LET THE RAIN IN

I’ve been home, sick, for the past few days.  Actually been nursing the ebb and flow of a sore throat for a week now.  Mornings and evenings and all those moments in between the propolis spray is never far from reach – a natural anti-bacterial substance collected by bees from buds and trees containing tree resin, essential oils, waxes and bioflavonoids. Thank you bees. I find supporting myself through these down times as the aim, not necessarily banishing the sickness from the body immediately. Although uncomfortable, I prefer feeling my way through something instead of abruptly removing it.  There might be some answers in there I’ve been looking for.  Avoiding pain and discomfort all together catches up with you at some point, been there, done that. Now I try welcome it, like an old friend. A wise old friend. We even like to have tea together.

Although I feel I am quite a good ambassador of the slow life, being sick really slows things down and I make use of this time to investigate and observe to see what comes to the surface. I am by no means great at being sick and although a woman, I am all too familiar with the man flu.  I can get really uncomfortable with not feeling good in my body and not being able to move, keep busy and do stuff. I suck at allowing anyone to take care of me. By now I also know that the discomfort from being sick and having to be still comes from believing that my worth is to be earned by hard graft.  When I don’t succeed in looking like I worked hard, I have failed and my worth tumbles into the abyss.  I have the mountain rescue paraphernalia in order to retrieve it with me at all times, I know the drill, well. It’s a little pattern I am aware of, one I am only allowing to stay for just a little longer, but it knows that rent free accommodation is no longer an option here.

I’ve had to say no to a lot of things this year.  Let me rephrase that.  I’ve had to learn anew what the word no feels like in my nervous system. I have become so good at pleasing for the simple desire of being seen.  Did I end up being seen, no, I ended up being taken advantage of. The past four years have been spent untangling myself from the throw net of patterns, childhood conditioning and beliefs I picked up and imprinted on me along the way.  This year in particular has caused more than one tectonic plate to shift and volcano to erupt, emotionally speaking.  But honestly, once we become aware of the patterns we attach to in order to shape our reality around us, massive shifts happen. An unveiling every time. 

I was tired of being still and the need to move became unbearable.  I made a cup of tea and fared into the garden.  Starting in one corner trimming and clearing in the next.  I was having fat conversations with the plants I see every day as I walk to the car to go work, surf, run, climb or socialize.  Patterns are like every day life. Get up at five but some days snooze till six, then feel upset because getting up at five would have helped to get more done; nourishment is important, skip breakfast and I arrive high on my third cup of coffee slightly agitated, blood sugar levels a bit low; make a list of things to do otherwise they won’t get done.  You get the picture. There are ways to do life and then there are more beneficial ways to do life and then there are ways to do life that helps you thrive. The best part is that it only takes one small action to change the whole chain of events.  That’s hopeful but easier said than done.  Why is that you ask? Because time, my dear.  It takes time and experience and actions and consequences to see what works and what doesn’t, to become aware of ones patterns, what serves us and what is damaging to our well being in the long run.  Time isn’t always so kind and gracious as we would like it to be and life has an expiration date. And some patterns keep us hostage for far longer than necessary and that makes me sad.

While clearing and trimming I reflect on all the unfoldings of this year and then some.  A traumatic event in 2019, a year after moving to Cape Town, ripped the carpet out under my feet so severely that I don’t think recovery is the way forward, because one never moves back into the shape one used to be after trauma. Also, not my first rodeo when it comes to trauma but this one hit different. It infiltrated my life like a thief in the night. Sly and without permission.  A wolf in sheep clothing.  Spaces that previously felt safe was now in grave danger of never being safe again. Was I going to fight or flee.  On some days I fled, on others I fought but most days I was hiding.  And this is where remnants of old trauma was dug out deep from within the grave.  Hiding was my best attribute, out of sight, out of mind.  And so a long hard journey with healing sprouted. A pattern of doing the same thing but expecting different results revealed itself and I felt compelled to take responsibility in the midst of the storm – a sure way to either build super natural perseverance or break. What I didn’t know then was that the full weight of the patterns would only reveal themselves a full three years later.

After pottering around the garden I decided to go for a walk.  My mind needed space to roam and I needed breath in my lungs to make space for my heart to feel.  In hindsight I realize that I have had a lot of wolves in sheep clothing arrive at my door, I let them in, even offered them treats and tea like any good host would. It took a long time to notice the ears and the tail sticking out of the disguise, it took even longer to understand that I can not place the value of my existence in the hands of others. In all honesty it’s a non-negotiable. I have yearned to be taken care of yet I end up the care taker.  All this time my experiences have gifted me with opportunities to see things clearer, to stop living the story that trauma tells me is my truth and to start really practicing mattering to myself. What the experience was throwing back at me was the harsh truth that people will only respect you as strongly as you stand to be respected, people will only value you as deeply as you value yourself.  If you somehow missed the teachings of how to do that, the world becomes a war zone. Life takes longer to arrive at the desired place where one can flourish.  Being late to the party isn’t always so lekker.

I walk up the mountain and think what actions we take when mending is needed. When a cup breaks, we glue it. When pants tear, we patch them.  And so it is with our hearts.  These amazing biological miracles that keep us alive but also have the capacity to break, tear, love and heal. Just as much as I don’t enjoy being sick, having a sad heart from all the things that have happened up until now isn’t my ideal way to spend a Saturday either.  But I realize that being sick, slowing down and having a long good look at where my heart is hurting has been the best time to hit pause on this movie I call life.  There’s a storm rolling in, I smell the rain before it arrives – a smell drenched in healing.  I make it home just as the first water falls.  Ones first reaction is to close the doors and windows to stop the rain from coming in but I hear a voice say: “let the rain in”. It felt applicable to all current aspects of life.

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