Why my back doesn’t know shit.

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My lower back, according to Louise Hay, will give me problems if I have money problems. I bought her seminal book, You Can Heal Your Life, on the body-mind connection in 1992 after a diagnosis that left me reeling. Her assertion that each and every problem or disease we experience has a probable cause in our beliefs, fears and emotions.

According to YCHYL, my diagnosis was ‘probably caused’ by deep hurt, longstanding resentment, deep secret grief eating away at me, carrying hatred.  Seems legit.

I used the prescribed affirmations along with a raft of other natural and allopathic treatments and I was lucky/blessed af to recover.

Any time a health problem popped it’s head up over the years, I would consult that magical little book. After my first husband died I developed an alarming nose-bleed habit; I was crying for love, feeling unnoticed and unrecognised. I found this really interesting because it was spot on. I had other symptoms that pointed at lack of joy, loss, inability to move forward, resistance to change, and gulp, being mentally dead. The nosebleeds made me aware of a deep-seated feeling that while I was battling all the grief and fear that comes from losing a loved one, I was also feeling as though no-one around me gave a shit about me. Those around me said they felt sorry for my loss, but I felt deeply alone in all of it. I was also aware that there were some who actually voiced beliefs that I should have died and not my husband. Assholes.

Was I as alone as I felt? Probably not. I certainly had people around me who were amazing at that time, but the nosebleeds were a result of HOW I FELT, not necessarily an actual reflection of reality. It was my reality. After some therapy, I managed to ask for some help and the bleeds stopped.

So at the moment, my lower back is reflecting something that isn’t actually happening but is a belief based on I picked up somewhere in my childhood. I have enough. I am taken care of. I am safe. I have the incredible opportunity to take time away from working full-time and concentrate on caring for my family and writing. But because I don’t have a J-O-B my back thinks I am financially at risk. I’m not.

I’ve spent a lot of time journaling and meditating on this over the last few days and I think it’s very much a learned behaviour too. I was surrounded by insecurity growing up and saw aunties and other family members left high and dry by husband’s who did the wrong thing, so my mind thinks this is normal. But it’s not my normal and like all patterns and pathologies given to us in childhood, I needed to be aware of it before I could deal with it. You have to see the dirt if you want to clean the house ~ Louise Hay.

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So I’m working on this from every angle; affirmations, journaling, meditation, yoga and along with shiatsu and my wonderful chiro, I’m going to see Mish this week. She helps me see the dirt!

I trust the process of life. All I need is always taken care of. I am safe.


Oh resentment, you bitch…

One of those beliefs that don’t belong to me and certainly no longer serve me, is something like resentment. I say something like because it’s an ephemeral thing that seems to settle on me late at night and I know it’s not mine. So here’s how I’m going to deal with it.

I wish I could remember the podcast I heard this on, but I can’t so just know it’s not my technique.

The first step is to acknowledge the feeling. So when I feel the resentment (that like I said, probably isn’t mine but something I learned growing up) I allow myself to feel it, deeply, for a few seconds. Really feel it. Our shadow has a function and there are lessons in even the so-called negative emotions. Maybe the resentment is there to teach me to ask for help more often, to express what I really need?

Step 2, is to say STOP, either aloud or in my head. Stop feeling resentful, girl. Just stop. Some people might need to jump up and down, slap themselves or splash water on their faces.

Step 3 is to replace the behaviour. In the past, if I’ve been procrastinating I change my behaviour by doing something, no matter how small, towards achieving one of my writing goals. But for the resentment, I am practising gratitude, a cure-all if ever there was one.


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