He’s there. Breathing fire. Breathing fear into my mind. He has been subdued for so long, I thought he was gone. I thought I’d overcome his oppressive presence. My fight or flight reaction tries to activate, tries to save me. But is that actually what I need? I lay there frozen, too scared to acknowledge what’s happening. Too scared to be pulled under again. The darkness engulfs me, acting as a buffer, cushioning me from reality. In reality, I have to acknowledge that he’s back, and it will take all my courage to admit that I was the one who summoned him. I invited him.
I’ve done so much work with my mental health, realizing that my mental health is directly tied to my physical. My physical being is a manifestation of the stress and trauma simmering on the inside. As I addressed the stress – what an all encompassing word. Stress can mean so many different things; it meant loss of safety, of peace – and worked on establishing and holding boundaries, positive self-talk, the monster lost his power. He didn’t have the strength to interrupt my sleep.
The part of me that didn’t want to take responsibility for his return kept suggesting thoughts like ‘I will never be rid of it’, ‘my body just does this’, and ‘I must not deserve to heal’. These thoughts hung heavy in my mind, feeding the self-pity and the victim mentality. And then. And then. For a few days, I didn’t know what the ‘and then’ should look like. What next? I’m doomed.
And then. And then I called on my support system and my skills I’ve been developing, refining, and preparing, all designed to keep him at bay. My support system forced me to take an honest audit (accounting plug, couldn’t help myself), an appraisal of my current habits and behavior. In doing so, I identified an area where I had decidedly let anyone and everything through my boundary, thus resulting in the return of my overwhelming stress. This exercise forced me to admit that I had let my brain revert to old, worn neural pathways (think habits) which resulted in old, worn consequences (the return of the pulsing).
It's easy to fall back. To find a brief respite from the monster and get comfortable. Lose the vigilance that helped keep him quiet, the vigilance that restrained him from breathing fear and angst into my precious nights. My heart, mind and body looked for their easiest path, for the one that they were used to, and that path was well-worn. That path had provided safety, escape, release, but was no longer serving me and had been rewritten in my self-work, but wasn’t as smooth, as easy as my previous habits.
So I had to refocus. To rededicate myself to the habits that are serving me now. To hold my boundaries, practice positive self-talk, meditate, journal, manifest, and forgive myself for messing up. These things effectively bound the monster. It’s not the first time I’ve slipped, nor will it be my last, but each time I pick myself back up, each time I show myself I am strong and can overcome, I move forward in my healing journey, and that’s all we can do. Move forward.