As much as I talk about headspace topics like out of body experiences, lucid dreaming, or the occult, I’d like to be a lot more connected to my body. I’ve always envied people who were. I mean, I work out and have always taken my diet and going to the gym very seriously, but I put off pain until it’s excruciating or get very sheepish about going to the doctor for routine things other people seem to be on top of. I don’t know why I’m like this. But something happened recently that made me think I need to change some things.

Sometimes healing and growing means making a vow to be kinder to yourself.

I used to get mad at my mother for doing the same things. She’d faint and then tell us she hadn’t been feeling well for days, she didn’t want to burden anyone, she didn’t want to wait at the busy doctor’s office. All for reasons I just scoffed at. Why wouldn’t she take her health seriously?

Now I know it’s a lot more complicated than that. We have obligations. Pets at home. Chores to take care of.

As a few of you know, I just recovered from a kidney infection, resulting in a couple of nights in the hospital and nearly going into sepsis. I’m still not sure how I got it, just that I had a general sense of feeling unwell, combined with back pain and a fever. I had no other symptoms.

In the hospital, as my fever spiked, I closed my eyes, overcome with exhaustion. I distinctly remember hearing a voice.

“Who is that?” I asked to a seemingly empty hospital room.

“It’s me.”

I sat up as best I could and looked around, alarmed, because that voice was my mother’s. My mom has been dead for almost twenty years.

I lay back down and picked up my phone, my finger hovering over my brother’s contact information, ready to call him and tell him we needed to make plans, and to let him know where my will was located. I think I passed out again. I quickly left my body and hovered above, looking down at my body, at this strange, sweating person who didn’t seem like me at all. A nurse came in and looked at me, then left. I slammed back down into my body, wanting to tell her to come back, to give me something to take this misery away, the painkillers they gave me stopped working and I was burning alive.

I stayed up and watched the clock. There’s something harrowing about a clock on the wall of a hospital room, the ticks as loud as door slams, the seconds weighing in on you. The nurse came back in.

“You’re awake,” she said.

I wanted to tell her I was awake the whole time, that I saw her come in, but I decided they might give me something really strong if I mentioned out of body experiences. She checked my vitals and then lots of other people came in to take my blood and give me other drugs throughout the night. I narrowly avoided sepsis.

I stayed one more night and after actually sleeping for a couple of hours, I had to make a vow to myself to be kinder to my body. I carried this vow with me to The Monroe Institute for my second visit for a retreat called Heartline.

I didn’t know what to expect, exactly, but I was hoping I could break out of my typical ice cold bitch persona and learn to be a little more open and warm to people. And myself.

What actually happened was pretty weird. I had only a couple of out of body experiences, but it was mostly in the body experiences.

In Heartline, you let go of ego, of things that would typically embarrass you, things that you think you would suck at, and you do things that completely take you out of your comfort zone. You become more in your body and you learn to work with your own energy. It was exactly what I needed after a health scare.

I found some answers in my dreams. Before I fell asleep one night, I journaled that I thought I was missing a sense of freedom in my life. That night, I had a dream that I was in prison, and it was extremely realistic, considering I’ve never been to jail in my life (yes, it’s true, believe it or not). I was with other women, but doing things like going to the bathroom was super challenging, especially in front of the guards, who liked to stop and mock the prisoners. As luck would have it, one of those dingus guards left a door open, and seeing the opportunity in front of me, I took it, and bolted through the door and ran as fast as I could. My shoes were slightly too big, and I paused to take them off. As I did, I saw one of the guards running towards me, but I dashed away, thinking, that loser can’t catch me! The grass under my feet was sweet as can be, the air fresh, and I ran so fast I could practically fly.

The meaning was obvious, and like a smack in the face: I had issues that needed to be released, particularly the fear of being watched/judged, and needed to be more open about them. A trainer called on me the next day and I shared my story–I did not share at all during Gateway, and I’m pretty sure she remembered this and pushed me to share more in this retreat.

I’ve been holding myself back in many ways. I write and create, sure, but I don’t put myself out there very often. One of the reasons I don’t post on social media much is the fear of being watched and judged. And I certainly don’t like talking about myself.

Speaking of, anyone wanna beta read a novella? I think I only need one or two more pairs of eyes on it. It’s about a brilliant and quirky anesthesiologist who gains sexual dominance by sedating her victims until a stint in the seedy underworld of necrophilia fetishism shakes up her personal life (erotic horror/satire/dark humor/medical, like House of God by Samuel Shem meets We So Seldom Look on Love by Barbara Gowdy).

While I hope to improve, my main takeaway from this is not to be too hard on myself from here on out. That, and of course, staying well.

I hope you all stay well, too.