Chronic pain has been an issue in my life on such a profound level that it was exasperated by an eating disorder, or did the eating disorder invite the chronic pain? It is the chicken or the egg cleche of which came first, but after working with others who have an aversion to bodily acceptance, I have found that the manifestation of the eating disorder and all the other ailments, are symptoms of mental anguish. Childhood trauma set me up for restricting or multiplying my food intake to meet the demands of chaos outside of myself that triggered conflict inside of me. If I couldn’t contain the outside stimulus, than I gained control of my internal pain by numbing my emotions with binge and starvation cycles. I had numerous manifestations of anxiety like hives, phantom pain and bouts of hysteria that quickly got me deemed “too sensitive” which silenced me when problems prevailed in my body. The consequence of speaking up for help that got ignored for weeks, led to punishment when an outsider had to get involved. Symptoms of IBS would erupt as my father would stand behind the doctor during examinations and paralyze me with me fear through one threatening look. Appearances were especially important in my family so gaining us unwanted attention for looking frail or weak would deem me the scapegoat. No matter what the prognosis was, spending money on it wasn’t worth the berating and fist shaking that confused my little mind as to why help turned into harm. Many parts within me had to gird me with nerve to ask for what I needed as I grew up, but other parts of me gave up as early as three years old. Nothing I knew to do, sustained my mind with security that I would be ok.

The deep sadness I carried symptomatically resulted in starvation that weakened my immune and nervous systems which invited other ailments that produced varying disorders throughout my formative years. Nobody addressed the hostile environment we were founded in because survival was supplied through parts that kept me silenced, and other parts who felt strengthened through emaciation. Because there was no rhyme or reason for mom to get upset if I laughed or dad to rage if I cried, my parts formed responses on my behalf. I expected illness to be encroaching and satisfied the disappointment in my handicaps by refraining from sustenance because I didn’t believe I deserved it. Rolling ankles, knocking knees, muscle spasms and migraines were normal daily disturbances that limited my movement in ballet class and compounded my awkwardness and inability to fit in among my peers. The longing to eat snacks that others had at lunch made my obsession with sneaking rewards after days of abstaining, that much more obsessive. Stomach ulcers, IBS, depression, PMS and silenced expression became individualized parts that had reason for showing up in ways that would get me attention from teachers. The parts that decided who to trust would respond to kindness from them when I cried but quickly retreated when explanation for my sadness was sought. I had a hunger for acceptance that could not be satiated by myself, God or any other rescuer because I was disconnected from my subconscious system that binged on moments of escape through tears.

My memories of sexual abuse came back when I was 32 and served as a reset to my internal emotional system that had become a family of rivals on the inside much like my family of origin. The parts that needed healing suddenly started to surface as ailments which mimicked the 20 various times I was hospitalized for undiagnosable diseases two decades before. The reminder of cyclical struggles gave clues to emotional parts that had overreacted and others who went dormant. The sadness, pain and psychosomatic symptoms that accompanied my cycles of starvation and binging shifted my focus into obtaining healing for my body. Suddenly making peace with some food groups became mandatory because the freedom and grace that my parts were looking for began to make themselves known to me. After receiving the polio vaccination I had paralyzation on the right side of my body for six months which spiked fear parts that wanted to make sure I maintained my weight by not over eating. So another shame guilt cycle manifested and had me restrict food during the time that my body was recuperating on bedrest. But without proper nutrition and an already compromised immune system, my female parts started to erupt with devastating burning sensations accompanied with UTIs, yeast infections and bacterial vaginosis that sent me to the gynecologist sometimes as much as three times a week for three years. There was no subsiding, remedy, or medicine that would eradicate my symptoms without some new chronic disorder as a result.

Years of weight loss and gain had been overlooked as contributing factors to bone density loss and chronic fatigue until I went to the health department because a frantic part wanted to ease the gynecological pain that was erupting. I met a nurse who looked at me after an exam and said, “you’ve been touched, this is a response to somebody violating you”. I asked her if she was a Christian, if God told her that and she simply looked at me and explained, “your body can no longer shove the pain held by repressed memory and it is starving for healing”. That was the first connection I had with another female who understood my psychological parts had been holding onto historical memory that manifested in body pain. I just collapsed into her arms. As she was holding me and rocking me like a baby she encouraged me to get some therapy. I looked up the rape crisis center which dealt with adult survivors of sexual abuse and immediately got help in dealing with the recent memories that had returned to me like still polaroids. Parts of me wanted to deny that I was seeing reality because when the memories unfolded like framed pictures, my breath would pause, shock would surge and then dissipate before a new image would appear. Parts that were strong enough to come forward, gave me grace to witness the memories that they had stowed away since childhood. Dissociative part was emotionless as I shared the visual I was seeing in my mind’s eye. Parts of me that held these repressed memories were now unveiling information that helped me put many of the pieces of my life’s puzzle together.

Since then I have met with many neurologist’s, gynecologist’s and even dermatologist’s to talk about the psychosomatic connection that we have to past pain. Most have shared that they don’t explore the mental side of prognosis and I just joke that that’s the reason they met me. But through the years with meeting so many other women who have struggled with barrenness of the womb, miscarriages, ovarian cancer and cysts, painful periods, behavioral disorders and auto-immune diseases I have seen a commonality in the fact that most were sexually abused or had physical lines crossed. Many of them suffered with these female complications later in life after years of struggling with food related disorders that perpetuated cycles of shame and guilt which were subconsciously held in protective parts. Parts believe that the pain they carry will one day be rescued if they get loud enough. I now understand that the parts of me who had me react to mistreatment through controlling and fixing my body, were trying to help me survive through perceived danger and turmoil.

One of my friends had to have a kidney transplant because of the abuse she endured silently as a child that didn’t manifest in sickness until her 30s. After years of managing confusion, depression and eventual barrenness, her parts got the attention of her and the doctors she was working with. Although parts kept her malnourished so she could not ovulate, they were protecting her from being re-traumatized sexually. Parts of her believed she was dirty and disgusting so it was safer to remain unattractive and “boyish” by not eating and staying out of the way of men, even her husband. After she befriended these parts that seemed to be making her sicker, she appreciated their tenacity to avoid repeated abuse. With extended compassion from her for their devotion, each part was able to lay down its role and exchange it for a truth. She was healed physically in less than a year from her exploration of her internal family system.

One particular case I found fascinating was with a couple that I met sitting at the pool when the wife started speaking about their early marriage and having to fight both sets of their parents together at a young age. I loved the interaction that they had between each other, she would start to describe how her parents treated her and he would finish her sentence, I mean after all they’re 45 and have been married for 25 years. She explained that she had heard that she was the blame all of her life for the families problems. From one scapegoat to another I commiserated because a byproduct of being blamed was her suffering with chronic illness. Her husband said that for the first 15 years her family would describe the grand mal seizures that his wife suffered from, but he had no evidence of witnessing one until they went to a family reunion. As soon as she entered her families presence, she dropped to the ground in front of him and had one of the worst seizures of her life. After she was released from the ER he finally knew the grave reality and struggle that she had been living internally and masking. Through her own introspection she started seeking therapy groups online, observing without participation, but all the while learning. Her parts had enough experience with betrayal and pain so they cautiously calculated which information to trust. Through a few bouts of self diagnosis her husband was on board with her determination that the seizures symptomatically came on when she was in a hostile environment. Together they found a neurologist who affirmed her diagnosis was a psychogenic seizure disorder that responds like a reflex to certain “negative” stimulus. When they concluded that the family was too toxic to be around, their removal from interaction, brought healing to her system.

I shared that I left the hospital so many times irate because the doctor said it was all in my head. She laughed as they both shook their heads in agreement, stating that the power of the mind to control us, truly is genius. Without the complexity of the brain to use external stimulus as clues, many of us would not get in touch with internal parts that react for intuitive reasons to them. Now I found this serendipitous meeting to be a confirmation that I’m onto something, because it is my hearts intention to bring healing to all the chronic pained parts in each and every person who desires it. It’s not just my story, it’s many people’s story. And in fact it’s one that’s growing by great proportions because so many of us are medicated instead of redirected to understand ourselves. Where pharma makes money off of those of us who can’t pinpoint the onset of disease or be diagnosed accurately, we still have the authority on knowing ourselves better than anybody else can.

As children when we become the center of negative attention because a parent has not healed their own childhood, we lose ours. We doubt our intuition and they teach us to doubt our truth with their rebuttal of our feelings. Sometimes it takes bravery as an adult to look back and heal the childhood. Getting healing for those physical pains that our parts embody, will be the lifeline back to trusting ourselves. I’ve learned in the past decade that I had everything inside of me to heal myself from the moments of indecision in my past. I have also learned that not everybody gets it nor are they interested in the devotion that inner healing requires. But sometimes God sends the most inconspicuous people your way so that you can relate to them in a restorative fashion, so you actually believe that you’re not the family problem. And when you meet the parts of your internal family system that have been helping you through the tough times in life, you starve and binge less on outside help because the pain of your past is no longer chronic.