#12 :healing
I keep forgetting a major life lesson.
Healing is messy.
It is not linear.
A broken person does not start at a healing number zero and end up, each day, one incremental healing unit better.
Nope, I remind myself sweetly, healing is a sweet multidimensional spiral.
Healing happens in fits and bursts. It looks messy and there are so many awkward starts and stops. Healing is sort of like getting a new puppy. Some moments are buoyant, full of energy and even joyful. Everything is fuzzy cuteness and sandpaper licks.
Other moments, you are dead tired, questioning your decisions, sleeping in 2-hour blocks praying for time to go faster so you can feel normal again.
(Ok, I’m aware that analogy needs some finesse, but I’m healing so I will circle back.)
I have learned from years of falling down and getting back up, that everything heals in its own way and time.
It’s hard to remember in the thick of healing that there will be good days and bad days, and a whole lot of perfectly adequate days.
Yesterday, I cried.
Stop. I have to be more honest. More accurate.
Yesterday, I howled like an injured wild animal.
The swell of emotions came out of nowhere. An innocent remark by a sweet person made me feel, I don’t know….something….and I panicked as the tears welled up. Out of sheer habit, I tried to push the tears away, to push the sensations deep down into my stomach.
Noticing how heavy and painful the pushing down felt, I decided to just give in.
I cried the ugly cry.
I cried because I had this tension, for lack of a better word, deep in my cells. It was tension I didn’t even know I was carrying. Fear, uncertainty, anxiety, hope, and fear were pretzeled up inside me. I hadn’t lost my shit through this entire cancer experience and I was feeling kinda superior and proud of myself. I hurt my shoulder patting myself on the back for being such a brave little trooper.
Ridiculous ego aside, I’ve been practicing this technique I call the Euphoria Cry. Instead of pushing down swells of emotions, in the privacy of my own space, I surrender. I let myself feel what I need to feel and express the feelings the way my body wants to until there’s nothing left.
Or for 15 minutes. Whatever comes first.
I make time for it.
Side note/recommendation: I learned this technique from the brilliant TV show, Shrinking, which deals with grief and loss and emotions in a brilliant, hilarious way. Watch it. Absolute brilliance. Jessica Williams is my spirit animal.
My fear has always been, and I think I’m not alone here, once I start crying….once I start to actually feel my emotions, I won’t be able to stop.
I imagine that I will be reduced to a pile of rubble that will need to be taken to an locked ward with a straight jacket and syringes full of relaxants.
I have learned, and am continuing to learn (clearly), the amazing miracle is that I DO stop crying.
Once I stop, I feel a lightness, a euphoria…like, whatever needed to be exorcised is gone and all that is left is glitter dust and open space. It felt blissful.
Helpful.
Healthy.
Dare I say nurturing?
So yesterday, I cried for a solid 12 minutes.
Then, I took a nap.
I felt like this was the most healing, grown-up thing I have done in some time.
As smart and wise as I attempt to make myself sound, I still had to be reassured that I wasn’t crazy or heading into a depression/anxiety spiral. I still looked to other people for the validation that it was ok to howl and rage until the snot was unapologetically dripping. My sweet friends reminded me I was not going to the looney bin for feeling emotions. They assured me that it was ok to feel things.
Someday, I will trust myself.
This is the practice.
Healing takes time.
Healing takes patience.
Healing takes encouragement and compassion.
Healing is exhausting.
Healing is deeply physical.
Healing is mentally torturous.
Healing is spiritually interesting at the least.
Healing happens at different rates for different parts of you. .
Healing means sweatpants and t-shirts, floppy socks, and scrunchies in thinning hair.
Healing is asking for help and being scared and vulnerable.
Healing is itchy.
Healing is ugly.
Healing happens best for me when I get out of my own way, when I check my own expectations at the door and trust that my body (and soul) will guide me to what she needs.
So, yeah, healing is messy.
Healing is my messy full-time job.
If you’re looking for me, I will be here, feeling my feels, trying to keep important life lessons in the forefront of my memory…working on that puppy analogy.
Please feel free to help in the comments:)
