So much incredible healing and growth has transpired since my last blog post that it’s overwhelming to know what to write. I have allowed that to keep me from writing anything at all, in typical fashion.
Recovering from childhood trauma that carried into adult life is not a linear process. Suffering through the pandemic, finding no therapist of any sort who was taking on new clients, proved to be quite challenging, yet in hindsight I have no doubt that I was meant to do my deepest shadow work on my own. The way in which I was guided to uncover just the right educational information that has enabled me to cobble together some semblance of a healing protocol based on the gift of empathy and intuition I possess, has been a clear sign that I am on the best spiritual path for myself. And oh, is it ever something to celebrate!
I’m very glad to have found the motivation to write again, born out of a conversation I was just having about the importance of listening to your gut which is also referred to as “the higher self” or the better angels of our nature. I love that analogy because there is both good and evil in all of us. I want to talk about the importance of learning to trust which voice leads you in your life and how to discern whether the voice you are allowing to guide you is of a higher energetic vibration of love, or a lower energetic vibration of our more base human nature that is born out of things like anger, fear, vengeance, addiction, hatred, etc. And also, if you are able to see the correlation between which voice guides your actions and the results of how it is manifesting in your life.
First I need to share an experience I had recently that has lead me to this place of self-awareness and contemplation.
This past spring I contracted the Covid virus and experienced a six week battle with terrible bronchitis that left me bedridden and nauseous most days. I had about a three week repreive before waking up in a panic attack one morning that lasted without abatement for thirty days.
During that month I felt like I was dying. A sense of fear and dread overtook every waking moment. I wondered if this was my new normal and if so, how I could live the rest of my life in this state. I woke every morning around 5 am in a cold sweat. The thought of any simple task overwhelmed me, let alone leaving the safety of my bed. I had no appetite and learned to force myself to eat something every morning. (some blueberries and walnuts sprinkled with oregano; a healthy combination that came to me and after researching, made perfect sense.) Suddenly my body was completely out of whack and the symptoms connected to this anxiety manifesting were totally debilitating to the point that my depression was kicked into overdrive as well. Any semblance of joy or the potential to feel it had left me in the darkest place. I could not even tap into the happiness that my beloved grandbaby brings, and watching him two days a week, while in one sense felt like a lifeline, was almost too much to handle. Nevermind trying to explain what I was going through to my 91 year old mother who relies on me several days a week.
My biggest challenge was to forgo pharmaceutical intervention which is mainstream pyschology’s biggest line of defense, in favor of a more holistic and somatic approach that was heavily grounded in my spirituality.
Was it brought on by the virus, or simply the natural progression of my Complex Trauma bringing everything to the surface for its final release? I think it was both. It was hell. Thick, oozy, noxious, toxic, hell. And it felt like death. I could never be angry enough to wish this state on anyone. (Another beautiful by-product of my healing journey.)
I got angry. I wanted my life back, so I committed to doing everything in my power to make that happen. It felt amazing to use a negative emotion in an empowering way. I left no stone unturned in getting to what I felt was my best hope at using this painful physical and emotional illness as my biggest catalyst to propel my healing to the next level without any excuses.
Because, I have not survived everything life has thrown at me only to end up in that state of being! Nooooo way. Not having it. Unacceptable. This really forced me to the very difficult position of pulling a chair to the table for my demons and giving them a voice instead of enabling them to pummel me in this played-out role as victim. It was sink or swim time for me, and I was ready to see the value in their presence, even treasure it as a gift, and not run away or cower in fear.
Which brings me up to last week’s pivotal experience that has me thinking about trusting your gut.
On Friday evening on 11/11/2022, I shared my childhood abuse story on a podcast. It was something I stumbled into by divine design, and I chose this date out of many for its spiritual significance representing a portal to new beginnings. It’s very empowering to share your story with other survivors. This was a huge door closing for me. I had made the conscious choice to no longer allow the demons from my traumatic past to have any access to me or my life. I jumped on this opportunity before my doubt and fear had a chance to make me second guess myself, but getting from point A to point B was excruciatingly difficult and I came close to calling it off.
Despite heavy layers of new family dysfunction having come to the surface, I pampered myself like the Goddess I AM on that day and woke up the next morning elated, dancing on air, knowing with every fiber of my being that I was embarking on a new chapter of my life that was to be the best yet. I was going into this new day visibly charged and seemingly ready to soar.
I listened to my gut and made plans for my day with boundaries firmly in place. Well, I got served a zinger of a curve-ball not far into the morning that didn’t immediately derail me as it might have a year ago, but that old trauma conditioning I thought was also being put to rest with the previous days celebratory door-closing began to settle over me the minute I started to doubt my strength.
I had stood strong and invincible as I de-escalated a volatile situation involving my mother’s next door neighbor who was wrongly convinced I had called the police on their beloved pet pig. I was practically rejoicing in the beautiful opportunity to make peace where there was discord as he came at me waving fists of fury and cursing me straight to hell. I felt as if I were watching it happen in slow motion as my consciousness was making me aware that I recognized his demons as some of my very own. And I had literally just had tea and crumpets with them just yesterday, so I felt confident I could handle them. I announced I was coming over to get to the root of the problem and knew all the situation needed was the truth about my not being the responsible party, assurance that I would never do such a thing and that I am very sorry for the understandable upset caused. What should not have been more than five minutes took twenty as I ended up falling into “fawn” mode, (one of four ptsd traits).
Definitely rattled, I carried on, driving my mom to her annual church bazaar. I had promised to bring her back to my house while I watched my grandson that afternoon, but sensing that inner voice speaking up to guide me I suddenly announced that I may need to change that plan explaining that the neighbor situation had triggered me. She has a vague understanding of Complex PTSD but seems to get what a trigger is, so I still felt that I was in a good head space and taking good care of my needs.
The doubts where piling up as she told me she had misplaced her glasses as we were leaving. After going back in the church twice and frantically checking her bags, they turned up, but I had already lost my patience and reacted in a way that crushed all confidence in my ability to salvage the day. I had let those doubts ( just a long stream of unrelenting negative thoughts of anger, fear, despair, and frustration) put me right back in that dysfunctional pattern of behavior that has held me captive my entire life. Always being one to turn my rage inward, I felt intense shame and decided to power through and go on with my afternoon as originally planned, which turned out to be a poor choice.
I had second guessed my gut and ended up in a dissociative panic episode that completely shut me down for the next nearly twenty four hours.
It was self-love guiding me to make the choices that would have spared my suffering. The higher-self IS 100% pure love and that is its only motivation. Those demons I had welcomed and gotten to know also informed me that they will always have the most valuable lessons for me. In this I saw that their influence can actually magnify the positive things we want more of, like love, gratitude, and joy if, and this is the biggest of all IFS, you can quickly rebound from experiencing the pitfalls of your base nature that the trauma symptoms ignite, and return to LOVE as your guiding force.
(Another very important lesson I got was that you cannot soar if you have yet to have enough experience with your wings! I’m still a baby bird, learning to fly, and I’m okay with this!)
Trust your gut at all times, because when you put your faith in love, it never leads you astray. This has been the most challenging lesson for me to fully grasp. That is what this door closing represents to me. I have finally arrived. It has taken me a lifetime.
You want to see a righteous fight? Just TRY to do me wrong and see where it gets you! I’ll just be over here shining my light and blessing you with love while your poor choices bite you in the ass and karma sorts it all out. I’m not afraid. Got nothing to be scared of with love on my side. And I truly hope that whatever hardship you face as a consequence only serves to make you a better person with a chance at a happier life.
I do not need to go all theogical or philosophical on what love is for you to know that only good can come of it, that it heals all things, can only create beauty, and is the single-most powerful force in all of existsnce.
Love is bad ass. Choosing love over hate may take some super powers, but I’m here to say that those powers are innate in each and every one of us by design. It’s a choice. That doesn’t mean being a doormat. Love sets boundaries that won’t allow demons access to steal your joy and rob you of your power. It’s all part of it’s bad-assery. It is MAGICK.
I may still stumble, even after closing a chapter to begin anew. But I will damn-sure fight and claw my way back to love every time because I have tasted death and every bit of the darkness of hell and suffering, and I want no part of it. And that’s what negative emotions like hatred, fear, and jealousy are (just to name a few); death. Like a rancid soil where nothing blooms.
I don’t just want beautiful blooming things in my own life. I genuinely, with a joy-filled heart that is full to overflowing with love, want beautiful blooming things for every single person alive.
Wherever you are in your life today, may you find your way to love.