Hope

I never used to think about hope much, but now I know: hope is jasmine winding its way through your insides, climbing into your most intimate parts, filling the empty spaces with the fragrance of spring.

When you are sick for years and years, your hope of health shrivels and droops until it is nothing more than a few black, spindly stems. When this happens, it is easiest to let hope die, but you mustn't.

You must coax your hope back to life with the water and air of imagination. You must imagine you are climbing Half Dome, or learning to surf, or hosting a tea party, or running in the rain, and you must imagine you are doing it all with ease. Do this daily, and with time you will notice your hope has sprouted the tiniest waxy, green leaves. One day, it will bear fragrant blossoms again.

For months I've been working to cultivate hope by imagining myself exploring Portland with my siblings, a cup of tea in hand and the neurological firestorm at bay. And you guys, today I did it, just exactly the way I imagined.

It was wondrous.

© by scj

Thank you

Dear friends,

Last night I was feeling a little anxious as I looked toward today. I wanted New Year's Eve Day to be different and special — to somehow signify the change I've been working so hard toward these last several years— so I determined to make the day memorable.

I've been hoping and praying for snow during my visit to the Pacific Northwest, and since the Portland area doesn't get much, if any, snow I decided I would go hunting for it up in the mountains. But my dad worried that the car (and its southern California driver) wouldn't do well on the icy mountain roads, so that adventure didn't seem like a wise option after all. I settled on a hike in Portland instead. But then those plans fell through, too, so I decided to go on a walk in the neighborhood to soothe my disappointment. 

As I walked, I thought back to last spring. I spent the spring much like I spent the last few years: researching treatments and clinics, implementing medical protocols, trying new doctors, and meeting with old doctors. It was brutally exhausting and generally fruitless. In May, I realized I had been working so hard to get healthy that I hadn't given God much opportunity to advocate for me, and I felt a strong prompting from the Holy Spirit to cancel my appointments at new clinics so He could direct me to life-giving treatment. I cancelled the appointments, and two weeks later, He led me to limbic system retraining.

Since then, I have felt convicted to practice the discipline of waiting for God's blessings — of letting Goodness and Mercy pursue me, the way the Psalmist describes, rather than chasing them with frantic ambition. The more I have practiced waiting, the more convinced I have become that in this season, God wants me to stop hustling, to stop planning, to stop doing all of the things that seem so very sensible so he can provide for me: a Dad taking care of his beloved girl.

As I planned my adventures this morning, it didn't occur to me that today, of all days, God would like to show me his care for me by filling my day with good things, apart from my own efforts. So halfway through my walk, I asked him to make the day special — to mark it with something exciting to signify a new chapter in life.

When I got back to the house, it started to snow.

The big, feathery flakes felt like a reminder of God's attentive care and a symbol of the newness that lies ahead. It was the perfect New Year's Eve gift.

As I look toward 2017, I want to thank you for your support in 2016. Many of you have been faithful prayer warriors on this roller coaster ride, and words don't do justice to my gratitude for your prayer support. Your prayers and notes of encouragement are two of a few things that have mitigated the suffering of the last year. I also want to thank those of you who have contributed financially to my medical fund. Your generosity is a wild and wonderful gift to me. I wish I could give you each a hug in person and explain to you how all of your support has deeply influenced this journey.

My friends, I pray your transition into the New Year is filled with reminders of God's persistent goodness and mercy. There is no god like our God; and there is no better life than a Life in Him.

I'm thankful to be walking this journey with you,

and I'm cheering for you.

Happy New Year,

Sarah







© by scj

Prayer support

Hi Friends,

I'd love your prayers in the coming weeks.

The last two months I've had back-to-back colds that have often been like lighter fluid on the neurological fire. They have made life extra hard.

As I head into the last few weeks of the semester, I have an absurd amount of homework, along with the usual piles of grading, and I'll need to be cold-free in order to do it all.

Would you pray for protection from bugs and other neurological triggers between now and the 20th? I'd love to be able to finish the semester's race.

Thank you!

Cheering for you,

Sarah


P.S. These are the Jackson girls:

I love them a lot, and I love this photo, which is why I'm sharing it with you. 





© by scj

Sam and Amy

My friend Sam got married yesterday.

I met Sam four years ago when he attended a Thanksgiving dinner I hosted.

Sam was in LA to pursue an MA in philosophy at Talbot, and I was teaching at Biola two mornings a week, so after that Thanksgiving dinner, we occasionally ran into each other on campus. We also attended the same church, and when I was well enough to go to Sunday service, we would see each other. With time, I observed enough of Sam to learn he was kind, generous, and diligent in prayer.

About two years ago, Sam emailed me. He'd read a recent blog post about the nightmarish turn in my health, and he wanted to tell me he was praying for me daily. He also shared that he was in New York City getting treated for a rare and especially deadly form of cancer. He wondered if he could encourage me in my battle with health problems since he was fighting his own.

A google search of Sam's form of cancer revealed he had a very slim chance of survival. In fact, yesterday his best man shared that when Sam was first diagnosed, he asked God to withhold the funding to start treatment if he wasn't going to survive. He didn't want his family to shoulder the financial burden of his medical bills if he wasn't going to live.

I have learned from mutual friends that Sam looked like a Holocaust victim as he lay in that hospital room, enduring round after round of chemo. His parents refused to leave his side during those months of treatment, and his closest friends wondered if the next phone call from New York would bring grievous news. 

Somehow, as Sam underwent chemotherapy, surgery, and experimental treatment, he found the fortitude to send me almost daily messages of encouragement. He sent me poems, songs, and Bible verses to buoy my spirits; he offered financial help for my medical bills; he suggested prescription medications when our symptoms overlapped; he offered to connect me with people in the area who could run errands for me; and he offered to forward my recent test results to his doctor friend. I often felt that I was the one who should be encouraging Sam, but looking back I can see that God wanted me to learn from Sam what it looks like to be bread broken and wine poured out for those in need.

When Sam first emailed me from New York, I felt trapped in the Valley of the Shadow of Death. Some days, the darkness of that valley made me quake in fear; other days, it made me want to die. But then Sam reached out, and he came alongside me in that valley, and he said, "With God's help, we will pass through this." Everyday, again and again: "God is with us, and he will carry us onward and upward." His presence and courage were God's astonishing grace to me.

My dear friend Sam is cancer-free today. He will finish his philosophy degree next month, and he and his new bride will move back to India where they will minister together as he begins work for Ravi Zacharias's ministry. I do not know Sam's wife well, but I know she is beloved by many. She is a nurse with a heart for India and a reputation for kindness, faithfulness, and generosity; and I am delighted she and Sam found each other.

Yesterday I kept trying to find the words to express what Sam and Amy's wedding meant to me, but I couldn't. I felt I was watching Sam stand on the mountaintop, his vibrant bride at his side, their families and friends hemming them in, their future full of hope, and the Valley of the Shadow of Death down below, behind him. The wonder that swelled inside of me was too big to be constrained by words

Dear Sam and Amy, what a joy it was to watch you embark on this new marriage-adventure together. I pray God's best for you, and I thank him that I get to be one of many who will be blessed by your union.


© by scj

DNRS: A November Limbic System Retraining Update

My friends,

Many of you have chronic, invisible illness and are wondering if you should try DNRS (the Dynamic Neural Retraining System). Some of you are wondering if you should refer your friends and family to DNRS. I've been doing the program for four months now, and here is my advice those with lyme disease, ME, CIRS, POTS, fibromyalgia and more:

Do it.

Absolutely, 100% try this.

I continue to observe encouraging changes in my body, and I am confident this works for those with limbic system injuries.

I posted about my progress early in the program, but I didn't detail how very up and down those first months were. I'd have an enormous break-through one day, and feel back at square one the next. Since then, I continue to have significant ups and downs, but I have longer "ups" — sometimes lasting days at a time — as my brain heals and body stabilizes.

The biggest change I see is a newfound freedom to hope and dream about the future. For so long, I devoted most of my hope to small tasks: "I hope I can get out of bed to teach two mornings this week." "I hope I have energy to shower today." "I hope I can be upright long enough to make myself dinner." These goals often felt unobtainable.

I still find myself hoping for these small things during particularly challenging days or weeks, but the hoping feels realistic. I'll probably be able to cook dinner for myself tonight. 

I also find myself hoping for big things: "I hope to work full time soon." "I hope to be running again soon." "I hope to working on my writing project again soon." And it's the wildest thing: these hopes feel realistic, too! These things will probably happen. 

You guys. I cannot tell you the last time I dared to dream something big about the future AND felt like it was a realistic possibility.

Recently, I've especially loved dreaming about traveling internationally. I'm perusing the internet for travel ideas and mentally planning trips, and though I don't know when my body will be ready for this sort of travel, the dreaming is a delight. In an effort to practice hope, I went ahead and renewed my passport. It came last week, and it was one of the happiest packages I've ever received.

Here are some of the other changes I've observed in myself since my last update in early September:

1. I can practice the piano again. For six years, neurological challenges made short practice sessions painful and longer practice sessions impossible. But in September, I was suddenly able to play Chopin for an hour straight, and it felt nourishing – like I was eating vegetable stew after a steady diet of bread and cheese.

2. For years, I've tried to push through physical challenges to go on short walks, much to my body's detriment. Eventually, as per my doctor's instruction, I stopped walking except when my symptoms were quieter — which wasn't often. When I did go on walks, I felt much worse afterward and often spent days recovering. However, since September, I've been able to walk more often — sometimes a few times a week — AND the walking makes me feel better. I'd forgotten what the benefits of exercise feel like!

Walking with Mama and Roo!

3. Going to the grocery store used to be such a challenge. If I had the stamina to go, the lights, smells, sounds, and movement made me wildly sick. However, the last several times I've gone to the grocery store, I've zipped in and out with no problems at all!

4. I traveled twice last month — once to northern California, and once to Washington. I was nervous about whether or not I'd be able to handle it, and I did!

Soaking up Washington's glorious fall

5. I got my first full-blown cold in several years, which is a sign of my immune system coming back online. This summer, a week after starting DNRS, I got a cold, but the symptoms only lasted one day before autoimmune mode returned. Last month's cold, however, progressed like a normal cold. Woo hoo! (To my friends doing DNRS: my cold triggered preexisting physical challenges, so if your first cold isn't 100% normal, you're not alone. We'll get to complete normalcy soon, though!).

6. I experience pockets during which reading feels natural and easy.

7. My fingernails used to have deep ridges in them. These ridges are a sign of malnourishment and extreme infection, BUT the ridges are beginning to disappear!

8. In the past, it has been hard to listen to music because of the energy the brain needs to process sound. Talking to people has been hard, too (this is still a big area of training for me), and talking to people with the radio on was absolutely impossible. But last month, while driving in the car with a friend, I noticed we'd been talking for 1/2 hour with the radio ON. Yeaaaah, Baby.

9. I've been a front seat passenger in the car a number of times in the last month, and those trips have been relatively easy! (They used to always be horribly difficult).

10. I've been to church five times this semester, and four of those times were relatively easy!

11. My rest is generally more restful as my brain heals and my body follows suit.


Friends, if you're doing DNRS and haven't signed up for a coach, I recommend you do at least one coaching session. My coach validated the difficulty of this process and confirmed its up-and-down nature, which made me feel normal. She's also helped me with areas of training that have been particularly hard and slow for me, and she's given me tips that have helped across all areas of training.


If you have been praying for me on this journey, here are some ways you can pray these days:

1. For perseverance — limbic system retraining is hard, the sawtooth nature of this journey continues to be really hard, and this semester has been filled with some pretty tough life stuff.


2. For joy and hope on the harder days and weeks.


3. For complete healing sooner rather than later.


4. For wisdom as I continue to learn how to best care for myself on this healing journey.


5. For protection from the Enemy. There's been an uncanny pattern this semester: each time I make progress, something difficult happens to trigger greater physical challenges. Thankfully, I rebound from the effects of the trigger after a couple of weeks (the ability to bounce back is a huge improvement!), but just as soon as I begin to progress again, I'm exposed to another trigger, and the pattern continues. I suspect this pattern is the result of spiritual attack.


6. For provision for my needs.

7. This request feels a bit frivolous, but important: would you pray that I'd be able to take that international trip one day?! Gosh, that would be a glorious victory.


Thank you for walking this journey with me, Friends.

I'm cheering for you,

Sarah


For more information on DNRS, visit the website HERE and my overview HERE. 

(Note: it would be impossible to thoroughly explain the program here -- you'd need to participate in the four-day workshop, either in person or via DVD, to begin to understand it, so my overview is relatively brief).

Also: If you're doing DNRS, would you share your progress in the comments below?! Reading about your progress is so encouraging for all of us on this journey!


© by scj

DNRS: a September Limbic System Retraining Update

My friends!

I come bearing a limbic system retraining update. It's been about ten weeks since I started training, and I continue to be encouraged by my progress. The last few weeks have been particularly encouraging since I've had several pockets during which I can feel the lights in my body flicker on as my brain begins to remember how to function like a normal, healthy brain. During these pockets, I'm able to be up, engaging people and activity, more often and more easily.

Here are a few other encouraging signs of progress:

1. I'm not constantly in fight-or-flight mode anymore and am generally much calmer than I have been in ages. Things that used to drench my body in adrenaline and trigger a set of crazy physical challenges — like the sound of my phone buzzing, or bright lights, or artificial smells — are affecting me less and less.

As my healing brain creates more pockets of calm, it is able to divert the energy it used to need to maintain a constant state of fight-or-flight to healing the rest of my body. I expect that my brain will eventually slide completely out of fight-or-flight mode so my body can use every last bit of its energy to heal.


2. I've continued to work on adding foods back to my diet, and I've successfully re-integrated almost all fresh fruits.

I'm especially happy to be eating bananas...

....and raisins (a game-changer! Now I can make "trail mix" with my pecans and raisins)....

....and, in the non-fruit category: POTATO CHIPS! I'm thankful to have such a calorie-heavy source of food. For awhile there, I had to drink sparkling water if I wanted to feel full, but now, I just pull out a bag of tater chips.

I accidentally ate an entire bag of potato Chips on Sunday. Also on Monday. Also on Tuesday.

3. For years I tried to remember what it felt like to be in my body before all of these challenges started, but whenever I inserted myself into a happy memory, my physical challenges would invade and change the memory. Remembering my old life often made me feel like I was watching a movie about someone else's life — a character with whom I couldn't identify at all.

But over the last ten days I've been repeatedly hit with snippets of memories from my early twenties, and in those moments my brain REMEMBERS what it felt like to be in my body back then. I've remembered what it felt like to lift weights in Austria, camp in the Italian countryside, and go swing dancing in Pasadena. As far as I understand, this remembering is a sign that my hippocampus — a key part of the limbic system — is coming back online after many years of malfunctioning.

It's so exciting and encouraging to see these signs of brain, and subsequent body, change. The goal is to do this program for a minimum of six months, but my intuition and research suggest I need to be doing this for a whole year, so that's what I'm committing to. I'm feeling more and more confident that at this time next year, I'll be singing a whole new song.

If you're new to my blog and want to read more about limbic system retraining, click here. 

Thanks for praying with me as I train, my friends.

I'm praying and cheering for you,

Sarah



© by scj

Prayer Requests and Support

My friends,

My time here in the Pacific Northwest has come to a close, and tomorrow I head back to LA where I will continue to rest. Though my work load has been minimal the last six years, I'll carry an even easier load this fall as I try to get on a healing trajectory. I'm hopeful the rest will be productive in the best possible ways.

I continue to remain hopeful that God will use DNRS, along with my other treatments, to completely heal me with time, but in the meantime, this journey continues to be more like a quest through sawtooth mountains than a zipline through the jungle, and I covet your prayers:

Here are my most pressing requests:

1. For special grace as I prepare to fly tomorrow after/during a very challenging week.

2. For protection from the Enemy who wants to kill and destroy.

3. For encouragement in Christ and comfort in his love.

4. For laughter and joy.  

5.  For peace and trust in the good things God is preparing for me in the future.

6. For physical, mental, emotional, and spiritual strength as I forge ahead.

7. For something unexpected to bring me joy the way my parents' puppy has. She has been a therapeutic companion and tremendous blessing this summer, and I will miss her.

8. For complete healing sooner rather than later.
 

Thank you for your prayer support, my friends. It's an immeasurable gift to me.

If you'd like to support me beyond prayer, my brother recently put together a site to raise medical funds for a year's worth of my  medical expenses, as the cost of my doctors appointments and treatments continues to be well beyond my means.  If you feel moved to contribute, or you're able to share this link on social media, I thank you in advance! And a big thank you to those of you who have already contributed. I feel overwhelmed by your generosity.

https://www.payit2.com/fundraiser/86102


Hopeful, light-filled Monday, my friends.

-Sarah

© by scj

Limbic system retraining update: Exercise

Yesterday I jumped on the trampoline for one hour. Yep, you read that right: one HOUR. I broke my jumping into two sets, but the second set was 45 minutes, so: HALLELUJAH.

This is the first time I've sweated (I love sweating!) and had endorphins (I love endorphins!) from exercise in ages. And there's this: the day before yesterday I spent much of the day adventuring, and when I woke up the morning after my adventures, I'd recovered!

I've also been up more the last few days, cooking, baking, cleaning, and conversing, and it's felt good — Hurrah!

Thank you, dear Jesus, for this progress.

And thank you, dear pray-ers, for supporting this process in prayer.


© by scj

DNRS: An Update and some fun NEWS!

Friends,

I come bearing a limbic system retraining update! The retraining program has thus far yielded many victories, big and small; and it has been punctuated by challenges that have felt like circuitous detours. I suppose my journey of healing continues to be more like a quest through Middle Earth than a nice linear game of hopscotch. This is to be expected.

Sometimes the effects of DNRS are immediate and feel magical (oh you guys, please try this program if you have any of the physical challenges on this list), and I'm apt to wonder why it is that some of my challenges persist; it's been THREE WHOLE WEEKS of rigorous training, after all! (Patience, Dear Heart). But I've had physical challenges for many years, so my body will need time to repair itself. I'm also continuing to get treatments which create their own set of unique challenges.

So. Some days the challenges feel like mole hills, and some days they feel like mountains; but nonetheless, I am moving toward healing with greater consistency than I have in a long time, and I continue to remain hopeful that this program will result in long-term healing of my immune, digestive, endocrine, and nervous systems. As I look toward healing, I've been keeping a daily log of every little improvement. Here are some of my favorites from the last two week:

1. My body is tolerating a handful of new vitamins, minerals, herbs, and foods!

2. I've gone on a number of longer walks during which my challenges were small enough that I could focus on the beauty around me.

3. I have pockets of complete physical calm.

Dear Fight-or-Flight:

Sayonara, arrivederci, peace out, hasta la vista, BABY; I don't neeeeed you every minute of the day!

Love,

Sarah

4. I laugh more.

5.  I recover from physical challenges faster than I have in the past.

Woo hoo for encouraging changes!


As I continue to do this program, there are several ways you pray-ers can be praying for me:

1. Stamina to remain committed to the minimum hour of retraining I need to do each day, especially on the days with greater challenges.

2. Encouragement and hopeful vision for the future.

3. Wisdom for the the doctors I see weekly; effective treatment; protection from damaging treatments.

4.  Discernment as I figure out who to consult with and what medicine or supplements to take.

5. Weekly, even daily improvements in my health.

6. Complete and total healing!!


I've daily been trying to redirect my thoughts to my limbic system retraining goals, so I got an "Eyes on the Prize" shirt as a sort of Boot Camp uniform:

I wear it often and look forward to the day that my insides match my outside!

Oh, and hey, did you notice the little fur ball in my lap?

I would like to officially introduce you to......

My parents' new PUPPY!

Ten weeks old

We've had her for two weeks, and she's just about ten weeks old, but we already love her like we've had her for years.

Eight weeks old

Fun fact #1: She is the half sister of Copper, my brother's Cavapoo.

Fun fact #2: She was three pounds when we got her, but lately she's been eating like there's no tomorrow, and our little pipsqueak is putting on some serious girth units! We thinks she's close to four pounds now.

The day we met our little pipsqueak

Fun fact #3: She does not yet have a name. Some of you have been following our puppy adventures on Instagram and Facebook and are eagerly awaiting her name. Well, I come bearing goodish news: my folks have narrowed the field to two names, and I hope I will very soon be able to unveil her name.

For now, we've accumulated a pool of nicknames, including Girlfren, The Child, Puppy Baby, Pookie Face; Pook, Pookie Baby, Poop Butt or, alternatively, Dingleberry Girl (for my parents' sake, I will clarify that these two are my unique nicknames for Puppy), The Golden Princess, Poop Tube (also mine. Sometimes I feel like we're running a frozen yogurt dispensary, minus the frozen yogurt), and Triangle Face (okay. Also mine). When Puppy Baby eats wet food her fur gets slicked back, making her look like a fox with a triangle face; thus: Triangle Face. Basically, we have enough nicknames to stall the official christening for at least another month, though I imagine we'll have a name by the weekend's end.

Picking a name is tough business, folks. Last week we met a couple out walking their puppy, whom they had named and renamed 4-5 times before settling on Lucy. A name's gotta encapsulate the dog's personality, and it takes time to get to know a dog's personality.

So far, we know that our girl is feisty and independent. She adventures into the unknown corners of the yard without hesitation; prances, uninhibited, through wet grass in summer downpours; pounces and growls when she wants to play — she's especially fond of pouncing on our Nike running shoes, and now that she's finally bigger than they are, she has the upper hand in their dramatic duels; and she's a racing red rocket, shooting through the house at random intervals because life is F-U-N, man.

She has commandeered many a sock in her short life.

Adventure buddy!

She's also sweet and cuddly. She loves to snuggle in our laps, sprawl across our chests, and curl up in the nape of my neck. She naps with us, follows us around when we're doing our housely duties, and affectionately gnaws on our appendages whenever we're still for more than a second.

My mom and I had a jolly laugh the first time Girlfren crawled into the nape of my neck

She has a habit of climbing into our laps when we're trying to stretch after a walk

Booooy do we love her, and booooy am I delighted to be here this summer to enjoy her glorious puppy stage.

Hopeful, glorious Friday, my friends.

Cheering for you,

Sarah



© by scj

Progress!: An Update on Limbic System Retraining

My friends!

Thank you for praying with me as I embark on this journey of healing my limbic system. Many of you have asked for specifics about the program I'm using, so I'll share a bit about it, as well as a bit about my progress since starting the program.

The Program:

This program is based on scientific research on neuroplasticity (the brain's ability to change itself) and was born out of the suffering of a therapist, Annie Hopper, who battled extreme chemical sensitivities, EMF sensitivities, and fibromyalgia for many years. Annie had to wear a respirator while in public, and eventually, she had to live in a tent and then a houseboat to avoid chemicals and EMFs. Several years into her illness she intuited that her symptoms were not merely the result of toxins flooding her body, but were instead caused by her brain's abnormal response to these toxins and other stimuli. She threw herself into studying the brain.

After pouring through study after study, Annie discovered that many people with chronic health challenges point to a "perfect storm" marking the onset of their challenges.* The perfect storm is usually a combination of physical trauma — like intense viral or bacterial infection, mold exposure etc. — emotional trauma, prolonged mental stress, and genetic factors. Annie's theory was that these perfect storms can overwhelm the limbic system and push it into a constant state of fight-flight-or-freeze. This resonated with her experience of sickness and has a number of implications:

First, a limbic system that's in constant fight-flight-or-freeze mode is sapping the body of the energy it should allocate to the immune, digestive, and endocrine systems as they fight infection, regulate stress hormones, repair adrenal glands, and digest food.

Second, a hyper-vigilant limbic system interprets innocuous stimuli as life-threatening. Food, light, smells, and sounds all signal DANGER to the brain, so the limbic system overreacts to the stimuli, causing some pretty wild symptoms.

Annie thought that if she could get her limbic system out of fight-flight-or-freeze mode, then her limbic system would no longer respond to the smell of detergent, for example, as if it was life-threatening; and her body would finally be able to channel energy to fighting infection, eliminating toxins, healing her gut etc. She discovered a study, described by Dr. Norman Doidge, author of The Brain that Changes Itself, in which stroke patients regained the use of their affected limbs through a program that rewired their brains, and she was inspired to create a similar program tailored to her health challenges.

She did, and she healed completely. It was nothing short of miraculous. She's taken the system she used to heal her brain and has packaged it in a weekend workshop (or video footage of the workshop for those who can't attend — I used the DVD series), in which she explains the role of the limbic system in our health, explores the science undergirding her system, and teaches participants the system.

After the first four days of the program — called Brain Boot Camp — participants who want to continue with the program must commit to doing it for at least an hour everyday for at least six months in order to experience long-term healing.

There are scores of testimonies from people whose lives have been drastically changed by this program, called The Dynamic Neural Retraining System (or DNRS). Here are a few if you're interested:

"From Wheelchair to Rollerblades"


"Mariah's Health Journey": Post #1) A description of her health challenges — similar to mine in a lot of ways; Post #2) A post describing her recent healing through DNRS.


Overcoming Food Sensitivities (and chronic pain, chronic fatigue, migraines, and MCS)

One of the almost fantastical discoveries of neuroscientists is that our conscious mind can rewire our brain — even a brain that's been injured by pathogens or stroke. DNRS is based on this discovery and aims to help the brain create new associations with innocuous stimuli through focused, repetitive attempts to change behavior, feeling, and emotion.

For example, if someone smells perfume and observes his symptoms ratchet up as his body goes into fight or flight, he must immediately interrupt the brain's cascade of messages to his body by simultaneously changing his behavior, thinking, and feeling, and thus signaling to his brain that the perfume is not life-threatening. If he does this each time he smells or even thinks about perfume, his brain begins to associate perfume with the new pattern of thinking, feeling, and behavior. DNRS provides a series of steps that facilitate this change in thinking, feeling, and behavior anytime the limbic system is triggered.

My Progress: 

I had expected my neurological symptoms would be the first symptoms to disappear, so I was surprised when, within days of starting the program, my energy levels improved quickly and dramatically instead. Now that I have a better understanding of the program, I realize this progress is ideal: my body will use this new energy to heal itself, which will ultimately eliminate all other symptoms. In the meantime, I'm thankful for every little change I see, and I'm enjoying adding new activities to my life.

Last week I enjoyed going on regular walks, running my own errands, and even going on a fun outing! The highlight was a trip to Portland's Rose Garden with my sister and Abi, the dog she was babysitting.

If you're ever in Portland in June, you must visit the Rose Garden. It boasts acres of fragrant roses situated atop a hill with stunning views of the city and Mt. Hood.

Before touring the gardens, we enjoyed a leisurely picnic on the grounds. My sister was curious about DNRS, so we laid in the sun for hours while I explained as much of the science as I could to her.

It's so nice having someone who wants to listen to hours of talk about neuroscience! And oh! the weather was absolutely glorious, and the breeze carried the fragrance of thousands of roses.

I didn't want the day to end!

This week, I've continued to see improvement: I got a cold! I haven't had a cold in 1.5 years, and getting a cold, as many of my friends with lyme, EBV, CMV, and CIRS know, is a wonderfully encouraging sign of healing, as it indicates the more normal function of an immune system that's been in autoimmune mode for a long time. Woo hoo, and HOORAY for colds!


If you or someone you love has fibromyalgia, ME, CIRS, POTS, chemical sensitivities, food sensitivities, PTSD, chronic pain, EMF sensitivities, light and sound sensitivities, chronic lyme and more (click here to see a list of the conditions from which DNRS has helped people recover), then I highly recommend trying this program, and I'm happy to answer any questions you may have about it.

Here's the DNRS website, should you want to check out the program for yourself:

Dynamic Neural Retraining System

And finally, would you continue to pray for me as I devote the next six months to doing this program? I will need stamina and resolve to remain committed, especially through the bumps in the road. Here is my vision for 2017, after finishing the program in December:

• I will be healthy and strong
• I will be able to eat and drink whatever I want
• I will exercise regularly and look forward to investing more in my career
• I will travel easily and regularly

Would you pray that God uses this program to help me realize these goals? And would you also pray for discernment as I continue to try new supplements this summer to, well, "supplement" my limbic system retraining?!

Thank you, my friends!

As always, I'm cheering for ya, Home Skillets,

Sarah


P.S. Minutes after posting this, I smelled a fragrant deodorant and thought "That smells good!" You guys. In the past I was overcome by a headache, nausea,  and perhaps vertigo when I smelled deodorant. It's so nice to smell something synthetic (and lovely) and enjoy it! Moooore progress!


*Not everyone experiences a "perfect storm" trigger

© by scj

Tuesday Matters: San Antonio and DNRS Brain Boot Camp

My friends!

Thank you for praying for my trips to San Antonio and Portland. I arrived in Portland last night after a wonderful stay with my brother.

Portland, you are glorious

I'd been so sick in the weeks preceding my trip to San Antonio that the effort it took to pack my bags made me shake with fatigue, and the night before flying, my arms cramped from the effort it took to wash my hair. Things were not looking hopeful!

But I flew to San Antonio on Thursday without horrific neurological symptoms, and my body was strong enough to navigate the crowded airport. My flights were unusually smooth (all of 'em), and though I came close to missing a connecting flight, I didn't. Yay for traveling that goes as planned!

My dear friend, Chris, used his frequent flier miles to get me my tickets to and from San Antonio, and he made sure I was in first class for all three legs of my trip. And you, guys, it was a game changer. I was able to skip the long lines at the airport, and my brain had fewer stimuli to process once on the plane since first class is so much roomier and quieter. I even had a seat without a row on my way to San Antonio (#introvertsdream)! I hadn't realized the degree to which the crowded, noisy movement in coach sent my limbic system into fight-or-flight, thus making it even harder for my brain to process the experience of turbulence.

Chris: thank you one million, zillion for taking care of me this weekend!

Chris and me. The top photo is from our track days at APU (we were teammates); and the bottom is from last fall

In my happy little lone seat on the plane, with my furry nephew, Copper, waiting for me in San Antonio!

Leg room!

Once in San Antonio, my body did pretty well. I did have some neurological symptoms flare up, but I was able to push through them and stay engaged the entire weekend. Marc and Jaime were most gracious hosts and gladly accommodated my need to spend most of the time resting on the couch. 

There are very few people with whom I would feel comfortable spending the weekend, given how sensitive and needy my body is right now, and Marc and Jaime are at the top of the list!

My little brother, Marc, has always had a special ability to make me laugh deep belly laughs, and since my body has been under so much stress the last several months, I haven't had a deep belly laugh in awhile. I relished all the laughs he provoked throughout the weekend!

I wasn't well enough to go to church on Sunday morning, so we listened to one of my dad's sermons instead

My sister-in-law, Jaime, is the hostess with the mostess. She is exceedingly thoughtful, others-oriented, and is a fantastic cook. She's also kind, playful, and a guh-reat one to laugh with. All I can say is: WELL DONE, LITTLE BROTHER; we always knew you were brilliant. Together, Marc and Jaime are a dynamic duo and the fragrance of Christ to all who meet them.

A friend saw this photo and wondered if I used Copper to wash the car. I didn't. ;)

Marc and Jaime's puppy, Copper, is the cutest dog in all the land. I do not exaggerate. You may remember that Abi is my first doggie love, but Copper has become THE doggie love of my life. His personality is as cute as his little face, if you can believe it, and I spent the weekend smothering him with snuggles.

Everyone who sees Copper wants to pet him. He loves it; everybody is his friend!

I am not the only one who forced Copper into a snuggle or two:

What a glorious trip. Thank you, Marc and Jaime, for such a wonderful visit!

Now that I'm at my folks' house, I'm jumping into the next phase of my treatment, and I covet your prayers.

Many of you have been praying for wisdom for me as I try to figure out which doctors to visit and treatments to try. I have so many issues — mold poisoning; a chronic viral co-infection and consequent immune, endocrine, digestive, and nervous system disorders; chemical sensitivities; food sensitivities; chronic pain; a chronic GI tract infection etc. — that it's hard to figure out where to turn and what to try. There are SO many forms of treatment I could try.  When I'm as sick as I was this semester, I feel desperate to try anything and everything RIGHT NOW OR ELSE I MAY DIE. And yet, patience and discernment are so important when treating a body as sensitive as mine.

About a month ago I realized I was doing everything I could to get healthy, without pausing to give God a chance to work on my behalf. I was striving, striving, striving, and I eventually felt a deep conviction to be still and wait for God to direct me, so I cancelled appointments for treatment and tests at two different clinics. As soon as I did, I felt a deep peace flood my body and spirit.

Since then, it seems as though God is directing me to re-train my limbic system. Often, in patients like me, the limbic system can get stuck in fight-flight-or-freeze mode, making it very difficult for the body to heal. For the next six months I will be working diligently to heal my limbic system using a system that's proven to be hugely effective in patients like me. In fact, many patients begin to see improvements in their health within days of starting the program.

Today I begin four days of Brain Boot Camp, in which I will spend hours and hours kick-starting this process of healing my limbic system. Would you pray for me as I begin brain boot camp? Perhaps you could pray, "Yay, God, for limbic systems! Would you use this program to heal Sarah's?"

Thank you, my friends!

Happy Tuesday,

Sarah


© by scj

Happy Father's Day, Daddy-o

A letter to my dad, to honor him this Father's Day:

Dear Dad,

I vividly remember my first 400-meter hurdle race at the collegiate level. I remember the bright stadium lights, the spongy red track, and the surge of adrenaline and nausea I'd come to expect before every race. But most of all, I remember that you weren't there, because, for the first time in my life, I was racing 1,000 miles away from home.

I'd never raced without you in the crowd.

Somehow, in the midst of pastoring a growing church, teaching at the seminary, and pursuing a doctorate, you were at every single one of my pre-college track meets, starting with the all-city meet when I was in 5th grade.

Dad calling someone with the results from one of my high school meets

You made sure I had gatorade and snacks before the meet and then watched me warm-up from the sidelines. When it came time for my race you positioned yourself on the home stretch where you knew I would hurt the most. I'd round that final curve with vomit rising, breathing labored, muscles screaming in pain, and ears utterly deaf to the shouting stadium-crowd.  All I heard was you, cheering:

"COME ON, SARAH JACKSON!!!!"

There was never a college race when I didn't remember those words urging me through pain and drowning out hundreds of other voices.

Now that my track days are over and I'm learning what it is to battle loss and discouragement in this life-race toward an eternal prize, I find myself remembering your voice shouting my name.

You've helped me understand the fierce and tender love of God the Father as I run toward my heaven-home, Dad.

Sometimes it's hard for me to believe that the God who sculpted the mountains and breathed the stars in the sky even knows my name, much less calls it. Sometimes it's hard to believe he's the God-who-sticks close—that he will provide for my needs and wants to be intimately involved with my life.

But when I remember the way you bought me the expensive sets of track shoes I needed each year; or the way you'd make me a big lunch before track meets and give me a timely pep talk; or the way you'd take time off work, drive hours and hours, and book hotels for my out-of-town meets, my little heart gulps big from the glimpses you've given me of Father God's heart.  If he is infinitely more good than you, how much more must he love me?

Dad hugging me after a race

My senior year of high school I had lofty ambitions for the state track meet. Month after month you watched me pour myself into training for my senior season. You watched me work and worry, and work some more.

And then one day a reporter called the house to interview you about my season and you told him something I'll never forget:

"We delight in Sarah, whether she runs fast or not."

If there is one thing about God that my heart often struggles to believe it's that he delights in me, just the way I am.

But for 31 years you have delighted in me, Dad, slowly teaching me that when God calls himself Father he means he takes joy and pleasure in me, and in being my Papa.

You taught me this when you'd scoop my little girl self into your arms and spin and bounce me back to my bedroom at bedtime; when you laughed deep and pleased at my girlish attempts to crack jokes; and when, after a long day at work, you'd wrestle with us kids on the living room floor and tickle us till we were breathless from laughter.

Dad and I in SoCal, checking out colleges my senior year of high school

As I grew older I saw the way your delight in me impelled you to protect and care for me.

You showed me my value when you warned my first boyfriend that if he ever did anything disrespectful to me he'd have you to face.  My heart still surges with gratitude when I remember that.

You showed me I can rest in your care when you outfitted my kitchen with new appliances four years ago because I was too sick to do it myself, and then bought me flowers for my beloved patio when you visited last year.  I smile with satisfaction every time I water them.

At the beach

I could tap-tap away at these keys for hours and hours, remembering the ways you've taught me the love of the Father, Dad.

 One of my favorite pictures: after college graduation

I know, though, that the greatest gratitude I can express for you is not strings of symbols on a blank page: what you yearn for most is that I would live a life devoted to God, the greatest and truest Father.

When I left home for college nine years ago you gave me a necklace with a delicate gold heart pendant.  You also wrote an accompanying letter expressing your love for me and your hope that I would always say yes to Jesus.  You closed the letter with a postscript:

"I hope you always entrust the human version of the enclosed gift to our Father in heaven.  'Above all else, guard your heart, for it is the wellspring of life' (Proverbs 4:23)."

I wear that heart necklace often, and when I do I try to center my heart on the Father in heaven whose love, amazingly, eclipses yours.

And when this life-race wearies and daunts me, I imagine Him cheering me on through doubt and despair toward victory over pain: his voice the only one I can hear amidst the din of other voices.

Thank you for teaching me to listen for His voice and trust His heart, Dad.

I love you.

Happy Father's Day,

Your Sarah Christine



© by scj