As promised . . . .
My wake up call was a couple of weeks ago – the evening I drove home from work actually believing that it would probably be a good idea to drive my car over the edge of the ravine and down, down, down into the dust and the cacti and the rattlesnakes below. At that moment, the mind-body connection subconciously kicked in and my foot hit the gas pedal and the steering wheel kind of stuttered in my shaking hands. And I knew then that I was in potentially big trouble. Then my inner voice gave stern warning, “Sister, you’d better watch yourself, because it’s easier to make this kind of thing happen than you might think . . .”
And, I’m ashamed to admit it, but I’ve been crying alot in the past few weeks. Uncontrollable, spastic, choking on my own long hair kind of heaving sobs. My mother suggested I get on Vitamin P, but popping anti-depressants is not an option for me. When I wasn’t crying, I was doing everything I could to paste a fake smile on my face and not crack up into tears.
There’s alot I don’t remember from the past few weeks. Blank spaces of time. That’s when I was angry. I’ve also been very, very angry . . . just a blind kind of rage that I certainly didn’t recognize as . . . . ME.
Then I began to envision myself ‘falling’ down flights of stairs . . . . and I knew. Something had to change. What was causing all this stress in the form of facial twitches, a strange rash in the area of my third eye chakra and chest hives?
My job, that’s what. So, I did the only thing I could do. The scariest thing I could imagine. In Eleanor Roosevelt’s words I did “that thing I thought I could not do.” In my case it means, I quit my job.
Yes, it was scary. This coming from a girl who has spent the night in the middle of jungles with marauding panthers. But in order to be reborn, one must first suffer a small death.
Those first moments were the most difficult ones after I hung up from that late-evening phone call on Thursday night to my boss. The fear creeped in, but I saw it creeping in. And so, I just began to say “Thank you, thank you, thank you . . . ” over and over again with outstretched arms toward the kitchen window and the fear melted away and I had a private conversation with the universe and I re-programmed my mind to know and believe and live with the absolute knowing that not only was everything going to be OK, but that everything would be indeed wonderful and beautiful.
At that moment, I looked down and realized I was wearing my New Person Being Born monkey shirt. I began to run around the house, yelling, “New Person Being Born! New Anna Being Born!”