When I first signed up to be an office manager, it sounded like a fun, new challenge after my days as an actress, bartender, journalist and mime (for my sins).

Within five years, I knew it was time to go. And I didn't make a move. All I could imagine was a lateral move to a similar company. But I never wanted to be an office manager again.

I didn't know what to do. So I did nothing. I was stuck. And stayed that way for another five years.
Until the decision was taken out of my hands

It began one day when I picked up a 50-pound box of magazines. I felt a little click in my spine. Just a little discomfort. I went to bed.

Five hours later, I woke up feeling like a hot sword was jabbing my lower back. I couldn't move. I was paralyzed ... a prisoner in my own body.

Everyone said I needed surgery. My heart filled with hope, I went under the knife. The doctors performed a laminectomy. It failed.

Hope springs eternal, right? BAK spinal fusion surgery was recommended. The doctors took out my L3-4 and L4-5 disks and replaced them with tiny titanium screws. That failed, too.

To make matters worse, I nearly died of complications from the second surgery. A blood clot the size of Cincinnati invaded the left side of my body.

Setback after setback followed. I would regain limited mobility, only to lose it again. Like the time I got whupped by a 6 1/2-pound chicken. (Want to hear more about that? See story at right.)

I ended up spending seven years flat on my back.

Happy ending

The above isn’t the important part of my story.

Here it is: I got well.

How? I finally got clued in to the big secret.

When your soul calls out for expression - let it express.

If you don't ...

You can buy the red Maserati, or become a cokehead, or cheat on your spouse ... and it's not going to do you any good. You'll still be unhappy and in pain. It may even create more pain - like my seven-year back injury!

I fought asking for help. The most difficult words I’ve ever said were, “Dad, will you please cut my toenails?” The toes were too far away for me to reach.

Finding the humility to ask for help created powerful emotional connections with my friends and family ... got me out of more than one awful situation ... and finally gave me the healing I needed to get out of bed for good.

Today, my life is ten times better than it was before the injury. I have more joy, money and friends than I ever imagined possible. I laugh more. Nothing worries me.

The pain is gone

My lower back pain is gone. My life has been transformed. Check out the pictures!

Now it’s time to share what I've learned with those who want it.

I sensed there was a larger purpose behind the events that laid me up for so many years. It kept me going, just trusting I would discover the reason someday. I’m beginning to find out what it is.

It's to support you in discovering how magnificent you really are.

Moira vs. The Chicken

So, you want to know how I got whupped by a 6 ½-pound chicken ... Here’s how it happened:

It all began with a gift certificate.

A dear friend gave me a $50 coupon for groceries at Gelson’s, an upscale supermarket packed with gourmet goodies. You can imagine my excitement! They have some of the best chocolate in the universe.

Now, my parents had picked up my groceries for several years, since my lower back pain made me a prisoner in my own home. Grateful as I was for their help, I sometimes longed to do my own shopping again. I loved strolling the aisles, looking for new ingredients to try out, as I adored cooking.

Taking a shot at shopping

I no longer cooked, as standing over a stove took more strength than I possessed. But I loved the idea of goodies from Gelson’s.

Physical therapy had been going well. I could stand a little, and drive a mile or so. I determined to take a shot at shopping on my own.

 Armed with the certificate, I painfully drove the mile and a half to the store. The fragrance of rosemary roasted garlic chicken greeted me at the door. There was no way I would depart without one.

The deli counterman handed over a luscious, 6 ½-pound chicken. It felt like a 50-pound boulder, but I was determined. Maybe a neighbor could carry it upstairs for me, I figured.

Stairway to hell

No such luck. Nobody was home. I hefted the chicken, which now felt like about 100 pounds, and considered the 27 steps leading up to my apartment. They seemed to stretch out for miles.

By the time I was halfway up the stairs, inflammation began burning up my spine. I barely made it through the door before collapsing on the daybed in my living room, praying the setback wouldn’t last more than a day.

The fiery lower back pain resulting from carrying that chicken kept me housebound for four months. (Naturally, in revenge, I ate it.)

The shame of defeat

I finally got over the shame of knowing that I wrestled a 6 ½-pound chicken and lost.

That bantamweight pinned me to the mat!

Happily, I've moved past all that now. Took on a seven-pounder the last time I went to Trader Joe's. Didn't even break a sweat carrying it upstairs. It was delicious!