The mind works in interesting and mysterious ways. One minute you can be feeling on top of the world, feeling like you have purpose in life and that all the pain life has presented to you, has a bigger meaning, when suddenly, the rug gets pulled out from under you and you fall on the floor. I literally felt on top of the world and suddenly, I was struggling to get out of bed.
I no longer wanted to see clients, and that energetic message was heard loud and clear. Clients cancelled and no new clients came, and I was glad. For months my clinic room was filled with new and existing clients, and I worked hard to ensure I was setting them all up for success. With nearly 50 clients on my books, my confidence levels were at an all time high, and maybe this was my downfall.
One consultation did not go so well, and then a second consultation felt awkward and uncomfortable. Both were brain cancer clients, and both did not seem to feel that I had the knowledge and experience needed to bring them back to good health, despite providing them with evidence based research. I withdrew completely, into a dark dark place, and I wanted to stay there. Everything suffered, my basketball coaching, friendships, and our harmonious household began to fall apart.
I knew I had to brush it off and get on with the task at hand, as my first and original brain cancer client was doing famously well, as he and his family had adopted all the changes and treatment plans without question. But no amount of telling myself "I could do this" was working. I sought help from emotional health practitioners and while their treatments provided me a little relief, I still struggled to re-light that fire and passion for my work, and for life in general.
I grew more and more lonely and sad as the anniversary of Mark's passing reminded me that I was now five years alone. Then an opportunity arose, a chance to do some group Equine Therapy. I jumped at the opportunity and cleared my diary, which wasn't very hard to do!
We were a small group of around six participants in a large indoor arena, a facilitator and a horse named Honey, most likely named due to her beautiful honey colour. Our group was asked, "Who wants to go first and have their time with Honey". Usually, I would be the first to speak up and volunteer, as I am fearless, brave and self confident. But I cowered in the corner, had my head down low, and was unable to speak.
One by one, each participant had their turn with Honey as we watched on and every experience was completely different, even though the horse was the same. You see, Equine Therapy is simply you and the horse, and the horse becomes an extension of your energy and your presence. The horse is not trained to perform a certain way and is completely at liberty, meaning she can walk away, walk with you, face you or not. And this was my biggest fear. I love horses and I don't fear them at all, but I knew this therapy is uncontrollable. What if she walks away or doesn't want to connect with me. What if she feels, like two of my clients, that I don't know what I'm doing, that I am not experienced enough and she just walks away.
Hours flew by and I left the viewing area to get some fresh air. I knew my time was coming as everyone else enjoyed their experience and the facilitator interpreted the movements and gestures made by Honey. I received a phone call from one of the said clients ,and we had a brief chat. I felt slightly better, but still quite troubled. I entered the viewing gantry and stood by the edge of the arena, as I knew it was my turn. I stood frozen in fear and I couldn't move or speak. Honey was now in the arena by herself, and she was standing next to a few jump obstacles that had been left by previous users of the arena.
She started behaving very strangely as she used her teeth, her body and her hooves to move and push over the obstacles. Everyone was stunned and asking, "what is she doing and why". Everyone made suggestions of what it might have been, but I knew, especially when she knocked over one of the boxes, and then placed her front legs on top of it, as if she was a circus horse. "OMG", I thought to myself. "She is picking up on my energy. She is breaking down barriers and rising above them, I thought". I entered the arena and walked towards her and she stopped her wrecking ball behaviour, looked straight at me, head up, ears pricked forward. I stopped around five metres in front of her. In my mind, I asked her to come towards me and she did! I took a deep breath and we connected physically, as mentally, I asked permission to touch her. She was sweet and gentle and we shared a lovely moment as our energies connected.
After a little while, I backed away, turned my back and walked away. To my relief, she followed and I continued walking and headed towards the onlookers. Then I thought, "What if she is just wanting to be near all the other participants and she is not actually following me?" I immediately stopped and did a quick about face and walked confidently and rather quickly in the opposite direction to the gantry. Honey was a little taken aback as she coordinated her four legs to make the sharp change of direction. But then I felt her breath on my shoulder as she confirmed to me, that she was there for me and no one else. I stopped and the floodgates of tears flowed. I sobbed as she came even closer, put her head over my shoulder and into my chest, as if to hug me. Words entered my mind..."You are loved, you are worthy, you are protected, you are doing what you are meant to be doing, it's okay, everything is okay".
I pulled myself together, turned around and hugged Honey's neck, and I thanked her for showing me what I needed to see and feel. I walked back to the gantry and everyone looked at me with astonishment, some even with tears. I smiled.
I was once asked "what do you miss about your old self, the person you were before you lost Mark". I think about that question often, and still I cannot find an answer. I don't miss feeling like I don't belong, or that I need to please anyone, or my lack of confidence in myself or needing someone to emotionally prop me up. I like the person I am now. I like my confidence, my strength, my faith in my Angels, in the Universe. I love hanging out with the "geeks" at robotics. I love the close bond I share with Sebastian and I cannot, for the life of me, think of a character trait that I had, that I miss.
But I do miss Mark. I miss his unconditional love for me. I miss cooking for him. I miss surprising him with things and making travel plans or home improvement plans with him. I miss greeting him when he comes home from a busy day at work, and I miss his hugs, his wet kisses and his intuition.
Today I did the grocery shopping, as I do every Saturday, and I found myself holding back tears. I had no thoughts, no worries and no triggers. Only tears. I moved out of the supermarket as fast as I could as I sat in my car and sobbed. Sebastian had a similar experience earlier in the week. Tears for no apparent reason. Is it the looming of Christmas, the knowledge that our beloved Regina from Germany,
will not be joining us this year due to COVID, or just a wave of grief that comes and then goes again?
Grief never leaves. It changes shape, makes us stronger, and we learn to live with and walk alongside it, but it never goes away.
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