Healing Lessons From My 13-Year Quarantine

Human beings have been stretched in so many ways in 2020. Even if we’re lucky to be safely tucked away from the front lines of the pandemic, the fabric of our lives is dramatically changed. We’ve stopped seeing people outside of necessity. How I miss the smiles of strangers, hugging anyone beyond my household and stretching in sync with fellow yogis at a local studio. The innocent freedom of breathing with abandon.

Yet, I feel a deep and abiding gratitude for the privilege of being healthy, safe and alive, perhaps more than ever.

Being holed up in my home is familiar. I spent 13 years with a mysterious condition called Chronic Fatigue Syndrome. My viral symptoms started after a trauma and worsened when a string of doctors said there was no cure and I’d simply have to live with it. I was in my mid-thirties, in the prime of my career as a broadcast journalist, with fervent hopes of having my own family.

Physicians said not to tax my fragile system. Some said to avoid gluten, dairy, sugar and starch. (Even carrots!) Others recommended I log my temperature, symptoms, activities and screen time in a spreadsheet. My world became confined to little boxes. No wonder my brain began to associate nearly everything with danger. Although well-intentioned, I believe these warnings propelled what started as a virus into a chronic illness. The fear of being an invalid sent my nervous system into a hypervigilant state. That created a cascade of symptoms. As I’ve since learned, fear and fixation on our symptoms is the fuel that feeds them.

What I needed was someone to tenderly ask “How are you feeling emotionally?” and “What was happening when your symptoms began?” I needed someone to hold a safe, loving space for me to share my innermost world. I needed to know that my symptoms, while severe and real, were not dangerous. I needed to hear that I could recover and one of the surest ways to do that is to continue living. I needed to know that my brain had learned pain and fatigue pathways and that I could retrain it. I definitely needed tangible ways to calm my nervous system. 

It would take many years to find that. I eventually broke loose of a paradigm that had no idea how to heal me. I listened to myself. My attention turned to simple activities that brought peace. I watched sycamore leaves wave to the sky or the silvery trail left behind by a snail. Rumi, Rilke and Eckhart Tolle filled my days. As I tuned into the healing world of nature, my mind quieted—even with severe insomnia, brain fog, body pain and exhaustion.

Months after I’d stopped seeking a cure, it appeared. Not through a master healer or a breakthrough treatment, as I’d imagined. The answer was inside my thoughts and feelings. A woman who’d healed from CFS told me about the little-known but groundbreaking work of Dr. John Sarno, a physician who’d discovered that the brain creates physical symptoms when it’s overwhelmed with untenable emotions. It’s not such a stretch. Who hasn’t gotten a stomach ache before a big meeting or test? The remedy lies in realizing we’re not broken or damaged, feeling our feelings, and retraining our mind for safety. Recovering from stress-related symptoms does not require a cache of supplements, medications or therapies, which inform the reptilian brain that it’s doomed. 

I adopted Dr. Sarno’s approach, practiced it daily and studied with some of his successors, including Dr. Howard Schubiner. After 13 years, miraculously, I recovered. I still occasionally get symptoms but they’re typically mild. They don’t engender fear because I know that only increases the symptoms. Most importantly, I choose to enjoy my life anyway.

When the quarantine came, going inward felt instinctual. I’ve been here before.

Once I stopped fighting it and opened to the invitation, it offered riches. It gave me time to reconsider my priorities and launch this blog, for instance. (Hurray!) Without the ability to make daily trips to my favorite yoga studio, I deepened my personal practice. My gratitude for my small circle of loved ones soared. 

When something is out of balance, we’re called to try a new approach, feel our feelings and listen more attentively. We can see challenges as allies calling us into a deeper truth and a more compassionate way of living. 

In 2020, what have you lost and what have you gained? What truths are you uncovering? What do you intend to cultivate in the New Year that starts now?