Hello Friends,

Thanksgiving morning I sneezed...

...and my sacrum shifted.

I bet you thought I was going to say my back "went out." It didn't, but it might as well have. At least that's how it feels.

This is the messy middle. When the P-word* seems awfully relevant, and perhaps even true.

In Fajardo‑Land, we call this a shift: a sudden change in structure that can feel dramatic, disorienting, or downright weird. Sometimes it happens when you reach over to silence your morning alarm. Sometimes it’s the kind of ache that wakes you at 2 a.m. and makes getting out of bed feel like a group project you didn’t sign up for.

It sounds like an injury, but context matters. My sacrum had moved in a parasympathetic direction, and for about a week everything became a heightened sensory adventure. Arching felt delicious. Bending over was a no-go. Walking was slo-mo. Sneezing was forbidden.

People often ask, “Shouldn’t you already be there by now?” Yes… and no. First of all, where is there?

Parasympathetic exists on a spectrum, and my structure can be more or less open. And truly, humans aren’t meant to stay parasympathetic all the time. My nervous system is dynamic and adaptable — so my body is, too.

About ten years ago, I had a classic FOOSH (fall on outstretched hand) in a parkour class. My hand ballooned like an overinflated exam glove, but I still went home, watched the Super Bowl, and only the next day thought, “Maybe an x‑ray would be informative.”

I had, in fact, broken my scaphoid. But I’d also gained a brand‑new linebacker shoulder girdle and a gorilla arm thanks to a dramatic shift in joint space across multiple joints — all on the right side, because symmetry is overrated. The fall created so much sensory input that my entire arm reorganized itself, stretching fascial lines and leaving behind one stubborn little scaphoid fragment - the extra sticky spot. My arm has never been the same since, in the best possible way.

Long story short: I did my own rehab, healed six weeks ahead of schedule, and when the surgeon told me I dodged a bullet and what to work on next, I’d already done it.

Moral of the story: not all pain is bad pain. Not all injuries are injuries.

Onwards, Amy

*The P-word, or pain, is when nociceptors, or pain receptors fire due to multiple layers of tissue damage: cutting, tearing, crushing, stretching, extreme heat or cold, acid or other toxins. We subjectively experience nociceptor pain after the signal has reached and is processed in the brain.

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Content is this email is for entertainment and educational purposes only. It is not medical advice or a replacement for therapy. This is, unapologetically, Amy’s soapbox. If something here struck a nerve, chances are you helped spark it—so own your part. The musings won’t last forever, but while they do, consider them an invitation to reflect, laugh, or squirm a little.