As in being released

by tamarjacobson

As the rain falls outside the window of our library, I sense a blessing happening here.

It has been such a great few weeks. I have been happy, living in the moment, and allowing myself to feel all kinds of emotions. In short, I have felt more whole than ever in my life. Enjoying feeling included and wanted – being part of my father's family at a wedding celebration, realizing I am angry or disappointed in the moment, speaking out about things that irritate me, and taking it all in my stride without alarm or anxiety … or so I thought …

For it seems my mind and body had other ideas. While I have been working hard at rewiring my emotional memory circuit, living out a new life script, and breaking rules that I learned to keep safe as a young child, my brain called out hysterically, "Whoa ho there, lassie! Not so fast!" pushing my blood pressure up so high that I found myself racing toward the emergency room at two in the morning. Nurses and doctors searching and prodding, prying and exploring and finding nothing to support the craziness of blood pressure numbers. Finally, a tall, slender doctor looked into my eyes, and said quietly, "You look anxious. Don't be anxious." And I burst into tears.

Unbeknown to me, it seemed the anxiety had been quietly bubbling up, accompanying me as I broke emotional rules and patterns within me. The volcano erupted and now I am fighting back, for I will not be dragged back into the prison of ancient, survival habits and beliefs about myself. I am enjoying feeling loved and wanted, worthwhile and belonging, and I am especially relishing the ability to identify when people are not treating me kindly.

It all makes me wonder. Being released from prison is not as simple as I thought. Old memories that had been stored away, repressed so that I could survive day-to-day living, are rising up at all times of the day or night – making me feel deeply sad, or very angry. In short, while my life is improving at every level: emotionally, in my relationships with significant others, and professionally at every level – the anxiety and pain of old wounds are excruciating.

Yoga, meditation, and long walks are good medicine, as well as a steamy bowl of oat bran, honey and walnuts topped off with an assortment of fresh berries in the morning. The best healing, though comes through the tender love and support of Life Partner, good friends, and an expert therapist, as I continue to release myself from the chains of paradigms past.

A year ago at Mining Nuggets: You can never go home again