Elaine's story
Excerpt from Elaine's book "The Miracle Ball Method"
I understand the feelings of my own students because I have had my own experience with chronic pain. I understand the anxiety and questions it can produce. Why is this happening? Why can’t I find help? And why is it affecting so many other parts of my life? I developed my method of ball therapy in response to my need to find answers to these questions and to heal my own body.
When I first started having back pain, I assumed it would be temporary and go away on its own over time. I was in college and studying to be a dancer, practicing four hours a day, seven days a week. I believed I was going to get rid of that back pain and move on. I was wrong. The pain got worse. It seemed to come out of nowhere, and it began to affect not only my back, but my right leg as well.
I visited doctors, but nobody could give me a satisfactory explanation or tell me what could be done to make things right. My general practitioner assured me that it was just a pulled muscle and I would be fine. A chiropractor took X rays, diagnosed it as a pinched nerve, and tried to realign me. All the treatments I tried – massage therapy, various movement techniques, shiatsu, diet cures – worked only temporarily. The pain worsened and eventually I was unable to dance at all.
I was devastated. As time went by I developed symptoms of post-traumatic stress syndrome. I had panic and anxiety attacks; I became agoraphobic. My body was overstressed and fatigued as I fought the depression that was overtaking me. I woke up with night sweats, with parts of my body numb. A constant burning radiated from the palm of my right hand, up my arm, across my chest, and down the other arm. I took tranquilizers to ease my anxiety and pain relievers to ease my physical pain.
I was looking for a diagnosis – any diagnosis – because in my mind, if an ailment could be diagnosed, then surely a cure existed or could be found. My doctors did what they could, telling me they had ruled out any major diseases, offering sympathy, and all of them making sure I understood that my injury was not going to be healed easily, if at all. In the end there was no diagnosis, and I was told. “You should consider yourself lucky if you can walk without a limp, and you should forget ever dancing again.” Within several months my right leg had withered to half the size of my left. At this point I became desperate and started asking anybody and everybody if they knew of something – anything- I could try to heal my leg.
I found a handful of teachers in New York City who worked differently from the experts I had seen. Most doctors told me to stop moving; these teachers told me to keep moving; They told me my injury wasn’t about weakness; it was about excess muscle tension. The amount of effort I was using to try to heal myself was interfering with my body’s own alignment system. I found teachers who worked with balls, then I found teachers who worked with breathing and alignment in new ways. I started listening intently to dance teachers who spoke about using and shifting the weight of your body as you moved. I started reading research about reducing tension by tensing muscles and letting them go. I learned at least a little something from everyone I visited and from everything I read, and the pieces began to come together. I started to realize that I had been taking the wrong approach. I was searching for some activity, some movement to rid myself of aches and pains. But I was overlooking the body’s own ability to realign itself using little more than gravity. And I understood that it wasn’t a method that was just for my own body; it was a method for everyone’s body.
I experimented with the balls, which I placed under different parts of my body to see what happened. To my shock, I learned that by doing less – by doing absolutely nothing, actually – and by simply giving in to the balls, my body realigned. I was delighted and amazed. How could doing nothing bring such dramatic results? I was thrilled to be recovering, so I used my balls constantly, spending four to six hours daily resting on the ball, releasing my muscles, letting myself go. When I wasn’t on the ball, I was starting to dance again, and I was looking and feeling better than I had in years.
I never thought I would devote my life to teaching this method, but my friends and colleagues became curious about how I had healed myself. I was approached by people in pain – “I have a problem with my back, I have terrible headaches, I have a knee injury. Can you help?” – and my method always alleviated their pain.
Eventually, the word got to friends who were doctors who invited me to consult with some of their toughest patients. I had no idea that there were so many people who had very similar experiences with chronic pain and anxiety, from crippling back pain to severe panic attacks. Now I teach my method to other professionals, including physical therapists, personal trainers, and massage therapists, in addition to teaching students of my own in settings from gyms to hospitals.
Elaine Petrone
I understand the feelings of my own students because I have had my own experience with chronic pain. I understand the anxiety and questions it can produce. Why is this happening? Why can’t I find help? And why is it affecting so many other parts of my life? I developed my method of ball therapy in response to my need to find answers to these questions and to heal my own body.
When I first started having back pain, I assumed it would be temporary and go away on its own over time. I was in college and studying to be a dancer, practicing four hours a day, seven days a week. I believed I was going to get rid of that back pain and move on. I was wrong. The pain got worse. It seemed to come out of nowhere, and it began to affect not only my back, but my right leg as well.
I visited doctors, but nobody could give me a satisfactory explanation or tell me what could be done to make things right. My general practitioner assured me that it was just a pulled muscle and I would be fine. A chiropractor took X rays, diagnosed it as a pinched nerve, and tried to realign me. All the treatments I tried – massage therapy, various movement techniques, shiatsu, diet cures – worked only temporarily. The pain worsened and eventually I was unable to dance at all.
I was devastated. As time went by I developed symptoms of post-traumatic stress syndrome. I had panic and anxiety attacks; I became agoraphobic. My body was overstressed and fatigued as I fought the depression that was overtaking me. I woke up with night sweats, with parts of my body numb. A constant burning radiated from the palm of my right hand, up my arm, across my chest, and down the other arm. I took tranquilizers to ease my anxiety and pain relievers to ease my physical pain.
I was looking for a diagnosis – any diagnosis – because in my mind, if an ailment could be diagnosed, then surely a cure existed or could be found. My doctors did what they could, telling me they had ruled out any major diseases, offering sympathy, and all of them making sure I understood that my injury was not going to be healed easily, if at all. In the end there was no diagnosis, and I was told. “You should consider yourself lucky if you can walk without a limp, and you should forget ever dancing again.” Within several months my right leg had withered to half the size of my left. At this point I became desperate and started asking anybody and everybody if they knew of something – anything- I could try to heal my leg.
I found a handful of teachers in New York City who worked differently from the experts I had seen. Most doctors told me to stop moving; these teachers told me to keep moving; They told me my injury wasn’t about weakness; it was about excess muscle tension. The amount of effort I was using to try to heal myself was interfering with my body’s own alignment system. I found teachers who worked with balls, then I found teachers who worked with breathing and alignment in new ways. I started listening intently to dance teachers who spoke about using and shifting the weight of your body as you moved. I started reading research about reducing tension by tensing muscles and letting them go. I learned at least a little something from everyone I visited and from everything I read, and the pieces began to come together. I started to realize that I had been taking the wrong approach. I was searching for some activity, some movement to rid myself of aches and pains. But I was overlooking the body’s own ability to realign itself using little more than gravity. And I understood that it wasn’t a method that was just for my own body; it was a method for everyone’s body.
I experimented with the balls, which I placed under different parts of my body to see what happened. To my shock, I learned that by doing less – by doing absolutely nothing, actually – and by simply giving in to the balls, my body realigned. I was delighted and amazed. How could doing nothing bring such dramatic results? I was thrilled to be recovering, so I used my balls constantly, spending four to six hours daily resting on the ball, releasing my muscles, letting myself go. When I wasn’t on the ball, I was starting to dance again, and I was looking and feeling better than I had in years.
I never thought I would devote my life to teaching this method, but my friends and colleagues became curious about how I had healed myself. I was approached by people in pain – “I have a problem with my back, I have terrible headaches, I have a knee injury. Can you help?” – and my method always alleviated their pain.
Eventually, the word got to friends who were doctors who invited me to consult with some of their toughest patients. I had no idea that there were so many people who had very similar experiences with chronic pain and anxiety, from crippling back pain to severe panic attacks. Now I teach my method to other professionals, including physical therapists, personal trainers, and massage therapists, in addition to teaching students of my own in settings from gyms to hospitals.
Elaine Petrone