Sometimes, It’s Just Hard
Typically, I only write about things I’ve already processed—when I’ve come out on the other side feeling all happy-go-lucky and enlightened. You know, the "The obstacle is the way" mindset and all that jazz. But this week, I’ve been avoiding writing this blog because, well, I didn’t want it to be too depressing. And then I felt, the idea I have is it to similar to last weeks. I didn’t think anyone would want to read it.
But here I am, writing it anyway. This week is different. This isn’t something I’ve already processed. I’m still deep in the thick of it.
It all started this past Saturday. I worked a ten-and-a-half-hour pharmacy shift, followed by hosting my first official sound bath. The sound bath went great, but not without some hiccups. It was a mixed setting with people in person and people on Zoom, which added some extra pressure. I had this whole setup planned, but the microphones I wanted to use just wouldn’t work, and I had run out of time to figure them out. I borrowed my mentor’s equipment, but the batteries died, so I powered her fancy microphone/recorder through my computer.
I got into the zone, started with some breathing and intention setting, and it seemed like everything was going well—but halfway through, I noticed that one of the Zoom attendees had dropped out. Okay, just one. That’s okay. But then the next person dropped out. I started to spiral into negative thinking. Sound baths are usually easy for me. I don’t have to think much about it—I just play what comes to me. But this time, the Zoom people were leaving, and at that moment, I didn’t know why. My mind started to race. Was it me? Was I doing something wrong? It never once crossed my mind that maybe something was going on on their end. One by one, they left, and soon no one was left on Zoom. I kept thinking I was messing up with the sound bowls, which is ironic because no one noticed the tiny details I was obsessing over. Everyone in person afterwards felt relaxed and had so many fun and interesting questions! For the in-person people, I got up and played the instruments over them, and it really changes the experience—for example, having a drum playing at your feet or tuning forks around your head. Some people were so relaxed they didn’t even remember me playing certain instruments!
I cracked one of the bowls on my way to the sound bath, and of course, I was convinced it sounded “off” during the session. – It didn’t, by the way. No one could tell the difference when I played it later as I was chatting with some of the participants. When I reflected on the bowls I was called to play (and not play), I realized it just meant no one needed that particular healing or vibration that night. The sound bath really was a hit. I have people asking me when my next one will be so they can make plans to attend!
Unbeknownst to me, when I hit record on the fancy second recorder connected to my computer, the sound stopped transmitting to everyone on Zoom. But the people on Zoom were incredibly understanding. I was completely open energetically to play whatever the participants needed, whether they were there in person, listening remotely, or even tuning in later. Some of the Zoom participants even said they could feel the energy of the sound bath, even without the sound, which I think is pretty cool.
Saturday was a long day, which I don’t mind. Part of me loves getting so much done. But it was an 18-hour day. Working my pharmacy shift, setting up the sound bath (which included moving some Pilates reformers around), playing, cleaning up, and then hauling everything back into my car, I felt wired when I got home. I couldn’t fall asleep, like a child who’s overstimulated. When I woke up the next morning, I had pain in my left shoulder and had stepped on something with my left big toe. I tried to work out Sunday morning before my shift, bribing myself with chocolate (don’t judge), and pushed myself through some weightlifting, which, in hindsight, was probably not the smartest move. My body was not having it. It hurt to walk, and picking up the phone at work was nearly impossible because of the pain in my shoulder.
Sunday, I kept telling myself, “It’s okay. You did a workout. You did your best. You’re just tired.” But the pain didn’t go away, which wasn’t helping my mental state. And I could feel the frustration building. It wasn’t just the physical pain—it was also the fear that I was slipping. I’ve worked my ass off to lose 25 pounds since July of last year. In a calm easy manner befitting, someone who has a history of disordered eating. I had JUST had my first binge in forever less than a week before all this started. I started to panic. I’d already taken some extra workout days off to accommodate the long day of the sound bath. The fear of falling off track and losing all the progress was real.
Monday, I was a hot mess. I had the day off from the pharmacy, but errands and frustrations just kept piling up, especially because walking anywhere hurt. I felt like the lion in Aesop’s fables—I needed a mouse to show up and get the splinter out of my paw. I kept telling myself, “It’s okay. You’ve got this. It’s just a bump in the road.” But it didn’t feel like just a bump—it felt like everything was coming undone.
While in the past, I would have been ashamed to admit I’m in therapy, I now believe there are times when everyone needs an impartial person in their life who won’t judge, who will listen while providing encouragement and help. For me, at this point, I’m doing a lot of Eye Movement Desensitization and Reprocessing (EMDR) in therapy. I can logically think through all the “truths,” but historically my body can’t process those affirmations or believe to be true. The eye movements help the mind shift into the parasympathetic nervous system, where my body feels safe, can relax, and heal from the psychological trauma or ingrained thought patterns—just like the body would heal from physical trauma. I am, in essence, rewiring my mind, and I freaking love it. Pairing EMDR with my hypnosis and Reiki, I can tell I am making huge gains despite the setbacks I am describing in the article.
Through EMDR on Monday, we started out working on me “existing” as well as feeling worthy and worthy of love. As we dug into the emotional roots of the pain I was experiencing, I realized two things: First, my body was forcing me to rest because I had been going nonstop. Second, my body wasn’t just hurting—it was communicating that I didn’t feel worthy of the success I had been experiencing. One of the EMDR statements caused my big toe to physically trigger the pain of the splinter, even though I was just sitting down and not putting any pressure on it.
The body was blocking my flow and causing me pain. The sound bath had been a success. My workouts and eating healthy were evidence of self-love and success, and I had been kicking ass and taking names. My mind couldn’t handle the progress and the confidence I had built. It was sending out a mayday, telling me to withdraw and hide to stay safe.
When I’m aligned with my purpose, strong and in my routine, I feel like I’m flying. But with this stumble, it feels like I’ve fallen 10,000 feet straight to the ground. The disparity between how incredible I can feel and how crappy I can feel keeps getting wider as I learn to love myself more. I typically don’t feel the distance because I am able to stay in the high-flying state or near it. But not this time. This drop felt like a freefall.
I went to Pilates/physical therapy Tuesday night, which helped me get my shoulder moving. Working on biomechanics, since I, like so many of us, have a forward curve in my shoulders. Moving the reformers around the Pilates studio before and after the sound bath with my hunched over shoulders after already sitting at a desk all day I am sure has NOTHING to do with the pain in my left shoulder ;) . After that, I essentially went into freeze mode Tuesday and Wednesday, throwing everything I had planned for working on Fostering Blossoms out the window and eating what felt like everything in sight while staying in bed and reading. I’ve been blessed with an incredible support system, but this has been a tough week.
Here’s the thing: I’ve been working on self-compassion, but when the going gets tough, it’s hard to stay kind to myself. We can say all the affirmations in the world, but if we don’t feel them, they’re just words. And let’s be real—when we’re in the middle of frustration, we’re not exactly feeling those positive affirmations.
Normally, I’d wrap up this blog with all the realizations that helped me turn things around. But I’m not there yet. I haven’t found the rainbow at the end of this storm. I’m still in it, fighting and figuring out how to be kind to myself while my body and mind are in full rebellion. The act of writing this has helped tendentiously. I’m now wondering what goals I set for myself that might need adjusting, then trying to be kind to myself for those goals not being reached in the unrealistic time I wanted them to be. I do simple physical therapy exercises for my shoulder and try to drink more water—because even water, my simplest and easiest habit, hasn’t been happening. One small step after another.
But here’s the thing: I allowed myself time to wallow and be hangry and feel sorry for myself, but that time is now over. I’m taking small steps. And if you’re going through something similar, know that you’re not alone. We all have days (or weeks, or months, maybe years) where things aren’t sunshine and rainbows. Where waking up and showering maybe the only thing you accomplish that day and that’s ok. Sometimes, progress isn’t immediate, and that’s frustrating as hell. But the key is not staying stuck in the frustration feel it and move on. As hard as it is, I’m choosing kindness today. I’m choosing to cherish my body instead of fighting it. Because if I don’t, who will?
Small steps, my friends. Small steps.
