Physical healing and emotional Regeneration

Disclaimer; this is entirely my own theory to which I do not have the resources to prove incorrect or correct. I do not think there’s science to back it, but I’ve always had a theory in reference to my paralysis that it was a physical manifestation of all of the emotional turmoil that was compartmentalized into different areas of my body as physical ailment. I say this because as I have dealt with a lot of “my shit” and in times where I have noticed an improvement in my mental health I have also noticed coinciding and parallel improvement in my recovery rate or rate of improvement in a muscle movement or strength.

I know for fact that I hold a lot of tension. While some have “no chill”, I have ” no relaxation”. I have been previously described as one of the most tense people some know. Everyone is always trying to get me to relax. This is why I have a pick that I fidget with whenever I leave my home these days. I find it significantly more discreet to flip a pick between just three fingers as if I were fiddling with a pen. There are however a few people in ny life that just being around them can bring me to a calm, zen place mentally where I feel most hippie-esque. It’s not just the zen in those scenarios it’s knowing that with those people I can let my guard down and be honest to a fault without social consequence. The ones who check on me when I’m quiet because they suspect that I’m not sleeping or my pain levels are higher than I’m openly admitting to.

Being chronically ill I fully acknowledge that I count my energy in spoons, sometimes I have five for the day and others it’s five for the week. I have no desire to be around those that suck the life out of me like a positive vibe leech. I prefer to only spend my free time with people that recharge my batteries with laughter, connection, and good conversation.a few acquaintances recently claimed that they never laugh as hard as they do with me with other people. I guess I’m just willing to try and find that heart chord in conversation that will make someone laugh until they cry because I am familiar with what used to be an internal abyss of darkness.

More recently, last year I got back into counseling after my bottom surgery because I needed to process some old trauma aloud and I was finally ready to say my piece to find my peace. After each session I noticed my body starting to hold less pain and less tension as I was healing this seventeen year old soul wound. It continued to improve and eventually I started to feel a lot better on my good days and even the days where I cannot get out of bed due to physical pain are not as bad now that i survived my own mental prison. Even if it was the movement of a single digit of a finger or toe I notice a functional difference each time my emotional space improves.

Sometimes Fidgeting Can Save a Social Event

I’ll be real with you, like many others I experience some level of social anxiety and I know how loud social settings can bring up a lit for me so I fidget. A couple months ago i started carrying a pick with me at all times just for moments such as these.

Today at brunch it was the scent of a bath balm that reminded me of a recently passed ex lover. I wafted the scent for a few moments before tears welled in my eyes of that past spring lust of that sweet romantic fling. Before I began to weep I managed to inch the guitar pick out if my pocket and into my healing hand to run it through the fingers of my opposite hand. In this moment I felt a bit of comfort flow through my body at such a bittersweet time.

The scent of the bath balm transcended upon me so heavily that I could almost taste his lips and feel his touch again. Momentarily longing for that marvelous spring lust of what felt like a lifetime ago. I remember the sensation of his soft gentle hands against my curves and my hips. A steaming cup of joe in my hand just sipping at past bliss. It was many moons ago but it has yet to be forgotten.

Being able to fidget with my pick saved me from a heartfelt cry with a large group of friends, the sorrow still somber coming and going as it tends. I wear that fruitful lust in my heart for the part it has taken. The past brought me here today with the future for the making.

check out my personal underdog story here