70s. Parents did that.)

My parents were not bad. They were very young and they did what suited them. They still do what suits them. It's part of what makes them lovable. They still move constantly and go to church on principle (my traditional father) and make huge decisions on a whim. You can bet, if they decided to reno a house, it would be done within 6 months of the initial thought taking hold. But, as my mother recently told me, she would never undertake such a craziness. There's always a better house to buy.

I don't have many memories. Scott likes to say I can learn anything in 10 minutes but I can't remember anything that happened last year. He's one of those people that says shit like: It was August, no wait, late July in 1982 and I was in BC hitch hiking when I saw this bear on the side of the road. Of course, I do remember fragments of things, however, things that now corroborate my subversion (and the small ways in which I tried to inflict myself on my people in the way I felt they inflicted themselves on me).

I remember walking in Hyde Park, having moved to London at the age of 4, the sky, not dissimilar to the shade we experience for months in the winter in TO, but this was summer. I was so angry to be there. I exuded hate for that place. I remember when I moved back to New York, for a brief period (just long enough to utterly fuck with my sense of order and stability), and my father asked me whether I'd like to move to Toronto and I said, no thank you. I do not want to move. And he said, well that's unfortunate. I remember the grip of grief because I would once again be displaced. I remember when I got a letter from my teacher in London, once I'd moved back to the States. I argued with my mother about how to open the envelope. Somehow, the argument escalated and I threw it in the garbage, even though I desperately wanted to know what it had to say, to reconnect with something from my past. I remember it was one of those Air Mail envelopes from a long time ago (it looked kind of military). Sometimes I can't believe that I'll never know what it said because I would not be controlled (ironic, I realize).

I trapped all of my anger and grief into a small space behind my tonsils, around my ears. I would not speak. I would not give anyone the satisfaction of my oppression. I was a stone and my spirit was gradually petrified. Sure, my ears would hurt semi-regularly, piercing pain that nothing could interfere with. But no one could exploit my feelings because I absorbed them masterfully. Sounds kind of steely willful, no?

It seems that nothing happens in a vacuum. As I learned how to manage my emotions, ahem, I also learned how to learn. I was always thrilled to learn. It was an escape but it was also a game. I love tests. They're a chance to win but also to develop new internal pathways. Not sure how others learn, but for me it's palpable. I feel the sparks in my brain and they motivate me - like direction lights. But learning takes energy - it travels through one. I would feel the learning take hold in different places in my body but my shoulders and my neck would absorb it most specifically. They'd sometimes click into a gear with my ears and throat and hands. And I, like so many children (and adults), was a learning machine.

I could go on for some pages on this topic - on how and where experience has fossilized in my body. I have assumed this to be true for many years. But I have never been able to isolate these places. Moreover, as time and age and constancy have re-entrenched those pathways, they are so enmeshed with each other that it's almost as if they do not exist independently. Please be clear - on many levels, the pathways are now as immune to emotion as they were originally defined by it.

When I took up yoga at age 18, I was already in a lot of pain. It wasn't in my ears at that point. I did get bad headaches on occasion. I'd also lived with really bad leg pain (I have a feeling it was childhood rheumatism) for years - more on than off. And my left hip was already in terrible shape much of the time. While yoga was game-changing for my body (and it was the first physical thing to change how I felt, how I existed in my body), I undertook it in the only way I could. I withstood it. There was nothing I couldn't do because I had made the decision to achieve. Feeling was irrelevant. (I was young. What can I say?)

And so I spent years ignoring what my practice was telling me. Please don't misunderstand: I was so sincere and so sure I was heeding the message. I mean, I could feel things in my body and they were painful and pleasant and deep. But (a couple of years in) when I felt I was never going to be able to change my hip, or the pain within it, I just decided to embrace it. Over time, that pain did diminish (and so I felt the yoga had done its job). I did note that my front groins were absurdly tight but I was good at ignoring them. I could do all kinds of things with steel-like muscles, fascia and tendons.

As time went on, the muscles of my neck - deeply within, at the plane of my ears and occiput - became occluded and less distinct. It was maddening. I wanted to rip my head off, that's the only way to describe it, to get into that space, to diminish the angry pressure. Somehow I felt it might be useful to do 10 minute headstands to counter this. (Important note to reader: Very few people benefit as much from headstand as they destabilize themselves by doing it. Active sirsasana is good for relatively few of us living the Western lifestyle - but supported versions, well-taught, can be great. You have to really listen though, and most people can't do this.) I mean, I was doing 5 minute headstand, at the wall, the day before I had my kid.

I really started to notice the problem in my head, neck, jaw and upper back when M was a baby. She wanted to be carried constantly. At that point, I was unendingly sleep-deprived and I carried her because the alternative was interminable crying, which I could not stand. The sound of any baby crying makes me feel like throwing up almost instantly. This went on for years. Hell, I remember carrying her (with my bag and her backpack), a mile from school when she was 5. It was the only way to get her home. (It would appear that she inherited the will of steel.) In retrospect, this is when the arthritis started to take hold - and the myofascial pain that accompanies it. No wonder I was a mess as a new parent. I was dealing with clinical OCD, an anxiety disorder and near-constant pain. I have never felt so trapped in my life.

It's all well and good to tell someone to really consider her pain and its origins - to feel it deeply and internally so as to detangle - to disintegrate - it. People with no pain tend to be able to do this quite effectively. That's why they don't have pain. But for those whose pain is a preformative jumble of thoughts and feelings, of neurochemical patterning, I'm so sorry to say but you've got your work cut out for you.

There are few people as well-positioned as me to overcome this. I have enough money, enough time, enough intelligence, enough education, enough privilege and undeserved entitlement, enough sincerity, the willingness to work ceaselessly to fix this. I'm open-minded, I'm introspective. I have spent 5 years thinking of/feeling relatively little else, when all is said and done (and I've said and done a shit ton of things in that time). Hell, I've been thinking about chronic pain since I was 5 years old. I just didn't know what to call it.

This pain is my will, sublimated, and it would appear that my will is a force to give even my family's its reckoning. It's my way of saying, you have not won, you will never win. It's how my infant-self prevails. I only wish I weren't its victim. That young girl is as much me as she is eradicated by everything I have become. She can learn. Good bye to terrible grief, to anger that could light up a city. I would rather feel peace than loyalty.

It's Been a Long Month

Thank you so, so much, everyone who commented on my last post. I had no idea my reno is such a topic of interest! FWIW, I have every intention of torturing you with stories about it (and pics). Why keep that gift to myself? :-) And, gotta say, overwhelmed or no, I feel like a part of me is amputated when I don't write.

So many things have happened in the last month - too many to relate. Maybe it would be best to return with some fodder about knitting (light, and all, even if ripping back a sweater isn't fun). Alas, I've experienced death (my best friend's much loved and admired father), grief and adaptation. There's been pain and, I can't lie, fear.

But in those moments of fear (which, for me, are inextricably linked to physical pain) there's a lot to be learned. In fact, I may have learned more from pain than from anything else I've ever experienced. It takes no prisoners and it doesn't pander. Having said this, in no other context is Stockholm Syndrome more beneficial. One has to make friends with fear - the emotional manifestation of pain - to trust it. What you can't beat, join, and all that...

My most recent encounter with death (and they are all different even as they're all the same) has taught me that, in order to accept mortality - inevitable human decay and ending (that thing I fear most of all) - one has to be exposed. It stands to reason that the best way to accept the continuum of life is to see it from all sides. I realize this is banal to read. But to live it is profound. We must normalize pain, death, fear, loss. They are worthy and human. They give ballast to the things we seek out intently (love, prosperity, health, contentment).

Big thoughts aside, I am always informed by my yoga practice. The benefit of being an early adopter is that I have the opportunity to watch this faction age as I do. Really, I suspect this community's dialogue is going to help everyone, at any age, because we're all on this trajectory. But for me, a woman of a certain age, who sees the subtle erosion of athleticism in her practice, it's rather kind.

Often these days, when I practice - and when I practice through pain my sequence is an odd array of methodologies wrapped in the philosophy of pranic yoga - I remember a moment in my early years of teacher training. I was demonstrating chaturanga dandasana (push up) while my teacher expounded, interminably, on the pose. I stayed there seemingly forever. She smacked my arms and militaristically commanded me to rise, time after time, with attention to the energy in the pose. She advised us all that my attention was scattered. You should know that this asana has always been my nemesis - even at my most physically capable. I can hang out in high plank indefinitely. I can bring myself to the floor and hold the plane. But pushing back up, from the full pose, has always been some variation of miserable to impossible. Effectively I am stuck.

In my mid-40s, I do the pose with knees down. It's just sensible. Why the fuck would I contribute to pain to feed my ego? I need to retain strength, not to prove my prowess.

But here's what I posit: There are so many experiences you will never be able to contextualize until they're just memories.

Today, as I did full chaturanga in an effort to strength-train (and remembered my teacher training moment), I recognized for the zillionth time that my attention was not scattered - had not been scattered. I realized at the level of my bones and nerves that I've never been able to locate the graceful exit in this pose because my body can't find it. My body can find so many things - so many other poses, so much joy, so much depth, ecstasy - but it cannot find the ergonomic stasis required to lift out of that full pose elegantly (if at all) probably because I've got fucking osteophytes all over my spine, messing with the dynamism, and they've likely been there since my late teens. No fucking surprise I can't do it. It doesn't define me.

So here's where I'm going with this post. The next time you can't find something - closure or peace of mind or some stupid physical outcome that in no way defines you - remember that, someday, the fog will clear. You may still not find what you're looking for, but you'll know why it's lost to you and you'll accept it.

My teacher used to say that she didn't know what would happen when she could finally attain (mega-complicated) Pose X. She suspected she'd go up in an illuminated puff of smoke - illumination being the unsaid subtext. (In no small irony, she cut herself the slack she couldn't give to others.) I'm telling you there's no puff of smoke. There's just the emerging awareness that comes with experience.

So I welcome everything. I welcome life and joy and death and sorrow and pain and whatever each is there to tell me. Intermittent limitation is a gift, because it shows, in containment, what will eventually come. There's liberty in that, I propose. But then what do I know?

A Little Bit About A Lot

Yo, Peeps. Much to say, not much time in which to say it. I've got a full day of yoga-doing, naturopath-visiting, window-shopping, friend-meeting, dinner-having and movie-with-subtitles-viewing. This'll be my second in-theatre film in 2 weeks. After 5 years of not seeing one. I average about 1 every 5 years so this is unprecedented. (Mind you, it is a Rohmer film from the 80s.) It's playing at the TIFF Lighthouse (the headquarters of the Film Festival which needs no introduction). I'm feeling rather urban-lady.

Lord, have you ever seen more hyphens than in the paragraph above?

I'm going through a phase of much self-reflection and, frankly, I don't have time to be all existential and bloggy simultaneously. Furthermore, I wonder if my "who am I?" posts freak people out. I mean, I'm eternally freaked out by the vast cavern of my own humanity. Must I inflict that on others? (Answer: Likely yes. But not till I can alchemize the depths of feeling into words.)

Just a few check-in things to say - which are totally disparate in nature - but hopefully include something for everyone:

• For those of you who follow me on Instagram (@kristinm100), you may be pleased to learn I got the job for which I interviewed a couple of weeks ago! It's a promotion and it's going to provide me with new experience and learning opportunities that I'm very excited about. I'm also nervous (but who isn't when she takes a new job??). FWIW, I highly recommend the Kielo Wrap Dress for interviewing.

• Right now, I'm making this sweater and the patter is SO well-written. I love the construction, which is short-row heavy (everywhere), to put it mildly. And yet, while I'm no fan of the short-row, I find myself loving them in this context. I do hope my crazy work-arounds produce a well-fitted end result. I got neither gauge, nor do I fit into 1 specific size (according to the pattern schematic). So I'm going rogue. Mind you, I did so many gauge-swatches for this thing and that should count for something.

• I've been meaning to write about this for years, but honestly, if you experience chronic pain (particularly in the back, for any reasons - but myofascial pain is a good one) you'd really do well to buy an acupressure mat and pillow. This also saved my ass when I was getting those 10-day migraines a couple of years ago. (Thank you God for their abatement). Sometimes this, and sleep, were my only recourse during that time. I affectionately call these gizmos my bed of nails and head of nails. Effectively, they work like a low-fi TENS machine. I have many modalities to manage pain, when it hits, but there is none more useful than this mat and pillow - which are so affordable that you can have one in every room (and in the workplace). They are also very durable in my experience. Those little plastic pokey things do just what you'd imagine - they stick into your back/neck/head (with a pretty good amount of force, esp. if you're not wearing anything between them and you) and they re-route the pain loop. Of course, they also cause pain - pain which you create voluntarily, knowingly - and this rather miraculously re-circuits the neurological response.* I've got a lot to say about this - and neuroplasticity, my latest fascination (and what I imagine is the future for me and pain management). I've recently been referred to a fantastic pain clinic wherein I hope to be able to apply certain neuroplastic techniques to reroute my pain response permanently. I've got new info about what may be reinforcing the pain - arthritic spondylosis, which appears to be throughout my spine and might explain why that pain moves around as it does, and then just as readily disappears. It also explains some other symptoms I've been having. Mind you, I question that the pain is being caused by this, though it certainly may be aggravating it. Many people have spondylosis (although not generally so young) and they do not experience pain. Much has to do with compression of nerves and how degeneration presents itself, but still, I'm not convinced...

• Of course, this has given me much pause for that self-reflection I mentioned above. Arthritis does not run in my family. So what the fuck is going on? Well, I don't think that hormonal change is helping the situation... Has the intensity of my yoga practice, in my teens, 20s and 30s, had anything to do with this? I wouldn't be the first person to cause structural damage with yoga (or any other form of movement). On the flip side, has yoga saved me from much worse damage? What about the miles and miles of walking I've done, almost daily, for most of my life? (I have cut back on this walking only one way to work these days, as my body currently suffers when I walk too far.) The great yoga master, BKS Iyengar always said that you are only as young as your spine - words I have lived by since I was 18. When I've written, in the past, that some mornings I wake up feeling 80, I had no idea that my spine was showing symptoms of age beyond those which my birth certificate would support... No question, I am going to use every known mechanism to reverse this damage and then I'm going to prevent it from recurring.** Even if it means I have to change my diet radically and forever. Cuz this is not taking me down.

• But finally, on a lighter note, presuming you have AC - not sure if you've heard that TO is going through the biggest heat-wave in its history (save one other, many years ago). We're actually in a drought (which somehow I dispute, because I haven't turned the water on in my gardens all summer and they're adequately green). Just want to clarify, since I complain about every weather known to man, that I fucking LOVE this. It's hotter than Hades (or India, more to the point) at 43 degrees. It's sunny constantly (though not today). The patios are actually less full than usual cuz most people can't handle these temps. I may be the only person I know who'll be sorry to see this go (in truth, I prefer 30 degrees but hot is always better than cold) so I'm going to celebrate while the sun shines. Here's to focusing on the positive. Peace out.

*Amusing side note: My husband is a total wuss when it comes to these props - he cannot lie on the mat without screeching like a baby panda. Happily, for him, he doesn't need them.

** For better or worse, you will be reading about all of these mechanisms. Traction, anyone?

Loose Ends

It's very rare that I'm at a loss for things to do. But today, what with it being -40C with the windchill (that's where Fahrenheit and Celsius merge, btw), I am utterly disinclined to run my errands. Scott and M are off to visit his parents in the suburbs which means I am free! But I'm not particularly motivated to sew or to make potions. Sure, there's going to be some nut-blending experimentation on the agenda, but that won't occupy me for long.

I might opt to cook something - given the sieve-like properties of my century home, it's never a bad idea to run the oven for a few hours. But it's not so fun to cook just for myself. (Mind you, I could bake...)

I know that there will be a robust session of MELT/Yoga Tune Up in my afternoon, if nothing else to undo the damage of recent knitting. What? Knitting in the same sentence as damage? How can this be?

Look, I LOVE knitting. I have been very sad (massive understatement) to forgo this meditative activity, which produces entirely pragmatic, lovely and impressive end results. I've got a half-finished sweater on the needles and I want to wear it. But I've discovered, having knitted now twice in the last week (after a 3 month break), that while it's not causing my pain (neck, head, upper back), it is likely exacerbating it. I've knitted over two, non-consecutive sessions, each lasting as long as it takes to work 12 rows of a sweater. Well, I stopped every 2 rows to MELT my arms and hands and to do stretches of my neck and shoulders so, what would have taken me an hour previously, currently takes me an evening. Not to mention that I spend all of my attention trying to amend my knitting "gait" to be as ergonomic, for my body, as possible. People, this is not efficient.

I don't really know how to proceed. I'm not giving up on knitting. I mean, what else does one do on a trans-Atlantic flight or a train trip to Mtl or while waiting to see the doctor? I feel strangely bereft. I sense that, as my pain resolves with the support of my many treatment methods (more to come), I'll have that much more agency when it comes to this craft. So I guess I'm playing it by ear (and regularly putting the instrument down), a scenario with which I am entirely uncomfortable but then, I've made my peace with discomfort in the last couple of years.

Today's questions: I know that some of you have given up on knitting due to the pain it caused (RSI, for example). I'd love to know how you came to your decision. And for those of you who knit - do you suffer for it? Have you found yourself at this crossroads? But let's not leave the non-knitters out of the equation. Those of you who experience regular or chronic pain, have you given up activities you love in the name of ensuring that your body isn't under undue pressure. Let's talk!

From Pain to Equilibrium: Getting Started

As we all know - if only from reading the last 5 posts I've written on the topic - pain is a sneaky bitch that requires one's masterful manipulation to evict.

Mind you, I love having options, doing research and conducting experiments - so from my vantage point, this aspect of pain management is enjoyable (if one can ally pain and enjoyment in the same sentence).

The more creative you are, the more fun you're going to have. So let's spend this series wearing all the hats: tailor, chef, doctor, healer, critic, carpenter, cheerleader. Let your own needs be your guide.

I think about the methods of pain management and correction (cuz management ain't good enough, IMO, even if complete restoration seems a distant glimmer) into the following categories*:

• Diet and Nutrition
• BodyWork
• Self-Bodywork 
• MindWork 
• Aromatherapy
• "Aversion Therapy", aka avoiding the stuff that hurts
• Structural Correction
• Sleep

*Note: This list isn't exhaustive by a long shot. It's just all I've had time to reckon with so far.

Needless to say, each of these categories breaks down into numerous sub-categories. Some are fairly "universally approved". Who's gonna argue with a diet free of processed foods? Others are less mainstream, more tailored to the niche. Essential oils and potions have always been a huge part of my daily regime and the right concoction can change my state of mind dramatically. Do I hear many people speak of them as floridly as I do? Not so much.

You'll note that I've left out a couple of fairly major categories: Prescription Drugs and Talk Therapy. 

Vis a vis, drugs: I don't want to go there for a variety of reasons, not least of which is that I'm not a doctor and I have very limited experience of pharmaceuticals for pain management. I also truly believe - and this is a construct about which we may need to agree to disagree - that drugs simply mask the issue. They do not fix it. Often, they mess up the body in entirely new ways with unpleasant side effects. Furthermore, one generally sensitizes to pharmaceuticals, eventually - and too many addictions are borne of this methodology. Having said this, there's no reason why you can't take drugs and explore other pathways too. I don't think that those on pharmaceuticals are limited in pursuing all the additional options. Since pain is complicated, many options are indicated, regardless of which of those options provides the greatest relief at any given moment.

In terms of talk therapy: I have more than enough experience of many types of talk therapy to engage in a lively discussion on this topic - it's just never done a damn thing to help me get over pain. Look, I'm nothing if not introspective (about everything, including myself) and I definitely believe that it's critical to be able to unburden oneself of - and give voice to - the fear, anger and other emotions one encounters when dealing with pain (or potential emotional precursors of pain). Thing is, I do that. All the time, with lots of people and by myself. So, this method isn't part of my current trajectory. If you've never gone to counseling, I urge you to consider it. I'm just not going to dwell on it here.

Manage or Cure? My personal goal is to cure my pain by resetting the balance in my body, the loss of which has led to a current state of myofascial unpleasantness in a variety of areas. Pain is simply a response to disequilibrium of many sorts, albeit a whacked out, seriously bad one. I absolutely believe that it is possible to cure this and, really, I'll hazard to say that one must believe it's possible in order to make it a reality. Your brain is extremely powerful. A fucked up autonomic response (fancy term for unconscious brain activity) is likely what's causing it in the first place. In the same way you access pain, you can diminish it. So don't discount that placebo response. It's not a dirty concept - it's the fortuitous outcome of mind over matter and it's just as real as any other kind of fix. 

Cost Benefit Analysis: I've heard from a few people who've expressed an interest in many potential methods for pain relief, followed by the proviso that they can't afford to explore them. Look, we've all got a financial limit. If money were no object, you can bet I'd be at a medical spa in Austria right now. Of course, it's ever trickier if one's budget maxes out before visiting the doctors, not covered by insurance, or trying the acupuncture or buying the vitamins and books. 

All I can say is that we are all enabled, within the limits of our means, to do the best we can to get better. The internet is your friend. So is the library. So are e-books (cheaper than the real thing and easier to store. Read them on your computer if you don't have a Kindle.) Many yoga studios offer free community classes. My Yoga Online offers some awesome Yin yoga (one of the things I've spoken about at length and will continue to discuss in this series) and it's 10 bucks a month. You can't take one live class for that price. Some practitioners will barter (if you have a skill they can benefit from), though I recommend you play that card carefully, after assessment. Sometimes it's a matter of going more slowly than you might appreciate - which, fortuitously, may have  the benefit of maximizing the likelihood that you'll see an emerging solution as a result of one particular avenue taken. Research well and act, first, on the viable methods that resonate. There are lots of options out there that are not expensive.

Next up -  Diet and Nutrition.

The Forest for the Trees

While the writing has been light, I'm in the midst of one of the most phenomenal phases of my life to date. Let me assure you, it's not cuz times have eased up. In many ways, there's more concrete stress in my life right now than ever there has been. I mention this, not to dwell on it - I mean, I can barely stand to engage with it day after day, I sure as hell am not going to write about it too - but to provide context. I'm not finding answers because the path is clearer. I'm finding them because I'm looking more clearly. That's fucking empowering, gotta say, not that I wouldn't seriously consider going for a clear path if the choice were mine.

My point is - and I'm saying this to any reader who has experienced a period of chronic pain, who continues to experience it now: You can manage this and you will - as soon as you recognize that you are not at the whim of anything. You are an active participant. That doesn't mean you're to blame but it does mean you're specifically implicated in resolution. The sooner you understand this (and I mean deeply, not intellectually) - the sooner you will be able to let go of whatever underpins it.

I'm not so solipsistic as to believe you can successfully manage pain like I'm (increasingly successfully) managing it because my path is the right one - though if the info I provide in the next few posts gives you some clarity or direction, then we both win. I'm saying it because the key to diminishing pain is in understanding, communicating with and (sometimes) engaging deeply with that pain. The path of pain is mind-blowingly complex. It's unique to each of us (although we are all more neurochemically the same than different). Eventually, you will not be able to evade it, to push it down. Trust me, I know. So I have to implore you to meet it head on.

I've frequently thought that if chronic pain were chronic pleasure (and they come from the same neurochemical source), we'd all be so engaged with that sensation that the world would fall apart. I say this as a total hedonist. I'm in the delicious grip of everything beautiful, sensual, aromatic, tactile. I love the way these things make me feel, how they wash over me, how they suck me in - how they bring me to the seat of my very self.

Chances are, if you're experiencing chronic pain, you have something in common with me: you're very sensitive to your environment. The beauty of this, is that sensitivity brings us close to everything. The danger is that it threatens to overwhelm.

Here's my plan for the next few posts on this topic:

• I think it might be useful to explain what I've discovered about pain as it exists in my body - how it's taken years to figure out and how improved recognition has changed my response to it and, more to the point, pain's effect on me. These discussions will centre on myofascial pain disorder (what I'm dealing with) which is a specific expression of a group of connective tissue or fascial disorders, including osteoarthritis, bursitis, repetitive strain injury, fibromyalgia, MS, rheumatoid arthritis, TMJ disorder, chronic fatigue disorder - amongst others. The current belief, and it's profoundly resonant for me, is that connective tissue in the body (a constant web of attachment with more nerves than any other part of you) receives nerve signals autonomically. When that signaling goes rogue, the impacts can be hideous. The new normal your body comes to know - that with pain - is continuously reinforced by large-scale muscular contraction that's stimulated by the connective tissue (on its own pain trajectory). Furthermore, that connective tissue becomes brittle, dehydrated, overly tight. Given all the nerve endings it supports, that causes additional pain that can be diffuse and debilitating. Seriously peeps - a huge part of the solution is biofeedback (which can be accessed in numerous different ways, some of which I'll discuss). This issue is complicated to endure but it's resolvable. And once you figure out what's going on, the resolution can be fairly systematic.

• I will outline the many awesome products, techniques and methods I've utilized, that have had a measurable affect on my own pain response. Yeah, I'm not you (nor your mother nor your kid), but if others hadn't written about these things, I never would have found them - and they have definitely (in complex concert) worked well for me.

• I'm happy to write in detail about any of those techniques or products - if there's interest to hear more. Seriously, I could write a book about these things. I don't want to drill down in ways that may be of little interest to others. So if I mention something and it seems resonant - like you want to know more - please email me or leave a comment.

Let me end this post by saying that I've spent years considering the body-mind connection in one context only - that of my physical practice of yoga. In that practice, I've allowed myself to experience the myriad benefits that the awareness of this connection affords. The minute I got off my mat, I resumed the detente: my body in one corner, my mind in the other. If you've got chronic pain, you can't afford to discount the need for alignment of these states. If broader consciousness is a conceptual challenge for you - and it's certainly not something I've discussed in polite (non-yogic) circles on a regular basis - you're going to have to suspend your disbelief. Sorry, but I can't see any way around it.

On the up-side, if you can philosophically get with the ways in which your mind can change your response to everything, including your physiology, you're in for a wild ride.

Bras in the Time of Pain Management

This post has a little something for everyone (well, except for pain-free guys who don't like shopping). If you're into bras, we've got it. Like to purchase vicariously? Check! Have you been dealing with some pain? I sure as hell hope not but, if yes, there is definitely some useful intel below.

For starters, I don't think one needs to worry much that very snug bra bands will cause chronic pain (particularly if the cups of the bra fit well). And, as I've said 8000 times, for proportionately large, heavy breasts a taut band is the secret to "lift" that those with less large and/or heavy breasts need not concern themselves about. Mind you, if you're in pain (for whatever reason, but especially if it's musculoskeletal or neurochemically motivated) and that pain happens to live in your mid/upper back, the likelihood is that a taut band is going to torment you and, sadly, exacerbate the underlying issues.

I can't tell you how much this pisses me off. Especially since I have 4 drawers of bras in 30 and 32 bands that I simply cannot wear at the moment.

One thing's for certain, though, you may feel like shit but you can still look fantastic and, take it from me, it's important to care about looking fantastic until you're cold in the grave. It's what sets us apart from the animals.

After 2 weeks of wearing an ugly bralet to work, I felt so demoralized I could barely stand it. Happily, the problem was resolved, via online and in store methods, just yesterday. But before we check out the loot, let's talk about the plan...

Kristin's Guide To Buying Bras When You're Managing Pain Exacerbated By Wearing Bras:

• Know when it's time to bite the bullet. If you keep waiting for the problem to resolve so that you don't have to spend money on bras that you hope won't be required for very long, you're going to suffer for longer than you have to. You might even find yourself wearing a bralet to work.

• Shop locally. I know I'm big-time down with the online bra shopping - though I have resorted to an online purchase in this instance - but, unless you are seriously competent in the ways of buying bras online, you gotta manage this in a boutique. The secret to ensuring that you'll end up with a bra that works is to try on 8000 of them, of all styles and brands - and in numerous sizes within each style. This isn't workable online. Yeah, it's going to cost more.

• Make sure you understand your pain and where it originates from (to the very best of your ability) before you go shopping. Is it neuro-muscular (and this shit's a bitch that likes to hide)? Are you managing an acute injury that isn't healing quickly? Did you just have an operation? Are you in treatment for breast cancer? If you're pain is referring on account of wires, you need to go wire free (if at all possible). If it's worsened by pressure on straps, you've got to find some wider straps. Meditate on the issue - and I know that's not difficult when all you can think about is the pain you don't want to think about.

• Be prepared to spend. You're in pain. Buy the bra that works, even if it's out of the budget. Your very being will thank you. And the comfortable bra will pay for itself many times over.

• Be upfront with the SA about what's going on. Explain your issue clearly. Ask to work with someone who's knowledgeable in this arena. Don't be afraid to say: No, this one doesn't feel right either. I went into the store with the following objective, which I expressed immediately: I need an attractive bra that provides support, recognizing that a band that puts any significant pressure on my back ribs is a no go. Though my under bust is 30.5 29.5-30 inches (just remeasured for kicks) in circumference, I'm interested in trying 34 or even 36 bands (if the brand runs very tight in the band).

• Get over your fears (about buying a bra under these circumstances). This is a solution-oriented exercise. If a 36 band is ridiculously loose, you'll move on. If a bra hurts, you'll put it back. Trust me, there's a bra out there that will work for you and that will not worsen your problem.

• Give extra consideration to brands that focus on wide bands (to displace weight) of 3+ hooks and eyes. If a long line works, all the better. Sport bras can also work, but compression can be a problem over the long run and, man, those bras are not pretty. (Nor can you wear anything lower than a crew neck while you're in one.) A brand known for super tight bands (Cleo, anyone?) likely isn't the one for you. Sure, you can go up 2 band sizes - but then the proportions of the cups is likely to go all wonky.  

• Also, remember that the minute the band rides up, the bra doesn't work and it's likely to contribute to pain in the long run. You've got to walk a fine line between a band that holds things in place but that doesn't cinch things. Ordinarily, I espouse that the band size should more or less mimic your under bust size (accounting for things like a very muscular frame). If your under bust is 30.5", you probably want to wear a 30 or 32 band. When back pain is an issue, you might need to go with a +2-3 band (2-3 inches larger than the under bust). That veers dangerously close to the debunked "plus 4 method" but you only need to do this while there's pain.

• Don't go for the skinny straps (they can cause or worsen trigger points). Go with the snuggest band that doesn't worsen pain and then use an extender when you're having a particularly bad day.

I wish I could tell you the best styles for managing your particular pain but, here's the thing, I'm new to this gig (and I'm not intending to be here long!). Furthermore, your pain is as unique as mine and everyone else's. This is a trial and error exercise that requires your sincerest engagement.

Here's what I opted to do: I decided to supplement my regular bra wardrobe with 2 new offerings designed to help when the pain is in flare: a basic (but pretty) beige bra and a basic (but pretty) black bra. Both work well under all outfits. Each is a bra I'm either very familiar with (through years of wear in other sizes) or the brand is one that works well for me. I went for each in a 34 band (which means I had to size down in the cups). I have colour coordinated extenders, which I use, as necessary. These match with any beige or black undies (though I've bought more in both colours) so that I don't have to wear unmatched sets in this challenging time. Unmatched sets are the worst.

Fantasie Smoothing Underwire Balconette (4520)

I so wish I could find a version of this bra that actually fits the model, but this one's a toughie on many figures. It either works or it doesn't. And, happily, it works for me - though the proportions of the 34 back are a bit odd. The wires are trending slightly too wide and there's a bit of rippling in the (molded but soft-cup/unpadded) fabric because it's slightly too full in the upper cup for me in the new size. Mind you, there's lift and separation happening and the lines of this bra are very attractive on me (which is why I've been wearing it as my standard T shirt bra for more than a decade). The 34 band is adequately snug so that there's no riding up (but not in a way that makes the pain worse). Wearing this with an extender is tricky because the proportions are already a bit wide for my narrow frame. I'm not opposed to unhooking it at 3pm when I'm sitting at my desk and no one's around. The straps on this bra are quite comfortable (but they don't look wide) and the under wires are very firm - so they support. Of course, if under bust pain is your issue, you've got to be careful about overly firm wires.

I bought this online, given my longstanding experience of it. It was 50 bucks all in. A bargain, IMO.

Empreinte Melody Full Cup (0786)

Here's the thing about Empreinte bras - the brand is French. Those people don't do full-cups. They do full balconettes and call them a full cup. This is a molded bra (like the Fantasie above) - unlined /unpadded.

Silver lining!: I've always wanted this bra but, in the 32 band, the cups aren't the right shape for me. Remember, molded bras don't have seams (which allow for better fit). So a molded bra either fits or it doesn't. Empreinte changes its wires with every band size and cup size. Because a 32F doesn't have the same wire size and cup proportions as a 34E (the way most brands cut costs and "sister size"), every combination of cup and band size is a new opportunity for the shape to work.

So, in a 34 back, this bra works and, as per most of Empreinte's offerings, it looks fantastic on Kristin. Here's a video that shows it on a real person, fitting pretty well (except for a bit of weirdness on the upper side band which is truly not problematic for the model). It really looks that good.

Empreinte makes angled bands, to ensure best alignment on the back, and as a result, they don't need to be tight in order to be supportive. There are 3 hooks and eyes and, as a design feature, the straps on this style are wide and slightly padded. As always, the wires and gores are narrow but this shape is not as projected as some of the other styles. Molded bras are never as projected as seamed bras, one of the reasons that women with projected breasts either swim in them (in a size too large) or bust out at the upper cups.

The silhouette is lifted and round. No, it's not boobs on a plate (the photo makes that clear) but it is very elegant and sophisticated. This isn't a "youthful" bra but it's not in any way frumpy. It's understated and sexy and it's designed to ensure your comfort (if you're pain-free) or to facilitate comfort when you're working with pain.

This one ain't cheap. It was 200 bucks all in but it's a gem. It isn't easy to spend that amount when one is trying to save money - and given that the goal is to not need to wear it for long. But I'm following my own advice. It's worth that price to feel gorgeous and comfortable at a time when those things are elusive. And even when this pain goes (mercifully we're making strides, peeps, but I can see it's complicated and it's going to take time), I'm well aware that it is likely to recur, at least until menopause.

So, there you go. Whatcha think of these bras? Or my methodology? Or the brands? Or the spree? Let's talk!

Yoga and Myofascial Pain

I should start this post by saying that, in the last month, I've learned enough about "yoga for myofascial pain" to write a book. This is somewhat concerning, if you think about it, as both have been a huge part of my life for 25 years.

I'll also add in the obligatory disclaimer about how the degree of complexity involved in understanding and managing chronic pain is matched only by the degree of complexity when it comes to understanding yoga and how it works to heal and strengthen the body/mind.

This post ain't out to change the world, peeps, but to share some of the more mind blowing things that have influenced me lately. And when I say "influenced" I really mean "deeply experienced" because I've been locked in some cult-like therapy session with my pain lo these past 6 weeks.

On the plus side, we're finally talking.

I don't even know where to begin. In the same way my pain is a huge loop that, when it flares, sucks everything into its grip, my increasing awareness of it is circular, like the ripple produced by a stone skipped into water.

How about starting with the elephant in the room: How does a woman (whose fitness, health and spiritual life paths centre around a practice based on listening to the body) develop debilitating pain - likely produced by years of not listening to her body? I cannot tell you how many classes I've taught over the years wherein I've cautioned my students to listen. I cannot tell you how many more classes I've been to (and personal practices I've done), wherein that's the mantra.

How the fuck did this happen?

Well, the origins of pain are not always clear (and this is the complicated subject of another post) - and one can never discount the nature of the practitioner when it comes to adaptation. I have always been the kind of person who throws herself into things passionately - actually, one might say violently. My mind and body don't really understand moderation. This is no secret - especially on this blog. It's what makes me fun to be around. It gives me scope. It exercises a very fast-moving neuro-chemistry. It makes me incredibly productive. It feeds my ego. I love jumping out of a metaphoric airplane as often as possible (which is strange because, in real life, I'm exceedingly cautious with my actions). Sometimes, all that I can see is the outcome. I'm not naturally adept at interpreting the impact.

I started yoga at a very young age - at a very hard time in my life. My parents were moving to another country. I was in Canada alone. I had just left the fold of my high-school, a small, extremely meaningful place where I'd learned how to relate to everything and to truly be myself. Adulthood had begun, but I wasn't ready. I was, in my mind, cast adrift without family, a crushing emotional experience that I recognized all too keenly: I had lived through it once already, in early childhood. I knew, intuitively (certainly not consciously) that I needed yoga to ground me. I can only say I was very fortunate to have found the Iyengar method right off the bat. It worked for my personality (and against it). It was a "safe" practice focused on structural alignment. It came with a community (albeit one I would eventually eschew).

In retrospect, I remember my teacher constantly smacking me (in the yoga way, to bring awareness to a dull part of the body), telling me not to grip. When I wanted to jump, she made me stand still. When I wanted to go further into a pose, she'd stop me half-way. I had the physical confidence of youth and I felt compelled to move, to achieve. For me, deepening my practice was related to improving my physical ability and form. I could do some fancy poses. Mind you, so can lots of people. Even today, in this ridiculous state, I could warm up my body, move past the pain with some heat and breath work, and do a very active practice in such a way that you wouldn't know - more to the point, neither would I - that I'd distracted myself from dealing with injury produced by chronic pain.

The truth is that you can always work any instruction to suit your unconscious desires.

I realize now, as I meditate, in three different styles - to achieve 3 different states - for about an hour each day (30 min morning, 30 min evening), that my yoga has never been as sincere as it is right now. I do everything with the intention of listening to my body, of incorporating its need for release and extremely precise (almost non-) movement. I learned/practiced these techniques (a pranayama method for quieting the nervous system, a biofeedback method and a method of meditative dialogue) in my late teens. Of course, back then, I thought meditative response was something reserved for the very advanced - or else it was a scam. I was doing it, but I wasn't feeling it.

In one of those fortuitous life-ironies, I turned my attention to yin yoga (to the notion of connective tissue release) at just the time I finally began to understand that my pain is based on its utter restriction. It's possible that my return to active yoga practice in the summer led me, 6 weeks ago, to this particular pain "crisis" - a variation on my semi-regular pain bouts (about which I've written all too often here). This one isn't willing to go, though. It's digging in its heels. And honestly, while I hate the pain, I am so incredibly grateful for its message. As my mother likes to say: You pay now, or you pay later. Really people, I am ready to settle up this bill.

At this point, my methods for working with pain are numerous (again, the zillions of inter-related processes would require a full post of their own). But in terms of yoga, when I wake up in the morning (feeling like I've been hit by a truck, if you must know, and afraid of how my body will last the day in an incredibly stressful job), I meditate. Then I do about 15 minutes of yoga postures that don't look a damn thing like yoga. I prop my body with, say, my dining room table and other furniture. My goal is to stress connective tissue in my left hip, low back and upper thoracic. Gradually, the ridiculous morning stiffness (I've recently developed) abates.

Cut to the evening. I begin by using props very carefully and lying in poses to undo the physical damage of the day. (Note: Yeah, I do realize I've got to find a way not to take it all into my body. But one fucking thing at a time! This is the topic, not of a post, but of a long conversation over dinner and a bottle of wine.) Depending on what's up - and lately it's been pretty fucking hard core - I do very simple, non-weight-bearing poses which I hold for very long periods. These aren't simply yin asanas, though I bring that awareness into the poses via intention. I also do many of the Iyengar supported poses I loathe. Ah, my latent pain (in the early days) knew even then how to avoid things.

Eventually, for the sake of endorphin-release, I may opt to bring some flow (heat) into the work - but not your average vinyasa. My trapezius and related muscles are SO hair-trigger, that one weight-bearing movement can throw everything into a literally nerve-wracking spasm. I use my head stander (have I mentioned how I love this thing) to allow me to get neck and shoulder traction, while also calming my nervous system and regulating my (ever so taxed) endocrine system. Man, I spend a long time hanging upside down.

I can do this because I have the knowledge and the years of technical experience. I own the (expensive) props. I have a yoga studio. I have access to information. I can only imagine how someone without these resources struggles to function. I'm calling on years of mudra - those poses I've done all my life have been saving my ass for decades. The roots of this pain have been in my body for as long as I can remember.

If you are in terrible chronic pain and you haven't done yoga before - please, find yourself a good teacher. When you most need support, don't try to learn something complex on your own. Of course, practice as often as you can in your home, but invest in private classes or a good Iyengar therapeutics class. The teacher, whatever her method, must be knowledgeable, sensitive, able to communicate - and she must be able to see the pain in your body in order to help you to fix it. You wouldn't go to a mediocre chiropractor or physical therapist. Don't take yoga risks when you're managing pain.

When I look at people with my "yoga eyes", I often see their physical (and mental) pain. The very pain I haven't been able to access in myself is writ large in others and it's much less complicated than my own because I see it objectively. I understand how it can leave. When I teach a person in pain, I tell her to listen to her body, to make her actions minute, to hear the feedback of those actions and to face the untenable.

Now onward.

What's a Girl to Do?

Wanna know the most ridiculous thing about this pain thing I've got going on? I can barely stand to tell y'all but I cannot wear my regular bras.

Please take a minute to process that statement. Please consider that I - the woman who has no use for bands that don't snug and the people who eschew them - have been going to work, every fucking day (lately), wearing the Bali Comfort Bra I couldn't bring myself to link to when I wrote about it as my lounge bra option.

Just thinking about this gives me goosebumps of horror. I wear a bra - in public! - that basically does nothing but smush my boobs together and keep them from bouncing (sort of).

Lord. I cannot believe I just admitted that. I considered hiding this fact but it seems, well, wrong. Totally disingenuous, like. And while I've never understood how someone could blame "sensitivity" on her choice to wear a band that is objectively too large to hold things up optimally, let's just say I'm getting the picture.

The price of compassion, people.

You know what? I may be horrified but I'm still doing it. Because my big-time pain trigger point is exactly underneath where my delightfully snug bands sit (on the left side). I can either manage excruciating pain and have boobs that look fantastic, or I can hide smushness under a blazer and feel somewhat less excruciating pain. Great choices, no?

On the plus side, people have told me (believably) that my boobs look practically as lifted (if not as well-appointed) wearing the bandage some would term a bra. So maybe my rack is not as subject to gravity as I'd believed.

Don't worry, I'm on this case. The Comfort Bra is an option of last resort. Cuz I may be in pain, but I will not descend into the realm of frumpy. Please stay tuned as I spend money I really should be saving in the adventuresome quest for some bras (or new sizes of bras) that provide some sexy without causing me utter misery.

Of course, my goal is to quiet the trigger point, regain equilibrium and go back to wearing my gorgeous offerings of yore. In the meanwhile, I'll just have to get creative.

Any suggestions?

Pain: A Primer

Apparently, in the subjective landscape which is pain perception, I have a very high tolerance (and threshold). To wit:

• When I broke my foot 4 years ago, a fracture which presented with tissue damage, I managed on an occasional Advil. Moreover, I walked around on it till they confirmed (with secondary scans) that the foot was actually broken.

• When, at work, I sustained a sizable third-degree burn on my hand (microwave soup accident, people), which my doctor friend Hilary saw afterwards and responded to with horror, instead of going to the hospital (recommended by peers, I should confess), I attended a briefing with a bag of frozen peas to take down the swelling.

• When I had a baby with no medication, at home, and there were unforeseen complications, I was one of the 2 per cent of midwifery patients to require an episiotomy. Following this, my midwife reached inside my body (while paramedics were on the way to my house to take me to the hospital) and unwrapped the cord around my baby's neck (it was wrapped 3 times) while pulling her out fast. I needed 36 stitches and it's only by dint of my midwife's long-standing in the community that they didn't take me to the hospital to do this. (Note: They did freeze the area before stitching, which I found hilarious given that I'd basically just had surgery without medication.)

The interesting thing about these three examples (and I have a few others, but those are the flashy ones), is that they chronicle a pain response to immediate trauma. Effectively, my body responded to nocioceptive pain (that of injury to skin, tissue and bone) in a reasonably sanguine fashion.

Did I feel the pain? Oh, yes. But, more to the point, was I able to distinguish it from the trauma I was experiencing? Yeah.

That quality is probably what's saving my ass right now as I experience an extreme instance of chronic neuropathic pain. This is the kind of pain that comes from a seemingly endless, fucked up conversation between your brain and your body. It's not in response to trauma, but it can produce the symptoms of it.

To wit, apparently, the current degree of scar tissue in my upper back (left side) is consistent with that produced in a serious car accident or a fall from a high height. It wasn't there 3 years ago (before my pain began in earnest). I can only imagine how badly off I'd be at this point if I didn't do yoga all the fucking time.

The latest practitioner to look at what's happening, asked me what narcotic I was taking to manage the pain. When I told her I was subsisting on the occasional Advil gel-cap, yoga and another natural treatment I won't discuss here, she was shocked.

Technically, I think we can consider this the outcome of myofascial pain syndrome, though I've resisted definition for a long time. I know that the only thing my allopathic doc can do is offer me some drugs that I'll acclimate to, all too quickly. I also know what's been going on from the vantage point of the person who lives in my body. I've told y'all for years that this is about hyper-tension of muscles and spasm. What I didn't realize is that I've likely been dealing with peripheral nerve excitability (something concerning that I don't feel like linking to), a condition that requires me to exert effort to prevent my body from twitching in a weird rhythmic fashion.

That's what I've got to deal with first and foremost because it's the sign of damage and, unchecked, it will continue to contribute to it. Note: I intend to fix this with body-work, not drugs.

For those of you interested in myofascial pain - and I urge you not to be - I'm like the poster child. It usually arises out of the comorbid experience of TMJD, migraines, tension headaches, anxiety, noise and light sensitivity and mitral valve prolapse. Stress doesn't help. I experience all of these in force.

I'm telling you this by way of connecting with the broader universe - those who are pain sufferers and those of you who have known me for some time.

This is not an easy moment. The last 4 years have not been an easy moment but occasionally things seem very hard and this is one of those times.

I can't type easily right now. It takes a toll and I need to be judicious. Work is getting the bulk of my energy because it pays me. I will write when I can though, for reasons of life insanity and, well, pain management, I won't be writing as regularly for the next while. My body and mind are, frankly, exhausted.

Mind you, with silly definitions out of the way, next time we chat I can tell you about how I'm managing things. I can assure you that this pain isn't me, which is likely why I'm managing at all.

But in the meanwhile, I'd so love to hear from you. What's your experience of pain? Is it chronic? Are you oblivious to it? Do you have a terrific story of recovery? Can you provide advice - pain-havers and regular peeps alike. Let's talk!