I Finally Healed When I Stopped Believing a Diagnosis of Incurable

"The quieter you are, the more you can hear." ~ Rome

Isolation has become increasingly common. That's because I've spent thirteen years at home very sick with a mysterious illness, like a virus. A cold spell on Asia returned in 2005.

My nose was a poor open tap, and my head felt like clouds dripping out of my window. When I returned to San Diego, I was weak and tired, and it was difficult to get out of bed. My mind and body were burning.

I could not concentrate or remember the names of the people I worked with. Although I used to be able to sleep in action movies and moving cars, I suddenly became very sleepy. I was in a constant state of exhaustion and had a rash.

I tried hard to get back into my work as a broadcaster. But what good can a journalist do to appear in the evening news? Eventually, I lost my job, my health, and moved into my home.

Before the word separation touched the TV screens, I began to sit inside my four walls. I left the trip to the store, if so.

The doctors diagnosed my condition as chronic fatigue syndrome. There is no cure, no cure, no hope. Labs have shown high Epstein-Barr titles and other unknown viruses.

Specialists are exposed to malignant mitochondria or malignant genes. They had supportive disorders, too: fibromyalgia, post-virus syndrome, leaky gut syndrome, candida overgrowth, adrenal fatigue, internal cystitis. Etcetera.

They piled up on my shoulders. I fell to the ground unnoticed.

Thirty-five years later, when I was at the peak of my career in hopes of having a family, I was ridiculed. My little strength has gone into herbal research, fighting against the denial of health insurance, and trying to save my house from pollution.

My life as a TV news reporter went into a never-ending commercial holiday. After that, the air is dead. I had been in the habit for many years, trying everything from anti-virus IVs to power healers.

I saw the best professionals in CFS / ME. Also, Tibetan and Chinese doctors, shamans and therapists. I rewrote the trauma and tried to get rid of them with enemas.

Nothing took away the needle of my symptoms so much - not diet, supplements, or medications. Some make it worse.

After more than a decade of bleak hopes - and finally, a pipe smoker who charged $ 200 to tell me about his cat - I give up hope that someone can fix me and turn to simple and minimalist services. It is not that I have stopped healing. I stopped going to sterile medical offices and smoking cigarettes.

That was a great afternoon watching crows and snails, reading poetry, and writing my own poems. I was immersed in the words of Rumi, Rilke, or Eckhart Tolle. I meditated, sang Sanskrit, took a short trip, and advised on dealing with the restoration of yoga.

I felt at ease and quickly as if there was nothing better in the world. I wanted what was given rather than what was taken. A peaceful and contented mind took the place of my busy life and success.

There was an internal connection to the living world. From this sad, real, devotional state, something magical happened: I recovered.

In the online writing section, I met a woman who was cured of CFS. Kathy told me her story and she heard my story. He explained how he had done it, and I received an immediate apology.

From being tied to the bed I ran around the block. Many times!

How can words cause my symptoms to disappear right away? Kathy told me about a lesser-known work that started off with Dr. John Sarno. A deceased doctor from New York University Medical Center has helped tens of thousands of patients recover from chronic pain, fatigue, headaches, and other stress-related conditions by teaching them the origins of their symptoms: how the brain processes stress due to dramatic emotions.

I had heard only one truth that was heard through my symptoms. They were physical symptoms of trauma and trauma, not so different from PTSD.

I felt it in my body, but the cause was in my mind. This explained why emotions were aroused, came and went, and changed dramatically. Tissue damage does not do that.

If you walk with a broken leg, you do not suddenly get injured. If you have a tumor, it will not rise and fall.

My nervous system was trying to warn me of the danger. It was attached to war, airplane, or cold mode. Like a broken record with a deep habit, my brain had learned the ways of pain and fatigue.

But the brain is neuroplastic. I can use my rewire again to feel healthy again! Hope filled me like a spoonful of medicine.

The following year, I reorganized my brain with enthusiasm. It associated a lot of things with harm: food that the doctors told me not to eat, activities that they warned me not to do, anything that reminded me of the initial trauma and all the dominoes falling into it.

I began to feel my body's curiosity, as I reminded myself that I was safe. I spoke to my brain like someone who can make a child nervous, kind and confident.

“I know you're creating these symptoms, but they're not dangerous. There is nothing wrong with my body. I'm not sick. I can be patient and strong! ”

It may sound like woo woo, but the picture shows the self-activating cortex more sensible than the active amygdala. Don’t say I’ve become an adult in the room rather than being a sensitive kid or a funny parent.

Next, I started to challenge my causes, doing things that caused symptoms, that is, almost everything. I took the child's steps back into the world, not caring about fatigue, pain, and fog. Slowly but surely, they stopped.

It worked! I was coming back to my own mind.

I also began to feel my emotions, instead of my life-style that pressed me. I mourn the loss of my job, the years of raising children, the ability to climb a mountain, or the feeling of being physically fit.

After years of freezing, I began to melt. That brought tears, as well as sadness, shame and anger. I wrote fierce letters (and I never sent them). I started