I am so disoriented.

Where am I?

What is this thing pulling on my hand…hurting me?

WHOA….oh no, I feel like I am going to be sick!

I feel like I need to get up and runaway, but something is pushing me down and holding me in place.

This time around….I open my eyes to lovely nurses.

You are going to be ok Megan, everything went well. Your procedure is over. How do you feel?

Can I get you anything?

Last time around…I open my eyes and I am alone in a ward.

What have I done?

This time around I say…I feel sick. More lovely nurses rush for sick bags and water and medication to help me. You will be ok, Megan, lie back and keep resting.

Last time around…I need to get up to pee, but I am stuck to a machine. I ring a bell and a nurse comes. Oh, it’s you…you right? No, I need to pee. Well just get up and push the machine to the toilet with you…I am too busy for people like you.

This time around everyone is lovely and they are caring for me, looking after me. I feel very nauseous, but eventually it passed and I get to rest while everyone looks after me. But that bloody cannula in my hand hurts…a lot

Last time around everyone is so angry with me. Confused, angry, dismissive and looking at me like I have gone insane…which I think sometimes I did. And the bloody cannula in my hand… really really hurts.

That is what you call a flashback.

One of the other unforseen complications of my recent stay in hospital was that flashback. This one, though, this one was a little different. You see, this time, it was not all about my sexual abuse.

No, this one is just as big and just as scary. It is also devastating, mortifying and humiliating.

This is about the time I abused myself.

This was a flashback to when I attempted suicide as an 18 year old.

And it was because of that bloody cannula. It was the trigger. I hate cannula’s. They are annoying and inconvenient and they hurt. The anaesthetist was being so nice saying it is better to put it in the back of the hand instead of the elbow, as it is less intrusive. Sure, I think, that’s fine. Then suddenly I am not even fighting back tears, I am actively crying and being reassured it is just because I feel so shitty after the bowel prep for the procedure. Yeah, of course I thought, that sounds reasonable. I believed it too.

By the way, the anaesthetist says, I am only going to keep the sedation very light and some people have said that they wake up during the procedure. Don’t worry if you do, I will know and increase the dose and you will go back to sleep.

Well…I did wake up. It was quite disorienting. What is going on? Where am I? What is happening?

Everything went well with the procedure to take my pre-cancerous adenomas out. Not too much pain, so I got to come home, with strict instructions to take it very easy for a couple weeks.

I decided to grab my brand new oil diffuser and pop in some grounding vetiver oil, some relaxing lavender oil and lie on my couch reading a book all afternoon. I had been talking with a friend about being put under anaesthetic. She and I had agreed that it was incredibly important to ground our energy back into our bodies afterwards, as we felt that during sedation our energetic body becomes quite disassociated, leaving us very depleted. Vetiver oil is amazing for grounding energy. And it works really well on people with tendency to being very un-grounded all the time..like me.

That night, I was very restless in my bed and so I decided that I needed to do a meditation. As I began my process, I quickly entered into my higher self state where I feel my deep connection to self and spirit. As I breathed I kept noticing this strange flash of something. I tried not to focus too much on it, just allow it to be there. But it was persistent. It is like the flicker of a fluorescent light coming on, but inside my head.

So I asked “What is that?” and suddenly I realised that it was the memory of waking up in my procedure. Those are the theatre lights and those are the voices of the doctors and nurses. And then suddenly it all becomes so amazing clear. This is where a part of me is still stuck. Up out here. I constantly experience this block in my meditations when I try to expand beyond this place, but I never seem to be able to.

I take a deep breath in and become very still in this place. This is huge.

This is a huge emotionally charged layer of myself I am confronting here.

This is a place of confusion, torment and terror.

This is a place of wallow.

Of destitution.

And emptiness so incredibly barren.

Then it becomes confusion and wild un-tameable rage.

It is just so hard in this place.

It throbs.

It is magnetic.

It is isolation so far beyond loneliness as to rejoice at the idea of mere sadness.

But this new me, the one that has been cultivating self love and forgiveness and compassion, who knows that there is nothing to fear here, except the pain and misery I have created in myself for so many years is standing with me. She has just had the lumps of pain and hurt and betrayal cut away and she is not going to avoid or run scared anymore.

I know that for many years I have tried to develop my psychic/intuitive/spiritual self and I have sought the assistance of dozens of healers and readers and never been able to break through this place I am now in…when suddenly I realise my mistake. I have been trying to send love out to this pain, or I have tried to sending rays of healing energy toward it. I have imagined tried to ‘lift its vibration’ or even just allowed it to sit there and try to move my energy around or past it….all manner of different things.  No…I needed to bring it back. I needed to let it merge back into me.  And with that insight, breath and allowance…it did.

And I fell asleep.

The next morning I woke up early and lie there a moment. Within moments I was crying. Tears trickled but quickly turned into huge gasping sobs. My hubby wakes and takes me in his arms and I cry and cry and cry. I am absolutely sobbing and moaning as I grieve this time from my past. I am so sorry, I keep saying. I am telling this to myself. I am telling myself I am sorry for what I did.

I haggardly tell my hubby what happened. I am so incredibly sorry for the pain I caused myself. My body is humming with an intense vibration. Both my hands are buzzing with it. I feel this layer of energy shifting and releasing. My husband just holds me. That’s all he has to do. Just hold me and rub my back as I let it go. Tell me I am ok. I will be ok. It was ok, what I did. It made sense at the time. And that is all.

The intensity subsides. I breathe a little easier. I have the sense of something profound occurring within my heart. It is lighter. I am stronger. I feel a wholeness that has been missing for a long time.

I am MeAgain. Megan, and…it is my birthday. July 22nd 2017. I am 46 today. Happy Birthday to me….all of me.

XOM

PS…

I have you haven’t read the first 3 posts in this little series I have shared around my health scare with these pre-cancer growths and my spiritual and healing meditations please check them out:

The first one is HOW MY EARLY MENOPAUSE SAVED ME FROM BOWEL CANCER

The second one is MEDITATING WITH THE MONSTER

The third one (a favourite…as I LOVE the SYNCHRONICITY in it) is THE HOUSE OF PAIN IS GONE!

Remember if you connect to, resonate with or are inspired by any of my blogs, my book is THE MAGIC AND THE MIRE  and it is available Australia wide for $15 ($29.90 Internationally

…or easier still find it at Amazon.com)