My relationship with my stomach has always been unbalanced. From an eating disorder to digestive issues, my stomach has been the core to many of my struggles. I used to hide my stomach, never wanting to show the rolls it created when I sat, or the way it moved when I ran. I’ve always wanted to keep it contained and hidden, I never found it appealing. I used to pull at it, suck it in, cover it up, It was always the center of my attention. Since seeing all the women and girls in the media with their perfection, I found my flaws to shine even brighter when I’ll I wanted was to dim them.
It wasn’t until I worked at Crystal Life Technology in 2012 that I discovered the bodies energetic connectors, the chakras. Diving into the kaleidoscope of colors that my body radiated, I found that I had deep issues with my sacral and solar plexus. The hues of orange and yellow pulsating with such brightness to get by attention. By reading books and speaking with shamans, witches, yogis, and gurus, I was able to collect information that I needed to begin my journey of healing.
It didn’t really matter how many crystals I bought or how many essential oils I used, my sacral and solar plexus needed my undivided attention. They needed me to wade through the darkness in order to obtain their wisdom.
Working with the past is never easy, it’s scary, heavy, and a type of darkness that even the light struggles to penetrate. When traveling back through your roots, you have to do more than observe your childhood, you have to venture into the abyss of past lives, karma, and memories that don’t feel like you’ve lived in them. It’s confusing, a struggle of identity, but when you are able to lay in the darkest part of the your souls ocean, floating above all the wreckage, it’s in that moment you uncover your strength.
It took many years to heal. And in some ways I still am. I don’t believe healing ever stops, your wellbeing will always need an extra dose of your love and focus.
With all that devotion, I have grown to love my belly. My core. My center. It has become the home of my spirit, a place where all my creative fire brews. I lay my hand on it at night and get teary, saying I love you and I am sorry for the pain I’ve caused. My belly has is stronger and yet tender, awake and yet still dreamy.
All my body image issues have melted away, leaving stains across my body, collections of poetic stretch marks and love letters of cellulite. Each morning I gaze upon their enchanting presence, a source of self made magic.
It Takes Guts To Heal
Over the past year, I have resided in the cave of my body, listening to the current tempest brewing within my stomach. I didn’t know if she was angry at me for all the pain I’ve caused her or if it was some type of energetic awakening. Turns out, it was digestive issues. My stomach became bloated and pained. I found myself disconnecting again from the loving relationship that I spent years building. All within a couple of month I felt the walls begin to rise again, cutting off communion between my mind, soul, and gut.
It took me a few months to realize that couldn’t heal this issue on my own. After a couple doctors visits and blog tests, I was referred to a GI specialist. I was so nervous that I was going to have to change my vegan lifestyle and that every food I loved I wouldn’t be able to eat again. The stress of not having control was exhausting. With some deep breaths and a long-awaited visit to the GI, I was told I had IBS and I needed a colonoscopy. Now, in my naturalists heart, I was thinking this was all unnecessary because I ate so healthy. It was a mix of anger and confusion, but I decided to trust the doctors and loved ones because I couldn’t stand the pain anymore, it wasn’t my burden to carry.
It was one of the toughest journeys I have ever ventured on. I wasn’t able to eat for almost 2 days and I had to drink this indescribably horrible liquid. I was not able to sleep due to the nausea and cramps, making me so worn down that I was barely able to do anything.
The process completely drained me energetically, physically, and mentally. Some may call me weak, but during the time of no food and forcing myself to drink something, all my past traumas with my body were brought back to the surface. I was having to work through those as I laid in the bath dizzy, dehydrated, and sleep deprived.
The day of my colonoscopy I cried. I wanted it to all be over. I wanted to get back into the flow of my routine, yet laying with my blue gown on, IV in, I knew that the “adventure” wasn’t over. After the procedure, the nurse told my boyfriend and my delirious self that I was born with a twist in my colon, causing me to not be able to digest food as easily as others.
A part of me was relieved that I was able to find out what was wrong and the other half of me was defended by the thought that this was a lifetime commitment. I went home that day craving bread, water, and sleep. I still don’t have all the answers, because I have some upcoming doctors visits to unfold what was found during the procedure. I have begun the process of reconnecting with my stomach, listening and feeling. The first day back on my yoga mat, all I did was stretch, slowly moving with my muscles and breath.
That evening, I remember standing in the shower, the hot water like a river on my skin. My palms pressed gently against my belly, breathing in and out, extending and coming back home. My palms never left my belly that night. I found comfort in the warm touch, an unspoken promise that resonated in my core.