You Are What You Feed
If you had told me three years ago that I would have a diagnosis of PTSD, I wouldn’t have believed you.
I was mighty. I was sharp. I was quick.
I was everything it took to be successful. I was loving. I was supportive. And I was damn good at my job. I was damn good at supporting my spouse. I was damn good at supporting my children.
Too much so.
I wasn’t consciously aware of setting it all on fire. Up until recently, I would have told you that everyone ELSE set everything on fire.
But by now, who lit the match doesn’t matter.
They say that the Hindu goddess Kali exploded forth from Durga’s forehead in a burst of rage during a doomed but righteous battle against an ominous demon and its endlessly multiplying spawn. When her fury erupted and Kali emerged, the demon and its hoard were quickly destroyed. But Kali’s rage-fueled destruction continued, almost destroying the universe. Luckily, pure consciousness surrendered to her ferocity, and she was immediately calmed.
I’m working on that pure-consciousness-surrendering-to-the-ferocity part.
My PTSD takes the form of contraction - all the way from my scalp to my right hip and again in my left toes. From all I’ve learned, I think part of my nervous system is still trying to shrink; to make myself small enough to hide, to be good, to ignore my needs, to dim my light and my volume enough to fit inside someone else’s tolerance.
The other part of my nervous system seems to be saying, Oh, HELL no.
Kali is known as the destroyer of all illusions.
When all the paradigms around you burn down, there’s nothing left but pure freedom. The physical pain - the seemingly scorched nerve endings - is the price.
Whether or not I chose this, I haven’t figured out yet. But here is something I HAVE figured out.
You are what you feed.
A million thoughts will enter your head each day. You get to pick - every single time - which ones you will allow to be true. Which ones you will feed.
When I feel like I must perform to please someone, I’m learning to think - Don’t feed that.
When I find myself ready to judge my image or my actions, I’m learning to think - Don’t feed that.
When I want to criticize the hell out of someone, even if only in my mind, I’m learning to think - Don’t feed that.
And I’m learning to ask - What can I feed instead?
Do I feel my feet connected to the ground? Yes? Feed that.
Do I see how gracefully my hair brushes my cheek? Feed that.
Do I see that person’s inner light? Feed that.
I can’t wave a magic wand and make the wounds go away. I may never be free from the scars. But I can infuse every pleasant thing I experience with more connection, more power, more awareness than I offer to anything that hurts.
Healing hurts like hell. But it’s doable.
I love you. I hope and pray that whatever journey you’re on, it holds less drama than mine did. But maybe mine has something to offer that might help along the way.
Much Love,
JL
