October 25, 2021

Evolving: An Empath Heals through Writing.



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I’ve lived in the dark and I’ve lived in the light.
I understand that this is life.

I am grateful to be here.
I have dedicated my life to healing.
I work hard every day to choose to be here.
I choose to do the hard work it takes to move through the hard times.

I grew up learning to keep my heart and breath still while trying to feel the earth for its vibration.
Scanning to sense its frequency and what it could mean.
Learning to sniff the air like an animal.
I would listen intently when people spoke while trying to figure out if their tone matched their words and body language.
My mind like a computer would do the work while my body would get ready to respond to their intent.
My mind never had a chance to grow.
I was always in a primal survival mode.

Now every day I get up and I am eager and ready to learn new things.
And acquire more tools to live a healthy life, mentally, physically, and spiritually.
I use these tools with the intent to bring peace to myself and others.
I am an empath, I am a healer. I am also a pleaser.
Sometimes I get so busy focusing on others I burn out, break down.

Last September I believed I was dying.
I believed that for real I was finally leaving.
My body felt as if it was shutting down as I lay in bed for weeks,
Seeing doctors and having tests that would come back fine.
Almost three weeks after finding I was perfect physically, I slowly and carefully joined the world again. 

Then it happened.
One morning I woke up to the most unexplainable sensation I have ever known.
From head to toe a feeling only I can ever know.
The experience was magnificent and almost impossible to explain.
I was awake and it started with my death.

Sitting quietly here—I’ve been putting two and two together.
Maybe this September I had to die again?
It was September 17 when I sent a message of something I had written into Elephant Journal.
I was encouraged to share on Elephant and I did.
I can’t say it felt good to bring back the ghosts of a life past—but I can tell you this, it feels so much lighter to not carry them.

I thank everyone who read the worst of them. I pray that you do not carry anything I peeled off and shed.
I am sending through the air, brooms, dustpans, and trash bins to clean up the mud I left, and light to fill its space.
I wonder now if I will be able to still compose an article if it’s not drenched with pain.
I am ready to find out and I hope you are too.

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