This is my right hip, 30 or so acupuncture needles in my lower back, hip, thigh, calf, and ankle. Ten of them are hooked to electricity. I lie here three times a week for a half-hour at a time (at $110 a pop), hoping for an end to my pain. From here, I go to the chiropractor and naturopath (at $175 a pop), where I will endure muscle testing and buy new supplements and remedies. I go there every ten days. After that, it’s off to a weekly visit with the massage therapist and energy worker (at $150 a pop), to do myofascial release, chakra balancing, and intuitive healing. This is an average day.

Yesterday, it was a crack-of-dawn set of X-rays followed by physical therapy. Yesterday was harder because of more driving. The vibration of the car on the road exacerbated my nerve pain. We got a rental car, thinking it was worse in my baby roadster because she’s so low to the ground. It’s not better or worse in any car. Oh, and I haven’t been able to drive in nearly two months. Too dangerous.

On Monday, more X-rays, fasting bloodwork. Therapy. A meeting with ergonomic furniture experts. Mat Pilates. On Tuesday, I finally get my MRI. Maybe we get some answers.

Meanwhile, I have Abraham-Hicks and meditation and prayer and adaptogens and herbs and CBD oil and prescription drugs and ice packs and aromatherapy and mineral baths and EFT and reiki and ayuervedic solutions and more and more and more.

My sense of humor is the best thing going for me. That, and my ever-patient hubs keep each day filled with as many laughs as possible between the tears and sleep and all-too-serious conversations.

Today, during my last healing session, I got a flash of words like a billboard out of the blue: “WHAT IS THE LEAST I CAN DO WHILE STILL FINDING JOY IN BEING OF SERVICE?”

One of the requirements of this months-long experience in which my beloved lifestyle of five to eight classes per week between The Pole Garage and Sandpiper Pilates has been halted is SLOWING DOWN. I don’t have a choice.

Three lucid hours per day means I have NO DOUBT about priorities. Things I used to obsess over simply fade into the background. Work I thought I HAD TO do in order to run my empire is either delegated or skipped altogether.

And it is all fine. Everything is fine.


Bonnie Gillespie is living her dreams by helping others figure out how to live theirs. Wanna work with Bon? Start here. Thanks!

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