No Smash - The Path to Enlightenment

Enlightenment is a journey. Just because we joined the Awakened and started down the path to enlightenment does not mean we are enlightened.  To live a life of compassion and mindfulness requires us to break old, unhealthy habits and form new, healing ones. This is why tools such as meditation, witchcraft, and shadow work are often referred to as a "practice". I myself have been on the path for over eight years and while I have come a very long way, I have no delusions that I am anyway near "enlightened". This was perfectly illustrated by the total asshole moment I had over the weekend.  

I live with a very rare autoimmune disease that effects my vascular system, specifically my blood vessels. This can wreak havoc on all kinds of areas of my body because blood vessels are literally everywhere. This last week, I've been having pretty bad issues with my heart. In spite of my best efforts to rest and take it easy, I ended up having to be taken to the hospital in an ambulance on Saturday. I just couldn't breathe. 

This is not my first time having to do this - more like my 20th. I've taken the ambulance at least six times over the last six years alone and I really struggle with going to the ER. They aren't equipped nor knowledgeable about my disease and typically won't do anything for me other than monitor me. So, because of this, I typically refuse to go even when the symptoms are severe.  My heart is the exception. Anyone who has been plagued with heart issues can attest to how frightening it is. When my heart starts going off I can't breathe, I can't think straight, my fingers and toes start to buzz, it's beyond terrifying. This is the state I was in when the ambulance brought me to the hospital this weekend.

When I arrived, I had all these nurses around me taking my pulse, temperature, connecting IVs, etc. I kept hearing them say, "Well, regardless of her heart, her oxygen level is good". This was repeated several times in the background. This is relevant because if you aren't getting enough oxygen, it can cause a stroke or even brain damage. I had not stopped breathing however, my breathing was just labored and shallow. I could breathe, but could not take a deep breath in.  There was a nurse standing right beside me and I turned to her and in a tearful panic said, "please help me". She looked at me and replied, "Your oxygen levels are fine".  Something in my foggy brain snapped. I don't know if it was her casual tone, the fact that this had been said to me at least 10 times already, or the burning, swirling pit of fear that was growing in the pit of my stomach, but before I could even blink, I flew into a complete asshole rage, Hulk style.

In between labored breaths I began slinging curse words at the nurse and everyone in the room. Everybody immediately began to leave. While I gasped for air, I continued to throw more hate at the one remaining nurse that stayed behind.  Through a slew of f-bombs and insults I told her, "I want to leave. I can just as easily NOT breathe at home if you aren't going to do anything for me", and I began pulling off all the wires and EKG stickers and pulse monitors, etc.  She screamed, "what are you doing!?" Then, clearly frustrated, she walked out of the room saying, "I don't have to..." and she trailed off and shut the door behind her. Finally, I was alone and the room was quiet and I was a heaving, breathless, crying mess. Seconds later, some poor lady from registration came in to get my insurance info and before she could even fully pass through the doorway I gasped, "Get the FUCK OUT"!  You know, like a real dick.

Whether it was a self-fulfilling prophecy or or just really shitty karma, I didn't get any help that day other than hydration. Because I didn't want the steroids and some of the other drugs they haphazardly offered, I had to just wait for it to pass. After about five hours of this, I finally started to feel better and my heart began to settle. I was exhausted and totally depleted, yet all I could think about was how I went all "Hulk smash" on those poor nurses. Fear can be a real muthafucker. It lies to us and feeds our doubts and fear with it's deceit until our anxiety and despair grows out of control. Fear kept telling me, "no one is going to help you", and I believed it and let the anxiety turn me into a huge rage monster.

When things like this happen, it's important not to shame ourselves.  Remember, when dealing with the shadow-self, we must always approach with compassion.  I have been struggling with this "invisible illness" for many, many years now and as a result, a shadow has emerged to deal with the anger and frustration of not being taken seriously, of being overlooked, and being told it's all in my head. Through my own shadow work, I have become very familiar with this particular demon, and she is fiercely protective and easily angered. She will come for you and go straight for the jugular. This is the shadow that has absorbed every painful flare-up, every dismissive doctor, every life-threatening misdiagnosis, and every over-medicated stupor. This is the Pain Demon and she is no stranger to the darkness of torment and misery.  

After I was alone in the hospital room, I broke down into sobbing tears asking myself, "What have I done?" These rage moments are often an out-of-body experience for me. I call it a "white out" because it's like everything goes white and suddenly I'm witnessing the bad behavior from somewhere outside myself. When I'm finally back in my body, I'm left to deal with all the shit I've said and done. This is where guilt, shame, and self-deprecation usually try and creep in. However, using my shadow work tools, I instead placed one hand on my chest to comfort the demon. I gave her the biggest mental hug I could conjure. I held her tight and rocked her back and forth. I told her that I understood why she was so angry and that after all she had been through, she had every right to be angry. I thanked for for trying so hard to protect me, and told her that I didn't need her to rage anymore. I told her I was strong enough to handle these things on my own and she no longer needed to seek vengeance. This calmed the beast and lulled her into submission. Hours later, that same nurse who had taken the brunt of my wrath, came to give me my final paperwork for release. With all the courage I could gather, I apologized to her, sincerely. I told her she did not deserve to be treated that way, and that I apologized for being an complete asshole. She was more understanding than I probably deserved. I never did see that poor registration lady again...

I'm sharing this story because I think a lot of us feel that once we are on the path toward enlightenment that we are somehow supposed to be perfect. That could not be further from the truth. Undoing a lifetime of negativity, shame, and hate is fucking messy. The only difference between us and others is that we have vowed to work with our shadows and our darkness in order to heal. There is no magic switch we can flip that immediately removes all our bad behaviors and idiosyncrasies. Instead, if we truly want reach spiritual freedom, we must do the work and meet each of our shadows face-to-face and eye-to-eye. Only when we drag each shadow into the light can we finally move further down the long winding road to Nirvana.