Deep Healing With Plant Medicines
I looked down at my hands which seemed somehow foreign to me. The voice of San Pedro nudged my mind asking,
“Whose hands are these?”
I heard the stillness and the whisper of knowing riding out to the surface.
“Who are you to decide?”
“Who are you?”
“Who am I?”
I’m getting dressed to go see my mom. I can’t wait. “What should I wear?” It’s 100 degrees outside so I want to be cool.
I grab my shorts and have a far away voice chattering about how I shouldn’t show my bare legs. I put them on anyway. I grab 2 shirts and decide on the sleeveless halter, while the inner chatterbox gets worked up about jiggly arms.
I grab 2 shirts and decide on the sleeveless halter, while the inner chatterbox gets worked up about jiggly arms.
I put them on anyway. I grab 2 shirts and decide on the sleeveless halter, while the inner chatterbox gets worked up about jiggly arms.
I put it on and feel surprisingly beautiful.
I feel safe at my mom’s. The chatterbox quiets down.
My dad compliments me right away and I don’t feel uncomfortable receiving the praise. I marvel at how comfortable I feel in my body. The chatterbox is now silent.
I marvel at how comfortable I feel in my body. The chatterbox is now silent.
I get home feeling like a million bucks. Within an hour somehow my husband and I are arguing about our habits.
I am becoming aware of the chatterbox reminding me that I am not the most beautiful girl in the world. I feel scared…I say it out loud.
He is threatened by my fear…feeling attacked. He is mad. He attacks back, saying he doesn’t want me to get fat. He explains to me. “all guys want a hot girlfriend.” I say, “girls want a hot guy too.”
He explains to me. “all guys want a hot girlfriend.” As if this will make it all better. It doesn’t. I want to attack back saying, “girls want a hot guy too.”
I want to attack back saying, “girls want a hot guy too.”
He looks down at himself as if to say, “well you’ve got it.”
I am a little shocked that he could think this way. Does he really think he is perfect? Does he really judge me as inferior to him?
Does he really think he is perfect? Does he really judge me as inferior to him?
Does he really judge me as inferior to him?
The chatterbox goes wild! Referring to him now as “The Monster”. I start to realize…he thinks I’m fat right now.
Suddenly, he takes on a form I can barely look at. It is so ugly, vile and grotesque.
I’m wondering why we are talking about this. I have been working out and eating healthy.
I feel good about myself which is not my normal experience. I honestly don’t think I’m fat right now. That’s new, but why now? Why this? This must be his problem.
I say, “I’m not fat so this doesn’t even have to be an issue.”
He shrugs and looks away like he doesn’t agree. I know he is attacking me because he feels judged by me, but this is way under the belt.
This is the wound that hurts the most.
Wow. My world caves in as the thought sinks in further…
He Judges Me.
Am I delusional? My clothes all say medium. Am I fooling myself about my body? The voice of doubt takes over, bombarding me with questions.
I want to run and scream. I realize the only thing I can do is feel the shame that is creeping in threatening to devour me. I want to blame him and make him the monster. I hate that I know how this works.
A voice interrupts me. that the only thing I can do is feel the shame that is creeping in threatening to devour me. I want to blame him and make him the monster. I hate that I know how this works.
I see that the only real choice is to feel the shame that is creeping in threatening to devour me.
Not what I wanted to hear.
I want to blame him and make him. He is The Monster!
I hate that I know how this works.
I hate knowing this is part of my shadow that he is triggering.
Even if he was the most toxic piece of sh*% in the room, he has triggered something in me.
I have to face it and release it. I know that he is not toxic, just defending.
The Monster is inside me.
I am feeling ashamed, grotesque, disgusting, vulnerable, afraid, heavy, naked in front of him. I want to run and hide. I feel like our sex life is over.
I feel like our sex life is over.
I really want to attack him now!
I stop. I know this will do nothing but distract me from these feelings.
I know this will do nothing but distract me from these feelings.
I decide that I am willing to release it. A hush comes over my spirit.
He is blaming me for all the fights we’ve had and the words become a distant rumbling.
I tell him to blame me if it makes it easier to feel his emotions but to feel them.
I can feel that healing is more important than the need to feel comfortable. Besides, I’ve been attacked by scarier people and forces. I can handle his blame. Spirit is reminding me that it isn’t real.
I go outside to make a sandpainting. I blow the energy into the stones, cry, and feel broken.
I reach for the strength to forgive. I am holding the intention to forgive the Monster in myself. This horrid creature that always sees me as less than…the Bully that beats me and hides in the darkest corners.
“How do I embrace this abusive asshole part of me?”
I have no idea. All I know is I need help. I silently ask for help…not even sure who is listening.
I breathe in an out and ask for strength and knowing.
I breathe in peace and exhale sorrow. “I thought I was judging myself less. Then, this knocked me over. II feel like I’m going backward.
“I thought I was judging myself less.”
I sit with it and receive insights about the depression I experienced at 18.
Something new surfaces. A question I’ve had for many years is answered.
“Why did I lose my desire and passion for dance?”
I experienced that I felt like I couldn’t get thin enough for the mirrors in the studio.
I had lost so much weight and made myself sick. Yet, I felt like I still wasn’t thin enough. The 42-year-old me buckled over in pain…
My heart started shutting down…to everything. I experienced being that 18-year-old again alternating with the full experience inside the present me.
I was being shown that my heart shut down and caused a block in my passion for dance. Then, I got depressed.
For years, it seemed like overnight, I just lost my passion for dance, my first love.
Now, I could see my heart shutting down in real time. I felt the suicidal thoughts all over again. This time, as the 42-year-old me.
This time, I could see that I could make a choice before my heart shut down. I went in and out of closing down and reopening my heart. I cried for hours.
I cried for hours. My heart broke in pieces.
However, I knew, this time, it was leaving. This time, it was healing that broken girl from years ago.
I’d heard that once you drink San Pedro, the teacher stays with you. I could feel the medicine working on me, speaking to me, guiding me through the discomfort.
I could feel the insights as I went through the process. Otherwise, I just would have felt broken without a reason or end in sight.
I can see clearly now that my husband just played a villain in my life movie so I could finally heal the lost girl inside.
I’d put her away in the darkness years ago and with her, I’d blocked my heart’s passion for dance and creativity.
Now, I have a burning desire to dance, sing, and create. A part of my soul has been freed.
I feel grateful for his willingness to play out the ugly parts of me…to remind me of my wholeness.
To remind me of who I am beyond the ideals of social programming.
He helped free the Wild Monster in me so I can stop acting out by bullying myself and embrace the strong wild woman inside.
I am grateful to the wonderful plant medicines, Ayahuasca & San Pedro for the capacity to heal so deeply.
I fell asleep and dreamed of a beautiful exotic woman that was pure and wise.
She told me, “The wild woman must run completely free. Her life must not be perfectly planned or she will die a little inside with each moment.”
I invite you to be wild…be free.
Continue to ask yourself,
“Who am I now?”
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