Over the past couple of months, I have re-empowered my emotional healing journey. I have done a ton of work in this area over the past three years and had it that my work was “done” and or that the level of support I currently had in place was enough. Whelp, as I continue to push outside of my comfort zone and create my life some old thought patterns and my familiar stuck-ness in how I relate to my power keep showing up. Keep showing up and I’m getting exhausted.
It became clear that I needed some higher levels of support.
I started working with a naturopath in not only supporting my physical body but my emotional body. Her philosophy is that we internalize our emotions and they reside in areas of our bodies which promote sickness and disease. She noticed that there was a time in my life where I was robbed of the ability to speak my truth. That it was no longer OK to share my voice and that I shut down. So much came up around this and so many unexplainable things and people have shown up in my life since that appointment. It’s kind of creeping me out to be honest. Anyway, I have been prescribed a number of remedies to bring this emotional state to the surface and have me speak my truth and share my voice.
I think it’s starting to happen.
Last night I had a dream. Clear as day. I was sitting across from my naturopath and she said you need to share about the death of your father. Something I rarely do and an area of my life where I think I have it handled and this chapter is closed. What I realized was that my father’s death is a part of who I am. Denying this experience or thinking it’s complete is denying me. Thinking that my work is complete here is keeping me stuck.
So here I am.
My father died when I was 7 years-old. He was a truck driver and picking up a load of steel at a local mill. He was found slumped over his steering wheel. Unable to wake him, EMS was called, and CPR was performed and they got a heart beat back, but so much time had elapsed that he was brain dead and in a vegetative coma state for 28 days. At the end of 28 days life support was pulled and he passed after a few more days. There are a number of additional tragic details here that I will save for my memoir to one day be written. Anyway, here is what I remember of him.
The 7-year-old kid’s memory of my father was a one of a man of pure love. He was always kind, playful, and teaching me. He taught me how to build things in the garage, how to oil my bike chain, how to use a saw, how to set a mouse trap, and how to clean my body and comb my hair. Always guiding, teaching.
My earliest memory I have… of any memory… is of him walking in to my bedroom and picking me up. He was a giant to the young tiny boy that I was. I remember immediately peeing my diaper as his presence was so big and powerful… I was scared. Years later that same presence is often reflected back to me as I quality I have, big and powerful.
My life was forever altered the day he died.
For the most part, he is a stranger to the adult me. Almost a fantasy. I am told he would be proud of me and I like to think so. What I wouldn’t give for his arm around me telling me that he is proud and that it’s going to be OK. What I am learning is that he has been here the whole time. I have had a number of experiences in my life that I should not have walked away from. That I should have been terribly harmed or perhaps even dead, he’s been there. When I have had major life events happen I have felt his presence and or been reminded that he is here. When I was wrestling with the decision to leave a very comfortable job someone walked by and their cell phone rang and the ringtone was his favorite song. Hey dad. I resigned that day. When I met my now wife. I heard a voice so clear that I would marry her. It was my dad. The next day I told her I wanted to marry her. He has been my guide and my guardian angel and I want to share him and bring him back through my memories. I’m sobbing writing this. Dad, thanks for being an access for me to speak my truth and get my voice back…For being my guide for still teaching me in this very different way.
I love you.
