A while ago, a decision was made. A big decision. At the time, I knew that it was what I needed. My life had been traveling within the same spiral for years and I didn’t know how else I could get out of it. So I stepped out of the circle completely. Some might say that I fell off the face of the earth into some parallel yet unknown universe.
In this void that I created, I finally allowed my attention to sit on the scars that had been there for years. You know those ones, the ones that are so bloody and filled with puss that it’s easier to just stick a bandage on them and hope they heal on their own. Those deep ones that if you leave long enough cut through so deep to the bone that you end up having to remove the entire limb. There were a few there so instead of moving forward, I decided that I should stay and work on the things that needed work.
This state of alone-ness was only meant to last for a year. In this time, I have had various healing treatments from an entire retreat to kick off a life overhaul, to massages, cleanses (you know, you cleanse the liver, then the kidneys need a wash out, then there’s the intestines and then it’s back to the liver and it never ends), Reiki, yoga therapies, AcuEnergetics, and all the way to psychic and tarot readings as well as internet research (some were great, some were just plain weird and due to what I do, some are necessary on a regular basis). Fortunately, witch doctors are rather scarce in big cities.
There are days however, when I wonder if all this healing work is just an excuse. You see, when I decided on celibacy for a spell, I put massive blinkers on. I’ve always been a bit daft when it comes to these things in the first place. It has to be ridiculously obvious otherwise I’ll just see it as a friendly thing. With blinkers on, my ‘friend’ pants were on and they were staying on no matter how smoking hot or ridiculously obvious the guy was.
More than two years later, my blinkers are still on. I said I took them off, but a conversation I had last week showed me that I have made many excuses to keep them on. It was one of those days when a man’s perspective gave me a different perspective. We had both gone undergone similar energetic treatments, but where he didn’t think he would go back, I did keep going back. I suppose if he had stepped out of the treatment room and fallen in love, it would be as simple as him meeting someone awesome and falling in love. Whereas if I had stepped out of the treatment room and fallen in love, I would have gone into this whole story of how the treatment had released me from past hurts, unlocked such and such and opened my heart and then I fell in love. Sure that could have been part of it, but surely it wouldn’t be all of it. Surely this other person would have something to do with it as well.
Which leads me to this.
As much as healing treatments are great for you, I wonder if sometimes they can be a crutch. I know they have been for me. I wanted to remove my man ban in January, then I found other stuff to work on, and then more stuff, and so on and so forth, and the work continues. My seven main chakras are still shit some days, and Mars and Venus are no closer to being aligned than they were when I was 16.
What are we trying to achieve really?
We cleanse and starve ourselves, go for endless treatments and keep finding issues that we need to work on before we think we are worthy of love. We read countless books before we think we have the right to be a parent. We think that until we can become the most awesome and perfect girlfriend/boyfriend/parent in the universe, we just shouldn’t do it. However, in all this, all we keep finding are reasons why we are unworthy. It’s like those times when we have a small injury where we just need to stretch it out but instead of doing that, we keep getting second and third opinions until we meet some crazy crook who decides that it needs surgery, which leads to even more time off the game.
I’m not saying that healing treatments are useless. Depending on the individual, some will work, and some won’t, but perhaps, there needs to come a point where the digging stops. Perhaps there needs to come a time when we stop getting outside opinions and let the information sink in. After all, that’s what yoga and meditation are for. Perhaps it’s OK to continue working but keep life going at the same time. Consider the pressure (and sheer boringness) of being or being with someone perfect. What else would there be left to explore?
Without fuck ups, how uninteresting and bland would life be?
We are all works in progress, but there comes a time when progress actually means just being OK with what is and going from there.