From the Darkest of Nights to the Lightest of Lights
The top of my foot was shattered. Almost every other bone in my foot was dislocated. Two surgeries. Months of pain.
And. That. Is. Nothing….
Nothing…
Compared to the Dark Night of the Soul I experienced after my second surgery.
Because I couldn't tolerate any opioids except the morphine drip they gave me in the hospital, I was sent home with morphine pills.
That morphine transmuted into the Mighty Monster Morpheus (dear “sister wife” Jan aptly named those dark nights as “morpheus”) with whom I had to wage war over the course of the next weeks.
Once I figured out that the high anxiety, constant nightmares, and images of monsters that appeared when I closed my eyes was MMM’s fault, I called the doctor. No response. He doesn’t really do “pain.” So, I went ahead and took three days to wean myself off it.
Intense sweats, chills, headaches and nausea ensued. It was not pretty — as all the sister wives who came to my bedside will attest.
One night I had a nightmare that aliens were hacking at my foot with giant knives as I floated in space. I yanked myself away from them in the dream and woke up just in time to stop myself from flinging my body off the bed.
It was the darkest of the nights.
Over the next days, the detox symptoms finally retreated, but I was left with high pain and high anxiety.
It took a few weeks for the anxiety to retreat.
I had never had high anxiety before. It was so bad I had to send Stella to a babysitter because every bark set my teeth on edge and I couldn’t really care for her. It broke my heart and it was necessary.
I had to have the sister wives babysit me. Someone was always with me those first couple weeks.
Girlfriends came to hold my hand, brush my hair and incessantly repeat “This too shall pass…” “I promise you will get better…” and “You are getting better every single day…”
I clung to their words.
And when alone I tried e v e r y t h i n g.
None of the tools in my tool bag were working.
I did a few sessions of therapy and followed all her advice.
I followed every single tip every friend gave me. Bar none.
BOOKS ON TAPE: No matter what the subject matter, inevitably there would be some bit of dialogue or circumstance or twist that would tip the sadness or anxiety or any powerful negative emotion scale.
CALM APP: Yes, I am the one person for whom the sound of a gentle rain caused her anxiety to rise!
JOURNALING: Temporary relief but I didn’t want to be with the negative thoughts even if just the nanoseconds I spent putting them to paper.
TV: Even my trusty innocent 70’s shows would make me freak out. I will never forget feeling terrified for Jim Rockford when he was rifling through files for evidence in a dark back office as the perpetrator was coming in the front door. I quickly changed channels.
The only safe TV for me — and not even every episode was 100% safe — was Mary Tyler Moore. She saved me.
One night I literally spent the night in my friend’s TV room and watched MTM all night long because I couldn’t close my eyes and let the Mighty Monster Morpheus win.
MTM versus MMM.
She kicked his ass.
The next night I made myself leave the TV room, and get back into bed. I will never forget that night. I knew I had to be brave and get into the bed that nearly killed me.
The pain was high - Advil and Tylenol didn’t make a dent on the knife stabbing pain. (Yes, that nightmare was born of real stabbing pain in my foot.)
But the thoughts.
At 3:15 a.m. they reached a crescendo.
I yelled at myself
“What are you so afraid of?!!”
“What are you so afraid of?!!”
“What are you so afraid of?!!”
“Death….?!!”
“YES!,” I replied. “Decades of spiritual transformation and I am still scared of dying!”
I was ashamed.
“What else?” was the next question - not coming from me, but coming from somewhere far more light.
And I got it. The thing I was most terrified of was being disconnected from God, from love, from my beloveds.
I hadn’t been able to do all my normal spiritual practices. My anchors were gone.
And my thoughts were TELLING ME that I was untethered as a result.
And I was listening to that cacophony between my ears.
As soon as I realized the bottom line fear, I knew I would be able to claw my way out.
It wasn’t fast or easy. It was the beginning.
And I knew I needed more tools in my toolbox, that I had a THOUGHTS problem.
I had done some Tapping in the past and it hadn’t really stuck. But I found The Tapping Solution and practiced it a lot. That made a good dent because it spoke to the subsconscious directly about the fears.
I returned to Eckhart Tolle because I needed him to remind my brain what he first taught me 30 years ago, that we don’t really die with our physical bodies. I needed him to repeat - over and over and over — that I am not my body and I am not my thoughts.
And while surrounded by Transcendental Meditation practitioners for decades, I hadn’t been drawn to it because I always had a spiritual practice that was fulfilling.
Somehow I realized it could be helpful for me to help me get some power around my thoughts, and deepen my normal spiritual practice.
The David Lynch Foundation in its infinite wisdom is offering free TM training to first responders and those of us who were victims of the LA Fires.
I thought I had missed the window of opportunity because I was so busy keeping my head above water with the fire-related shenanigans. But a dear friend who used to be on the DLF board told me I hadn’t missed the window of getting the training as a fire victim.
I jumped (LOL! That’s hilarious!) into action and within a week I was being initiated.
In that initiation, I had been weeks out of the high anxiety place. Yet, as soon as I sat down as the teacher prepared for the initiation, the loud freight train of anxiety blew its mighty horn.
I freaked out. For about three seconds.
Why NOW?
Then I realized it wasn’t real, it was just thoughts and I said “I choose this…this beautiful thing that is in front of me, that will bring me a far healthier relationship with my thoughts. I choose this.”
TM yanked me off the tracks. The freight train hasn’t come back since — and I have had some very rough fire-related conversations since starting TM. I didn’t falter.
I will forever be grateful to that Mighty Monster Morpheus aka the morphine pills from hell that brought me here.
I am back to my normal beloved spiritual practices AND I have a regular TM practice.
And I have a better relationship with my thoughts.
I’ll soon be leaving for my yearly spiritual retreat and my heart feels cleared out and ready for it.
And all that being said, I’m still recovering from foot and fire. It’s a tender delicate journey. There’s no running through it or over it, like you might over hot coals.
I ice my foot regularly.
I ice my thoughts with TM and my spiritual practices regularly.
This morning I read the post of one of our neighbors in our Altadena Facebook group. She had taken a photo of herself lying in a hospital bed, an IV in her arm. She had had such a bad case of PTSD she was admitted to a mental hospital. Many neighbors have posted about being admitted to hospitals after the fire. This woman is not out of the woods.
There have been suicides. We won’t know how many for quite a while I’m sure.
People are hurting.
The decades of spiritual work I have done definitely made this Dark Night of the Soul far lighter than it could have been.
God shined a giant klieg light right into my heart:
You need to get a handle on your thoughts, my dear.
You need to get a handle on your fears, my love.
Most of my negative thoughts were something along two streams of hopelessness:
My foot will never be out of pain and will never work right again.
I don’t know how to make this rebuild happen and this won’t end well.
I have never been so lacking in hope. It wasn’t me.
Tonight I was introduced to a song which expresses my main lesson (so far!) in such a lovely uplifting anthem. (Click the title to listen.)
by Chance Peña
I've become
A figment of my imagination
That's why I run
Towards self-love and inner restoration
I don't know what it is that I'm climbing to
I hear your words in my head, you said, "The mountain is you"
And only worry can bring me down
I'm scared to let go of what I'm scared to lose
I'm pouring out myself, I'd give it all for the view
And only worry can bring me down
You said, "The mountain is you"
The mountain is you
Heart and my hands don't fail me now
Won't let the weight of my fear go and knock me down
Only way's up, no going around
Ohh
You called my name in the dead of night
I was barely surviving, almost left the climb
Said, don't look down but open your eyes
You were right, you said, "The mountain is you"
The mountain is you
You said, "The mountain is you"
The mountain is you
The mountain was me.
The mountain was my thoughts.
I’ll forever be dealing with the mountain.
I hope I’m never on the freight train’s tracks again. If I I am I hope I know I can climb that mountain again, and remember what I say in my own fricking book:
I am loved.
I am love.
You are loved.
You are love.
We are not our thoughts.
We are never disconnected from that love. Ever.
We are loved.
We are love.
Always.
No matter what our cacophony of thoughts may scream.
