On Mucus, Urine, and Peace

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Mucus:

I’m home sick—”normal” sick. I have plump yellow and green stuff building up, breaking up, and making its way out. The “normal- sick” sensation remains one to rejoice over. I didn’t experience this for a couple of years—something about Lyme making it impossible for my immune system to work enough to fight common infection—I don’t get it. But what I DO get is that yellow stuff equals normal infection and that’s the kinda thing I’m after. So, hooray, right? Well, not quite.

A couple of weeks ago, I received an emergency phone call from my immunologist. I’m on Medi-cal. For the most part, Medi-cal doctors do not emergency- phone- call me—I’m lucky if they know who I am, can find my files, or call me back after I leave a 911 message. It’s been one of the most frustrating things about being sick: bad doctors, poor treatment. But as the most unpleasant of pleasant surprises, a couple of weeks ago, I got two emergency phone calls, one after the other, “Jacqueline, we need you to come in first thing in the morning to review your recent blood work and get the process started for the IVIG.It’s very important we get going.” I know what my numbers are (I’ve been following them closely and consistently telling the doctor that I need to get started on the IVIG) but still the phone call scared me. It must be bad if the doctor is going out of his way to call, I thought. 

Ian took off of work and came with me to the appointment. He was  immediately kicked out of the consultation room due to HIPAA laws. It was all a new experience. No one has ever been kicked out of a consultation with me before, and I have had many friends come to appointments with me. Ian was sent away because he is not my “husband.” Of course, I immediately perked up, wondering, “Hmmm will this make him propose?” I can’t help it. But the doctor pulled me out of that fantasy with all of the scary annoying information that I’m constantly being dealt.

ME: “Can we wait for Ian so that he can absorb all of this information you’re giving me? That’s why he’s with me.”

Doctor: “How much schooling do you have? Are you educated?”

Me: “excuse me?”

Doctor: “Did you go to school? Can you absorb information?”

Me: “I went to school. Some college. And longer training in my field.”

Doctor: “Ok so you don’t need Ian to absorb this information. You’re smart enough.”

What a dick.

He had on one of the most blatant toupees I’ve ever seen. I wanted to rip it off his head and do mean things with it.  Him and his stupid toupee.

Oh, Medi-cal.

Ian signed some paperwork and made it back in time just to hear one last thing. The old toupee’d doctor shook Ian’s hand and said, “Just make sure she doesn’t get sick. Because if she gets sick, what we are worried about is that her immune system can’t fight infection so she could get pneumonia and die. You two have a good day.

You’d think that they would have rushed to get my IVIG figured out considering the threat of death they kicked us out the door with but no: They still haven’t even submitted my file to the infusion company. COOL.

So, while I’m slightly rejoicing over the magical feeling of ‘normal’ illness, I have a little voice—no a giant voice—shouting “don’t get sick. Too late. DEATH awaits.”

Also on a much less dark/devastating note, I am bored as fuck. I am bored, slightly depressed, and lonely and wondering how in the ever-loving fuck I did this for two years!? I stayed in bed, at home, walking from the kitchen to bed to the bathroom for two years. It’s been 24 hours and I feel like a lunatic.

I’m amazed by what we can tolerate as humans when we have no other choice.

Urine:

February 13th was my first day off in a while. It wasn’t even a day off. It was just the morning and afternoon that I had off. Another miracle! I used to have everyday at home and now it’s so sparse that I sometimes crave days to stay at home. In fact, the truth is that on February 13th, I had to cancel plans to stay home so I could pee into a bottle for six hours in “Peece.”

Let me explain: I have this new amazing doctor in New York (that my mother generously paid for) and he suggested/ordered a heavy metal pee test. That’s not what he called it. He used more pro lingo like “urine sample.” I was grateful for the test. It’s the first time in my illness that I feel ready to deal with whether or not I have heavy metal toxicity. Yes, I got my amalgams removed, and took ALA, and ate lots of cilantro, and took loads of charcoal and detoxed like a mofo so it’s not like I wasn’t already taking some actions, but, all of this time, I didn’t have the emotional or physical capacity to find out IF I was actually toxic—I was in NO position to chelate so it didn’t seem constructive to find out IF I was toxic. But now I’m ready.

I received the kit. It was  a cardboard box equipped with a giant plastic bottle, a plastic cup for you to pee in and then transfer to the bottle, and then a small test-tube  vial to eventually send off. You also have to keep your cherished pee in the fridge all day as you add more and more. YUM. I have a slight— or maybe major— obsession with my pee. It’s like a competition I have with myself everyday: How clear can I urinate today? How hydrated am I? Am I acidic or alkaline? It may seem ridiculous but these are the things that get me through. I was uncannily excited about seeing what a giant jug of a day’s pee would look like,  and, I’m here to tell you, it looked FAB. A slight yellow tint but otherwise just hydrated perfection.

I NEEDED to show Ian and my roommate. I needed to brag about my ph levels and my pretty piss. Ian got grossed out and I got mad at him. We often fight about things like this. I think it’s OK to pee in the shower; he thinks it’s disgusting. I think it would be fun to cross streams in the shower; he thinks it’s disgusting. I think it’s hilarious to pee on or near each other when we’re in the ocean; he, again, thinks it’s disgusting. OK, fine. We agree to disagree.

But it only seemed fitting that for Valentine’s day, I would need his help dealing with my urine specimen. I wasn’t going to be home to hand over my specimen to the FedEx guy so he needed to do it. What a man: he rushed home from work and the handoff was successful. That was, for sure, the sweetest thing he did for me on Valentine’s day: passed my beautiful urine to a total stranger.

Happiness

On the topic of romance, last week Ian and I had a terrifyingly vulnerable “chat”—maybe it’s classified as a fight?  But we don’t really fight. He talks, I talk, I cry, we hug, we have sex. We weren’t exactly disagreeing or raising voices—is that what classifies a fight? I don’t know. I grew up with very real fighting so maybe I’m nt the best to ask.

Regardless, near the end of this “talk,” I was scrunched up, sweating, and nauseous and he was standing against a door frame. He said, “I guess all I really want is for you to be happy. I just want you to be happy. Sick or not.”

QUIET. TEARS. SWEAT.

He thinks I’m unhappy? Am I unhappy? After we made up and moved on, I had to do some investigating. No one has ever looked through me like that and accused me of being an “unhappy” person. I’m smiley, and sparkly, and joyful and also…moody. That night, I thought (and haven’t stopped thinking), what is happiness? Happiness is short- term. It’s a state of mind that comes and goes. I don’t even want to walk around happy all of the time: How boring, how false, how inauthentic. Still, it was painful to finally admit to myself: I am not happy; I am hopeful. The last three years of illness have taken a toll on me. I have, truth be told, been more sad than happy. But I certainly don’t need to berate myself for this—I have compassion for myself, AND I’m ready to outgrow some of what has held me down. But still, the more I thought about it, happiness is not the end goal. Too much pressure. I know enough now to know that I have no idea what life has in store for me—there will be joyous times and shit times.  I think being “happy” is a bullshit blanket statement. I almost wanted to take that word right out of my vocabulary. I was so mad at it. I wonder how many people feel pressured to be happy? It’s not what I want.

I want PEACE. I want an inner peace so sturdy that it can hold the joy and the sadness—the ups and downs. What a freedom to not be striving for happiness. It lands me right in the present moment. Peace. When do I feel most peaceful? When I am most connected to something bigger than me. When I am helping others. When I am present. HERE, doing the next right thing. Whether that’s peeing in a bottle, drinking lemon cayenne water to bust my mucous, watching Schitt’s Creek,  getting on the stage to perform, writing, having sex, talking to friends, and the list goes on. Peace is possible. I’m excited to have something new to strive for everyday. I feel free.

Other things I wrote/ am offering this week:

On patience

On romance

with fun and love and peece,

Jackie

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Fall Down, Get Up, Repeat.

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Ideally, I would wake up at 7 am everyday and immediately scoop a fresh wad of coconut oil into my mouth for fifteen minutes of oil pulling. After spitting out the freshly swirled toxins, I’d down 16 oz. of fresh celery juice. Then I’d use green tea to get my caffeine buzz on, journal, pray, and meditate. Around 8:30 am, I’d  start responding to emails and writing. I’d make my morning smoothie around 9:30, do more work, eventually get to a yoga class, make a raw salad for lunch, take an hour to rest, hit an infrared sauna or acupuncture, get some joyful activity in like socializing or dancing, and end my night with a healthy ,balanced meal, my necessary supplements, powdered magnesium, and red root tea. I’d then zap with my TENS machine and be in bed with a delicious story by 10 pm to read for thirty minutes before I passed out, benefitting from a solid 8 or 9 hours of perfect rest. IDEALLY. Sounds overwhelming right? So perfect it’s jarring. That’s why it’s an ideal. Because right now I’m sitting in this cafe writing and eating french fries. I woke up at a lagging 9:30 am,  oil pulled for ten semi-bearable minutes, drank coconut water, drank a couple of cups of coffee (instead of the more advantageous tea), responded to emails, made my smoothie by 11:30 am,and got out of the house— not to do yoga but to work. Also, I forgot my supplements at home. Eh, oh well.

I am imperfect. At everything. Including healing from Lyme disease. A shorter way to get the point across is to say, “I am human.” But I have found that statement to be ineffective; we need specific examples in order to actually believe that other people are just as human as we are. Or I do, anyway. I’ve always felt a little paranoid that I was missing some very important piece of information about this whole life thing— especially the whole healing from illness thing. Like other people had the rules—the user manual, the directions—and I didn’t. I would often get advice from other women—people who had previously suffered from Lyme—and I used their advice as an opportunity to beat myself up. Everyone was doing it better than me! “Your” diet was better than mine (or at least you were more disciplined about it), “you” were a better meditator, you saw the “right” doctors, took the “right” herbs, did the “right” research, spent money on the “right” things, you drank better water, had a better air purifier, did the “right” energy work, etc.  I thought I was bad at being sick (and “you were good at it??)  I cried every single day even though I knew it was harmful to my central nervous system. I cried every single day. And I thought maybe if I could just stop crying, I’d be doing it right.  I looked at people who seemed to hold it together—was that the right way, I wondered? I looked at people who worked serious jobs—was it a more serious job I needed? I looked at people who took two years off of work—did I need to take off? It was an endless mind-fuck. And now people are looking at me through sick eyes and wondering some of the same things: what does she do that I am not doing? She’s better at it than I am. I can’t be as disciplined as her. What’s her diet? Her protocol? on and on.. I’ve heard  you say these things and I’m here to tell you all about how I fuck up.

It’s important for me to write this as a wellness advocate— as a person who preaches a certain diet and lifestyle—to let you know, that I fall short a lot of the time. We cannot all be Kris Carr or Louise Hay. I hold myself to pretty high standards as you saw in my “ideal day.” Some practices have just become habit for me—no questions asked. And other practices—the ones that have less severe consequences— I have to work hard at. And some things, I’m just waiting on the willingness to carry out (like quitting coffee). The most important thing is that when I do fall off of the horse, I get back on. And that I get back on quickly. One of my dear friends once told me, “there’s only one rule. The rule is that you never, under any circumstance, beat yourself up.” That’s the rule I carry with me. It makes it much easier to get back up if I’m not whipping myself into a state of unrelenting weakness, forcing myself to stay down.

Two weeks ago, I was in Hawaii—my first vacation in three years. I took the vacation thing to heart. I ate all wrong, consuming more dairy and gluten than I’ve had in at least a year. I over did it physically, doing long hikes without shoes/water, and I didn’t get enough sleep. Oops. A few days after getting back to LA and trying to get back into my healthy groove, it was my birthday. Again, I bailed on my raw afternoon salad, I ate sweets that night, and instead of prayer and meditation, I spent the whole morning crying. Then it was Thanksgiving and, again, I “cheated” on my diet eating some extra desserts because… it’s the holidays!

It’s true. It’s a very hard time of year to eat a mostly-vegan, gluten-free diet. So, I fucked up a little. Every single day, I fuck up a little. Either I eat something a little off of the perfection I’m going for, I drink too much coffee, I forget to exercise or I don’t rest enough. It is challenging to fit it all into one day and have a job and live with any bit of flexibility. So, I don’t. But I do always wake up with the intention to try. I am always willing to get back on the horse when I fall off. My inner dialogue after whatever poor choice I made is something like this, Ok, that didn’t feel great. What’s next? Should I maybe consider doing it differently next time? Should I drink some detox tea or hit a yoga class? Or do something else that makes me feel good now? It’s OK. It happens.  If I don’t beat myself up then I have the space to compose a solution. So, let’s be real: you’re probably going to slip up this holiday season and abandon some of your custom self-care practices. What do you do then? Keep going, be kind to yourself, allow humanness and try again. And please know that all of us—all of us—are fucking up, too.

With fun and love,

Jackie

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How I Went From Healer-Phobic to Healer-Friendly

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“I’m so horny! It’s killing me,” I whined, steeped in sexual frustration, in the backseat of a Toyota on Sunday afternoon. Three of us were squeezed in the back seat—two of my closest friends and me— and they had been listening to me have random sexual outbursts all day.  Ian is on his lengthy- as- fuck dream trip, and I feel a little…insane without him. “I barely even masturbate,” I yammered on, “it bores me these days, just makes me more sad.” My friend is a talented energy healer, and we’ve worked really well together in the past so she said, “OOOO, I wonder if I could try some sort of energy work on you where I could get you to an orgasm without even touching you. I’ve never done it, but it’s so fun to work with you because you’re so open.” Me, so open? I thought. “Hah. remember when I was NOT open to any of this nonsense,” I retorted, “And, YES, let’s absolutely do that!” I feel baffled when “healers” of any kind suggest that it’s so wonderful to work with me because I’m so open and available. That was so not me. Pre-illness I had the “luxury” of being  healer-phobic, the “luxury” of judging people, the “luxury” of being closed-mided,  the “luxury” holding onto resentment and anger, and the “luxury” of eating a nightly waffle sundae.”  We piled out of the car to stop in at an organic, over-priced, crystal-decorated Malibu eatery. It was the kind of place that attracts all of the wealthy white people on green-juice fasts who are willing to pay $15.00 for a tube of coconut oil and $175.00 for a beach towel. Did I think it was ridiculous? Yes. Did I love it there? ABSOLUTELY. The wall of supplements made me feel candy-shop-dazzled, the all natural body butter was enticing, and, oh my god, they served vegan, gluten-free and SOY-FREE grilled cheese. Heaven. All I needed was Ian near me, and I would have had an orgasm right then. Yes, all-natural sunscreen and kale wraps turn me up and on. No shame here:  I’m an oil-pulling, green-juicing, meditating, all natural healing… weirdo. It gets worse: Over our new-age grilled cheeses,  we talked astrology. I know very little about astrology, but I love when people talk about it. Let me rephrase: I love when astrology-interested folk want to talk specifically about me and my sign. We were looking at my chart, and our astrology-savvy friend took note that one of my moons was in one of my  houses (blah blah blah) , therefore, I’m a “wounded healer.” My eyes got all big, “wounded, healer,” I squealed, “Oh my god! My distance healer just told me that one of my archetypes is a wounded healer! How cool!”

How cool? What in the ever-loving fuck is this life? 

I grew up eating raisinets for a healthy snack and drinking coca-cola with  meatloaf dinner.  I  suffered from panic attacks and lots of random infections all treated with…you guesssed it…antibiotics. I breathed in smoke and mold all day, was harassed by my father, tried to take care of my mother, and lived in a fantasy land most days because it was safer than reality. By highschool, I  had bronchial infections every couple of months, and I lived on cheez-it’s, salami, funyons, the hangover BLT, and hazelnut iced coffee with tons of half and half. I self-medicated my anxiety with drinking, smoking in excess, and instigating unruly sexual situations that numbed the pain of my missing father. Self-loathing began intruding on every waking moment of my day activating my first major step toward a healthier living.

I cleaned up my act and stopped drinking. I bought a sports bra, got a membership at the 92nd street Y, started drinking some water, and ate some cottage cheese between my late-night waffle sundae binges. I thought I was the healthiest. Only the healthiest people eat cottage cheese and own sports bras.  Then my panic attacks resurfaced with a vengeance. When I was one meltdown away from becoming agoraphobic, I started taking anti-anxiety meds. I thought I oughta also dabble in meditation since I didn’t want to be on meds forever so I attempted a ten-day silent meditation retreat. I made it three days and claimed, as I left,  that I just wasn’t meant to be quiet.  I nearly lost my mind sitting with myself in the darkness and silence—there were too many  painful memories, there was not enough coffee, and no space to exercise. No, thank you.

Those three days validated my experience with holistic approaches to healing—they weren’t for me. I was madly-pro western medicine: Bring on the quick-fixes, the distractions, and the antibiotics! When it was convenient or it was necessary, I was down to be spiritual, but it was always short-lived. I never wanted to be TOO spiritual. A little bit of toxicity felt sort of YUM to me; I brought the FUN to dysfunctional. And I loved me some fatty beef.

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Something about being a sweet, peaceful vegan seemed so stale and virginal to me.If I could stay just a little edgy, a little hardened, I’d be more interesting, I thought. I wanted to be only half in touch with myself, only somewhat open-minded, and the adrenal burn-out version of healthy which looks like too much excercise and distraction while chowing on some kale every once in a while. The mention of eastern and holistic approaches to medicine and healing made me tighten. It was like people were talking about crossing an ocean in a row-boat—haven’t we got better things to do and my god, that sounds like unnecessary labor, hello, there are cruise ships these days! But, Jackie, cruise ships are bad for the environment, you said. “Well, I’d rather ignore that so I can get where I’m going faster, thank you.” It was true, I sort of (gasp) didn’t care about the environment, the toxins in the air, in my food, or in my water bottle. Not to mention my distaste for chakras, angel cards and acupuncture. What a snooze fest! I had already given up booze, drugs and cigarettes, did I really need to go full-on new-agey grandma? My judgments were just a way of covering up my extreme discomfort around “super spiritual.” I wasn’t ready to be seen. I was full of untouched trauma, stuffed to the brim. I felt like “Healers” had some sort of special powers. . .like they were the only people in the world who could see my thick and vast unbecoming wounds. Healers made me feel like my mask was being forcefully ripped off of my face, like all of the grime, sadness, jealousy, and petty resentment that I was hiding from the world— was suddenly visible. So, when I came into contact with one, I either got the hell out of there, or I put a thick wall up—pretending to have no feelings.  I had spent a couple of decades trying to keep my toxicity IN and under control, undetected.

My best efforts to control my humanness got me Lyme disease. And my best efforts to get well from Lyme disease—which included tons of antibiotics and distraction—got me much much sicker. The cruise ship I was on capsized after ten long months of doing it “the fast way”of western medicine.  I was left with that damn rowboat.  And, if I was going to survive, I was gonna have to get in and start rowing—slow and steady —with a shit load of patience. I was afraid of sitting with myself, slowing down, going soft, needing help, being seen, vulnerable and human. But my options were to go “there”—into the darkness of my soul/my truth with love as my main form of protection— and heal from Lyme, or to avoid “there” and probably stay sick. I surrendered completely. I was willing to be seen and to go into the pain so that it could lose it’s power over me became my focus.

I did everything anyone suggested from Ozone therapy, supplements, herbs, and body work. I changed my diet, I took the herbs, I meditated more, acupuncture became a weekly practice accompanied by chinese herbs, and I worked hard on self-love. And then—my biggest challenge— making friends with healers. Opening my mind so much that I could actually believe, for just a second, in something as silly as astrology. GASP.  But it helped! And then, reiki. And that helped. And then water blessings and neuro- feedback, group meditations, yoga, prayer, chakras, crystals, and getting hugged by Amma.   My  body sucked up this new way of life, like I was a plant that hadn’t been watered in a decade. I became a person that craved group meditations, green juices, acupuncture and reiki. Love gave me sunshine and alternative-medicine (in whatever form) gave me water, and some time later, I started to fucking bloom.

Becoming open to any possible form of healing has made me free— my life has become boundless with so many options. Yeah, I’ll talk about the power of crystals with an open mind, yeah I’ll talk about intuitions, heart, and powerful candles. I’ll also talk about all of the western approaches to healing that work—western medicine works when used correctly. I don’t give a shit what we are talking about as long as it’s something that helped someone else get closer to wellness realized. I light candles and I turn on an essential oil diffuser, and I sit on a yoga block while I practice breathing into my belly—INTO MY FIRST CHAKRA. I believe in magic because why not? In my experience and from what I’ve seen, you have to believe a little bit in magic and pixie dust if you want to beat Lyme disease. Beating Lyme disease isn’t even my priority anymore—thriving is my priority, and I won’t let any of my judgments, my resentment or my fear of being seen fully as a human get in the way of my best life. Healing from the inside-out is healing that lasts. I don’t know about you, but I intend to thrive for many many many many years to come.

With fun and love and weird ju ju,

Jackie

PS: Please use your discretion when choosing people to work with! OK? My “team”  came highly recommended to me by people I trust.

Bang for Your Buck: Health Tips on a Budget

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Are you desperately trying to heal and unable to do many of the things suggested to you because you simply don’t have the funds? I feel you. I am well versed on that topic so i compiled a list of a few cheap OR free things you can do daily or weekly that can make massive changes. Caution: PATIENCE NEEDED.

1.) Coconut oil: You can get a jar of organic, cold-pressed, unrefined coconut oil from Trader Joe’s for about $6.00. Coconut oil is the healthiest oil to cook with as it contains healthy fats called medium chained fatty acids. It works as a natural anti-fungal, anti-bacterial and anti-viral when you cook with it, eat it by the tablespoon, spread it on toast, or use it as a mosturizer on your body! You can even use it to detox by oil pulling first thing in the morning—using one tablespoon and gently swishing it around for about 15 minutes, it pulls out toxins and infections AND whitens teeth! Check out all of the ways coconut oil can benefit you here.

2.)Epsom salt baths:  I’m madly- pro infrared saunas for a killer detox sweat, but when you’re sick and your money is going to all sorts of crazy things like doctors and supplements and FOOD, sometimes it’s hard to find the extra 20-50 bucks to sweat it out. Epsom salt baths are not exactly the same, but, in my experience, they work nicely as a powerful alternative. I try to stay in the bath for at least 15 minutes, with a glass of water nearby, a lit candle, and some good tunes playing. When I’ve sweat enough AND hopefully soaked up some of that magnesium from the epsom salt (which technically takes a total of 40 minutes but my body can’t handle that), I get out and rest for a few minutes. Make sure to hydrate a ton. Ideally, you own a dry brush and can do that before you bathe for extra detoxing.

3.) Hydration: Do you have a good water filter? I’m sorry to tell you that the Brita aint gonna cut it. Ideally, you’d get the Berkey, but those are super expensive (I think worth the investment, but we are hypothetically on a super tight budget). Zero water is the one I have—it came recommended through the Hippocrates Health Institue. It’ll cost about $25.00 every 6 weeks or so (filters that work actually have to be replaced a lot) to have very clean water ALL OF THE TIME. Hydrating isn’t enough on its own. If you’re hydrating with tap water in a bad part of the country, you are also ingesting a load of toxic shit like lead and chlorine. So, clean it up. Also, for immune boost, optimal hydration AND detox consider adding  lemons to your water—it’s cheap and it’s effective. Another cheap option (if you have a juicer or a blender) is celery (PURE CELERY) juice every morning on an empty stomach. That’s runs about $2.50 a day and has very powerful effects on restoring your gut health(where your immune system is) and moving your lymphatic system. And, as the day creeps by, a warm cup of tea might be so needed. You can buy organic ginger for next to nothing and make your own ginger tea—ginger is anti-inflammatory and good for digestion. I also consume coconut water, aloe vera in water, and other veggie juices. OH and I drink plenty of coffee, but that’s not a health suggestion 🙂

4.) Movement: You don’t have to pay upwards of 100.00 a month to exercise. Moving your body is effective, necessary, and a powerful action you can take on a daily basis no matter what your checking account looks like. If you have a little money but not much, consider looking on Groupon for some deals in whatever medium of exercise you feel like pursuing. Most yoga studios have a “first month deal” like $40.00 unlimited for a month. Check out the studios in your town, and ask for deals or work-trade. If you have ZERO dollars to spare on exercise then look at free youtube videos of yoga/pilates or again whatever kind of work- out you want to do. And, if all of that is too much then go for a walk. A short walk, a long walk, a fast walk, a meditative walk, however you wanna swing it. Over time, this will be of great benefit to your overall health AND happiness.

5.) Breathe: It’s totally free and it is POWERFUL. Even for the millionaires who can spend on whatever supplement and whatever treatment, the MOST healing thing any of us can do is BREATHE. Check out the Wellness-Companion newsletter this week for some in-depth details on breathing. Panic, anxiety and shallow breaths are poison to your central nervous system and your adrenal glands. Can’t afford the supplements?  Breathing is your adrenal support supplement. There are free meditations all over the damn place, get in on the silence craze! For 5 bucks, you can purchase the anxiety release EMDR app, it comes in handy for those of us that struggle with heavy anxiety, and it happened to be one of my favorite AND cheapest investments.

6.) Vitamin D: Go sit in the sun for 20 minutes without sunscreen. It’s that simple. Your immune system will thank you for it—so will your brain. PS: behind windows/glass it doesn’t count.

7.)Find a support system/go where the love is: Love is healing. Compassion, kindness, empathy, understanding, and affection go a really long way when you don’t feel well. Let people love you. We operate a whole company called wellness-companions around this concept because Eva and I KNOW how important it is to be heard and seen while healing. In my experience, It’s more effective to be loved than to take the “right” supplement. Release the people from your life that no longer serve you on this journey.

8.) Joy: You don’t need to spend $20.00 on popcorn and a movie or $100.00 on a trip to Disneyland to have fun. Find the things that bring you joy and do one of them every single day. Healing is a mind/body/spirit experience. In a desperate attempt to feel physically better, we tend to leave behind the mind and spirit, and healing won’t come without their companionship. So, whether it’s building a fort in your bedroom and watching Disney movies, coloring, taking pictures, writing, drawing, singing, painting, listening to music, audiobooks or reading, find your thing and do a lot of it. Do it especially when you think you should start googling about your condition—that’s your warning to pull out the big guns. . .play time!

9.)Diet: I wanted to stay off of this because it IS expensive to eat well. I get it, trust me. Unfortunately, it was also one of the most important changes I made. First of all, consider swallowing your pride and getting some government assistance—food stamps. GASP, I know. But this is about saving your ass, not your face. Eating fresh requires me to be at the supermarket almost every single day, but I’ve found some cheaper ways to eat nutritious, and fulfilling meals. One of them being to make a big ass batch of soup! Soup chock full of fairly cheap organic veggies. The whole batch could cost about 20 bucks and be your lunch for 5 days. Check out recipes by Kriss Carr and Anthony William. Planning nutritious meals and having them for the week or freezing them is a GREAT way to save money. You’ll rarely have to buy food out because you’re starving and have nothing in the house. Simple and inexpensive changes can  make a world of difference for your overall health: Choose fruit over candy, choose coconut water over soda, choose organic olive oil and lemon instead of bottled dressing, choose cauliflower mash over mashed potatoes, ghee or coconut oil instead of butter, almond milk over cow milk. It will take time to adjust—that’s ok. You don’t have to do it perfectly all at once—all you need to do is make a beginning.

10.) Let go: Stop trying to hold it together. Feel your feelings whether they are sadness or anger or pure elation. Once you stop resisting the experience of being sick, you will land right at the foot of the path to wellness. Some heartbreaking grief may follow, but the payoff is worth it. I promise. You likely have some emotional healing to do—go into it now and know that you will come out at the other side. It’s free, it’s safe, and it’s effective. Make sure you have some sort of support system in place when going through this part. Like a *sliding scale therapist,* support group or good friends.

11.)REST: I almost forgot this one. YIKES! Because I hate it. But it also probably saved/is saving my life so I highly suggest it— rest as often as you need. Give your body many breaks throughout the day to simply lie down and BREATHE. Fall asleep if you can—if not, just lie there doing nothing at all! Be sure you’re in bed for at least 8 hours at night. On your to-do lists every morning (that are probably too long) I urge you to put rest at the top. As Eva Fisher says, “rest is an active verb.”

To sum up: use coconut oil, hydrate with toxic free water all day, sit in the sun, go for a walk, find a feel-good hobby, let your friends love the shit out of you, love the shit out of yourself, make big batches of healthy soup, breathe deeply, take epsom salt baths, let your feelings OUT, REST, and,  my friends, you are on your way to wellness and spending next to nothing.

Fun and love and cheap healing is on the way!

Jackie Shea

Health Tip Tuesday: Eat Garlic

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Consuming raw garlic works as a natural antibiotic! Amazing, right? It fights fungal infections AND yeast which I found so fascinating and exciting AND curious that one time I stuck a clove of garlic up my vagina ..and that’s how I ended up LOSING a whole clove of garlic up my vagina. Apparently you can stick a clove up there if you’re worried about yeast infections so I did just for funnies, and then I LOST IT. Definitely, be sure to attach a thread or cheese cloth to the garlic.

The way I consume garlic these days (everyday, actually- so I ALWAYS smell like garlic) is by crushing it up and putting it on top of salads with olive oil and avocado.

It’s always one of my main suggestions especially for Lyme suffers.

Here is a link to some helpful garlic-consuming-instructions to follow:

Avoid These 6 Common Mistakes When Using Garlic As an Antibiotic

PS: That photo up there is me shouting at my friend Eric, “I lost the garlic!”

Fun and Love,

Jackie

Just Keep Swimming

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I said, “I am down, lonely and afraid.” To better help you understand how I’ve felt over the last couple years, I used the analogy of a person laid out on the concrete, getting their face bashed in. I asked all of you to meet me down there, hold me, ask me where it hurts, and what you can do to help. Many of you did just that, and it gave me that little bit of strength I needed to get up. I am standing. I may be a little weathered, but I am upright and ready to walk on. Actually, that’s metaphorical because I’m actually horizontal on the couch with two IV’s in my arms, but I’ve eaten today, I’ve rested, I’ve given love and received love, I put some laundry away, and I’m writing this. If you are struggling, if you are obsessing over what the fuck, why the fuck, and how the fuck, the one  piece of tangible advice that never fails me was said by Dory from Finding Nemo: “Just keep swimming.” It was also said by like a bazillion other people in a variation of other words, BUT Dory said it best if you ask me, and I’d like to honor the release of “Finding Dory.” I’ve been practicing this for years though the situation I’m currently in has been the greatest challenge. There have been countless times I’ve wanted to just stop and sink, but I’ve experienced the benefits of  keeping on too many times in my life to give up now.

I was heart-broken (again) a few years ago. I was stuck in bed, restricted by panic. It had been light out recently enough that I still hadn’t turned any lamps on. As it grew darker outside, it grew darker inside, which reflected MY insides. I’m so sensitive during that hour-long adjustment when the light turns to dark. I can do the light and I can do the dark, but the in-between, the purgatory, the new, the gray- THAT I do not like. I laid flat crying, fuck it’s already night-time, he still hasn’t responded to my texts, I can’t get out of bed. I called a woman who was 20 years my senior and sobbed to her, “I can’t get out of bed! He hasn’t responded,” snot filled my shirt, I choked on some phlegm, and I made a whole case supporting my sadness and paralysis. She was so compassionate- this beautiful  woman with 3 children, and a host of her own more threatening struggles, took the time to talk me through the pain of “he hasn’t responded to my texts.” She said, “It’s OK sweetie, listen, I want you to get up and make the bed. That’s all you have to do. Get up and make the bed. Do the dishes, take a shower, come over for dinner. That’s ALL you have to do. Get up and make the bed.” I swung my legs around, I got to a standing position, I turned a lamp on, and I made the bed. It’s easier to keep moving when already in motion – that’s like simple science, I think. I did the dishes, and I took a shower and I went to dinner. I didn’t feel good, but I certainly didn’t feel any worse than when I was laying in bed. That wasn’t my first lesson in “just keep swimming,” but it simplified something I had been hearing/practicing for years.

Both of my parents taught me this lesson- through their words and actions: they made life so fucking hard that I had no choice but to learn to tread water or drown. When I was 12 and made the beautifully stupid decision to be an actress when I grew up, my Father challenged me to study the craft, and I did. I studied it as much as I possibly could for a girl that age. When I got nervous that I wouldn’t succeed, he said, “Doesn’t matter, you never fail if you don’t quit.” I wonder sometimes what would have happened if I didn’t hear that so clearly: Would I have quit after so much rejection? Maybe. Years later, during my first year of college, I called him in an attempt to connect. He had already slipped out of my hands into the world of insane drug use, but this was in my denial phase. I called him very upset- why he was my first phone call is a lesson in psychology 101, but regardless, it worked out because he said something I’ve never forgotten: “There’s only one thing you need to know all through life. ONLY ONE NECESSARY PIECE OF ADVICE. The only rule you ever need to follow is ‘just do the next right thing’.” Just do the next right thing. I’ve found that to be true- it’s all I ever need to do.

My Mother told me a story once that really stuck with me, too. When she was dealing with the true horrors of being married to a violent alcoholic and trying to raise two children, she had many mornings where just  seeing the daylight pained her. She told me that during those times, she started taking out one book at a time from our encyclopedia collection (oh my- I’m showing my age. I grew up with encyclopedias!). She went from A-Z and studied. She learned something new everyday which led to some college courses, which led to meeting a professor that changed her life, which led to TWO Master degrees. Just keep swimming you get places.

I feel lucky to have  the ability to persevere, to persist, to try again, to get up, stand up and TAKE ONE STEP. I comfort myself often by visualizing the path I’m on, and I think “well if I just keep walking forward, I WILL get healthier, I WILL get a job, I WILL grow as a partner and a friend and a human.” It doesn’t  all happen at once. It’s in the small little steps, one foot in front of the other, that we make progress. I know that last week’s post was a hard one to swallow for some people, and I know that it was a binge on comfort food for others. I’ve had a lot of pain in my life; I’ve had plenty of obstacles to surmount- some self-inflicted and others where my part was victim, straight-up. It brings me so much comfort time and time again that, in this world where I’m powerless over so much, the power to keep walking is mine. I always have a choice about whether or not I want to get out of bed, make the bed, do the dishes, feed myself, write, apply for jobs, apply for government assistance, make that next phone call, find that new doctor, go to the next audition. The most freeing part: I don’t have to FEEL LIKE doing any of it, I just have to do it and shit gets done. I keep moving forward, growing, walking the path, and, MY GOD, at some point, you acquire all the tools you need to surpass the weeds, your legs are so strong you can climb any hill, your knees are so strong you can go through any valley and when an earthquake hits, somehow, you’ve developed enough balance to stay standing.

PS: First stop after Iv treatment: FINDING DORY.

WITH FUN AND LOVE,

JACKIE

How I became High Maintenance: A Top 10 List of how Illness Changed my Life

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10. I wear therapeutic bras: That’s right. One of my bras looks like the bra Robin William’s wore to play Mrs. Doubtfire. Yes, the under garments of my sexy 28 year old body are that of a 50 year old drag queen. I started experiencing regular breast pain just months into my diagnosis. I braced myself before each hug, I couldn’t lay on my belly, and it hurt like hell to take my bra off OR put it on.I had the intuitive thought one day, “what if it’s the underwire?” It did seem like every time I had a longish stint of being braless (YEAH I’m one of those lucky bitches- I don’t need a bra) I’d notice less pain. So, I tried it out. I found a bunch of underwire free yet supportive bras and, within a month, the pain completely went away and has yet to come back. Even DURING PMS, I’m not in much pain. You can hug me, shake me, accidentally bump into me, and, most importantly, SQUEEZE me. I highly suggest both sexy underwire free bras from Free People, sports bras, and SERIOUS therapeutic bras from “True& Co”- I promise, you’re even sexier for taking care of yourself.

9. I stay caught up on current events: This might seem like something I should have been doing for the last decade but, unfortunately, I was not that person. Seven years ago, I actually thought that Newt Gingrich was a town in New England, and I was like, “what’s all the fuss about Newt Gingrich- must be like the Hamptons’ of Maine.” I didn’t even know New England was a part of America until I was like 12 when my father suggested I attend college in “New England” and I cried because I didn’t want to be across the ocean. Geography is not my strong suit. So it’s pretty shocking that, these days, I’m the super annoying person that’s all, “Did you hear about Putin? The shooting? The blizzard? the oscars? Paris? Syria? Isis? Donald fucking Trump. Ted Cruz is a canadian. David Bowie is dead. Theres a new show coming to BBC, BERNIE SANDERS, abortion, immigration….” I often want to talk about the news because it’s the first time in my life I know what’s going on so I’m gonna capitalize on that shit. With illness, came a lot of time on my hands and some extra curiosity. Turns out, it’s VERY simple to stay in the loop. NY Times emails, Twitter, and some NPR, and you are swimming in information. All I really needed was a reason to sit still and Lyme Disease gave me an excess of that.

8. Phone Time: You probably loathe the idea of calling a customer service rep about something- OH just the thought of listening to that atrocious hold music that makes you question whether or not you even want a phone anymore! Yeah, it’s the worst. It’s also a part of my daily life. My speed dial consists of the phone numbers of my medical insurance, doctor’s offices, pharmacies, and my assigned case workers at various government- run agencies. It’s exhausting and, at a certain point, these calls are unproductive and actually harmful to my well-being. Therefore, I limit my calls- I can no longer attack these institutions with incessant dialing and yelling. Instead, I balance. I make one call, maybe two , a day and then spend the rest of my day not thinking about my medical “to-do’s.” I’m a lucky MOFO with lots of friends which means that outside of these “hours of operation” calls, my phone buzzes constantly. You know that airplane mode button on your nifty little device- the one that makes you appear off the damn grid. I USE IT- often. I’m an airplane mode PRO. When I need quiet time, decompressing time, or time to just be unavailable, I swipe up, click left, and take a deep breath. My phone is almost never on past 10 pm or before 10 am. Nothing is urgent enough for me- I am not the President…of anything.

7. I breathe (more deeply, and more frequently): I’m a distracted, fidgety, impatient, and excitable human, and that has been my lifelong default setting. Even when I had time to sit still or relax, I couldn’t focus. When I moved to LA at 24, my restlessness reached a new extreme. I stopped reading, watching TV, meditating, writing, or like, just sitting. I had so much extra anxiety which I medicated with work and exercise– I worked about 4 different jobs, and in between shifts went rollerblading, conquered the rings, took hot yoga, went running, and discovered new trails to explore. I did anything that induced emotional numbing via movement. I mean, I was avoiding my wildly painful grief and heartbreak-  my body was incredibly smart. I sit still today. I need to. First, it was forced and felt like torture. Now, it’s voluntary and I often enjoy it.  I need quiet time. I write for about 2 hours every morning. I average about 45 minutes of reading everyday, an hour of TV time, and 10 minutes of meditation. AT some point, every afternoon, I put my phone in airplane mode and nothing is allowed except a book or TV for one hour. I get more done now, too. Who knew?

6. I’m much tidier: About a year into being sick, I got the advice to make my home a serene, healing environment that I loved being in. I hadn’t had a “serene” environment pretty much ever in my life (except for those 2 years I lived on Maui). I grew up in chaos, and, as an adult, I was NEVER home (see number 7) so I didn’t need a nice environment. I was also a total hoarder- a saver of everything that might have the slightest meaning. I lived in survival mode so I was always like, “I might need that one day!” Things were cluttered, confused, and chaotic. Not anymore! I’m creating a peaceful, joyful, and organized living space for myself. I put things away when I’m done with them, hang my jackets up when I get home, I almost always know where my keys are, and I open bills as soon as they come in. I throw things away or GIVE THEM AWAY as soon as I no longer need them, AND..I make my damn bed daily! Marie Kondo, the NYT bestselling author of, “The Life-Changing Magic of Tidying Up,” has been my main source of inspiration. Check her out! I no longer have the luxury of making a mess and being OK with it.

5.What I spend my money on- Gone are the days of reckless spending on that shirt, that trip, and those shoes. Today, almost all of my money gets spent on supplements (hundreds of dollars a month), natural treatments like acupucture, and the most expensive food in the market. It’s hard to hustle which means it’s hard to have an excess of money to spend, and, when there is some extra money, I’m way more excited about that juice cleanse, or spirulina powder than I am about the Jeffrey Campbell shoes. I DO, of course, occasionally buy something for fun, or take a trip, but it’s always well thought out. I buy it because it brings me the kind of joy that will, in fact, enhance my physical, mental or spiritual wellbeing.  It’s unreasonably expensive to keep myself alive which brings us to..

4. FOOD- I grew up with a mother who told me “raisinets” were healthy because “at least they have raisins in them.” I grew up on powdered soups and the occasional steak or meatloaf dinner. I loved creamed spinach and creamed corn, and I considered these excessively healthy options. So, when I entered my late teens and started eating Kale, quinoa, veggie burgers, cottage cheese, almonds, and fruit, by god, I thought I couldn’t get healthier. I mean, I was a pack a day smoker but kale cancels that out, right? I had no idea what the world of wellness and clean eating actually looked like. The exclusions in my diet, today, were strategically made to 1,) starve Lyme and inflammation/ keep my body in an alkaline state and 2.) to rebuild my immune system so it can work it’s magic. I do not consume any eggs, pork, gluten, dairy, sugar, canola oil, MSG, natural flavors, corn, soy, or citric acid. This means that I read every ingredient label detecting for one of these ingredients and, if it’s on there, I don’t eat it. It’s intense. Go try to buy an in store hummus or frozen veggie patty that has no canola oil, citric acid, eggs, or soy in them. It’s hard AND expensive. What I find surprising, though, is the consistent follow-up question I’m posed with, “what DO you eat?” I mean, I eat everything that isn’t on that list which is like more foods than I could possibly fit into this paragraph. I eat organic veggies, fruit, grains, legumes, oils, meats, nuts, seeds, nut butters, and my signature 2 raw cloves of garlic a day. Yeah, I stink. I drink enough water to have earned the nickname, “Hydration bully,” and i also love me some coconut water or celery juice. But let’s get really real: I drink coffee- it’s pretty much the most joyful substance in my life, I eat potato chips that are like organic and made with coconut oil (but still..) and sometimes I cheat BIG: I’ll just say “fuck it,” and house an “In N Out” burger, or pizza, or ramen, or a cupcake, or movie theater popcorn WITH butter. It’s rare that I cheat BIG because it’s totally not worth the follow-up pain, but I don’t want to pretend to do this stuff perfectly..

3. I’m softer : UHM NO- I am not talking about my atrophying muscles, inner critic, but thanks for the reminder. GEEZ, sometimes my head is such an asshole. What I have is a softer heart and outlook- a softer experience around my own humanity and yours. Pre- illness, I could be harsh and judgmental of the human experience. My standards for humanity were irrational, unreasonable, IMMORTAL. I blamed people for their suffering, “they brought it on themselves, that will never happen to me” kind of attitude. For example, a few years back, I was very good friends with a woman who was struggling with an unknown illness, and I suggested that if she simply leave her destructive romantic relationship, she’d probably get better. Sure, I do believe that toxic relationships can do great harm to the body, but, in the end, I was blaming her. I wanted it to be her fault that she was sick. Nobody, I repeat, NOBODY, wants to be sick. I’m not so scared of human experiences today. When people tell me about their divorce, illness, miscarriage, abortion, heartbreak, financial trouble, etc.. I feel for them and hold a loving space for them. Look into Dr. Brene Brown’s talk on empathy vs. sympathy. Being sick taught me a shit load about true empathy. Today, I’m also not as demanding of myself or others. People are allowed to make mistakes in my world today. Even more importantly, I AM allowed to make mistakes today. We really are all just doing the best we can. Here’s to an imperfect practice of this thing called life!

2.Aint Nobody Got Time For That!: AKA: I have a very limited number of fucks to give. OR, the more popular phrase, I have a limited number of “spoons.”  The “spoonie” term and theory was deveoped by Christine Miserandino and is now used worldwide by sick and suffering people to describe the sensation I am calling “a limited number of fucks to give.” When you are a healthy person, each day comes with an unlimited number of possibilities, but when you have something like chronic illness dictating how many possibilities you get that day, you are a “spoonie.” The idea is that we wake up in the morning with just a few spoons to use and each time we use one, we’ve got one less- our energy is a little more depleted. So we have to be strategic every. single. day. My strategy: I do not welcome anything into my life that doesn’t support me emotionally, mentally, or physically. I’m on a mission for total wellness. If it doesn’t enhance my spirit or my health, it GOES. For me, that included a few relationships- those hurt the most. The best advice I ever got around illness is this: “Do what feels good all day long.” It’s amazing how when I started focusing on only the things that feel good, how much more I started saying NO to people, and how much started falling away from my life. When it was life or death and I was forced to put my every action under a magnifying glass, I realized that I was engaging in a lot that didn’t ultimately serve my highest purpose. What an incredible awareness!

1.I’m an insomniac- I have NEVER had sleep issues. I didn’t know jack about how painful insomnia was. My brother, on the other hand, has been suffering from it all of his life. When I was a kid, I’d wake up all casually well rested (like an asshole) and I’d pass by my brother’s room and see him in some sort of rotated, mutated form, looking like a wild animal that had taken a tranquilizer dart to the face mid outburst and finally, with one last squeal, passed out. He could never wake up in time, he was always moody, and I judged him. No wonder he hated me. When I got sick with Lyme, it came on slowly. First, I just couldn’t sleep through the morning sun. Then, I had a hard time falling asleep. And then, nine months later, I STOPPED SLEEPING. First I tried household drugs: Nyquil, benedryl, and dramamine- sometimes, feeling desperation around 3 am, a combination of a few. Nothing worked. I was now not only sick, and on zero sleep but also heavily drugged and emotional. I started crying all of the time- just constantly. My good friend always reminded me that sleep deprivation is a legitimate form of torture used by military systems worldwide. It’s true- watch Zero Dark Thirty, or Homeland- sleep deprivation is the first tactic. Just imagine being more exhausted than you’ve ever been and incapable of sleeping for nights on end. People are always confused, “But if you’re exhausted all of the time, shouldn’t you just be able to sleep?” Jonathan Franzen says in The Corrections, “his tiredness hurt so much it kept him awake..”  That’s what it’s like. My face hurt, my body hurt, my anxiety was unmanageable. When it came time to try to sleep, it felt like Satan was taking control of my body. I’m NOT kidding. To date, I have been prescribed Trazadone, Ambien, Valium, Kolonipin, and tried every natural version of sleep medicine you can name. I have had varying experiences with each drug. Nothing truly worked, guys- not until I started getting healthier. I could be awake for a full 60 hours in terrible flares. I could have walked 5 miles in a day, or done yoga, meditated, stretched, had no caffeine, done an infrared sauna, not eaten for 3 hours before bed, watched something soothing, listened to whale music, classical music, EMDR, focused on my breath, prayed my ass off and/ or done ALL of those in one day AND, STILL, NO SLEEP. Any solution you had for me, I tried. These also came with varying degrees of success rates. I’ve done yoga, taken a hot bath, popped a valium, then had my back rubbed while I was sung to and, GUESS WHAT, NO SLEEP. That shit is rough. Today, I sleep. I don’t sleep well necessarily, but I mostly sleep. Sometimes it’s with the assistance of Valium but more often it’s with “Tranquil Sleep-” the most potent natural sleep aid. I focus on my breathing, I don’t let the negative thoughts take over, BUT, when I’m in super bad shape physically, I still can’t sleep. IT’S PART OF THE ILLNESS, and it sucks. I repeat- the MAIN thing that has made my sleep better was getting healthier. I beg of you, be compassionate and understanding and loving towards people who cannot sleep (whether they are sick or not)- including yourself.
If you stuck with me for this long and read all of those then I have a little gift for you. I have a number “zero” bonus feature. Guess what I talk about now more than ever in my whole damn life? Did you guess Bowel Movements? That’s right. Us sick folk are just CONSTANTLY being asked how our bowel movements are. And then, we start talking about it together or doing things like coffee enemas. My dear friend and business partner for “wellness companions” sent me a coffee enema kit and said, “we can Skype for your first one in case you need help!” NOTHING WEIRD HERE, GUYS… just all of us trying to manage our own shit and stuff.

With Fun and Love,

Jackie.