15 things I did for my mental health and nervous system (part 1)
Let me premise this article by saying this happened to be a really, really big year. I’d like to say not all years are like this but truthfully it’s been several really big years, which is why it all abruptly (but graciously) came to a crux in 2022. This was the year my body, heart, soul, and psyche all finally had enough, and life slammed on the breaks and said “We’re burning it down". And then did.
And I have to say, I’m so glad it did. Nothing about this year felt easy, and I spent most of it sitting in pain, grief, rage, heartbreak, confusion, and betrayal. But somehow through the alchemy of holding those big experiences, I also met the most love, depth, joy, truth, connection, grace, and devotion I’ve ever known.
I cried so hard I thought my ribcage might break, I let many old versions of myself die, but I also felt more moments of aliveness than I ever have. Not because of the pain, but because I was so willing to feel and be an active participant in the spectrum of my own life. And that’s the gift I suppose. The polarity and tension of opposites: light with dark, love with fear, etc., offering us the full flavour of our humanity.
Because I didn’t want to make this article too long I’ve broken up the 15 things into two parts, with the second part coming out next Sunday. Here it is:
I left an abusive relationship: I haven’t disclosed this publicly up until now. And it’s still not something I feel ready to share about in detail. Some things need to be held close to the soul— to protect and strengthen our reserves and vulnerability. At the same (although it’s not a life sentence), it’s part of my story, it lives in my cells and tissues, and has changed who I am. I might one day talk more openly about it because I think when we don’t talk about it, it keeps our voice quiet, and the abuse loud. What I will say is, I’ve been devoting all of my energy and time to rehabilitating myself, unlearning beliefs, building new ones, and relearning who I am. One step at a time. The part of this process I’m starting to appreciate is that I have an opportunity to put my pieces back together in the way I want them. I’m rebuilding and redefining my identity, because whoever I was before and during that relationship is dead and gone. The woman moving forward from this gets to be better. A few things I’ve learned are: 1) our relationships impact every aspect of our lives, 2) they can bring us closer to our truth, or further away from it, 3) it is a privilege, not a right, for others to have access to our energy, 4) discernment is important; every person comes with their own trauma, experiences, wounding, style of communicating, etc. Moving forward, the questions I’ll ask myself are, is this person’s energy/stuff the kind of energy/stuff I want to be a part of holding? Do I want their energetic imprint/stuff influencing my energy/life? Because I think to some degree, that’s the agreement we make in relationships; we will be holding some of their stuff, and we get to choose whether that’s a contract we want to be a part of. (*Note: there is not always choice in abusive/unsafe dynamics. If you are in an unsafe dynamic and looking for support, please reach out. You’re not alone.)
I invested in group courses for women: Sometimes life steps in and seems to synchronistically present you with exactly the thing you need. What I needed at the time were powerful, rooted, wise women. When I found them, I followed the impulse to connect and become a part of their communities. There’s a very special magic that happens when women come together to learn, grow, be in community, and hold each other through our shared experiences. In the same way we’re learning how the roots of trees communicate with each other underground, I sometimes wonder if the wombs of women are weaving intricate webs in these intentional spaces. Women’s groups are sacred spaces for healing, alchemy, and medicine. Within months of being a part of a women’s container, I went from being in an abusive relationship to feeling internally guided (and internally safe enough) to leave. And it required almost no effort; like my bones woke up and an ancient wisdom inside of me knew. The waking up I experienced also included a lot of anger– but that anger was the catalyst for the change. At the time I hadn’t spoken openly with those women about my relationship (I’d barely acknowledged it myself), but their collective strength, energy, and power encouraged my own. It was a portal that pulled me into a deeper integrity with myself and my relationship to my life. We truly become more powerful in numbers, and I really do believe we are the people we surround ourselves with.
I invested in mentors, practitioners, and therapists: there was a time in my life when I tried to figure things out on my own; I read all the self help books and listened to the podcasts. I was able to grow, heal, and make some changes, but it took me years of bumping up against walls. Now that I work one-on-one with my own clients and have worked closely with my practitioners, I’ve witnessed the capacity we have for change in small amounts of time when we find the right support. We’re complex creatures who live in a complex world and we’re trying to navigate it on our own for the most part, because that’s what we’ve been taught to do. But we silently suffer; first, we aren’t designed to do any of it on our own– that’s not how we function well as interdependent beings. Second, much of our suffering could be alleviated more quickly with the support and guidance of people who have the skills or experience that we don’t have. It’s the missing ingredient. I healed much more quickly when I invested in help and created a network of support around me. Suffering not a requisite for living a rich, deep, or meaningful life. Pain is a part of life, suffering doesn’t have to be. Having a support system helped lift the burden I was trying to carry alone. I have a team of supportive people who care about me, advocate for me, and have the insight and skills to help me see what I can’t see on my own.
I surrounded myself with safe and powerful women: Over the last ten months this has become my top priority. In the past these kinds of relationships were really uncomfortable. Culturally we’re not encouraged to build supportive, intimate and nurturing relationships with women. The covert conditioning is to be in competition with one another, and for most of us, that makes these relationships feel unsafe (this is sometimes referred to as the “sister wound”). As women we’re conditioned to take care of others, so when it comes to our own need for support it can feel like we’re burdening the people in our lives. For me, reaching out felt scary: what if I’m too much? What if they reject me? What if it isn’t safe? What if they judge me? Opening myself to other women required risk and vulnerability; I exposed my rawness, my pain, and my wounds at the ‘risk’ that I wouldn’t be held tenderly. But I was. My vulnerability and willingness to be fully held by other women cracked open my heart and softened my hardened edges. It was a love I’d never experienced before. I learned to receive. I learned to open. And I experienced a love so pure and deep that it has become my new standard for future intimate relationships. These women are my chosen family, and I think that’s an important distinction, we get to choose who we open to.
I intentionally stayed single: No men. No dating. No flirting. This isn’t something I’d recommend for everyone because it’s so individual. For some people, more intimacy or sexual exploration might be the medicine. But I had codependent patterns I knew I wanted to heal. I had given away my power. I had outsourced my safety, love, validation, and security. I wasn’t making choices from my worth, desires, or needs, I was acting from survival. Because we aren’t taught how to be in relationship, they can become transactional; a way to get our unconscious needs met. Often, this can feel binding or constricting, and I wanted relationships to feel pure, clean and liberated. I decided I wanted to fall in love with myself and my own life. I wanted to date myself. I wanted to put all of my energy toward my own heart and soul. I wanted to get clear on my standards, needs, desires, yes’, no’s, and non-negotiable’s. I wanted to know what it felt like to just be me, powerful and fully expressed, without the influence of another. I wanted to become someone who fully chooses her dynamic; acting from choice is different than acting from a survival need. I didn’t want to fall into a relationship, I wanted to be an active co-creator from a place of power and discernment. I won’t sugar coat this process– it was HARD. All of my abandonment wounds came up, but that was my opportunity for healing. Because when they did, I gave them the attention they needed. I soothed them. I listened and told them they weren’t alone. Showing up for yourself lands differently than someone else doing it for you. The whole process has brought me to my knees in the most beautiful way. It’s been powerful, wonderful, sacred, and heartbreaking. At the time I write this I’m 10 months into a 12 month commitment to no men, and I’ve never felt so clear and self-sourced.
I spoke up: I pushed the edges of my discomfort by doing the things that scared me. This has been a really important part of my progress, because I could have stayed in comfort or fear forever, and I know that’s not what my soul has come here to do. I have old trauma around being seen, taking up space, and using my voice; it’s my Samskara (old imprints that need to be resolved). As Ram Das put it, these imprints or karma’s are part of our curriculums in this lifetime. We can choose to burn through them, or not. Had I chosen not to step toward the things that scared me, I would have been reinforcing my own belief that I wasn't worthy of becoming that version of myself. By taking small (titrated) steps toward the things my soul wanted, I showed myself there were new possibilities and experiences available. I’ve been practicing this for about a year and a half, and some days it feels easier than others. Sometimes it requires resilience; there are still moments I feel paralyzed by fears that I’m unworthy, or I’ll fail, etc. But over time I’m building trust with myself and moving intentionally closer to a more expressed and authentic version of who I’m here to be. I believe all of life (including nature) has an impulse to move toward its most “bloomed” or expressed state. So I keep taking steps toward the version of me that feels real and true. Over time I’m becoming someone I admire, respect, and feel fully aligned with.
I started writing again: There’s something about writing. Whether it’s journaling, writing poetry, brain dumping erratic thoughts, or any other writing practice, it’s a powerful way to clear and move stickiness from our minds and bodies. I grew up writing and have always written creatively, but a few years ago I stopped— like my creative life force energy seized. When I’m not writing things build up in me; emotions and thoughts feel like they’re being stored rather than processed or discharged. A couple months ago I finally forced myself to start writing against the resistance I was feeling, and it was like a floodgate opened and the river could finally flow again. Heavy emotions, energy, and stagnation all started moving through my system. I think we spend so much time in our minds that we don’t notice if our bodies or energetic systems are cluttered and clogged. So, writing is now a practice I’m committed to; to express myself and keep my energy clean. Whether it’s poetry, prose, articles, newsletters, or journaling, it keeps my energy, emotions and creativity moving. It helped me clear out heaviness that therapy, somatic healing, and energy healing hadn’t. Honestly I don’t think it matters what creative route we take, the point is, I started doing something again that my soul loves to do. What I love so much about any form of creativity is that it doesn't need to have a purpose or goal, and nobody ever needs to see it. It’s art for the sake of art, and there’s something child-like and so liberating about that.
Next week I’ll share parts 8-15 of the things I did in 2022. What a year of rebirth.
My weekly recommendations—
Book: I have a list of about 5 or 6 books that I recommend to any woman who’s interested in remembering more of herself, reconnecting with her truth/essence, and returning to a “less conditioned”, more expressed way of being in the world. The Heroine’s Journey by Maureen Murdock is one of those books.
Podcast: I’ve taken courses with both the host of this podcast (Kylie Mcbeath) and the guest, Maya Luna. Both of these women are truth-tellers and doing powerful work in our world to restore the feminine principle in all of us, and steward us back to a more original, reciprocal, heart/body/soul-led way. Their work/teachings help me breathe deeper and have faith. Find the podcast episode here.
Person: My Somatic therapist, Nicole Lohse is the most skilled somatic practitioner I’ve worked with, and she’s helped me make huge leaps over the last 8 months. She’s trained in several different modalities, but the two main ones are Somatic Experiencing and Internal Family Systems (“parts work”). These two models of therapy have changed how I exist in the world. I’ve worked through some of my biggest barriers, limitations and traumas thanks to her, which, of course, is an ongoing process. But working through your trauma is liberating— it’s been worth everything I’ve invested into it and I wouldn’t feel how I feel now without that support. It changed me. She only works 1:1 with people in her courses, but they’re so very worth it.
Song: Sometimes I put my noise-canceling headphones on, go into the forest where nobody’s around and dance to really loud music. It’s therapy. And catharsis. I highly recommend. This song’s a throwback to 2009, but it made a comeback on Instagram recently and I got hooked again, probably because it’s the current story of my life. Dog Days are Over, by Florence + the Machine.
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J. xo
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