Suddenly, Ms. I-only-eat-organic found herself gratefully dousing her GMO cream of wheat with GMO-based whey protein powder made by one of the multinational companies I’d built up in my mind as “The Enemy.” The Enemy was saving my life. I laughed out loud at the irony.
I watched bags and bags of cipro and flagyl enter my veins. I released my fears about antibiotics and my surefire knowledge that, “Give me a drug and I’ll show you a side effect.” Instead, I gave thanks for their lifesaving potential.
When I could tolerate solid foods, I savored the processed white bread English muffin I ate with my eggs each morning. Suddenly, everything good was bad for me (fresh vegetables, fruit) and much of what I thought bad played a critical role in my healing.
I know this experience will go down in my personal history as a life transition—a clear delineation of life before and after. I’d been on a trajectory of self-induced stress, denial and overwork, neglecting my spirit, my health and even my family. I’m not proud of this and it’s embarrassing to write it, but it’s the truth.
Deep inside me there was something I needed to heal. Just before entering the hospital, I spoke on the phone with my friend and mentor, Julia. “I sense something like, you want to get to the bottom of this. What’s that about?”
“I need to love myself,” I blurted, surprised by my own clarity.
And in the next moment, Julia fed me love. Somehow, together, we crossed the threshold and her words sunk in—about my light, my gifts.
I don’t know how I went from a fortress to a fountain, but I think it was a mixture of surrender in the face of nowhere else to go and the love that one human being offers another at such times.
And now I am home—stronger each day—making my spiritual life and health my priority. I’m taking in the love all around me—my husband who has astounded me with his patience and nurture despite all his responsibilities, my children, who are loving and also—I think—a little mad at their mom—understandably.
And yet, I have to forgive myself my blind spot—my inadequacies—and celebrate the emerging me whose priorities are making up stories about magical matchbox cars for my four year old and coaxing my older son to tell me about his first days at middle school.
It takes vigilance. Going online to balance my checkbook took more out of me than I imagined. What if I’d spent that time meditating instead? Each moment provides a choice. No regrets—just lessons. And the opportunity to open my heart another degree each day.
As you experience a life transition, you may want to write in a journal about it. Writing can help you gain perspective and receive the gifts of the experience.
Here are some questions you might ask yourself as you write:
- What was life like before the transition?
- Were there pivotal moments where internal changes occurred?
- What’s different now since the change?
- Are there gifts I hadn’t recognized in the experience?
- Am I staying on course or drifting back to old habits?
- How can I support my new perspective and conscious choices?
- Do my dreams offer any insights or guidance?
Tip: You may want to keep a dream journal. I found my dreams during this transition offered revelation and healing on a deep level.