The Gatherer

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I woke up really angry this morning...

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I’ve been a bit upset the last few days. I have a son who has asthma and we’ve dealt with lots of labored, wheezy breathing over the last 10 years and every time he gets sick, a small panic happens. I over worry about what I’ve fed him (since his asthma is heavily induced from wheat and dairy), if he’s breathing okay and whether he will start crying (since his emotions go haywire when he gets sick). I also get angry… and although I could identify that my anger was from him being sick, I didn’t quite know why THAT emotion was so strong. I definitely have had triggers about his babyhood. How difficult those days were. How he went undiagnosed for 4 years and how scared it made me every time he couldn’t breath. But why anger? Anger is a secondary emotion, usually behind sadness, fear, worry, etc. So what was triggering this feeling?

When I woke this morning, the anger and intensity in my chest had acclimated. I couldn’t do a single chore or action without fire spitting from my eyes (or my mouth). So I stayed in bed. I sat with it. I felt it. Then my husband insisted I do something about it. So I breathed. I breathed so fast and so hard to get the tension free. I “raised the roof” with my hands with each breathe—Tony Robbins style— to get my body involved. You would have thought I was birthing a baby. 30 breathes in, I paused. Felt my whole body tingle from the oxygen upsurge. Then I did 30 more. Then 30 more but this time, a little calmer, more intentional, less huffing. The tension in my chest started to loosen and I was getting clearer. My husband then began asking me questions about why I was so upset and as I turned into a ball of tears, repeating “all” I had been through in the last few days and EVERYTHING I was worrying about with Holden, our son, the real truth started to reveal itself. 

You see, tomorrow we are heading to the mainland to visit some family. And these wonderful meaning family members tend to comment on my children’s health and how I care for it. I’ve never been super mom, I’ve always just done my best. But the comments don’t pass me by and I definitely don’t find parenting in front of others my favorite activity of choice (let alone caring for my sick child in front of everyone).  With my husband’s guidance, I realized I was letting their stories (and comments) about me and my children be MY stories. You see how we do that, let others decide our value, worth and success? Their comment, turns into a judgement I have on myself. When really, in reality, my value and worth have nothing to do with my mothering, my choice in medicine, how I dealt with a crying baby in the past,  or how I cuddle (or don’t) now.

And when I really dug below the fear of bringing a sick child to the throne of judgement from these people that I love, I realized that what I was really feeling was the panic, fear and pain of my 21 year old self. The baby who had a baby. She DEFINITELY didn’t know her worth, her boundaries, her energy field or how to deal with her depression and she was drowning. And it was HER who was present the last few days. The part of me that was traumatized by parenting a sick child in front of others. So I found her in my body, inside my chest, in my heart. I literally looked for the part of me that was feeling all of this and clear as day I got an image of a girl(me), laying on the floor smothered in everyone else’s energy. She was cloaked in darkness and exhaustion. I pushed it all away. I cleared her space to just see her, alone, without all the energy she was taking on, and she was empty. Tired. Alone. I comforted her—held her close to my brightness and truth that I carry now. She rested a lot because once she was free she wanted to lie down and sleep. I promised her I would protect her when we go to the mainland tomorrow. That we won’t let that happen again. Their stories aren’t our's anymore.

I love the work that I do so much because it never ceases to amaze me what lives on in our bodies. What traumas, fears, stories and pain are trapped and ready to flare up when we least expect it. And the truth is we ALL have stories. So much space in our bodies is being taken up by the cellular memory of things from before. With that vibration living inside of us, we attract more situations, fears and experiences to match it until we really uproot it from its core by rewriting it. 

I did that today. I rewrote my story a little. I remembered how it felt to be her and reminded her of OUR TRUTH. That we are whole, loved, and worthy. 

And I want to remind you that so are you. If there are parts of your story that your body is ready to release, I’m here to help. 

 

Jill Pollard