Chronic Healing

When I was a little girl, I loved to have my parents reenact Sleeping Beauty. A simple kiss from my dad would allow my mom to slowly open her eyes and smile. I treasured this idea that true love had magical healing powers to fix everything.

My own love life has been far from a fairy tale. My low self-esteem caused me to gravitate towards mostly unhealthy relationships, ranging from questionably codependent to downright abusive. I have a strong desire to be needed, so no surprise that many partners figured out how to use that against me. I was diagnosed with PTSD in 2016 after ending the abusive relationship, and a smorgasbord of autoimmune conditions, including multiple sclerosis (MS), soon followed. Coincidence? Most likely not, according to the studies.

The doctor appointments were constant (still are). The medication list grew. Physical and behavioral therapy appointments became a regular part of my schedule. I had insurance, and no kids, so I took it all in stride. And while clinically I made improvements, I still didn’t feel better, physically or mentally.

Probably one of the most challenging parts of dealing with all these conditions is how alone they make you feel. Most of my diseases fluctuate significantly from one person to another, so even those with the same labels don’t always understand. Or they do, but I’ll end up feeling guilty talking about how I’m dealing since I worry they might be worse. And then you have the well-meaning people who say things like “at least it’s not cancer” or “you don’t look sick,” which made me not want to talk about it at all.

Fortunately, I was able to connect with several people who helped me find my path. I was introduced to the Feldenkrais Method during a 3-day workshop at a local wellness center. I went in as a skeptic, and was surprised and intrigued by the improvements felt from doing what I perceived to be a dumbed-down version of yoga. I was eager to learn more about this mindful movement practice and benefited greatly from lessons. I also learned about eye movement desensitization and reprocessing (EMDR) as a form of therapy, but not covered by insurance. It reportedly works well for PTSD, so I absorbed the out-of-pocket cost and considered it an investment in my future. To describe it is impossible, but it did what no other therapy brought out of me: defining the root of my issue (low opinion of myself) and revealing parts of me I’d hidden (I now identify as pansexual).

One of the other things that came out of EMDR was this epiphany that I could channel all that desire to be needed into something productive. I began volunteering in my community at a women's shelter and Big Brothers Big Sisters. This volunteer work opened my eyes to a world I had mostly been shielded from. I learned about the flaws in our community assistance programs, the foster system, laws, and healthcare. I quickly came to the realization that while there are lots of organizations and funds for emergencies, people in crisis, and children, there’s a noticeable gap. For example, what happens if a neighbor who has a limited support system, low income, and is a single parent…. gets MS?

This is how Breathe and Blossom Together was born. I knew I was lucky to have the luxury of experimenting with what works best for me in managing my health. For many people, the bare minimum can get hard to meet. Financial difficulties, access to transportation, child care, and lack of awareness can all compound to make an already overwhelming situation insufferable. Also feeling a more intense version of that isolation I got a taste of, these individuals bury their difficulties more and think they just need to live with it. A vicious cycle can ensue where they don’t ask for help, they struggle with work and finances as a result, and this puts them further at risk when it comes to managing their condition. Unfortunately, this is mostly seen in vulnerable communities.

In order for someone to learn what helps them thrive, they need the space to do so. Breathe and Blossom Together creates that space. Individuals will be matched with a volunteer who will spend time understanding what conditions are present, review care coordination suggestions, and provide accountability. This is a crucial first step: making sure each individual feels seen and comfortable talking about what they’ve been dealing with. From there, the healthcare practitioners provide services pro-bono, or at reduced cost - which the nonprofit will absorb. The nonprofit will also contribute to any logistical costs, such as transportation or child care. The end result will be an individual goes from little control over their conditions to feeling empowered they have the tools needed to stay healthy. Plus, it’s possible they won’t feel so alone.

There’s another aspect of this organization that will make a big impact, and that’s with the volunteers themselves. I’ve found an incredible group of individuals who have similar stories as mine - they’re privileged enough to be able to clinically manage their conditions, but they still don’t feel like they’re getting better. This is an opportunity for them to not only learn about other treatment options, but also enjoy the social connection and accountability. Some of these volunteers may even be those who utilized our services.

I thought if I followed specific steps, I’d get a fairy tale. But sometimes the love we seek is not in another person, a career, or house - it comes from a group of people lifting each other up, and learning to love themselves in the process. A community that used to feel left behind will build a support network instead.