Softening
Healing is a roller coaster.
A few weeks ago, I sat with myself, full of hope, holding my body in love and gratitude. Feeling myself soften. Feeling that there was an opening, a flow to my energy that had been blocked before.
Then, I felt a rush. Like a magician pulling a cloth from an object with a flourish for the big reveal. A change. A disappearance. There’s always another layer to healing. Like an onion. I saw layers flying off and felt like I was on the fast track to a big miracle. It was exhilarating!
Until — WHAM! Stopped. Blocked. Stuck.
It wasn’t anything specific that happened. It was a sensation in my body, my emotions, my energy. The lymph nodes in my neck felt tight. Angry. And so did I.
I was gearing up for a trip to Austin, Texas for the annual National Speakers Association conference, Influence. I’d never been there before. I was going with my husband and leaving our kids home for a whole weekend without us. The anxiety I felt leading up to the trip was an obvious contributor to the shift in my energy.
I was feeling the stress of the situation, which included excitement about attending the large conference with my best friend and spending some quality time with my husband. I also knew that the stress wasn’t necessarily halting my healing. I know that my body is always working in the background for my benefit. However, it was discouraging. The pain in my neck from sleeping on an airplane and in an unfamiliar hotel bed. Rolling my ankle and bruising my foot on our first day in Austin. The fact that I was surrounded with unfamiliar energy from hundreds of people for three days straight. The challenges that my best friend was navigating with her sponsorship and her team.
The flight delays and nearly missed connections when all we wanted to do was be home.
I took the best care of myself that I could with the support of my husband and friends.
And I’m returning to the revelation of how much stamina healing requires. Not only in the face of something like cancer, but in the face of our daily, unnecessarily stressful lives.
Returning to work at the chiropractic office this week reinforced it over and over as I talked with patients about their symptoms. Their stresses. Their goals.
“I’m getting older, and I want to stay active.”
“I’ve had these headaches since I was young and lately they’ve been getting worse.”
“My leg just goes numb sometimes, and my doctors aren’t sure why.”
“I don’t want to be too tired to play with my kids. They deserve better.”
I don’t often share my own story in these consultations, though I have once or twice. What I do share is some of the learning I’ve had around my own healing process.
What you want matters.
What you tell yourself makes a difference.
What you share with others is important.
What you believe shapes you.
What you cling to and what you let go can change everything.
Stress hardens us. Our bodies can only hold so much stress before they start to break down. And symptoms are the body’s desperate last attempt to get our attention before it’s too late. Your body is most likely already expressing its need to heal or it’s about to.
I also believe that it’s never too late.
A woman under care in our office came in with such a severe curvature in her spine that we couldn’t even take an x-ray of her upper torso and neck from the front because she was bent forward like a question mark. I saw her walking out of her adjustment the other day and was amazed at how well she was holding herself up. She had even been able to see our staff member at the front desk that day, which she hadn’t been able to do before.
With the right support and consistency, miracles do happen.
I’m clinging to that as I hang out in this pause between our big summer trip and the start of the upcoming school year. It’s going to be different this year with only two kids in school, and the two of them in two very different environments. With an adult son living at home and figuring out work and life in this new stage. With a job that is still fulfilling but changing in ways that are hard to pinpoint or describe and a business that’s evolving and continuing to grow on the side.
I’m continuing to lean into softening. Being gentle with myself. Letting go of what doesn’t align with who I am becoming. Post menopause. With cancer. In relationship to others.
It’s not always clear. I often push myself too hard, but I’ve been giving myself more grace in all of the things. And so much has changed from where I was two years ago. So much has already healed.
Cancer is somewhere on the list. And my body will get to it when it’s ready.
Last weekend, I sat in a dark room, excited to hear a mainstage keynote speak about the five lessons he learned about business from beating stage four cancer. His story did not resonate with my experience at all, which I guess itself was a good lesson for me. It showed me that we each need to honor our own journeys. We each need to trust the path we’re walking. We each need to choose according to who we are, were and have yet to become.
His story inspired me to be more bold in sharing my own. Because his story is still unfolding, too. And we can all learn from each other, even when we’re each walking a different healing path.
And we all have our own healing to do.
If you’re interested in supporting my healing, you can donate through the GoFundMe below or visit saradeacon.com/support for other options.