I’m Struggling, Not Failing. Healing is a Journey, Not a Destination.

Emotional Struggles/Journey of Healing

Honestly, I judge myself when I struggle. A small part of me has internalized the narrative that those who work in the healing arts professions have it figured out. With our spiritual practices, our clean eating, our knowledge of the Yoga Sutras, we have the tried and true formula for successful living.

Also known as spiritual bypassing, using the tools and practices mentioned above to AVOID doing any real work wrestling with the challenges of life. You know, the good vibes only crowd who never have sweat stains on their clothes or toothpaste on their shirt. (This is me most days in case you have never met me in person.)

Thankfully, I call bullshit (with love) on these tendrils of self judgement before they solidly root in my psyche.

Healing is not linear. Anyone who tells you they have arrived at their destination, especially if they work in the wellness world, please run away, as far away as possible from them.

Esteemed teacher, the late Ram Dass speaks of us ALL being a little broken and a little shattered inside. Those of us who grew up in environments that lacked safety, predictability and boundaries may really relate to this statement.

The commitment I have to my own healing journey of surviving childhood trauma, sexual assaults and more doesn’t mean I am immune to setbacks, and emergent spaces/wounds that arise that need tender attention.

SAYING THIS LOUDER FOR THOSE IN THE BACK OF THE ROOM;

JUST BECAUSE YOU ARE STRUGGLING-IT DOESN’T MEAN YOU ARE FAILING!

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This summer during my Dad’s declining health and eventual death, I stumbled through my house at night, in the dark, unable to sleep, sobbing and wailing, Eventually, I would walk slowly, a hand on my heart, a hand on my belly, lengthening my inhale and extending my exhale. My heart, held in tenderness, the darkness becoming soothing and comforting, cradling me finally to rest.

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My sister Heather and I visited my Dad in Rochester, NY in July of 2023. (We weren’t invited.) My Dad, my tall athletic Father, hunched over a walker, his voice raspy, MAGA hat on his head seemed a frail shadow of the Dad of my growing years.

Mother’s Day of 2024, my son John and I drive to my Dad’s hospital room in Strong Memorial Hospital in Rochester, NY, the place I was born and where my Dad died on June 2nd, 2024. I speak into memories of childhood, of days spent on Lake Ontario beaches, the giant beech nut tree in the backyard, the card games played under the tree with Aunt Babe smoking, cousin capers and more. Most memories I share are from younger years. My Dad tells my son that he regrets lost time, not meeting his wife, knowing his kids. My Dad barely knew my kids.

STRUGGLING IS NOT FAILING.

Loosing my Dad awakened in me so much tenderness and compassion for the 7 year old me, watching her Dad drive away, his hand waving out the car as it turned towards Rochester, NY and away from Johnstown, Pa.

I have been mourning the loss of my Dad my entire life.

GRIEVING IS NOT FAILING.

Physical Struggles/Journey of Healing

I don’t know until I get up and place both feet on the floor in the morning, slowly rising to standing, where and how intense pain will show up that day.

58 years old, I wonder if fibromyalgia will define the rest of my life. Only if I let it, I tell myself.

Yet another internalized narrative to unpack. The narrative of the wellness professional always being well. I have found teachers that have challenges and guide from vulnerability authentic and compelling, yet this narrative lingers until I release it. It doesn’t serve me or what I am capable of offering and creating.

Yesterday, the sharp shooting pain prick sensations around my right knee, stiffness in both hips with throbbing aches in the right gluteal Maximus and tendons around my right hip slowed me down considerably. That, and the overall achy feeling in my entire body.

Still, I find ways to engage my body in slow, gentle movement. I sit in meditation, slowing down and deepening my breath, deliberately releasing tension around areas of pain. I find myself in meditation, worrying about the physical requirements of the day. I met my fear with tenderness. “Do one thing at a time.”  I get up and travel to see hospice patients with my harp and to teach a chair Yoga class at the Cancer Center. I come home grateful for the pot of soup I made that morning. I manage to fully participate in a rehearsal, making music with beloved friends for a gig Saturday. I end the day with tea and my heating pad.

STRUGGLING IS NOT FAILING.

Endurance has always been my superpower. A former cross country runner, swimmer and hiker, I meet this new normal with grief for the things and experiences I have to let go of. Recently this involved not participating in the candlelight Christmas Eve Service at my faith community, not decorating my house for the season, declining musical gigs that last longer than 1.5 hours and so on. Also Dance. I am relearning how to move with form and fluidity around my center. This movement exists in sharp contrast to me hurling my body through space and time like a dangerous toddler with a lot of cartilage to spare. I grieve that freedom of expression AND I commit to being curious about my current exploration with movement.

STRUGGLING IS NOT FAILING.

Healing- and physical and emotional are intertwined. No, I did not cause my fibromyalgia because of my emotional struggles. What I can do is work with what shows up. Here, the practices exist not as spiritual bypass to cover up discomfort/triggers/struggles, but to gain a deeper understanding of how to radically accept what is present, cultivate compassion for myself and recognize I’m not alone.

Back to Ram Dass-“Healing is not curing: Healing is not about restoring things to how they were before, but rather allowing the present moment to move you closer to God.”

I am fully here for this.