The Sacred Space

Pain will likely be a common bond of many who commune here at BL.

I mean,,,,It's not like we're going to be a blog full of cutters, but ya know....we'll share war stories and do our best to heal.

It was about 6 months ago when it seemed that pain had begun to interfere with me living a normal life.  My, "lymphoma neck" - as I had nicknamed it, had now turned into lymphoma back, side, and migraine pain. (At least I could say it was a triple threat.) And  just so we're clear- I wasn't the one who had lymphoma - my Husband was.  But my pain was the physical manifestation of all the emotional pain, sorrow, and anxiety I had taken on over the course of our journey to heal him.  Somehow the pain was manageable- a non-issue really- while Mark was in treatment.  It wasn't until treatments ended, we were on our own, and the douchey 'new normal' was supposedly our new path, that my neck began to ache.  Began to burn.  Began to weaken to a point where I couldn't hold my head up.  Couldn't fall asleep without crying. Vomited in the mornings. I felt like Lindsay Lohan. Without the meth induced svelte figure.

Mark was well but I had my mind made up that any moment it would be time for a cancer crisis to begin again.  I found myself standing in the kitchen early each morning- I could still be sleeping but instead I was awake after a fitful nights sleep to ensure everyone ate, supplemented and had what they needed to sustain and survive another day in the big bad world.  Yet,I took no supplements.  I drank coffee.  I ate bagel sandwhiches from convenient stores if it wasn't a morning I found myself vommiting in between dressing myself and doing my make up (thats so 80's).  I skipped lunch because I wouldn't make myself one.  The hours of 1-6pm at work were filled with a firey pain across my shoulders, down my neck and I would cry in the car on my way home listening to showtunes and Howard Stern.  MESS.  Mark was wonderful and supportive.  Providing me with the worst best back rubs chock full of the good intentions and love.  I iced.  I heated. I soaked in tubs.  Sometimes my blessed Chiropractor, Dr Molly Phillips, could get in at that shit and provide me with a little relief but when even she declared, "I don't like what's going on in here" I kinda figured I was fucked.  Because one of the things I know for sure, Oprah, is that if Dr Molly can't fix it....it's probably really bad.

I was in a bad spot.  I remember laying in bed one night with Mark holding me and just weeping, "I don't feel well and I can't live in this kind of pain all the time!!".  And my sweet, precious lamb of a husband said, "well you're not taking care of yourself".  SHAREALLY!?  I am a healthcare professional (sorta, kinda, one day, almost) and taking care is what I do best! Of everyone else, that is  "You can't take care of all of us and make lunches and figure out the right medicine for everyone to take and not do the same for yourself". Woof. When ya put it like that....Mark suggested the focus needed to shift and that now it was time for me to let him play caregiver.  I reluctantly agreed because something had to give and I decided more than anything, I needed to talk the talk and walk the walk.

I resolved to start listening to the 900 meditation podcasts I had downloaded.  To start packing healthy lunches for MYSELF again.  To break up with the WaWa bagel sandwhich. And perhaps most important, create a sacred space.  What is a sacred space?  For many it's a place of prayer.  An alter. A place to meditate, pray, listen, read.  My sacred space is a all of these things.  It's where I go for escape but also to "come home" to myself- I can regroup and do what I need to do and I'm almost always the better for it.

 This is my teeny, tiny sacred space.  Made out of a tray table my sister gave me - I've covered it with some of my most treasured possessions.  A beautiful piece of coral I found while snorkeling in the Cayman Islands (under water was the only place I could escape my wretched x boyfriend) to remind me of how incredible nature is.  A pencil holder from my Pop-Pop's office.  I loved him to the stars and back and miss him everyday and dream that I make him proud.  I love to have his things around me- two rings he gave me sit in the glass dish that belonged to my Grandmother (his wife) who I never got to meet.  A celtic cross made from palms - my Mother In Law made these by the dozens- they are so perfect.  I feel my Mother In Law's presence very strongly even though we never met.  My Husband tells me how much a like she and I are and it warms my heart.  When he was sick I would constantly ask her to protect him and he would talk to her during his ct scans.  Without a doubt she's my guardian angel.  I have a ring my Mom Mom gave me.....I loved her so much.  She was my everything when I was little and I felt her love for me radiate from her.  I have a picture my Husband took on a trip to Ireland he shared with his Mother before she died. And finally, my constant focus, my heart, my best friend and I.  Wearing our matching onesies and laughing at Christmas years ago. I focus on her and meditate on her healing and send her all the love in the world when I sit there.  I dream of better days ahead for us when we will sit on our couch in California, wearing matching onesies and thinking how incredible we are having endured what we have.

  Creating my sacred space gave me a beginning. A place to start the healing journey.  A place to go to cry. To Laugh. To reflect. Through my meditations I was starting to walk through my fears. Fears that Mark would get sick again. That I would be alone without the person I loved most.  That I would be alone. Alone. All alone.  That no one would ever compare to the person I'd called my Husband and I would be alone. Alone. What would that look like? I started to visualize the grief. The loneliness. I realized that even though it would hurt. Unimaginable pain and loss. It would pass. And if it would happen there would be a reason for it to happen. And it would happen because it was supposed to. And then other parts of life would keep happening. And I realized that was the point - there was nothing I was going to do to stop the life I'm supposed to live from happening.  And suddenly my neck stopped hurting.
And that night it wasn't so hard to sleep.
And my butt stopped bleeding when I pooped. (too much?)
It seriously seemed as though I had taken a few deep breaths and exhaled negativity and pain and the cinder blocks that I was carrying on my shoulders.


Here is what I say when I sit down, light a candle and relax into my sacred space.  "I accept.  I accept it all. What it is and what it will be because I know where I'm going is where I am meant to be. I accept and I let go" and then I let go and exhale.
Some nights I listen to music. Some nights I do yoga poses. Some nights I cry and then rest in the source.

What does your sacred space look like? What do you do?

Is anyone reading this?

bisous xo
JKD