Sharing my journey to come back in communion with my body.
I almost died once.
It was terrifying.
Completely disconnected, not in communion with my body.
I was in grad school in my 20s my anxiety kicked into panic mode. I developed a sudden fear of choking. Imagine, every bite I took, every drink sent me into a panic attack.
Survival became terrifying.
It impacted every fiber of my being, every aspect of my life, every relationship. Overnight, I was terrified of eating, swallowing anything sent my body into a panic. Eating became life-threatening, sending my body into a chronic state of fight-or-flight.
No idea what it meant to be “in communion” with my body.
Then it affected my sleep, as my brain convinced me that I would choke on my own saliva. I developed raging insomnia. Eating became about survival, I stopped sleeping, I was in a constant haze of hunger and sleep deprivation. And a deafening loneliness.
I look back now and am amazed I survived.
Trying to get my PhD while completely unable to care for myself with basic functions like eating and sleeping without panic was nearly impossible. I barely hung on, and no one knew.
I suffered in silence.
Walking around I felt completely invisible. Disconnected from others, the world, and myself. I had no clue that trauma is stored and processed in the body.
Eventually I hit my rock bottom, a breaking point and got help. It was the beginning to coming in communion with my body.
A healing journey began with western medicine that helped the physical panic response. It helped me survive, to step down off the ledge so to speak.
But… western medicine only took me so far. It did not bring me in communion with my body.
In some ways, it numbed my body’s attempts to communicate with me. It was the beginning I needed, but not enough.
My body was begging me to dig deeper, and it was using all extreme measures to get me to listen. But it would take another 15 years to truly understand what my body was trying to tell me then. It was 15 years before I truly understood what it meant to be in communion with my body. And build a new relationship.
Not An Easy Path
Life took me through many more difficult lessons through the journeys of changing careers, motherhood, codependency, martyrdom, trauma, and divorce.
It was the sudden divorce that finally broke me, and woke me up.
The early days after my husband suddenly left me for another woman, alone with a baby and 5-year old were the hardest days of my life.
I had healed enough to know that I couldn’t run or hide anymore. So I sat with my pain, and all the darkness that came up.
Finally I Learned to Listen
At that moment, the real work began.
A reuniting with my body, a deep respect for what it was asking me to shine light on. I began facing the discomfort, befriending it even.
“It’s ok, I’m listening, what do I need to learn?” I would ask in the quiet moments after the boys went to sleep.
It didn’t happen overnight, but slowly I came in communion with my body.
I fell in love with me.
A deep reverence for what my body was trying desperately to tell me, for more than two decades, slowly developed.
Is my self-care “perfect”? Am I “healed”?
Not even close.
BUT I’m stronger, more consistent, and I bounce back easily when things go off track.
Perhaps more importantly, I’m extremely clear on my non-negotiables, know exactly what I need to thrive, and remain committed to seeking support and adapting when needed.
Healing isn’t a linear path to some destination. It’s a life-long journey with ebbs & flows, setbacks, and celebrations.
So enjoy the journey and always keep moving towards your highest, most healed self.
And the coolest part?
I’ve developed a healing practice where I get to change other people’s lives, bring them back in communion with their bodies.