I’ve never been a patient person, anything but. I focus on what I want to accomplish, and I get ‘er done. I’ve always been powerful enough to just blast right through whatever was slowing me down. If it was a physical ailment – I just kept going and ignored whatever was wrong. If it was a business issue – I worked as long as it took to get things accomplished or fixed or whatever needed to happen. In my personal life – well, I was a perfectionist so that tells that story.
That’s all changed now. The last three years of healing helped, er actually forced, me to learn to be patient. That’s what happens when you have no choice. But I did have a choice – I could have chosen to be impatient and not heal. That was the wrong choice, so I chose healing – and patience.
At first I had to be patient with myself on an intellectual basis. As all the memories were pouring forth, I couldn’t think too straight. I’d forget what I was saying in the middle of sentences, forget why I went to the refrigerator or my office, forget appointments and more. It was hard for me because I’ve always been the elephant – the one who remembers everything. That was my first lesson in patience.
Then there was the emotional patience. That was a really interesting lesson. For almost a year I would break into sobs out of the blue; driving down the road a song would come on from my younger years and I’d have to pull over, cry it out and move on. A memory would flash through my mind as I was making dinner, and I’d be on the floor in the corner, curled up in a ball, sobbing again. I’d have to leave the grocery store before I broke into wracking sobs. It took a lot of patience with myself during those times. I knew that I couldn’t just push through it. I had to fully experience it.
But the worst by far has been the physical exhaustion. I’ve had to change my life to adapt to this healing physical me. I used to go for 18 hours a day nonstop. Then, for almost six months I barely got off the couch. That was really hard. Slowly, I regained some energy, but it was random at best. That meant I couldn’t plan anything. I had to learn to decide what I was going to do in the moment – based on how I felt, which could change in the next moment. I felt so powerless – just like my little girl did so long ago. Only this time I was powerless over myself – not the pain from others.
Slowly I learned to pace myself, to live in the moment in a way I never dreamed possible before. All of my life every single moment of every day had been planned. My friend knew where I was on Saturday at 9:00 or Monday at 3:00. Now, I don’t know what I’ll be able to do tomorrow, much less a few days or a few weeks later.
At first it was tough. That was because I fought to be the former me. But then I realized that I wasn’t that person –not deep down. That person was a control freak because she had to be perfect, had to constantly push to do her best to avoid the torture. Now I’m safe – and the need to push is gone.
And so, slowly I heal. Physically my energy comes and goes. Right after my healing with the shaman, I was exhilarated. But then the crash came – as the poison overwhelmed my newfound freedom. I succumbed to the old heavy energy that was released into my body.
Today – I take my life one day, one moment at a time. I do what I feel like doing, when I feel like it. When I need to rest, I do just that.
I learned to be patient with myself. That’s one of the biggest gifts of all.
Photo Credits
Patience – Creative Commons/Some rights reserved – by Rick Harrison
Hummingbird Thumbnail – Creative Commons/Some rights reserved – by normalityrelief
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I, too, remember having to deal with the memories when they came, and not knowing what I’d be able to do each day, when a new flashback or body memory walloped me out of the blue. I am quite a perfectionist, myself, so it was hard to step back and let myself heal. But doing so was a real gift … For me, letting go of the harsh expectations was key.