Welcoming Back My Legs

Legs. They're heavy. When you actually can feel them as part of your body. I'm not sure if this is an issue for many people, since many people do reside primarily in their heads, cut off from their bodies, or if it's only an issue for those of us who have temporarily or permanently lost a sense of connection due to shock or damage from injury or surgery.

This is Day 2 of my legs feeling heavy. I've felt this before, but it comes and goes. I wonder if this time my legs are here to stay. They do feel heavier than ever before. Too heavy to go for a run. Too heavy to dance. But they also want to be used. They want to walk. They tell me they'll run and dance again soon, possibly even tomorrow. They tell me there's no rush. They're reconnecting. Give them, give me, a rest.

So I sit here resting, recovering from yesterday's EMDR session. It was my first. Powerful and intense are the first two words that come to mind. And although part of me wants so badly to share right now, I don't think I'm ready to share publicly about what happened in that session. At least not all of it. But I have started writing about all of it privately, and was even motivated to get back to using dictation; it's such a great way to get the thoughts out of my head, especially while driving.

So what can I share here and now? Without getting into why I decided to start EMDR or what it entails (click on link above for some info on EMDR), I'll just say that one of the scenes that came up was me sitting in the car, waiting for help, when I couldn't feel or move my legs, terrified that I was paralyzed and screaming my head off while also holding myself up so that I wouldn't remain doubled over my lap belt. As I sat with this image, I felt surprisingly calm; interesting that this was one of the most calm parts of the session considering that during the accident this is when I was most hysterical, possibly even more so than when I'd been screaming at the driver to slow down or stop the car and contemplating jumping out when he wouldn't listen. (I know, this almost isn't fair for people who don't know the whole story, but it's all I can offer right now). Back to the session...

Emotionally calm with this image, but physically, a lot was happening. I felt my lower back waking up, at the level of fracture/fusion. I experienced some electrical currents, some twitches. It was as if the nerves were healing and my legs were being called back to my body.  It was a chance to tell myself that I can feel and move my legs. And it was a chance to believe it on a cellular level.

I'd worked with this in SomatoEmotional Release sessions, Continuum, and probably another modality or two. Even just through grounding by running energy and breathing. Affirmations. Verbal deprogramming and reprogramming. Etcetera. But this feels different. And, for now, I'll leave it at that.

I think it's time to wrap this up, even though it's tempting to go on about my legs or legs in general, or how I'm having a similar experience with feeling what it's like to have a lower abdomen. I realized in session that I haven't really felt it since the lap belt injury. And that is way more of a trip than this leg thing! Both the feeling I'm experiencing and the realization about the lack of past feeling. But that is a whole other entry, a whole other chapter really.

To be continued.....


And for those of you who are curious, here are some links to other relevant entries I've posted over the years: 

http://rebeccacliogould.blogspot.com/2012/11/the-night-i-almost-died.html
http://rebeccacliogould.blogspot.com/2009/10/do-you-see-what-i-see.html
http://rebeccacliogould.blogspot.com/2010/02/coming-back-to-me.html

http://returntothetao.blogspot.com/2010/02/exit-wound.html



© 2013 Rebecca Clio Gould. All rights reserved.

Howling at the Moon

 Tonight I howled at the moon, while driving in my car. And at some point that howl turned into monkey sounds which then turned into laughter before I howled again. And then silence came, and within the silence a question, When was the last time you howled at the moon?, to which I replied in song.


A song like a howl but sung instead of howled, melodic and calm, sung like a song, like some long-forgotten language, each sound rich and deep with meaning: Owww-ooooooooooh, ow-ow-ow-ooooooooooh, oww-oooooh, ow-ow-ow-oooooooooh..... Repeated many times until I arrived home, sometimes fast but mostly slow.

I sit here now at my desk, staring at this screen, thinking about the contrast between the playful, wild howling and the soulful, soothing singing. And yet there's nothing more to say, at least not in this moment. I could go on about the animal within or repression and liberation or expression or a dozen other things. But I'd rather just howl and sing and bask a bit longer in the preverbal bliss it brings.


© 2013 Rebecca Clio Gould. All rights reserved.

What Do I Do When I Can't Sleep?

Usually I toss and turn or just lie there practicing surrendering and opening up my body to relaxation and release. If there's physical discomfort wreaking havoc, I practice "disappearing pain." And sometimes I just put on a guided meditation. But this morning, when I woke up at 4:30, wide awake after only 4 hours of sleep, I got out of bed. Apparently this is what one is supposed to do if after 15 minutes one does not go back to sleep. That's what my doctor recently told me. And so I decided to test it out, even though there's a flaw in this experiment; avoiding computer screens is also recommended.

But I wanted to write! And not by hand. I wanted to crank out a new chapter for one of my books. I had it all so perfectly crafted in my head. So I turned on my laptop, opened up the document. And nothing came out. 

So I moved on to finding a DVD ripper online so that I could finish up a couple of Sheng Zhen video projects. It takes over an hour for one DVD. I don't want to go back to sleep until it's done. So I clean my room, then see if my website needs updating, then schedule a Meetup, and then the first DVD is ripped. I check it out to see if it worked, and it did, so I load another one, get back in bed planning to practice 9 Turns, a Sheng Zhen form of non-moving lying down qigong, and then possibly sleep. But first? A foot massage. And before I know it I'm out of bed again dancing with my shadow. Literally. I'm dancing around my room, and the lamp is creating a big shadow on the wall, my shadow, and we dance. And I laugh in recognition of the perfection of what I'm doing: dancing with my shadow. A big one.

Why? Because I decided pretty recently that it was time to stop denying the shadow side in general and also time to specifically revisit and admit to the horrific traumas I endured as a teenager. My coping mechanism, especially  the first year or two after the car accident, was denial. I was ok. I'd survived. It was ok. I was alive. But I wasn't ok, and it wasn't ok. And that truth, those truths, must be expressed. And there's a part of me that reads what I just wrote and says that's bullshit, that it was ok and I was ok. And that conflict is part of why this needs to be explored.

There's so much more to say about this, so much more to share. And yet, as often is the case, I didn't really expect to go there in this post. I even contemplate not posting this, since it's quite incomplete. I consider re-writing it completely, or having a post just about the concept of "Being OK" or just about "Shadow Dancing" or about all the old stuff that's getting stirred up for me now and why (such as re-reading "Waking the Tiger" and various bodywork experiences over the past month and preparing to start EMDR). And why now after all these years?

But considering the several "drafts" I've started and not posted over the past 4 months, I think I've just gotta hit that "publish" button and accept the perfect imperfection of this post and where I'm at. I've had writer's block for too long. This is a start in the right direction.

To be continued....



© 2013 Rebecca Clio Gould. All rights reserved.