Sunday, April 20, 2014

thoughts before my first reiki session...

I want to feel loved, content, in my place, that I belong both in my body and on this planet.  I want to feel safe, grounded, connected, oneness with all that is good and divine in the universe.

I want to feel strong, healthy, fit, limber, radiant, fluid.  I want to eat foods that nourish me, and surround myself with people who nourish me too.

I am afraid...  Afraid I am not strong enough to survive the process of healing.  Afraid there isn't enough time or money to learn what I need to learn to grow and heal.  I am afraid there is so much damage that I will never be ok.  What if I can't turn it into something beautiful?  What if I always feel raw, vulnerable, unworthy?  What if I never fill up this empty space within myself, no matter how much I give and love?  How can I inspire and help heal women when I myself feel small and vulnerable?  How can I be a good mom if I never had a mom?  How can I ever feel loved when I wasn't wanted?  How can I find balance between feeling so much love for the world, and feeling so sad at the same time?  I feel raw and in wonder and blessed... also lonesome, weird, and so sad.  I am frustrated with what is, and so hopeful for what could be.  I feel so connected and alone....?

I want to make a difference.  I want everything to matter.  I want there to be more than just... this?

Can I learn to comfort myself?  Can I hold me in my arms, gently tell me it will be ok?  Will it be ok? Would I believe me?

Thursday, April 10, 2014

grief and reiki and hope

The other day I went to my old house to get some plants and the clawfoot tub in the yard.  I hoped to be there before the renters but they showed up early, caught me standing in the front yard with a shovel, sobbing.  The house I lived in and loved for ten years...  is no longer my home.  Strangers are moving in.  My marriage is done.  

Why does it make me so sad to dig up plants?  I get to take them with me and replant them.  The new tenants were so kind and understanding, as I wept big tears and could not voice the words behind them.  

Also on my mind that day... my friend had major surgery and I was to go take her lunch and be with her that same day.  I hated to take my sad sorry-ass energy to her, so soon after surgery.  When I called, she said, "No worries!  I am on narcotics, I won't even remember.  Come anyway and be with me."

While I was there, her friend came by to give her reiki love.  Oh my, words cannot encompass this beautiful, surreal, sacred experience.  His energy was so loving!  He was absolutely tender and gentle with her, his hands on her hands, then on her face, her heart, her belly.  He could feel her sadness, as she welled up with tears and asked if she was still a woman.  He honored her, listened, and reassured her that yes, she was definitely still a woman, all the while holding her hands and caressing her hair.  

He asked her, "beautiful, how long has it been since anybody just held you and let you cry?"  She mumbled sleepily, "Oh, I think since the last time you held me".  I burst into tears, and wept, overcome with my own grief in the world, for my pain, and for her pain, and for his gentleness.  I wanted to curl up on his lap and let him hold me too.  Everybody needs a lap and arms, a safe place to grieve.

He asked if I'm an empath, and yes I am.  He suggested that I lay down with her, and hold her, snuggle her, comfort her, help ground her, as he did reiki on her.  I laid and put my head on her shoulder, my dear friend of almost 20 years, she and I held hands while he did his magical energy work.  I could feel the energy move all the way through, calming and connecting and nurturing.  Protective even.  

I was not held as a child.  I have no memories ever of being held.  When my gramma was dying, I wanted so much to climb in bed with her and hold her.  I still have recurring dreams of doing this.  She would never have allowed it though, so I mourned her loss from the other side of the room, my only real parent and I couldn't even hold her as she was leaving me.

In a way, I am touched, because THIS is what I have needed my whole life, not counseling or meds. Part of me knows I need this.  I don't even know what reiki is, but I need this.  In a way, I am relieved to know this exists.  And I am sad that we have to pay someone to re-teach us something that should be so instinctual and innate.  I'm broken hearted because I am still filled with grief of my own, I am empty, lonesome, unfulfilled, have no family, and don't know how to recover.  

I yearn for this peace and grounding.  I don't want to have to ask someone else to teach me.  I don't want to rely on someone else to give me a safe place to learn this, a stranger (who feels strangely safe?) to ground me and guide me to heal.  But I don't know how to do it myself.  I feel vulnerable and small sometimes, knowing both how much I have survived, and how much growing, learning, healing that I still need to do.  

Part of me just wants to be held.  Most of me actually.  I don't know how to allow it, being vulnerable and safe with someone.  And part of me is hungry to learn all this.  In the meantime, I went home, in awe and touched by this new human experience, where good people can hold you safe and help you heal.  I cried all day.  I cried so hard I couldn't even brush my teeth for bed, my eyes swollen shut.  I can't even comprehend that this really is possible for humans to be so loving.