Are your emotions making you physically sick?

Many years ago my Dad suffered a minor heart attack and, as we sat in a curtained cubicle in the Emergency Department, the doctor came by to chat to us about what was next. During that conversation he talked about the causes of heart attacks. He even spoke about how some people literally have their heart broken by grief or loss and experience heart problems as a result.
I found it fascinating that a medical professional would openly acknowledge that our emotions can create such a strong physical response in our bodies.
I can totally relate to what the doctor was saying to me, and I’m not alone. Practitioners such as Louise Hay (You Can Heal Your Life) have written extensively about how our physical ailments are often a manifestation of our emotional states and the way we view our world (and ourselves).
Often the emotions we carry forward with us from the past into our present are “negative” such as grief, loss, sadness, rage, disappointment and anger. I’ve placed “negative” in inverted commas because although these are normal and very human emotions, we are often conditioned to see them as being negative and discouraged from owning or openly expressing them. This is particularly true for many women who are brought up to be ‘nice girls’ and therefore taught to push down and repress these emotions instead of owning and expressing them in healthy ways. It certainly doesn’t encourage women to process their emotions and associated challenges in ways that empower them to move forward and, in essence.

It is only by truly owning and acknowledging all the parts of ourselves (including the more “negative” parts) that we can truly claim our power and step into the expansiveness that is possible for us to experience. Unexpressed emotions lead to constriction and yes, sometimes resulting physical and mental ailments that restrict us further.

For those of us who highly empathic and consequently feeling lots of emotions a lot of the time (often from other people), suppressing what we truly feel is not a recipe for success.

It’s important to find safe ways to release the emotions from past experiences from our bodies in order to be healthy. Clearing out our emotional junk may take time but it is definitely a worthwhile exercise.

I’ve found letter writing to be a successful and cost-free way to release my emotions from the past. It’s as easy as picking up a pen and some paper, finding a quiet spot where you won’t be disturbed, then writing Dear [name of the person who has made you feel angry, sad, etc.] and writing whatever comes to mind without editing your words, judging yourself or even thinking about it too much. During the writing process I encourage you to be ruthlessly honest with the person about how you feel. DO NOT HOLD BACK!!! Remember, this is your time to own and fully express how you feel.

When you’ve finished writing, don’t read the letter (because the whole idea is to purge the emotions out of you rather than suck them back in). Simply dispose of it in a way that feels right to you. For example, you might shred it into little pieces, burn it or bury it in the garden. And while you do this, I invite you say “I release you, I release you, I release you” so the Universe knows that it is time to take all those emotions and energy from you.

Of course, I know that many of you might feel tempted to send the letter to the person has upset you. After all, you want them to know what they’ve done and how they’ve made you feel…right?

Actually, if you do that you are completely giving your power away (and that defeats the purpose of this exercise). The whole point of writing this letter, just for you and owning your emotions then releasing them, is to help you reclaim your power and  equilibrium so you can move forward freely. The minute you give that letter to the other person, you make the process about them, not you. So don’t give it to them. Instead, claim this as your moment to acknowledge and release emotions that are keeping you stuck so you can move forward feeling lighter and more free than before.

Lucretia Ackfield is a psychic channel and author who helps women reconnect to intuitive power and manage their psychic gifts so they can fully live their Purpose, create Positive Change on the Planet and Serve Humanity.

Anxiety, self-worth and being ungrounded: the toxic mix

Anxiety, self-worth and being ungrounded: the toxic mix

When the idea for this blog arose a couple of days ago, I felt a bit tentative about it. Anxiety, and its loathsome sidekick depression, are sensitive issues and experiencing them, or witnessing someone we care about in depths of these rampant destructors, is traumatic, soul-destroying and deeply personal.

Nevertheless, after reading the thoughts of Chris Nicholas in his blog about mental illness and the need for us to do more (see Introspection and Loss), I felt compelled to share my story in the hope that perhaps, by sharing my own experiences, it might help one another person to navigate their own journey more safely and easily.

Anxiety was my very frequent and unwelcome companion throughout high school. It stalked me at every turn and manifested in a unique propensity to cry at the drop of a hat. I cried all the time. Whenever I was faced with new experiences I usually felt overwhelmed and the tears would start. Fear would turn on the taps and the salt water would pour forth. I can remember starting my first ever clarinet lesson in Grade 8 and crying because I felt so out of my depth. I had barely started and the newness of the experience and the unfamiliarity of the teacher was all too much. I lasted three lessons then never returned.

By Grade 12 I was crying less but inside I was still a mess. I was the lead in the school musical, secretary of the student council and had a diverse and large group of friends. But in my room at night I struggled and often felt like I was climbing the walls. My parents had done their best to get me help over the years with counselors but none of it seemed to work and I guess, as a highly-strung and chronic perfectionist, I became good at hiding my inner torment. On the outside I was an above-average, successful student. On the inside I was a basket-case.

By 23, I was on anti-depressants. Over the following 10 years I’d regularly visit a psychiatrist and numerous counselors as I sought to vanquish my anxious and depressive demons. The demons wreaked havoc in my gut and the medication messed with my weight. But every time I eased back or off the medication entirely, the symptoms would return within months. However, throughout all this time, I was a success on the surface with a good husband and a growing public relations career. I was also a highly judgmental young woman and had a view of the world that was strictly black and white. It wasn’t until much later that I’d realise those harsh judgements of others were the direct result of my own cruel judgement of myself.

Fortunately for me, life began to change in my early 30s and it was this shift that would ultimately help me force that anxiety and occasional depression back into the box where they belonged. Looking back now, I can put these changes down to a journey where I would finally uncover my self-worth and ultimately become a far more grounded human being.

Like a lot of people, I’d never really been shown how to value myself and trust my own judgement first, above all others. As young people we seek the advice of those older than us and, if we are insecure (like I was), we will often think others (even our peers) know best or more than us because we have no faith in ourselves whatsoever. Self-reliance and encouragement to go within for our answers is not frequently taught. Perhaps this is because it would encourage a little too much free-thinking in certain situations and this would disruptive?

Taking steps to connect more fully to who I am, and valuing myself and my capacity to make good decisions for me, has been an integral part in managing my anxiety and depression. But it’s not the full story.

The second component has involved learning to live in my head less and in my heart and body more. As a strongly energetic being (a psychic channel, no less), I am susceptible to picking up the energies of other people. This coupled with a mind that is strongly molded in the Western traditions of rationality and logic, has created numerous conflicts within me. My mind wants to reason everything through and weigh everything up (I am a Libran after all) while my intuitive self and my heart know there is often a very good reason to turn down reason and instead listen to the messages the Universe sends to help me on my journey. In hindsight, I wonder how often I was picking up the energies of others while I was growing up without knowing it. I also wonder if this fed my anxiety and twisted my mind into finding ways to reason through emotions, impressions and my own responses that simply had no rational cause.

Living in your head all the time also means you’re frequently not feeling connected to your body and that equals ungroundedness – a feeling of not being connected to the earth and not being present in the moment. It’s taken me a very long time to know what being grounded feels like and it’s an ongoing practice that I’m still seeking to perfect. But, I have to tell you, being grounded makes managing myself and the daily stresses of life a whole lot easier.

Thankfully, I left the anti-depressants behind in my early 30s. And these days I manage my rare bouts of anxiety with strategies ranging from acupuncture to meditation, exercise and natural remedies. Occasionally I will also see a counselor to talk through and release the thoughts scurrying through my mind.

Will I need medication again in the future? Who knows. If life throws me some unforeseen, painful or traumatic event then maybe I will. And that will okay too.

Do I think my process is a magical cure for everyone. No. I don’t. Everyone’s body is different and some people may always need medical assistance to manage their anxiety and depression. Others may take medication for a while, get better for a while, then regress. That’s the sometimes unpredictable nature of mental health and for everyone it is a unique and very personal journey.

However, I firmly believe that my lack of self-worth and being ungrounded were strong contributors to my personal experiences of anxiety and depression. I also believe that people are happier and more balanced if they are strongly connected to their inner selves, have strong self-worth and are grounded in their bodies.

Perhaps if we can teach our young people how to access these feelings and connections they will be less stressed-out and able to live their individual purpose on this planet with more ease and grace. And if my story can help just one other teenager avoid my less than ideal experiences, then that would be a true blessing indeed.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Is it time to be vulnerable?

Is it time to be vulnerable?

I’m a big crier. For those who know me really well, this statement will come as no surprise because I am self-admittedly a very emotional person.

For many others it will come as a big surprise. ‘But you always seem so happy,’ would be a typical response. And I can’t say I blame most people for thinking that because I can put on a pretty good show. As someone who’s worked in public relations for more than 16 years I am well-versed in keeping my shadows and my sadness hidden. But nevertheless, I have them like everyone else and I am a big crier as a result.

In fact, I can sit at home in the morning, have a good cry for 30 minutes, then get up, wipe my eyes, get dressed and head into work where no one will be any the wiser. They will believe everything is fine in my world. And they will be right, mostly. But I guess like a lot of people, sometimes I’m not okay at all. I get my heart broken too, miss the people I care about who are no longer around, am sometimes disappointed, am occasionally unwell and sometimes I just feel down because life’s too much and I just want to get off the roller coaster and rest for a while.

Now before you begin thinking I’m some basket-case who needs professional psychiatric assistance, let me assure you that I am not crazy. Nor am I usually deliberately choosing to present a ‘together’ face to the world when I’m actually falling apart inside. But what I’m trying to say is two main things.

Firstly, when you see someone who seems like they’ve got it together, there’s a pretty good chance there’s something in their life that probably isn’t as they would like it. And I can guarantee you that they have down days just like you. But they may not show it because they have to ‘get on with it’ and they don’t feel safe to be vulnerable around you for some reason. Maybe it’s not socially appropriate or they’re worried you’ll judge them or dismiss how they feel. I think a lot of people are scared of being vulnerable in front of others for exactly those reasons.

Let’s face it, being vulnerable isn’t exactly encouraged in most parts of our society and, when people do show that side of themselves, it can make other people feel bloody uncomfortable because many of us just don’t want to ‘go there’. And when someone is vulnerable around us then it reflects back all that vulnerability in ourselves that we often want to hide from because there is risk involved in being vulnerable. So frequently our response is to help them ‘pull themselves together’, compartmentalise how they feel, push through it or simply get over it.

Is it any wonder that so many people feel disconnected, depressed, anxious and alone when this avoidance of vulnerability is propagated?

This brings me to my second point; when you are vulnerable you are living from your heart. Vulnerability in its very essence is opening yourself up to feel pain, joy, love and everything in between. It is not about hiding who you are or hiding from yourself.

When I sit and cry for 30 minutes then tell someone that, on that particular day, I feel a complete mess inside, I am being vulnerable. And I can appreciate that some people find that incredibly uncomfortable. I’ve had people tell me I’m too emotional, I over-think things, I need to compartmentalise and so on. And that’s okay because I understand why people say that to me.

But for me, it is my willingness to be vulnerable that means I’m truly living from my heart. It is my willingness to go there and feel what I feel (however painful) that means I’m being honest with myself about where I’m at and what’s important to me. And over-riding all of that is the knowledge that it is only by being truly vulnerable that I can truly walk my path with integrity because I am not denying any part of me.

I can’t lie and say living this way is always comfortable. Sometimes being vulnerable will leave you feeling raw inside. Sometimes you will feel like you are on a road blocked with sharp-edged boulders that you have to climb over.

It’s challenging but I have to go there because I don’t know how to be any other way and, ultimately, I believe that if you’re not willing to be vulnerable then you’re actually missing out on the fullness of the human experience.

How to survive a friend break-up

How to survive a friend break-up

Last weekend, my friend Susan* discovered she had lost some of her friends. Somehow, over the past 12 months, as she became absorbed more and more in her purpose and life in general, her friends began to pull away. Then over the weekend, Susan experienced a ‘friend break-up’.

‘It would be great if you could write a blog about how to deal with that!’ she said. So here it is.

Susan has done a lot over the past year or so. She’s had a baby, established a not-for-profit and organised fundraising events that delivered valuable and much-needed outcomes for those in need. Put simply, she’s been following her heart and purpose to make the world a better place.

Unfortunately, some friends have decided not to support Susan’s journey. For whatever reason, they never ask what she’s up to, they don’t support her fundraising events and they don’t care about the path she has chosen. They don’t get it and now deliberately isolate her at social events. The situation felt like schoolyard bullying and, as she felt hurt by their behaviour, Susan decided to ask them what was going on.

Their reaction wasn’t positive and included statements like ‘All you ever talk about is you’, ‘You’re never free when we want to see you’ and ‘You didn’t come to my party.’

Some of her friends’ complaints stretched back to August last year. But when Susan asked, ‘Why didn’t you say something back then?’ they had no response.

Now, while Susan has been engrossed in various activities and could probably do with more ‘balance ‘in her life generally, she definitely hasn’t been making it all about her. She’s been juggling a baby, work and trying to make the world a better place in the only way she knows how. Susan has been busy but also made an effort to stay in touch with her friends. However, her commitments meant she wasn’t as available as she used to be. Meanwhile, her friends aren’t interested in what she’s doing and want her to be the way she was before.

But Susan isn’t that person anymore and she can’t go back.

‘What do I do?’ she asked with tears in her eyes. ‘I’m doing my best but they’re not interested. They don’t want to know.’

Breaking up with friends is hard but we can’t stay in one place just to make other people comfortable. In life there will be moments when you realise you must leave some people behind. Life is like that. Some people will always be in our lives, others will stay only for a certain period of time before going their own way. Then there are others who will leave and return when the time is right. That’s just how our soul contracts with each other work. We support and learn from each other, then move on when the contract is done (read Sacred Contracts by Caroline Myss if you’d like to know more about this).

Our relationships, platonic, familial and romantic, do require work and commitment. However, sometimes you are simply moving in a different direction and must let go. And that’s okay.

My advice to Susan was to seek out those friends who support her journey; the ones who ‘get’ what she’s trying to do.

‘Seek out the ones who help you feel lightness in your soul and encourage you to live the life your dream of,’ I said. ‘What would that feel like?’ Susan’s smile was all the answer I needed and I felt her spirit lift at the thought.

Some people are only in our lives for a season. Others will remain connected over long periods to teach us lessons or support only certain parts of our lives. And then others will return when we believe the connection is broken, because that too is what’s needed. The challenge is to protect our hearts and know it’s okay to let go when the contract is done.

*Names changed and story published with Susan’s approval.

If you’d like to me to respond to one of your questions, please comment on my blog or email me at lucretia@lucretiaswords.com

 

 

 

 

 

The lessons of Grief and making it through

GriefAround this time last year I had my heart broken by a man I loved with everything in me. When I say ‘broken’, I mean it. My experience with that man literally broke me apart and I completely lost myself in Grief.

I have grieved relationships and people lost from my life before but this time was different. This time Grief took me over and I fell to the bottom of huge pit of despair where I stayed for what seemed like an interminable period. I cried every day for months and months. I raged at the world and at him. I went to places so dark in my mind that I thought I would never make it out alive. Grief was a bitch that would not let me go.

She was with me every moment and, as I writer, my only recourse was to pour my pain onto a page. I wrote 70,000 words between January and May. Then something unexpected happened; the prose turned to poetry. It felt like Grief cracked open this whole new part of me and poetry fell out. It was strange and also so very relentless. Grief was a demanding client. She demanded I write and write even when tired, emotionally spent and physically exhausted. I had to write. It all had to come out.

The muse was my therapist and my words, catharsis. When I read those words now they often seem like they were written by someone else. Don’t get me wrong, sometimes my words impress me and I ask myself, ‘Did I really write that?’ Those words hold an essence and a depth that wasn’t in me 18 months ago. I can thank Grief for that.

She held me close and I held her closer. She defined me and I let her. Then our relationship took an unexpected twist when, after about six months, Grief left me to find another soul to torment. She had penetrated every part of me and her departure left an emptiness behind; a space to be filled by something or, perhaps, someone else.

I didn’t realise she was leaving until after she’d gone. Grief had been my constant companion and influencer. Her occupation of my life was something I dreaded daily but she was also a dragging weight I’d carried willingly for months. Then suddenly, I was free.

I don’t know if I let go of Grief or she let go of me. Maybe it was a combination of both. It felt weird not to have her around. But I couldn’t hold onto her or the pain anymore. I couldn’t stay in that place of torment. It was time to move on.

Some people say that what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger. I don’t know about that. All I can say is, although I never, ever want to be hurt like that again, I know the experience showed me parts of myself I didn’t know existed. Grief was a hard taskmaster (okay, a complete bitch) but she taught me a lot about pain, creativity, what I’m capable of (the wonderful and awful, shameful parts) and my ability to just keep going when I’d rather give up completely.

I don’t wish her to visit again. But I am thankful for the lessons Grief taught me because they helped me to become a wiser person, and a stronger writer.

Silence No 1

Silence 1Not a word could be heard
The silence complete
The cord it seemed
Was cut

Her heart in her mouth
She listened again
But the silence
Had shut everything up

Some would say
Silence has no sound
But its impact is so devastating
It washes over and drowns your heart
A process really quite castigating

She strained again
To hear a sound
A word
Another heart beating
But all she heard
Was a dripping tap
And the sound of her own heart beating