What's a healer?
When I was preparing to teach my Reiki Master class, I asked my RM friends what they teach and how they structure their classes. My friend Taline poses these questions to her Reiki Master students: What is a healer? What does a healer do? Does healing come from the inside or outside?
This started my wheels turning... how did I come to call myself a healer? Why do I call myself a healer? What is it about your journey that brings you to the state where you can offer to help others?
In today's world, we are fascinated by stories. People's histories, their lives, their paths. All of the great gurus have these stories. It's almost as if their stories give them more credibility, as if their suffering justifies their position as healers.
I don't really believe that. I believe every person is suffering with a battle that they only share with their closest friends and confidantes. Everyone is their own guru- the guru lies inside. When clients come to me, I am the conduit or the vessel, holding the space for them to discover what their own path is for healing. I don't directly heal people, they heal themselves. This is why saying that I'm a healer is radical for me.
I have been very hesitant to tell my story, the pages of my life. I've been a caregiver most of my life. I've understood people, the way they tick, the things they do, what they say, since I was a child. I have deep compassion for all people. I have related to children and animals most of my life because they are simpler, and don't have the complex issues that adults do.
When I was learning from my Reiki Master teacher, Monica, I heard her stories of growing up, and the things that would come up for her, memories repressed, disruptions from those memories, and the way she healed them. I thought surely, I won't go through that. But I had this nagging question in my mind- where are my missing memories??
I had seven years of my life that had been blocked out. Age 3 to 10 were a blur for me, a sea of black that I couldn't quite make out. When I became a Reiki Master, I resolved that somehow I would look at these memories, because it was the way that I was going to be able to heal. I knew, in my family, that mental illnesses could stem directly from memories that were unprocessed, and if I was going to process them, Reiki was going to help me.
Over the course of the next year and a half, I had many helpers try to come to my rescue, to prevent me from seeing, or try to tell me to step back, or tell me to take it easy. I had one facilitator, though, who would just hold space for me, and allow. He was compassionate and able to handle the emotions that came up in that space, whether they were pain, or rage, or anger, or grief.
It was the allowance that let me feel safe enough to see. I realized when I began to ground my energy that I had never felt safe. Since age three there had always been a threat to my being, I had been holding my breath most of my life, and projecting out of my body when times got rough, or frightening. He saw this. He provided the space to plant my feet on the ground and look at what I had blocked out.
When I started to look, I was scared. More like terrified. I knew my father had been mentally unstable most of my childhood. I knew that when I was three and my sister was a baby, he had his first mental breakdown and hospitalization. I had locked away most of the memories of him, and had kept the good ones, the happy times.
After his death, during the estate process, I read through all of his medical records, trying to gain some semblance of understanding about what he went through. I put together a template or bones of the process, with dates, hospitalizations, and materials from his mental health admissions. I had those seven years in front of me, on paper. I just had to fill them in.
My facilitator and my spiritual helpers gave me hazy ideas about what the memories looked like. Over the course of the next year or so I processed them one at a time. My Dad had attempted suicide three times when I was a child. The memories were painful, the energies of the scenes difficult for a child to look at. He didn't feel loved, and his emotional stability rested on those around him, and often his needs were too much for everyone to "fix".
Somewhere in the memories I found my energetic self. It was as if my soul knew that this life test would be a difficult one. He would have out of body experiences all the time, when he felt stressed. At age 5 I started projecting out with him. I would gather up his energy, and bring him back down to the ground. His energy cracked and split with each new life challenge, and as a child, I picked up the energetic pieces.
On the outside, this looked like mental illness. I have come to understand much more about what mental illness looks like energetically. There are whole books written on this subject, but the basic premise is that ungrounded energy can manifest in all types of mental disorders. He didn't have the new energy therapy tools to help him, so he was heavily medicated, for bipolar disorder and schizophrenia.
In exploring the black, blocked out energy, I found my purpose. I had been caring for him, energetically, for a long time. My path included childcare, veterinary care jobs, pre-med, nursing school... and in each one I found fulfillment, but also frustration. Most nurses are healers, and have paths that lead them to caring for others. I wasn't an exception, but there was a catch.
I couldn't fix my father. His needs were too much for me. He had so many comorbid conditions that, by the time I finished nursing school, I understood them, and could help him manage them, but healing them was not possible. He expected me to be his caregiver for life. When my husband and I moved away, then started traveling, it got harder to help him.
When I started doing Healing Touch, I began to heal my energy body. My chakra system and energy field had been seriously damaged by the traumas I had experienced as a child. As a teenager I had started to see the amount of pain he was in, and it overwhelmed me. I stopped visitation with him because as a developing empath, I couldn't handle his anger at life. I started to set my boundaries with him at age 15.
When I was an adult, energy work helped me set boundaries with him. It upset me to put walls up, but I found that my dynamic with him changed. The more reliable my boundary was, the easier it was for him to claim his own issues as his, not mine. He had lived in victim mentality most of his life, and I was seeing a way out, and he was not. I wasn't interested in being a victim all my life, nor was I going to harm myself.
I had watched him on a slow decline for 25 years. His diagnoses got more complex, he didn't take care of himself, and in 2011 his mental state started to slip. He basically gave up on life. His body was a mess, and he was in so much emotional pain, that in March of 2012 he took his own life.
This was a huge jolt to the system. He had been projecting out of his body for about a month before he died. Each time I would call him to make sure he was still there. I felt it when he died, but denied that I knew, because I was four states away, and couldn't be there. When I had confirmation I felt relief, for him, and for myself. I wasn't really sure if that emotion was appropriate at the time.
What I realized in the following months was that I had been waiting for the other shoe to drop my whole life. I was waiting for the call that said he was gone. I had been holding my breath for a really long time. And once he was at peace, I could finally find my own peace.
It took me a long time to come to terms with the guilt I felt, but I knew in my heart that I had done everything I could to help him when he was alive. I did the best I could with the information I had at the time, and that is all any of us can do. I couldn't prevent his death, but I could hold my family and try to pick up the pieces of my own life, and move on.
Reiki helped me feel good for the first time in a long time. I started to feel well. I stopped feeling depressed and tired all the time. I didn't have someone drawing energy from me any more, and I felt it. And once I was able to take better care of myself, I was able to take better care of my clients and my family. I hadn't known the difference before, I thought this was just how people lived.
When I was teaching Reiki II we were discussing Archangels, and I got a message from them, saying that I needed to see my father's death for what it is, a gift. His death allowed me to start my own practice. It also allowed me the freedom to breathe for the first time. And it allowed me to help others in a bigger way than I had ever been able to before.
He's still around me, and has been since his death. We've had to learn new ways to interact, in his afterlife. I learned mediumship skills almost by default, so that we could communicate. I had to learn to set better boundaries with spirits, and not allow them to draw energy from me, much like he did in life. And I had to learn that not everyone wants to be "fixed".
These were all hard lessons learned, but I do know that I'm a healer, and I know that our life paths teach us everything we need to know. I'm living proof that healing comes from the inside.
This started my wheels turning... how did I come to call myself a healer? Why do I call myself a healer? What is it about your journey that brings you to the state where you can offer to help others?
In today's world, we are fascinated by stories. People's histories, their lives, their paths. All of the great gurus have these stories. It's almost as if their stories give them more credibility, as if their suffering justifies their position as healers.
I don't really believe that. I believe every person is suffering with a battle that they only share with their closest friends and confidantes. Everyone is their own guru- the guru lies inside. When clients come to me, I am the conduit or the vessel, holding the space for them to discover what their own path is for healing. I don't directly heal people, they heal themselves. This is why saying that I'm a healer is radical for me.
I have been very hesitant to tell my story, the pages of my life. I've been a caregiver most of my life. I've understood people, the way they tick, the things they do, what they say, since I was a child. I have deep compassion for all people. I have related to children and animals most of my life because they are simpler, and don't have the complex issues that adults do.
When I was learning from my Reiki Master teacher, Monica, I heard her stories of growing up, and the things that would come up for her, memories repressed, disruptions from those memories, and the way she healed them. I thought surely, I won't go through that. But I had this nagging question in my mind- where are my missing memories??
I had seven years of my life that had been blocked out. Age 3 to 10 were a blur for me, a sea of black that I couldn't quite make out. When I became a Reiki Master, I resolved that somehow I would look at these memories, because it was the way that I was going to be able to heal. I knew, in my family, that mental illnesses could stem directly from memories that were unprocessed, and if I was going to process them, Reiki was going to help me.
Over the course of the next year and a half, I had many helpers try to come to my rescue, to prevent me from seeing, or try to tell me to step back, or tell me to take it easy. I had one facilitator, though, who would just hold space for me, and allow. He was compassionate and able to handle the emotions that came up in that space, whether they were pain, or rage, or anger, or grief.
It was the allowance that let me feel safe enough to see. I realized when I began to ground my energy that I had never felt safe. Since age three there had always been a threat to my being, I had been holding my breath most of my life, and projecting out of my body when times got rough, or frightening. He saw this. He provided the space to plant my feet on the ground and look at what I had blocked out.
When I started to look, I was scared. More like terrified. I knew my father had been mentally unstable most of my childhood. I knew that when I was three and my sister was a baby, he had his first mental breakdown and hospitalization. I had locked away most of the memories of him, and had kept the good ones, the happy times.
After his death, during the estate process, I read through all of his medical records, trying to gain some semblance of understanding about what he went through. I put together a template or bones of the process, with dates, hospitalizations, and materials from his mental health admissions. I had those seven years in front of me, on paper. I just had to fill them in.
My facilitator and my spiritual helpers gave me hazy ideas about what the memories looked like. Over the course of the next year or so I processed them one at a time. My Dad had attempted suicide three times when I was a child. The memories were painful, the energies of the scenes difficult for a child to look at. He didn't feel loved, and his emotional stability rested on those around him, and often his needs were too much for everyone to "fix".
Somewhere in the memories I found my energetic self. It was as if my soul knew that this life test would be a difficult one. He would have out of body experiences all the time, when he felt stressed. At age 5 I started projecting out with him. I would gather up his energy, and bring him back down to the ground. His energy cracked and split with each new life challenge, and as a child, I picked up the energetic pieces.
On the outside, this looked like mental illness. I have come to understand much more about what mental illness looks like energetically. There are whole books written on this subject, but the basic premise is that ungrounded energy can manifest in all types of mental disorders. He didn't have the new energy therapy tools to help him, so he was heavily medicated, for bipolar disorder and schizophrenia.
In exploring the black, blocked out energy, I found my purpose. I had been caring for him, energetically, for a long time. My path included childcare, veterinary care jobs, pre-med, nursing school... and in each one I found fulfillment, but also frustration. Most nurses are healers, and have paths that lead them to caring for others. I wasn't an exception, but there was a catch.
I couldn't fix my father. His needs were too much for me. He had so many comorbid conditions that, by the time I finished nursing school, I understood them, and could help him manage them, but healing them was not possible. He expected me to be his caregiver for life. When my husband and I moved away, then started traveling, it got harder to help him.
When I started doing Healing Touch, I began to heal my energy body. My chakra system and energy field had been seriously damaged by the traumas I had experienced as a child. As a teenager I had started to see the amount of pain he was in, and it overwhelmed me. I stopped visitation with him because as a developing empath, I couldn't handle his anger at life. I started to set my boundaries with him at age 15.
When I was an adult, energy work helped me set boundaries with him. It upset me to put walls up, but I found that my dynamic with him changed. The more reliable my boundary was, the easier it was for him to claim his own issues as his, not mine. He had lived in victim mentality most of his life, and I was seeing a way out, and he was not. I wasn't interested in being a victim all my life, nor was I going to harm myself.
I had watched him on a slow decline for 25 years. His diagnoses got more complex, he didn't take care of himself, and in 2011 his mental state started to slip. He basically gave up on life. His body was a mess, and he was in so much emotional pain, that in March of 2012 he took his own life.
This was a huge jolt to the system. He had been projecting out of his body for about a month before he died. Each time I would call him to make sure he was still there. I felt it when he died, but denied that I knew, because I was four states away, and couldn't be there. When I had confirmation I felt relief, for him, and for myself. I wasn't really sure if that emotion was appropriate at the time.
What I realized in the following months was that I had been waiting for the other shoe to drop my whole life. I was waiting for the call that said he was gone. I had been holding my breath for a really long time. And once he was at peace, I could finally find my own peace.
It took me a long time to come to terms with the guilt I felt, but I knew in my heart that I had done everything I could to help him when he was alive. I did the best I could with the information I had at the time, and that is all any of us can do. I couldn't prevent his death, but I could hold my family and try to pick up the pieces of my own life, and move on.
Reiki helped me feel good for the first time in a long time. I started to feel well. I stopped feeling depressed and tired all the time. I didn't have someone drawing energy from me any more, and I felt it. And once I was able to take better care of myself, I was able to take better care of my clients and my family. I hadn't known the difference before, I thought this was just how people lived.
When I was teaching Reiki II we were discussing Archangels, and I got a message from them, saying that I needed to see my father's death for what it is, a gift. His death allowed me to start my own practice. It also allowed me the freedom to breathe for the first time. And it allowed me to help others in a bigger way than I had ever been able to before.
He's still around me, and has been since his death. We've had to learn new ways to interact, in his afterlife. I learned mediumship skills almost by default, so that we could communicate. I had to learn to set better boundaries with spirits, and not allow them to draw energy from me, much like he did in life. And I had to learn that not everyone wants to be "fixed".
These were all hard lessons learned, but I do know that I'm a healer, and I know that our life paths teach us everything we need to know. I'm living proof that healing comes from the inside.
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