postcards from nowhere

Greetings!  

Wow.  It's almost September!  An entire season has slipped through 
my fingers.  Back-to-school time means everyone gets to tell about 
what they did on their summer vacation, right?  Well then, here's 
my story:

When I last wrote, I mentioned that I was having trouble finding 
the time and energy to keep writing these postcards, and that I 
thought maybe it had something to do with the heat and the kids 
being out of school. 

Little did I know that actually some weird and as yet unidentified 
dis-ease was brewing inside of me, sapping my life force for its own 
insidious purposes.  (ok, ok, maybe that's a little too dramatic, 
but I like the sound of it anyway.)

Shortly after my last postcard, while finishing a course of 
antibiotics for an infection, I broke out in hives all over 
my body. I've been coping with the itching and swelling ever 
since.  For those of you who are counting, yes, that is indeed 
8 looooong weeks.  

Thankfully, due to my inherited predisposition towards optimism, 
I have been able to open several gifts that were cleverly wrapped 
in this experience.  I'll tell you about the ones related to 
parenting in my next postcard for parents.

Hives blessing #1:  Since I spent a good portion of the summer 
lying motionless in my bed hoping that if I didn't move I wouldn't 
trigger any itching, I've been able to listen to lots of really 
great books on tape. 

I've added some new titles to the resource page on my website, 
but I'll tell you here that my very favorite is Loving What Is 
by Byron Katie.  Finding this book at this time was nothing short 
of a miracle.  I'll be writing a lot about it over the next several 
postcards, so maybe you'd like to check out her website to get a 
feel for what she calls The Work; a simple process of self-inquiry 
that investigates the beliefs we are holding which cause us to suffer.   
Here's the URL:   thework.org

Hives Blessing #2:  I was more or less forced to come face to face 
with surrender.  

I tried everything I or anyone I knew could think of to get rid of 
the hives.  I fasted, I cleansed, I soaked.  I went on a rotation diet.  
I wrote in my journal, I cried, and I scratched.  I tried antihistamines,
chiropractic, acupuncture, herbs, homeopathy, Chinese medicine, 
visualizations, meditations, and dozens of skin creams.  

Not one intervention made any difference over the long term. 

And then I found The Work of Byron Katie.  Or maybe it found me.

Through the process of self-inquiry that she teaches, I learned that 
it was not the hives themselves which were responsible for my suffering, 
rather it was my thoughts about the hives ... my interpretation of them. 
Not the itching that was causing distress, but my resistance to it, 
and my insistence that it shouldn't be happening.  

I noticed that there was a difference between itching and suffering.  
Itching was just itching, and suffering came when I told myself that 
the hives meant there was something wrong with me.  

Itching was just itching, but suffering was in the depression, anger, 
and feeling of helplessness that resulted from believing that I had 
screwed up somehow and brought this upon myself.  

Suffering was in my frustration when I thought I should be able to 
figure out how to make it go away, and I could not.  Suffering was 
in the war I waged against reality. 

With great relief, I discovered that those thoughts didn't stand up 
to scrutiny.  I could not be absolutely certain that the hives were 
an indication or reflection of anything at all.  So why continue to 
believe I was flawed or failing in some way when this caused more 
harm than good?  Without these beliefs, I was much happier, even 
though the itching did not stop.  

So I surrendered.  Gave up my story about the hives being terrible.  
Gave up my story that I had to frantically search for a cure or I'd 
be sick forever.  And all that was left to do was scratch or not, 
sleep when I was tired (which was quite often), and wait it out.  

Oh, and I did find one more thing to do.  I played around with inventing 
a new interpretation.  After all, stories can be great fun, and what 
else was there for me to do while lying motionless in bed? See what 
you think:

These hives are perfect for me right now.  They are gentle and benevolent
teachers.  There is nothing wrong with me, and no error to fix.  
Everything is just as it is meant to be.

Which reminds me of a story from Loving What Is:  Pretend you are 
skydiving.  You are surging with adrenaline, but enjoying the free fall. 
At the proper time, you pull your rip cord. 

The parachute does not open.  

Panic sets in as you realize that if the backup chute does not open, 
you will die.  You fumble to find the second cord.  These few seconds 
are living hell.  Frantic, filled with fear and trepidation, you hold 
your breath as you pull the handle on the secondary parachute.

Nothing happens.

Now you are truly free. There are no more decisions to make.  Nothing 
for you to plan for, worry about, or deliberate.  No more living hell, 
because there are no more choices and no more pressure.  Nothing left 
to do but enjoy the last few minutes of scenery on your way down.

Which brings me back to Hives blessing #2:  There is not a darn thing 
I can do about them.  No more cords to pull.  No escape hatch to open.  
I'm stuck living with them until they run their course.  The only 
intervention that seems to be working is time.  Thus, another surrender.

While I'm waiting, I've become curious about the sensations ... 
wondering where the next itch will surface, paying close attention 
to how the heat feels on its way to the top of my skin, timing how 
long it takes before the swelling recedes.  

I investigate what happens if I do not respond to the itch by scratching.
It becomes more like a science experiment than a crisis.  Sometimes I 
even let the kids trace their initials on my skin with their fingers.  
Within a few minutes the hives raise from the pressure and voila!  I'm 
monogrammed! 

It's actually quite fascinating.  The hives remind me exactly where I 
stop and the world starts.  They patrol my borders. Inside their 
boundary is my business.  Outside of it is not.  How's that for simple 
clarity?!  And all this fun resulted from ending the war I was waging 
against the reality of what was happening.  

Hives blessing #3:  I have the most incredible friends and family.  
They rallied to my side.  Offers of help and words of support came 
from every direction, reducing me to tears over and over again.  
My heart broke open with gratitude.

And now, you, too, have helped me.  Thank you so much for sticking 
with me until the end of this very long postcard!  It has been 
really good medicine for me to write this. Because I can now say, 
in all honesty, that the discomfort has truly been dwarfed by the 
insight, transformation, and love that came into my life because 
of these hives.  

It's good to be back.  I've missed corresponding with you all, 
so please write in and let me know what you did on your summer vacation.

take care,
karen

p.s.  one more quick thing.  The personal postcards have been great fun, 
so I'll continue them.  Write to me about whatever is on your plate 
right now, and I'll send back a postcard written just for you.  
If you find it useful and you'd like to make a donation, you can 
do that easily through paypal.  I look forward to hearing from you!