No, that isn't a typo. I mean "but" not "butt."

Think about some things that you tell yourself or say about yourself that include the word "but". I'll start. I really want to qualify for USPA Nationals but I can't get a qualifying total. Do you have your "but" statement?

Great. Now, let's repeat it, replacing "but" with "and". I really want to qualify for USPA Nationals and I haven't got a qualifying total. This way of thinking is called dialectical thinking. It is the concept of holding two ideas that seem to be at odds with each other at the same time. It can be really uncomfortable because our minds love things that are really neat and tidy, and dialectical thinking can be a bit more messy. However, thinking dialectically can be a powerful way to be less judgmental towards yourself and others. It also can be the impetus for a profound shift from having a lot of limiting beliefs (the part that comes after the word "but") to allowing yourself space for change and growth.

When we use the word "but", it often has the feeling of cancelling whatever was said before it. Think about when someone apologized to you, and then throws in the word "but" in the middle. It has that feeling of "you didn't even mean that at all."

This kind of thinking is a cornerstone of DBT (Dialectical Behavior Therapy), and we can incorporate it into our everyday life by just noticing those times when we're talking to or about ourselves with a lot of "buts". If you notice that happening, experiment with replacing the word but with and.

An important note that if your statement includes something that is a judgment rather than a fact, it won't really work. Consider the following statement: I want to get this work done but I'm a lazy asshole. Swapping "but" to "and" just isn't going to cut it here. You'll need to revise the statement until it is something that is closer to a fact and less of a judgment. Maybe the fact is that I haven't done as much as I'd like, so the revision could be: I want to get this work done and I haven't done as much as I'd like.

There are many ways to use this kind of thinking in your fitness and intuitive eating journey. If you're struggling with judging yourself for your current behaviors, how might you use "and" thinking to reframe some of those judgments? Do those reframed thoughts feel different when you say them aloud to yourself?

The concept behind trauma informed personal training is pretty simple: it just means approaching fitness in a way that is sensitive to the fact that you may have experienced trauma. Personally, I just assume that nearly everyone I come in contact with has experienced some type of trauma. Estimates indicate that about half of adults have experienced childhood abuse, whether physical, emotional, or sexual. People experience may kinds of trauma, ranging from abuse, traumatic loss, accidents, disasters, work or battle related trauma, illness, assault, and innumerable others. When we consider all of these many kinds of trauma, you can see why I just assume everyone has survived something. 

For survivors of trauma, it can be difficult to regain a sense of control and self determination. One way to help clients regain that sense of control in workouts is giving choices. I will often give my clients options during workouts. This is partially just to be responsive to their needs, and help them to listen to their bodies, but it is also good trauma informed practice. 

Another thing that can be difficult after surviving a traumatic event is experiencing symptoms of dissociation, depersonalization, or derealization. This triad of "de" symptoms can be experienced as feeling far away from yourself, disconnected from your body, or even feeling like a fake person, or like reality isn't real. These are not delusions, but symptoms that are a reaction to the shock and horror of a traumatic experience. It may sound far-fetched to suggest that working out can help address these symptoms, but mindfully moving your body, with particular attention to the sensations that arise as you move through a range of motion can be a powerful tool to foster a sense of connection to your own body and to the current moment. In short, mindful movement can get you snapped back into your body and into reality.

Something you will find different about working with a trauma informed trainer as compared to some other personal trainers is that I am not going to push you past your limits. If you say you're done after a few rounds of a movement or circuit, I'm not going to press that. You know your body better than I do, and I won't force you to keep going if you say you're done. Please don't read that and assume that means I won't challenge you. I develop a good communication with my clients so that I can tell the difference between tired and DONE. Having the power to reestablish boundaries around your body can be profoundly healing for trauma survivors who have had their bodily autonomy violated.

Trauma informed training can still be challenging, and can still push you to your limits. I just approach training from a foundational belief that you know your body better than everyone, particularly since you live in it full time! 

Content warning: This story includes scary birth information, so don't read it if you're pregnant. I repeat, DO. NOT. READ THIS IF YOU ARE PREGNANT. If you're thinking about becoming pregnant, you might want to skip it. And if birth trauma just doesn't sound like a thing you should read about, skip it!

My second kid was born by vaginal birth after cesarean (VBAC) at home. We planned a home birth, to be attended by a midwife, but she badly estimated how long my labor would be, and missed it. My midwife missed my freaking birth. I delivered the most gorgeous 9 pound 4 ounce baby boy right into my husband's hands in our basement at our house.

It was an insane, incredibly, empowering experience. That said, my little dude came flying out like a cannonball, and instead of his head molding as he was delivered, my vagina...well...expanded so he had room. The midwife stitched me, but I think because I was pretty swollen, it didn't stitch together very well, and so it healed like crap. I was in pain for several months, and the midwife kept saying that the stitches weren't fully dissolved. Everything was painful. Sitting, standing, sometimes even laying. Walking was difficult, and using the bathroom became very painful. Eventually, I got sick of it and made an appointment to go see a different provider.

At that office, I assumed the position (women know the one), and the provider there looked and said, "I'm going to grab the doctor and be right back."

Not quite what I was expecting or hoping to hear. On their return, they laid out a few options. One was a series of cryotherapy treatments in office, and the other was surgery. I ended up opting for surgery. So, two months (and a little bit) after my son's birth, I ended up getting surgery. Essentially, they cut back open where I had torn, and restitched it so it could heal better.

Surgery was terrifying, and I woke up in searing hot pain. On the way home, I had my husband stop at Dunkin for coffee and a sandwich, but I don't think I even ate the sandwich, because my stomach ended up in a twist by the time I actually had it.
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My husband later told me that after the surgery was done, when the doctor came to talk to him, the doctor tried to joke that he "put an extra stitch in there for you." In 2012, doctors still making that tired ass joke. And maybe, he actually meant it. Because after healing, my vagina was closed up tight. It was terrible.

It took a little while to heal, and when we eventually tried to have sex, it just didn't work. Nothing would fit into my vagina. I couldn't even comfortably use tampons.

I went back to the doctor who had operated on me, and he said it was fine. He didn't see any issues. I attempted a variety of home treatments over the next year, and had very modest improvements. Eventually, I was able to have sex, but it was terribly painful.

One day, I stumbled across an ad for a urogynecologist. Among the conditions they said they treated was listed "painful sex." I had been to a few different doctors at this point who all told me the same thing: they couldn't see any problem. I called the office to set up an appointment.

From the start, it was different. The doctor sat down with me in an office with my clothes still on to take my history. It was a very different experience than trying to give your health history with a paper blanket wrapped around your legs and butt.  Once she got the full story, she had me go to the exam room. She told me my pelvic floor muscles were in spasm, and that advice to do kegels was actually the wrong thing to do, because you can't strengthen a muscle that is just stuck in spasm. Her plan was a series of injections in the vagina (that part wasn't as horrible as it sounds), and pelvic floor physical therapy, plus vaginal suppositories with medication to reduce the inflammation and help my muscles be able to relax. 

Pelvic floor PT was a lot less awkward than it sounded. We focused for a while on being able to relax the muscles, massaging out scar tissue, and developing a better connection with my pelvic floor muscles. 

Gradually, the combination of treatments improved everything and helped me have no pain.

I'm going to be really frank here: I was extremely ashamed of all of that for a long time. I guess I had just enough of a Catholic upbringing to feel like you don't talk about these kinds of things, or maybe it was some residual shame, feeling like I had brought this on myself by opting for a homebirth. Who knows, but I felt very ashamed and uncomfortable talking about it. This might be my most raw blog post yet, but I think it is important for women to talk about these struggles so that other women who experience the same might know how to fix it. I didn't know where to go, or what to do, and everyone I saw said they didn't see anything wrong until I got to the right place.