Temporarily Unavailable
When your nervous system implodes.
"Does everything feel good?" Dr. Kelly, my acupuncturist, asked before leaving the room.
With eyes closed, my body quickly sank into a state of relaxation. "Yes, thank you."
"Rest. I will check on you in fifteen minutes."
She darkens the room; the lock clicks behind her. I inhale deeply, and my stomach rises and falls. This is month two of weekly, sometimes bi-weekly, acupuncture sessions for my Small Fiber Neuropathy. I was unsure if this practice would help, but my physician encouraged me to try it; now, I'm grateful for those tiny needles.
During my 30 minutes of rest, I take that time to be present, practice soul-voice meditation and ground my spirit. Some mornings are silent, which I welcome, and some are deeply spiritual where tears stream to my temples. My awareness heightened when my nervous system imploded; I was sensitive to energy before now its next level: a blessing and a curse. So I'm cultivating a new nervous system with compassion and peace.
With truth and passion, darkness and light, entuned to all my body needs and rejects. And that day, two words flashed behind my closed eyelids, Temporarily Unavailable.
Two words couldn't be more valid.
I'm not burying my head in the sand to what is happening around me, but I am processing the information differently, in a healthier way. Still with dark humor but more restorative.
I'm not looking to seek ultimate enlightenment; that is an unrealistic expectation that removes humanness from me.
No, thank you.
I'm not removing uncomfortable or difficult conversations with family and friends, but I will not engage in arguments or debates with strangers on social media. I have too many great books to read.
Instead of using the words, I can't, "I can't go outside in the heat, or I can't travel," I state I'm temporarily unavailable to do so. However, I can do many things and must focus on those aspects because one day, I will be able to travel again, visit waterfalls, and hike deep within the mountains.
This season of life looks very different than I'd envisioned, but it's a good thing. Scary but good. I'm not only deconstructing my health but pretty much every aspect of my life.
Undoing.
Unlearning.
Untethering.
Damn, it's liberating.
Protecting my nervous system, spirit, all of me, I'm temporarily unavailable, and I'm not the least bit sorry about it.
