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.
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.
I nearly put my back out again a couple of weeks ago.
It was pouring with rain and it was bin night. So there I was gingerly stepping down the mossy, concrete slope when I slipped and lost my footing. It was quite a spectacular effort actually. The bin slammed into the metal fence with a loud bang, my umbrella went flying (I have no idea why I bothered with the stupid thing in the first place) and I fell very ungracefully onto my arse.
It was not my finest moment.
After a uttering a few expletives, I scrambled up thinking that karma had just paid me back rather unpleasantly. Just minutes earlier I’d been thinking very ungenerous thoughts about a recent ex so I guess I deserved to land on my arse. Although you’d think karma could give me a break…after all, isn’t anger part of the healing process??
Anyway, as I retrieved the bin and began edging my way down the hill again (making sure to keep below the fence-line in case a neighbour decided to investigate the racket – I was now coated in random leaves, dirt and damp patches so I didn’t really want to be seen) I began thinking cranky thoughts about the annoying things you have to do when you’re single.
Taking the bin out is obviously one of those things. At least if there was a man in the house we could toss for the ‘bin privilege’ and I’d have a 50 percent chance of escape. Okay, that’s a lie. I would want him to take out the bins (be quiet my feminist heart!).
And then there’s the grocery shopping. Actually I don’t mind doing the shopping so much. My issue is more about getting the groceries from the car to the house…in the rain.
I can’t tell you how many times those bloody bags have split and tins have rolled down the hill. Or I’ve ended up with muddied and bruised tomatoes as my hair is plastered to my face while torrential rain claims me as a victim again.
I often wonder what my neighbours think when they see these types of the ‘incidents’ in my front yard.
Until recently they could view something I called a ‘metal sculpture’ on my lawn. Although if I’m honest, its art value was probably minimal. In fact, my neighbours probably referred to it as ‘that old garden pergola eyesore that looks like it’s been through a cyclone’.
I’m just grateful the ‘sculpture’ was located elsewhere last year when I had to sprint across the lawn to flee a horde of wasps. One of my neighbours patched me up with some calamine after that experience but my injuries could have been more severe if I’d had to hurdle twisted metal as well.
The wasps had built their nest under the ant-capping at the bottom of my front stairs. There they buzzed and gathered to launch attacks on unsuspecting passersby.
I had no idea how to get rid of them.
I did consider trying to smoke them out (I can remember Dad doing that when I was little). But, knowing me, I probably would’ve burned my house down in the process so I decided against that approach.
I also didn’t have anything in my wardrobe resembling a beekeeper’s outfit, so getting close to the wasps wasn’t really an option.
I mulled over the problem for a few weeks and only used the back door to get in and out. The wasps had staked their claim and I had no counter-attack.
Eventually I came up my own ingenious solution. And so operation Wasp Carnage began.
One sunny day I backed my car alongside the nest and climbed into the passenger seat. Then, while tightly gripping a can of insect spray in one hand and uttering a silent prayer that I wouldn’t die of insecticide inhalation or a targeted wasp attack inside the car, I began rolling the automatic window up and down rapidly and spraying inset spray through the gap. I did suffer some minor hand bruising during this escapade (kept jamming my hand in the bloody window). And the rosemary bush immediately underneath the nest didn’t survive the poisonous deluge. But those wasps were no more.
Who says women can’t do everything!
PS. Thank you to all the kind friends who have subsequently provided me with several sensible strategies re wasp eradication. I will now be better prepared in the future.
