There is a limit as to what the heart can absorb. Likewise, there is a limit as to what the mind can comprehend. When the two intersect during times of crisis, the emotional bandwidth bends.
In my post, Resilient, I discussed my health challenges and where I am at a year later. Mere days after that post, the doctors informed us of my dad's cancer diagnosis. I screamed. I cried. I broke every blood vessel in my forehead, eyes, and nose; yeah, that's a sexy look, especially when you have to go to the airport to pick up your mother-in-law.
My nervous system started its regeneration process in April, but throughout the year before my official neuropathy diagnosis, I focused on understanding my body better, not just my nervous system but brain and soul.
The science and spiritual.
When I was on Lyrica, I didn't know which parts of me were me or the medication. I had to face my trauma head-on with therapy which included acupuncture, somatic psychology, energy healing, soul-voice meditation, and shadow work.
I studied The Gospel of Mary, I actually started that two years ago, but I dove deeper into all the hidden gospels, prayers, and texts, including The Thunder: Perfect Mind and The Acts of Paul and Thecla.
The Mirror of Simple Souls by Margeurite Porette, The Soul of Psychosynthesis, The Interior Castle, written by Saint Teresa of Avila.
Where am I going with all of this?
All of my reflections, studies, and reading did not bring me to a place where my emotional bandwidth exceeded what my heart could hold.
Divinity lies within us, but there is intriguing intimidation about that notion.
Am I not divine enough?
Am I too human?
Am I not spiritual enough?
Those who speak of higher sacred reassurance, am I doing this all wrong because shouldn't I feel different about an emergency?
Here's the thing, there is no right or wrong answer because what's beyond us should never dictate our lives. My Pastor calls me Spiritually Sensitive; this began when I was eight years old. We've had many conversations in regard to my above questions over the years, even before my nervous system implosion. He gives me guidance but ultimately allows me to speak what is within.
What does my heart say?
We can read books, follow social media spiritual influencers, watch TikTok videos, and join groups and retreats if you don't know your voice, your words, your feelings, or understand your body, your heart, and your mind; the authenticity of YOU is invisible.
I'm self-aware (now) enough to know my limits, and when it's time to shut it all down and recharge, it's what I do. Also, I physically can’t move, so there’s that. My body forces me to do nothing.
It's easy to be overwhelmed during a crisis. The mind and heart are attempting to make sense of it all, to compartmentalize, to predict the next jab because perhaps it won't hurt as much, but when we release those expectations and allow our voice to rise, we discover our emotional bandwidth.
Boundaries.
It's hard not to think of the future during health emergencies or say what if; remaining present is complex. I work on it constantly, but when I listen to my voice, my soul, that is when I know when it's time to act and when it's time to rest.
There is no source outside of me.
When this occurs, I no longer feel like I'm drowning while attempting to swim against the currents.
Each day brings a new set of emotions, but it's part of the process. My dad is stubborn and optimistic; I wouldn't want him any other way. Tomorrow his port is surgically put in, and round 2 of chemo begins mid/late September.
Spirit isn’t a place.
It’s a knowing.
