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Monthly Archives: May 2012

self-care chronicles: acupuncture

Written on May 30, 2012 by in on liking yourself

Acupuncture is one of my very favorite things. I find this very odd, because why on Earth would I ever say that about getting needles stuck in my skin? It makes no sense to me, and yet, it just is.

Acupuncture is a form of traditional Chinese medicine, and it’s based on the principle that sticking these very tiny needles into certain energy channels on your body helps to create a more ease-ful flow of energy (or qi) throughout. If you’re more science-minded, there are studies that examine just exactly how it works (according to Western medicine) in more depth.

I first tried acupuncture just because I wanted to see what it was all about. Growing up, my friend Rachel’s dad swore by acupuncture, and that piqued my curiosity. As I became a coach and started learning more about healing modalities, I got even more curious. At some point, I discovered the existence of sliding scale community acupuncture, and I no longer even had the excuse of prohibitive cost to hold me back. I went to the Brooklyn Acupuncture Project and have been a devotee ever since.

What Happens in Community Acupuncture

I’ve only ever been to a community acupuncture clinic, and actually, I’ve only been to one because I love it so much. So my knowledge is based entirely on my experience at the Brooklyn Acupuncture Project. I’m sure things are different in other acupuncture spaces, and in private appointments. Feel free to share your own experiences in the comments.

When I make an appointment for acupuncture, I make it online. I used to make it by phone, but now the place I go uses a handy online booking system. I select the practitioner I’d like online (based on my experiences with them in the past), and I receive a confirmation. If you’re going to acupuncture for something specific, like fertility, or muscle spasms, or nausea, I recommend trying to find a practitioner who specializes in what you need help with. In my experience, most practitioners are trained in all different types of ailments, but some are particularly good at one thing or another.

When I get to the space, I put my payment in a little envelope on which I write my name, and I drop it into the payment box. I determine what to pay using a chart based on income. I remove my shoes, put my phone on silent, and have a sip of water or tea before they send me back to the treatment area, where there are several reclining chairs and several tables, many separated by airy curtains, and I make myself comfy. I take deep breaths or meditate or stare into space for a while, until the acupuncturist moves from other clients to me.

When the acupuncturist comes over, s/he usually asks me what’s going on, and I tell her/him. Ailments I’ve presented with have ranged from depression to trouble sleeping to muscle pain to exhaustion. I’ve sent friends there for fertility, arthritis pain and immobility, stress, and sports injuries. The practitioner will then feel my pulse, ask to look at my tongue, and ask some questions to get some more clarity around how to treat me.

Next, the needle sticking happens, which takes less than five minutes. The practitioner will insert anywhere from seven to over twenty tiny needles, offer to cover me with a reflective blanket thingy if I’m cold, and then leave me to drift happily for anywhere from half an hour to an hour and a half.

Lots of people have a nice nap during acupuncture. I’ve drifted off a few times, but I generally just space out or meditate. It’s usually pretty delightful for me, but other people have told me that they start to feel claustrophobic or uncomfortable being unable to move very much. Everyone is different, and this is a good example of that.

Eventually, the acupuncturist will come back over and ask if I’m ready to be done. S/he will then remove the needles, give me any suggestions that might help with what I’m experiencing (like certain herbs or foods or yoga poses), and then send me on my way.

Does It Hurt?

Before I tried acupuncture, many people told me it doesn’t hurt. My experience has been that some points where they insert the needles hurt, and others don’t. Sometimes the insertion doesn’t hurt, but then I feel a twinge when the practitioner adjusts the needles. I tend to feel more pain with some practitioners, and less with others. I also find that when they put needles in my back, it rarely hurts, but I sometimes feel an uncomfortable prick when they put the needles in the feet, legs, and ears. I’ll also tell you that even if every single needle hurt when they put it in, it would still be worth it, and I’d still go.

Suggestions for Your First Session

Eat before you go. Before I went for the first time, the person I booked my session with told me it was important that I eat before coming, because people sometimes get lightheaded afterward. Because of that, I had my partner accompany me. I felt perfectly fine afterward, but it was still nice to have her there. I still make sure to have eaten before going, just so I don’t come out of the session ravenously hungry.

Try to wear loose, comfortable clothing if you can. You usually need to take off your socks and roll up your pants to your knees and your sleeves to your elbows, so try to wear something that allows that. Plus, it’s just really nice to feel comfy and cozy when you’re dozing with the needles in you.

Try not to move too much when you have the needles in you. For some reason, when I move with the needles in (to scratch an itch or something), I feel an uncomfortable twinge of pain from the insertion points. It’s certainly not unbearable, but it’s enough that I try not to do it if I can help it.

Tell your practitioner about your fears. If you don’t tell a practitioner that you’re feeling nervous or scared, there’s no way for him or her to know. (Same goes for other healing modalities, too!) If you tell your practitioner you’re scared, s/he will be more likely to be extra-gentle and explain things to you particularly well.

Ask questions. Sometimes when I go to acupuncture, I like to know things like how often I should come in, if there is anything else I can do to help myself feel better, or just why they did the practitioner did what s/he did. I’m always happy when I get up the courage to ask these questions. They usually help me to feel more at ease in my treatment, and I often come away with tidbits of information the practitioner might not have thought to tell me otherwise.

. . .

What Do You Think?

What have your experiences with acupuncture been? If you’ve never tried it, what do you wonder about it?

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how to know when to honor your sensitivity or introversion

Written on May 21, 2012 by in on being highly sensitive, on introversion and shyness

Most of my life, I internalized an often unspoken message: introversion and sensitivity were bad. I was to ignore these qualities in myself and deny them, because they weren’t helpful or good and wouldn’t get me anywhere in life.

(A note: No, no one ever actually said most of that mean stuff to me. But it’s the lesson that my child’s mind learned and that I then integrated into my understanding of the world as an adult.)

Over the past several years, as I’ve started reading personal development blogs and books, become a coach, coached lots of brilliant sensitives and introverts, and done copious amounts of self-work, my relationship to my sensitivity and introversion has changed. I now make concerted efforts to honor my introverted nature, and to create a soft space for my sensitive nervous system to land. I certainly don’t always succeed, but I try to be kind to these aspects of myself, while trying, also, to be good to the people around me.

I sometimes wonder, though: do I sometimes use my introversion as a copout to exempt me from scary experiences that I actually should be pushing myself to participate in? Am I throwing up my sensitivity as an excuse, to shield me from the world’s pain, which I’d rather ignore than face?

The answer is, I think, that there’s no definitive answer. Which is why I find these questions all the more worth asking.

Even though I’m perfectly fine with not having answers to these questions, the fact that they’ve arisen tells me that it’s useful for me to be especially mindful of these special qualities of mine, and to be considerate of how I interact with them. These are some of the main ways in which I bring mindful attention to my sensitivity and introversion.

Looking Forward in My Schedule

I like to consider the things I have planned in my week. If I have several deadlines and a big event at work, then no, I’m not going to spend my whole weekend at festivals and dinner parties and meet-and-greets. However, if it’s the end of the week, and I have nothing planned for the next few days but rest, I might push myself (gently) to get to a party that I’m feeling ambivalent about.

Taking My Values into Consideration

I have a general idea of what my values are, and when I’m unsure about whether I want to expend time and energy on something, I try to think about how it meshes with my values. As much as possible, I try to attend events that are important to my partner, family, and very close friends. If I have energy left over, then I expend it on things like parties of acquaintances or friends of friends. I also try to keep commitments as much as I can. If I agreed to attend an event several months ago, that generally remains a higher priority than last-minute invitations.

Those guidelines help me with the logistics of scheduling with my sensitive nervous system and need for alone time. But what about knowing when I’m using my sensitivity or introversion as copouts?

This is where emotions and gut-checks come in handy. If something sounds scary but piques my interest, it might be worth the energy to go. If something sounds scary and also like it will put me in a bad mood after having done it, that’s probably an event I’ll try to skip if I can. Actually, imagining how I’ll feel post-event is a really handy trick. I might, for instance, posit the following self-inquiry:

. . .

Question: “I’m way tired, but I have my monthly meeting with my fellow entrepreneurial buddies to attend. How will I feel afterward?”

Answer: “Afterward, I’ll feel a strong sense of community. I’ll feel understood. I’ll come away with several really great ideas. I’ll feel all warm and fuzzy at having gotten to spend a few hours with some favorite people.”

Conclusion: I’m totally going.

. . .

Another question: “I’ve been working nonstop and have two big events coming up next week for which I need to have plenty of energy. There’s a summer festival this weekend that some friends asked me to attend. How will I feel afterward?”

Answer: “Afterward, I’ll feel annoyed at the crowds, and my nervous system will be ratcheted up due to too much heat, too much noise, and too much other stimulus. I’ll feel resentful at myself for going, and I’ll be depleted going into this next week.”

Conclusion: I’m gently bowing out this time, and will make a special attempt to see these friends soon in a less-stimulating environment. 

. . .

And that’s how I do it. It’s imprecise, and it’s imperfect. There are times when I let people down because I don’t have the energy to do something. That’s hard, both for me and for them. There are times when I stay home to rest, only to find that I feel lonely and can’t sleep even though I’m pooped. This happens.

Getting to know yourself takes practice, and trial and error. But you have a lifetime to do it, so there needn’t be any hurry.

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space for emotions to be

Written on May 15, 2012 by in on feeling our feelings

I’m currently in the midst of several big life shifts. As a result, I’m feeling a lot of emotions in ways I’ve never before experienced. Sometimes, I’m experiencing joy, and contentment, and fear, and grief, all at once. It’s confusing, to say the least, when you go from crying to laughing and back again within the space of five minutes.

In the midst of this raw emotional cacophony, I’m learning lots. And relearning lessons I’d already learned and had then forgotten. One thing I’m currently reminding myself is this:

Emotions need space to exist. They need all kinds of space. They need physical space — separation from other people to allow for jumping for joy, or heaving tears, or bracing in fear. Space in an acupuncturist’s office, or in therapy, or on the phone with a trusted coach. They need space in the schedule — buffer time for grieving or celebration or processing them for however long they take.

Like a little kid throwing a tantrum or giggling with glee, emotions need attention. Sometimes lots of it. It helps when we allow ourselves a second, or a minute, or an hour, to just soak in a wave of celebration. That moment might become an opportunity for bonding, either with ourselves, or with our community.

It’s easy to think that the better way to live is to suck it up and soldier on through tough emotions. It’s simple to tell ourselves not to express our excitement, because it’s uncool and we shouldn’t really care about the funny things that make us happy. But this way of living, in the end, hurts.

When we don’t give emotions the space they need, we suffer. They bubble up, hot and perhaps unwelcome and maybe inappropriate for the situation. They grow heavy and suck us down into depression. They struggle to be expressed in various forms of addiction and self-harm — unintended violence toward ourselves or others.

Giving space to emotions isn’t easy. I find it a bit embarrassing to show people how excited I get to go to the library and pick up a book I’ve been waiting for. It’s really scary to admit to people that, as an introvert, I’m nervous for the big parties that others can’t wait for. It’s difficult to admit to, much less express, having ten different emotions at once instead of the one-dimensional feelings we’re “supposed to” have in certain situations, like funerals or graduations.

Emotions are complex. They’re jagged and raw and buoyant and deep and bloody and fizzy. And they need space to do their thing. It’s not easy. But it’s real.

. . .

Because I’ve been so busy making space, I haven’t done as good a job as I wanted to at letting you all know that my coaching prices are going up on May 31st. I let Self-Love Letter subscribers know last month, and that was pretty much it. Anyway, coaching prices will go up on May 31st. You can schedule with the current prices until that day, and you can schedule as far in advance as you’d like. (A note to current clients and grads: your prices are staying the same; not to worry.)

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what if you took them at their word?

Written on May 9, 2012 by in on feeling our feelings, on liking yourself

What if, when someone said something, you believed them?

What if they said they didn’t care which restaurant you went to for dinner, and you chose based on what you wanted, instead of what you thought they secretly wanted?

What if, when somebody said they didn’t need help carrying their bundle, you didn’t help them? Would it make things harder for them, or easier? What about for you?

If you took someone at their word, would they feel heard, and respected for a moment?

Would they feel vulnerable, or scared?

Would they have the opportunity to directly ask for what they need?

Would it be a gesture of respect, telling them that you know they have the power to express their needs?

Would it mean that you were inconsiderate, or self-absorbed?

What if you did an experiment, and tested the waters of believing that they mean what they say? What might happen?

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