Through this series of blogs, I explore the process I went through before leaving the legal profession as an attorney and jumping on a plane to Europe for an adventure that led me deep into my own subconscious.
As I began to drop into my body with awareness, some pretty primal emotions came to the surface. Until that point, I was not fond of expressing my feelings. They, I believed, made me weak. Vulnerable. “Too sensitive.”
If I dared show emotion in the courtroom, I would lose the respect of my male colleagues. In the morning when I called the courtroom to order, I had to raise my voice high and act more like a drill sergeant than a woman. Otherwise, no one listened to me.
It forced me to “buckle up,” though I can’t blame my unwillingness to express my feelings solely on being a prosecutor. Truth be told, I learned how to shut off the ability to feel at a very young age. No one wanted to hear how I felt. There were larger concerns to deal with. Besides, letting them out would only make me a burden. The last thing I wanted to do was cause trouble. Staying “silent and happy” was the safest and easiest rout to acceptance.
Denying how I felt became so habitual that I didn’t even realize I was doing it anymore. When people asked me if I was angry, I didn’t understand why. Sadness was especially easy to brush off. “It’s not a big deal anyway.” “I’m okay.” “I’ll get over it.”
There was no processing of my emotions. In my mind, I had nothing to process. Everything just slid right off, like the zen monks who meditated in caves all day. “Everything is good.” “No worries.” “It doesn’t bother me.”
Except, it wasn’t okay. The tension in my body kept growing stronger, urging me to seek outside help. My body felt tight and painful, despite how “clear” my mind felt. After the bicycle accident, the shoulder and neck pain only grew worse. One day, during a meditation circle, a friend mentioned the relief she found from chronic pain through Network Spinal Analysis. It intrigued me. I had tried chiropractic care, acupuncture and yoga. Yet, the pain remained.
I remember the first day I went into the office for an initial consult. After answering hundreds of questions, I frustratingly told the doctor how stuck I felt. “It’s as if nothing I do helps. I feel a complete disconnect between my mind and body. My body is holding onto so much. I don’t know what else to do.”
He looked me straight in the eyes when he said, “You’re in exactly the right place.”
It turned out that feeling stuck is a normal part of the healing process. But most people stay there, never getting out of the rut. It’s because they aren’t willing to dive deep enough into their own pain – or into their own experience – to find liberation.
I was willing and ready, no matter what it took.
“Sign me up,” I declared.
Chronic pain, I learned, stays in the body due to stored trauma. We each have trillions of cells. They are constantly shifting and changing. Every seven years, our entire body has completely new cells. Why, then, does pain remain in cells that are new?
The answer is the nervous system. When there is trauma, be it physical or emotional, a distortion of the signals can remain that lead to cellular dysfunction. Cellular dysfunction creates dis-ease.
The amazing part is that by accessing the emotion of trauma, we can heal the disruption and restore proper energy flow, or proper signaling of the proteins in each cell. It can take time, or happen instantaneously. As scary as it sounds to feel into such intensity, I found it incredibly liberating.
One day on the table in the doctor’s office, I let out a primal scream. Everything first turned black. Then the scream ruptured from the very depths of my being and took me through what felt like a sound tunnel. Afterwards, my body shook as it continued to release until the tears came. They quickly turned into heaving sobs.
Curled up on the floor, I saw myself completely exposed in all of my vulnerable emotions. I was not tough and hard and closed off. I was soft and supple and more open than I had ever been. Arms reached over to support me. I was given space to simply be me. I didn’t have to stop or control myself. There was nothing to explain. No story to share. No need to excuse myself for taking up time.
I was fully present with my own experience without apology.
My body changed that day. When I went home, I felt like a different person. I intentionally messed up my neatly combed hair and felt more bold. I had been so accustomed to silencing myself. To pushing my feelings down and away.
I continued to experience emotional release through bodywork and dance. The emotions – energy in motion – revealed themselves without effort. My role was to allow them to be present and release the desire to control them.
Over time, my body and mind began to work in harmony, rather than against each other. They weren’t so separate, like two distinct islands, anymore. As I felt consciously, my mind linked with the sensation of my body. My body communicated to my mind, which had become receptive to its messages. For years, I had been too closed off to hear.
Next week, I’ll talk about the disconnect I began to feel between what I was doing and what I was hearing within. In the meantime, send me a message or post your thoughts below. How do you handle the emotions that move through you? Do you feel harmony between your mind and body?
On Thursday, September 3, at 1:30 p.m. join me on Facebook for a live talk at www.facebook.com/thepathtosovereignty. Let’s dive deeper into these issues!
© Jessica Falcon 2020.