The Body Signals

Just over a year ago, I got seriously ill with strep, after an emotional attack from someone upon who I had dumped a portion of my emotional burden. On Wednesday morning, I woke up with inflamed, infected tonsils. No other symptoms, but it looked the same as it did the year before. I was also sick with a cold at this time last year, on the heels of the strep. I haven’t been sick between these bouts.

The more time that goes by, and the more I live and see and surrender to, the more I realize that the symptoms my body manifests are all tied into the psycho-spiritual realm. And there’s so much…I don’t know…comfort in that? Like all the answers to my own suffering lie within me, that the expressions of physical symptoms are simply messages and reminders to turn inwards, to do all I can to shed the baggage (my jaw is locked, my neck and back feel like a wooden board – how much am I carrying around with me all the time that I don’t have to carry?), to focus on really understanding what is important to ME, and to truly understand how critical it is that I immerse myself, in full surrender, to the work I have to do on all my realms so I can be the wholest, most complete version of myself, in service to the collective.

I need to cry. I had opportunities this weekend at our retreat, and full on burst into tears once on Millie’s shoulder, but that is a state that I don’t want witnessed yet. I have to be in it alone, feeling my pain, grieving for myself, without that monkey mind chattering at me about all the external stuff. Writing this is making my swollen, red eyes spark. It’s there, waiting to move through me, and part of my work has to be carving out space.

I came home from our retreat to a household of people and their energy. I didn’t feel suffocated but I was wary that I had to establish SOLID boundaries from the get go. My kids were affronted that I didn’t want to listen to them after they’d been away for a week, but I simply couldn’t engage in the monologues for the time being. And that’s okay. For all of us. It’s necessary, even. They say I’m not warm enough, not cuddly enough, but that’s not about me. I am authentically myself now in the role of motherhood, which I can be, because my kids are no longer babies.

Our house may be sold. Our new house is waiting for us. The layout and energy flow is way more compartmentalized and contained than our current house, which is open concept and forces everyone’s energies to do-exist. In the new house I’m going to have my OWN bedroom, for the first time in 20 years. I’m so excited, I can’t even tell you. I will decorate MY space. I was barely involved in the choices for our current house because it can’t be bothered to be told my style doesn’t make sense. I’m going to create a space, a sanctuary, a retreat, just for me, and all will be welcome, on MY terms, upon invitation. Leading my workshop on boundaries this weekend helped me to see just HOW important space is to me, inviolable space, and how much not having it has eroded my sense of self.

Today I need to sit quietly with the swirling feelings, and the vibrations I thought I was done with that are still making themselves known.

I need to open my throat. It’s physically hard to breathe, which feels so familiar. But I can’t yell anymore. A kid asked me a question this morning and didn’t listen to the answer, and I’m not repeating myself. You listen or you don’t. But I’m not expending precious energy anymore to make sure I’m heard. I will work on clear communication practices and avoid ambiguity. I will not place the burden of my own insecurities on others. I will speak my truth, as I am so solidly IN my own vibrations now that the person receiving them feels…inconsequential. It’s not people and relationships are not my number one priority. It’s that I stand in FULL ownership of my truths, right at the edges of my boundary bubble, in full knowledge that EVERYTHING I need is in that bubble with me.

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