4.11.10

Do You Know My Friend Amy Oscar?

After my last post, I had a long conversation with my friend, Amy Oscar, who is an intuitive spiritual consultant. She was one of many I was lucky enough to meet at CIP, Sarah Robinson's conference I attended in September. What Amy does is fascinating, and I encourage you to read more about it here. Talking through things with her helped me put together some of the puzzle pieces I wrote about on Monday. One particular thing Amy said has stuck with me: "The story we tell over and over again is not the story." She suggested I take a look at things that were going on within our family before my dad came out of the closet. And indeed, there were things going on, but they will have to wait for another post.

According to Amy (I'm using her words verbatim because she says it far better than I could):

The third chakra is the seat of the will (and willpower). This is the place where "fire in the belly" lives, the personal 'foundry' where we forge, through our choices, the life that we will ultimately manifest.

In terms of your hernia, its location suggests to me a weakness in your ability to own your own choices, your authority over your own life. I said that perhaps, continuing to tell the story of the wound that you received when your father came out was holding you in the past - and holding this weakness/vulnerability open even though that event happened many years ago. Understanding the energy anatomy of the body can help us understand how symptoms and illness are often (I said, always) linked to causal factors in the psyche and energy body. In this way, a hernia - a weakness in the abdominal wall above the navel - suggests, to me, that this weakness, held over time had manifested from the energy body to the physical body and now physical surgery is the solution. From the perspective of energetic healing, you can support this surgery - and prevent further symptoms, recurrence, weakness in this chakra - by addressing the psychological issues in play.

Amy sent me here to check out this educational diagram of all the chakras and where they reside (if you're a curious bird like me). I was so intrigued that I asked Amy to give me the names of some books about all of this stuff so I can investigate further. Working with Amy again would be wonderful (if she's willing), and I'm  looking forward to learning and discovering more.

If you'd like to connect with Amy, you can find her on Twitter here:
Her blog is incredible, and I encourage you to subscribe now.
You can also find her on Facebook here.
Pssssst. She's also got a book coming!! It's going to be phenomenal, just like Amy!

Bits and pieces of our conversation, stream-of-consciousness style:

**symptoms in the body = flags from the psyche.
**so many things I'm dealing with: rage, betrayal, lying, and identity issues. All of these things coming to a head are like the an infection, like the wound in my abdominal wall.
**when I was 15, I shoved it all under the carpet to hide it-- the secret of my gay dad.
**intubation = symbolic b/c I could not speak, did not speak, did not have/use my voice.
**shame in homosexuality --> imagery I used of something I was choking on, being shoved down my throat.
**start looking at what was going on before dad came out.
**his coming out = his pulling the tube (intubation) out.
**other truths may still be buried, carrying a weight.
** the 3rd chakra is navel/stomach/belly button area = powerlessness.
**my dad didn't do anything to me, he did it for himself (I do know this, but still it's hard)
**to be writing/thinking about all of this now is good, but risky in a way because of the historical blow coupled with the anniversary of the wound, and now surgery in the same week. But may also be cathartic and very healing (literally and metaphorically).

Amy gave me some food for thought in a big way. She was brilliant, insightful, kind, and gentle with me. I'm utterly and completely in awe of her. So hurry on over to her blog and get to know her!

1.11.10

Halloween May Be Over, But November Haunts Me.

Every year the first week of November stops me dead in my tracks as I run headlong into a brick wall. I stagger to my feet, stunned, brush the grit off, and start the familiar shuffle down the same path I did back in November of 1991 when I was 15 years old. I can't believe it was 19 years ago. Nineteen, which is almost 20. Sounds like a lot. It is a lot. So why, then, does it still plague me? Why won't it go away? Well, because my gay dad isn't going away. He's still my dad. Our family is still our family, however atypical and foreign to some.

Nineteen years ago this week, my dad spilled his secret out onto the floor of our living room. Like a pool of blood, crawling and seeping all over clean, shiny floors. I drowned in it, choked on it. I'm back now, but I'm still changing, morphing, blurring, reaching, and becoming. I stare out my kitchen window watching the leaves drift down and listen to the trees laughing, dancing and whispering their secrets.
autumn leaves Pictures, Images and Photos

I'm instantly transported back to that day, like a time warp. A scratch on a record blip...blip...blip or a cd that's on repeat. Rewind, play. Rewind, play. Pause. Rewind, play again. You might be talking to me, but my brain goes somewhere else for a few minutes. I'm flooded with memories that seem so close and tangible, like bubbles I can pop; yet a part of me wishes them far away, out of reach, locked up in a box buried a million miles under the sea.

As soon as the secret was out and I'd gotten permission, I fled the scene of the gory crime--the butchering of our white picket fence family.

I'm being butchered this Friday. There's a hole in my gut (an umbilical hernia), similar to the one in my heart/psyche. The hole in my abdomen will be repaired. Yet I'm not sure if my soul will ever mend? Can mesh, stitches and Percocet be the salve to soothe my other gaping wounds?

This wound is not new, this hole in my abdominal wall. I had it last year, and it was repaired. Now it's back (cue scratched record: blip...blip...blip). What is it with this repetition in my life, patterns, things that follow me and won't go away?

I had my first hernia fixed in August 2009, and it was horrifying. I've had surgeries, but this? I woke up still intubated. And paralyzed-- I couldn't even blink my eyes open or force my lashes to flutter--all I could feel was something huge jammed down my throat. Something I was supposed to just swallow. Only it was too much. I wasn't in control, I couldn't do anything. Frozen for what seemed like forever in a stony sarcophagus.

After what felt like an eternity but was likely only a matter of minutes, someone pulled the tube out. I still couldn't move my body, but somehow tears flowed and I felt them drip down my cheeks. When a nurse came to check on me in the recovery room, I was at last able to make my lips and tongue move enough to slur, "I want my husband." I'm sure it sounded nothing like that, given the drug haze, and I had to repeat myself. Once The Father Load appeared, I lost it. Still unable to really move, but I could speak---I had a voice. I went on and on about how someone messed up and I woke up with the tube still in my throat.

I am terrified this will happen again on Friday. I am terrified I am losing my voice. There is so much I want to say. I am making a promise to myself that during this hiatus while I am healing, I am going to write. You may not see it all here, but I have to stop making excuses. I think writing will heal my wounds and without a tube stuck in my throat, I have a voice, and it needs to be heard.

Are you willing to listen? Are you silencing yourself? Are there things you wish you could say? Leave them in the comments.
 

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