By Amanda Moreno
The world feels beautiful today. After weeks of dissonance and what felt like too much time too close to the edges of sanity, the world feels beautiful, relaxed and if not sane then at least holding steady, at least in my little bubble.
I’ve been hit many times recently with the dawning awareness that I don’t know what it means to be a healer, and I don’t know in what capacity I’m prepared to fill that role.
I don’t like using the term ‘healer’, especially as a label for myself. It makes me cringe. But sometimes I have to give in to the constructs of language and the fact of the matter is that ‘healing’ is the best label for whatever the hell it is that comes through in my sessions with people.
At this moment, however, I don’t know whether I want to go through what it seems to take to be a healer. Once again, here I hit my own preconceived notions — maybe the path to healing others can be a comfortable process. But is that authentic?
The fact of the matter is that I do believe you have to go deep to get to the gold. Is that one more example of my attachment to crisis? Is there a way to go deep and not participate in the cycle of descent and dismemberment?
Furthermore, am I obligated to pursue this path? Is it an option? When you hear the call of your soul, what happens if you turn it down? I’ve always been open to the process, and the understanding that although I’ve chosen to accept the journey I cannot right now understand what the finished product will look like. This is the first time, however, that I’ve encountered doubts like the ones I’ve been facing.
I’ve started questioning how much I am influenced by outside factors, or energies. I’ve also been getting very clear about just how sensitive I am.
The other day I was hit with a sudden knowing of just how much was filling my energy field that wasn’t mine. ‘Mine’ in the ‘this life, this will, my own personal experiences’ sense. I’ve been aware of this for years, but this time around, in a state where I had enough going on all by myself without anything else clinging on, it pissed me off. I’ve been struggling enough with what is right in front of me, with following through with all of the choices I’ve made that have increased my stress levels — choices that have seemed completely worthy and doable. But you add in the tendency to serve as a channel for other people’s everything, and it can become too much.
I didn’t want what feels like such an involuntary tendency to be some kind of dumping ground. How do you learn to trust your own instincts when your field is so cluttered with other people’s stuff? With the weight of the collective? I felt this rage welling up inside of me — for the repression of my true self, my true voice, which I couldn’t hear over the roar of other people’s pain and strife. Perhaps it was the rage of the repressed feminine welling up inside.
So I made some decisions last week. I decided I want my field to be my own (although I suppose there’s a larger philosophical/spiritual discussion that could happen there, because isn’t it all connected anyway?). I asked for help and I purged and purified and I made a decision: I’m not available for other people’s stuff for now. Maybe for a while.
I will keep my ability to sense, I will honor my ability to feel, but I am not available for emotional dumping, from clients, from friends, from random people on the street, and from any entities or energy bodies hanging around. My inner mama tiger is determined to protect the vulnerable bits that have been exposed in recent months.
Maybe it’s naive of me. But my energy feels more spacious right now. If I lean into it there’s a sigh of relief and glee mixed with a little confusion. I celebrated this new space by attending a little hippie-style kinky brunch and facing down several of my fears head on. And came out shining and glowing and full of love. I can feel other people’s pain and pleasure, and knowing that I don’t have to take it on as my own creates relief.
Boundaries — as in knowing and honoring what you are available for — are a wonderful thing. It feels like all parts are coming back to the center. And although that process is confusing and painful at times, I feel like I can breathe through it.
I think there is such beauty in being a healer. But there are so many ways to do it. And right now I’m thinking that I do want in, but I don’t want to take on other people’s shit and I need to reevaluate how I do this work. I want to honor my ability to feel, to acknowledge what is and is not mine, but have really strong boundaries. I want to put myself first, and then be a guide or support to others, but not a savior. I’d love to help other people to heal themselves. Self-generated healing.
I’m in touch with the parts of me that often just wish someone else would come in and fix me. I get it. Perhaps the myth of salvation is just as destructive as the myth of apocalyptic descent; the one that dictates that in order to navigate initiation, especially into the ‘healing’ realms, one must descend and be dismembered and face turmoil and hell.
Maybe I’m just throwing up another wall, but I feel like I’m in a process of truly overcoming my fears, and specifically the negative, racing cognitive loops that spring up around them, keeping me awake, distorting my vision and using my energy. I’ve been trying to change these patterns for years, and so much is finally budging; perhaps the resulting massive shifts in identity are also behind my need to just keep it clean and clear.
And if initiation into healing work has to happen, I want to see if it can be without dismemberment. Can we get to work on changing that myth? Does there have to be a fall? What about gentle healing that doesn’t serve as a bypass for the raw emotions we get to feel. These are larger questions for more expansive discussions, perhaps. But very much worth pondering.