EFT and the Body/ Mind Connection

Nobody has a problem believing that physical health and mental health are intricately entwined. Emotional events create changes in heart rate, blood pressure, digestion, etc. We have heard of people who have illnesses just because they believe they have an illness. Hypochondria, or more nicely said, somatic disorders.

The first time I experienced this connection in a surprising and dramatic way was when I was in high school. My best friend and I plotted to make a fellow student believe she was sick and to go home. We recruited some other friends to tell her she looked sick and act sympathetic at scheduled times throughout the day. She felt fine in the morning, but by 2:00 pm she went home with a fever. Her physical body had to respond to the "invasion" of illness that her mind believed she had.

The Pain You Have is Mainly in the Brain

No one likes to be told that. But just recently I happened upon a medical article stating just that. If you pound your thumb with a hammer, you think your thumb hurts. But no, claimed the writer, it is your brain that tells you your thumb hurts. Does it matter? Do we need to know that or care about that? Amputees certainly benefit from that knowledge when their toes that are gone itch. Are there other applications to this knowledge? Can we find a way to tap into the power of our brains to control pain?

Having recently entered into the field of psychology, particularly the process healing emotional pain, I learned about a relatively new treatment called the Emotional Freedom Technique, commonly called EFT. It consists, very simply, of a tapping routine and statements regarding the condition you wish to relieve. It sounds incredibly simple. Too good to be true. I decided to try it when I was having difficulty falling asleep. It worked. Later, I decided to take a certification course. At that time the disc degeneration in my back was causing me considerable sciatic pain. On a scale of 0 - 10 I would call it a five.

During the course, our instructor illustrated through the various conditions of the participants, the different uses of the technique. I was impressed, but not completely convinced. When he asked for a volunteer for physical pain, I was more than willing to give it a shot. But I didn't believe it would work or change anything. I had been suffering various levels of this pain for over six months. I followed the instructor's directions and the entire class of about 30 followed along. After going through the first routine the instructor asked me to walk and report my level of pain. It had definitely gone down from a five to a three.  Admittedly I was surprised. We did the routine again and I walked again. I could honestly say it was now down to a one. We did the routine one more time and it was a .5. Convincing? I wish it had been convincing enough to keep doing it because the pain was back he very next day and I didn't continue with EFT.

 I completed the Level 1 Class and have not had money enough to continue. I've used EFT for migraines with mixed success, but enough success to know that I can get some relief by using it. But mostly, I have been lazy and unbelieving.

Three weeks ago my pain increased exponentially. I had to create a new definition of  a pain level because this pain was the worst ever, even more than when I had back surgery 11 years ago. I did not do anything to injure myself, and it came over me in the course of about four hours. As I left work that day, I could barely walk. This pain was not sciatic pain but pain directly in my lower spine. As I drove home I realized I could not turn to look over my left shoulder when changing lanes. I could not bend or twist in the slightest without excruciating pain. Once home, I realized the I could not find any truly comfortable position and had to change frequently which elicited more excruciating pain. Getting up was the worst. I could not get myself to a standing position without a series of moans and groans. I iced my back regularly. I had hoped to see my doctor on Monday and work the rest of the day, but my condition had not improved and I could not sit in a chair long enough to see even one client. My doctor only gave me stronger pain meds.

Day after day the pain remained the same. I spent my days on our recliner couch, ensconced in pillows and watching TV. The following weekend was the Church Albion Retreat that I had planned to attend. I chose to go, just to be with people, but I was unable to do any of the activities planned. For two straight weeks I existed in this labyrinth of pain. I began to think I would never be able to work again. I was taking pain meds and knew that could not go on for very long.

Then I remembered EFT. Hmmmm... Could that possibly help? Surely it would not hurt to try. So exactly two weeks to the day from when the pain started, I used the EFT routine for my back pain, I had taken some pain pills before doing it, so I didn't think much about pain levels until later in the day. Right around the time the pain meds should have worn off, I realized I didn't need to take more. A couple hours later, I was able to stand up without pain. I vacuumed my carpets. I scrubbed the kitchen floor. I climbed the stairs one foot after the other without having to use the railing. I felt better than I had felt in nearly a year.

Yes, the pain has returned here and there. Mostly when I wake up. But I do the EFT routine three times before getting out of bed and that helps enough to be able to get out of bed. By the time I leave for work, the pain is gone. I can still feel the instability in my back. I am still using a cane to walk places besides around the house. Sitting for more than an hour brings the pain back. But for the past week I can work and live without suffering.

I'm not trying to tell anyone in pain that it's "all in your head." However, I certainly have a new interest and curiosity about EFT and what the practitioners are saying about it. I am more motivated to further my certification process and use it in my work as a therapist.

Celebrating February 21st

Getting older means giving up a lot of things. For some people it seems they hardly give up anything and move into their nineties with their limbs, their brain, their teeth, their hair all intact. I was going to be one of those people. I would be young at heart, stay active, play with my great-grandchildren (I don't have any yet) and work well into my eighties. Despite reoccurring memory lapses and a serious back surgery over 11 years ago, I have maintained this illusion until two weeks ago when I experienced the most intractable back pain ever. I have to accept that my new cane is my friend.

What does this have to do with February 21st? A lot. So embedded in my pain was I that the fact my niece's family would be coming up to San Jose for the Kings/Sharks outdoor game had completely slipped my mind. Since neither Heidi or the girls were going to the game I had envisioned a Saturday evening laid out on the couch spending time with Heidi and the girls. Heidi had other plans.

Eleanor's class has a buddy project where they take teddy bears to prominent sites within their state. The bears are sent around the country to be photographed with the student at these sites. We were so close to San Francisco Heidi  was not going to miss this chance to get a buddy photo near the Golden Gate Bridge. "Why don't you come with us?" she said. The last thing I was going to do while everyone else was having fun was sit and nurse my pain on the couch. Besides, unbelievably, my back was feeling much, much better. (That's another story I hope I get around to posting.)

So after a big family lunch at Krung Thai and a few minutes at home to change clothes, Heidi, the girls, and I set out for San Francisco. The girls conked out immediately giving Heidi and I some time to talk and express awe and wonder over the the cow-studded pastoral scenes along the way, the way the coastal clouds hovered over the hills, the sun gleaming off the edges of the clouds and the promise of a gorgeous sunset to photograph with buddy bear and the girls.


Soon it became clear we were in a tight race for time. Not only that, the sun sank below the bank of clouds to the west producing no brilliant colors to create a stunning background to the famous Golden Gate Bridge. With light rapidly fading we began looking for a spot on the west side of the bridge in hopes of getting some kind of picture. After taking into consideration the distance I would have to walk, we decided on China Beach. Our navigation system took us on a few wrong turns and circles, but as darkness began to settle, we arrived and hurried down the interminable number of steps to the beach. The first thing Eleanor said was, "It's not Golden!" No, no it wasn't. In the blue-gray of dusk, and no sun to light it up, the bridge appeared to be a dark gray.

We snapped as many pictures as our battery power allowed, running into the waves, being surprised by the waves, me and my cane, my visible symbol of old age. But no. I would not give up having a young heart, enjoying the transcendence of those moments filling my lungs, my heart, my veins, every part of me right down to the depths of my very being with the thrill of life. As I abandoned myself to the sand, wind and waves, I realized in that moment I had no pain. None. On a scale of 0 to 10 it was a zero. For nearly a year now the best I  could ever have said was a 2. The pain had been there at some level for that long. I did not spend much time dwelling on that discovery. The moments were too precious, too fleeting, too magical to waste my thoughts on pain.

Darkness forced us to abandon our glorious retreat. By the time we reached the clifftop, two little girls were very hungry. Where to go? We knew so little about the area and everything around us looked residential. My phone was completely dead. Heidi wanted Italian food. Pizza perhaps. Her navigator wasn't being too kind to us. We wound our way around such streets as Balboa, 25th, 21st, 20th, 18th, 10th, Geary. At last there was that Italian restaurant. But no parking. As we wondered what to do next, a spot opened up on the other side of the street. Throwing any knowledge of San Francisco driving rules to the wind, Heidi made a quick U-turn and we parked. But once inside The Gold Mirror, we learned there would be a wait time of over 20 minutes. The little ones were starving and didn't want to wait that long. We saw a Safeway down the next block and decided to find some quick food there. But the deli was closed and we couldn't find anything that would be a decent meal for the girls. Taco Bell? There was one about 10 minutes away. But as we headed to the car and started to walk past the Gold Mirror the girls expressed renewed interest in trying again. Sure enough, a table was opening up and by the time the girls had used the restroom, we were ready  to be seated.

The menu was a bit of a shock, but rather than be cheap and order only soup and salad, we decided to keep on living up our February 21st. Eggplant Parmesan for Heidi, Veal Parmesan for me. Spaghetti to split between the girls. It was a bustling, busy place, with lots of laughter, and many birthdays being celebrated. At least four that I can remember. And they actually sang the REAL Happy Birthday song we all know and love. No loud clapping or jarring songs. That's when we got the idea to celebrate. Not anyone's birthday (Annabelle, Heidi and I all have birthdays in March) just celebrate. Celebrate being alive. Celebrate the ups and downs of life. Celebrate the precious few moments we have together just for today. "Happy February 21st" we said as four water-filled wine glasses clinked together.