Coconut Oil

I’m a relative newcomer to the coconut oil bandwagon.  A few years ago, Charmaine told me how I could evenly substitute coconut oil for butter when making cookies or while cooking.  It took me a while to warm up to the idea but once I did, it was bub-bye butter.

Shannon has told me she uses organic, unrefined coconut oil for almost everything. She takes tablespoons of it each day to help with her Fibromyalgia, reduce her sugar cravings and allow her to feel satisfyingly full. She uses it as a facial/body moisturizer and mixes essential oils with it for a deodorant. She tells me it’s the MacGyver of oils. If she can’t use coconut oil with or for something, it’s not worth doing. Connie, who has a strong background in cosmetology, tells me she uses coconut oil as a deep conditioner for her hair and a moisturizer for her lips and cuticles.

Ahhhhh, the humble coconut; so unassuming and yet so multi-dimensional. According to Mercola.com, these two gals are spot on with their uses. In fact, here’s a few more:

·         Shaving lotion: Just apply a thin layer and shave as usual. The lauric acid in the coconut oil will also act as an antiseptic for shaving nicks and cuts. Good to know for people like me who, um, like to get the most out of their disposable razor.

·         Insect Repellant: Mixing coconut oil with a high-quality essential oil(s) such as peppermint, lemon, rosemary, tea tree, citronella or catnip oil can help repel those little buggers. Wait. Catnip oil? Really? Yep. According to one study, catnip oil is 10 times more effective than DEET. Well, shizzle my dizzle! I wonder if you’ll have all the kitties in the neighborhood after your milkshake?? I also wonder if this study was done on ND/MN mosquitos!

·         Head Lice: LICE?! Yep. Combine coconut oil and anise to create a treatment that is nearly twice as effective as the prescription Permethrin.

It can also be used alone, or in some cases, in combination with a high quality essential oil for cold sores, ear infections, bug bites/stings, athlete’s foot, chicken pox and eczema.  I can attest to the eczema part as my daughter is prone to bouts of eczema during the winter months. This year I am using organic, unrefined coconut oil on her and her eczema is almost non-existent. In contrast, last winter we went through a tube of (sparingly used) hydrocortisone.

It’s also said that coconut oil destroys free radicals and can help your skin look more youthful by diminishing fine lines and wrinkles.  If looks aren’t your thing, how about your health? Coconut oil contains 50% of a ‘miracle’ ingredient called lauric acid. This acid can actually destroy viruses such as measles, HIV/herpes, influenza, pneumonia, UTI’s and vaginitis.

What are some of the physical benefits to using coconut oil over others? Well, a HUGE one is organic coconut oil isn’t genetically modified, however over 90% of soy, corn and canola oils are. Zoinkies Scoob!  Organic coconut oil promotes weight loss, metabolism, immune system and heart health as well as providing immediate energy.  Yes, you read right: immediate energy. That’s because coconut oil is immediately converted to energy, via your liver, instead of being stored as fat. No kidding.

I was curious about the difference between refined and unrefined (virgin) coconut oil. Refined is good for baking and cooking as it can withstand higher temperatures (450 degrees). It also doesn’t have any coconut smell.  The reason for this is because unrefined coconut meat is often dried in open air and, because of this drying method, can result in salmonella poisoning. To ensure this doesn’t happen, the coconut meat needs to be purified and is put through a bleach filtration system. Once that’s done, it’s heat treated to remove any odor.1

Unrefined (virgin) coconut oil uses fresh, not dried, coconut meat. This ensures the oil is sanitary and doesn’t need additional purification, however it can only withstand 350 degree heat. To produce unrefined coconut oil, there are two methods used and while I’m not going to go into detail (you’re welcome), I will say that both methods result in a coconut oil that wasn’t purified by bleach. Because of this, it does maintain some (mild) coconut odor.

Through personal experience, I find the unrefined coconut oil to be a better choice for lotion as it melts like buttahhh when rubbed between your palms. The refined is more difficult to melt and now that I know bleach is used to purify it…well….. (gulp).

And what coconut oil blog would be complete without dispelling what you think you know about the saturated fats in coconut oil? Pishaw, my faithful readers! Not this blog!  It’s not the enemy you may believe it to be. The saturated fats in coconut oil are naturally occurring. Ding ding! The key words here, in the saturated fat fight are, ‘naturally occurring.’ You see, again according to Dr. Mercola,2  there are  other fats which are “artificially manipulated into a saturated state through the man-made process called hydrogenation.”  If this is the case, it will result in trans-fats which actually contribute to heart disease.  Fair warning! Some of the coconut oils on the market contain hydrogenated oils and trans-fats.  Blasphemy!

I guess the long and the short of it is coconut oil is a dynamo. It has healing, healthful properties and is safe to use both internally and externally. Be sure to read labels (check for trans-fat, hydrogenated oil and even ‘animal byproducts’ – euwwwww) and buy a good quality organic coconut oil; don’t just go for the cheapest.

Maybe make the switch in cooking first and then baking. Then, maybe think about switching your expensive facial moisturizer or maybe even your methyl paraben’d body lotion for plain old coconut oil. Why stop there?  Toothpaste? Sure! Polish furniture? Yes! Oil rusty door hinges? You bet!  Moisturize leather, including the interior of your car? Yes, Yes, YES!  Coconut oil could quite possibly become your MacGyver, too.

IET

What’s IET? It’s Integrated Energy Therapy. Ok, so what’s Integrated Energy Therapy? The long and the short of it is IET is energy work that is specifically designed to help heal emotions, negative beliefs and/or karmic problems.

My friend Shannon performs IET and told me it was created by a Reiki Master so there are a lot of similarities to Reiki. IET differs because it specifically uses a cellular release/imprint method as well as 9 Healing angels. During my session, Shannon explained she’d be using trigger points to release the old and imprint the new. A couple examples of this would be to say, release heartache from the heart and imprint it with love or release fear from the kidneys and imprint safety. She told me how, in IET, angels were associated with different parts of your body (i.e. throat, heart, liver, kidneys, etc.) and would assist with each clearing/imprinting.

I expected this to be a lot like Body Talk where there is a continuous dialog between myself and the practitioner. I also thought I’d be an active participant by saying affirmations with each release.  That was not the case (for my session, anyway) and I kind of liked the silence. I found myself internally repeating, “I easily release all that is no longer for my highest good.”

As with Reiki, I was fully clothed and lying on a massage table. I was peacefully floating along and feeling the gentle energy course through my body. While Shannon was at my throat area, I had an interesting physical reaction. My heartbeat increased, my breathing became shallow and I felt something close to panic. My eyes fluttered open and I said, “Shanny. I’m having a very physical reaction to what you’re doing” and I told her my symptoms. She said she was currently releasing trauma or shame from my throat area.

I didn’t know what this trauma or shame was about but I once again internally repeated, “It is safe for me to let go all that which is no longer for my highest good.”  I did not have a reaction like this again, although I did have a boat load of deep inhalations/exhalations, some leg/foot twitches and a weird on again/off again itchy sensation in the palm of my right hand.

Once our session was finished, Shannon said memories or ‘stuff’ might come up for me to examine.  Boy howdy! I didn’t have to wait long. My first painful memory was about two hours after our session. I was minding my own business, doing my own thing when whammo!  At the time, I didn’t know what this was about as I hadn’t thought about this person or the event in years.   Then another memory not 24 hours later and this one was even more painful and happened years prior to the first one. Upon reflection, both these memories harbored shame and betrayal.

Why did I schedule an IET session in the first place? Because I wanted to see if it would help me get rid of my processed sugar cravings and help me break the addiction cycle. This was also my intention when I went into session so I know the return of these shelved memories are somehow tied to my addiction.

One of the websites I researched said all the clearing/imprinting is done while IN session so a client doesn’t have to do any ‘work’ once they leave the session. But for me, I found myself examining these memories with a different set of eyes. I was left wondering why I hadn’t let the pain/shame/betrayal associated with them go as I believed I had. Perhaps these memories briefly reappeared to let me know the trauma surrounding them is leaving. Only time will tell.

(Melissa’s Note: Want more info on IET? You can contact, Shannon via FB or click on the website link above).

Jonesing

It occurred to me just the other day, after years and years and YEARS of bingeing on processed sugar (most specifically, anything chocolate), that I am an addict. I actually said those words out loud two weeks ago and I know it’s true.  I was out of control with my sugar consumption and when I say ‘out of control,’ I mean there is no earthly way I shouldn’t be in a sugar-induced coma.

Yes, processed sugar is HIGHLY addictive and highly dangerous. Some websites call it a major player in the spread of cancer. Evidently cancer cells thrive on processed sugar. Soon there will be a test that scans the body for accumulation of sugar and that will be a predictor of cancer. Oh my GOD. What am I DOING to my body?!

Sugar is my crutch. It’s my go to. It’s my energy when I’m exhausted, overly tired or stressed. It’s my salve when I’m in pain (emotional or physical). I tell myself I can stop with just one cookie and end up eating a BOX. Most recently I was on a junior mints and peanut turtles tangent. I found myself skipping meals and eating chocolate instead. I would justify my turtle consumption by telling myself it contained peanuts so I was getting something healthy, but I know better. I AM educated on this but I am also an addict whose hormones, routines and/or daily stressors get the better of me. When they do, I turn to my old comforting friend; processed, refined sugar.

As a child I remember eating sugar in the form of Kool-Aid, chocolate pudding and Pixy Stix candy. Some websites say I may have inherited my love (lust) for processed sugar while in the womb. I don’t doubt it. When I was born, I probably asked the doctor for a spoonful of sugar.

Here are some interesting facts about processed sugar (Huffpost Healthy Living):

  • 1.    It’s a major player in cancer growth.
  • 2.    Sugar can affect the pumping mechanism of your heart and brings about muscle protein changes that could lead to heart failure. Humm…so when I was stuffing my maw full of processed sugar and alcohol after a bad breakup, I was actually adding insult to injury to my broken heart.
  • 3.    Sugar can affect the aging of your brain AND body.
  • 4.    It targets your belly and adds fat directly to it.
  • 5.    Sugar can create chronic inflammation which is responsible for a host of medical issues ranging from arthritis, Alzheimer’s and heart attacks.

I was never much of a soda drinker, but I loved my sweets. Back in the day, I could eat all I wanted and remain the weight I desired to be. It was because I did some form of a workout (cardio and/or weights) 6 to 7 days a week and I didn’t eat all that well. It’s no fun cooking for one. Then came husband, baby and breastfeeding and I got used to eating extra (sugar) calories a day. When breastfeeding ended, my extra calorie consumption did not, my exercise was not like it was pre-baby and I gained weight.

The additional weight isn’t what bothers me; it’s what I’m doing to my body by uncontrollably eating this crap. I am a vegetarian for ethical and health reasons.  I take known inflammation reducers like pharmaceutical grade fish oil and extra vitamin C to combat the self-inflicted punishment. I’m trying to trick my mind into believing my sugar consumption will be less damaging because of this, but I know better.  It’s the same mentality I use to justify bingeing on chocolate that contain nuts.

I am keeping a daily diary this time around to document when I want chocolate and how I’m feeling when I do.  I’ve started my detox during a time when my body does not normally crave processed sugar in order to be past the intense cravings by the time it does crave sugar. I’ll journal for 30 days and I may publish it with the hopes others can read about my journey and recognize themselves in me.

I noticed the first two days I was off processed sugar, I had a hard time with my memory. I carried my water bottle into my gym class, sat it down and walked out to do something. Before returning to the room I thought, “Oh crap! I don’t have my water bottle. Is it in the car?” So I bundled up and went out to my car. Not there. Well, what the hell. Did I leave it at home? Crap. Double CRAP! As I was grousing inside my head, I had reentered the class and there was my water bottle, exactly where I had left it, right by my yoga mat. Hello!!!

My friend Shannon has offered some suggestions as to how to get through my sugar cravings. I guess cinnamon bark oil is a great help as is using healthy fats (coconut oil/avocados, etc.).  I don’t know. When I want chocolate, I want CHOCOLATE, not just something sweet.  I’m willing to give her suggestions a try, though. She’s been down this road a time or two as well.

I’m going to break routines I’ve established and create new ones. I’m going to watch my inclinations to turn to sugary food when I’m stressed, agitated or mentally bored and opt for something else.  I’ve got to take care of my body; it’s the only one I have and I need it to stay healthy. I’m not saying I wont eat processed sugar again as that’s completely unrealistic.  I’m saying I’ll introduce the word ‘moderation’ into my vocabulary and faze out the word ‘bingeing’.

Morning

As my two year old daughter lay sleeping, I was thrilled to be able use the potty ALONE. It’s a total luxury and one that doesn’t often happen (right, moms?!). Most of the time my daughter is chasing me as fast as her little legs will allow. Sometimes I’m quicker and get to the bathroom in time to shut the door without my shadow.  But let’s face it; it’s really just a bluff because you know I’m going to open the door.  If I don’t, she throws herself against it, pummels it with her open hands and wails, “Momma! Mommyyyyyyy!” 

If I still insist on punishing myself and compromising my future hearing, my Tasmanian devil will fall to the ground (dramahhhhh) and start kicking the door. The truth be told, I can’t get ANY business done with all that business going on.  

Letting her in does not end my pain. Oh no. In fact, a whole new world of hurt has just been unleased. Once my little learning sponge is inside the bathroom, SHE shuts the door (gee, thanks honey), smiles (help me) and toddles confidently towards me (dry mouth gulp). She’ll smile, look at me and say, “see?” meaning she wants to SEE what I’m doing on the toidy! 

I blame her dad for that. He does his business standing up and she loves to watch the, uh, ok what the hell, stream go into the toilet.  In fact, there have been several times where he hasn’t been quick enough or is off in LaLa land and she’s put her hand IN his urine stream.  She giggles. He does not.

So she’s sizing me up and wants to ‘see’ what I’m going. She actually is trying to pry my legs apart. “No” is not a deterrent, it’s simply a tactic changer for her and she barely misses a beat.  She sidles to the side of the toilet and touches my bum with her cold fingers. When I don’t react (inside I’m TOTALLY SCREAMING!), she tries to shut the toilet lid on my back. Now, pardon me but EEEEUUUUWWW!!!  Gross! Do you know what crap, LITERALLY, is on the inside of a toilet lid?! I DO and I’m beyond yucked out by it!

While I try not to flinch, I am holding my breath waiting for the next onslaught. I don’t have to wait long. “Poop? Poooop?”  Truly, it’s only the sweetest, clearest, purest voice that can make the word ‘poop?’ sound like the finest crafted bell, but she does it.  Every time she utters, ‘pooOOOP?’ whether it’s to me, her doll or her favorite stuffed animal (of the week), I smile.

And I was going to be one of those parents who never taught her child that word. I hate that word. I wanted to teach her ‘ish’ as it was called in my family but my husband busted a gut laughing every time I used it. So the somehow more humane ‘ish’ is replaced by the baser ‘poop’ in our house.  Now, in my defense, I try to say ‘pooH’ but really, potatO/pOtato.

It’s about this time she hands me 17 feet of toilet paper. I take the toilet paper and say, ‘thank you honey’. That seems to appease her and she briefly looks the other way. I think, “OMG! It’s my opportunity! HURRY!!! Do it NOW!” Not to go potty, no my friends…that ship has sailed, but to pull up my pants AND shut the toilet lid.  I’m never quick enough. Oh dear Lord, I’m never quick enough. The little stinker just knows. The slightest forward movement from me has her quickly returning to the toilet (but it’s not like she was really away from it, either).

“POOOOP? POOOOP?!!” she excitedly says while she gazes into the nearly empty toilet bowl. “I-yucky’ she’ll say even if there is nothing in the bowl. Sorry to disappoint you lil’ missy, but momma can’t do her business if she’s permanently kegeling.

If her attempt to touch the used toilet paper fails (and it does, I’m SO on to her, but GADS she is FAST), she’ll slam the toilet lid down and attempt to flush the toilet (“momma do it”).  Once flushed (“momma did it”), she’ll lift up the entire toilet seat, peer inside, say, ‘i-yucky’ and let the seat slam shut once more.

I digress. As any parent knows, it’s easy to get caught up talking about pooh. Right?! So let me continue with the rest of my story. After feeling jubilant by my success at using the toidy without a child glommed on to my side, I decided to tempt fate (suckaahhh!) and try a shower. I no sooner entered the warm shower when I hear the pitter patter of little feet and, “Yo go? “Yo GO?”  I, behind the shower curtain sweetly say, “Yes, honey. You can have some yogurt. Wait for mommy to get out of the shower.” What a colossal waste of my breath. In addition, I barely started this sentence when the shower curtain (liner and all) is whipped back exposing me to a blast of cold air. The sleepy, big blue eyed blond with morning Nick Nolte (think mug shot) hair smiles at me. Sigh. Time for a power shower.  

In the 68 seconds it took me to shower, she had removed all the contents from the bathroom cupboards, including a newly opened box of 500 Q-tips (!!!!) and scattered them around the bathroom floor. She unwound the toilet paper, checked the toilet for ‘i-yuckies’ and had put on my um, well an article of clothing that is often stolen in college dorm raids.  Get it?

I tried to do my ‘after shower’ routine which includes, but is not limited to, putting on lotion, deodorant, brushing my teeth and combing my hair. Lavish, I know. Today I was going for broke by trying to squirt some toner on a cotton ball and applying it to my face. Sadly though, by this time she is squealing in delight and pointing at my naked bum. Oh boy. She’s saying, “Poop? Poop?”  Yes, honey, that’s where we go potty. More squeals followed by a pointed finger that gets a little bit too close to my hiney for this mommy’s liking.  Meanwhile, she’s smiling and giddily prancing around like she’s a pretty, pretty pony.

But the fun doesn’t stop there.  Now it’s time for a ‘girl’ show. She is fascinated with my little B-Cups (I was going to type “A-Cups” but why not embellish a little. It’s MY blog!). She squeals, claps her hands and points at them as well.  What’s a mom to do? I mean SERIOUSLY!

I’ve learned from past, um, educational explorations, not to let her get anywhere close to my girls as she likes to pinch and pull certain parts that don’t LIKE to be pinched or pulled. Today is no different. Visions of the abuse my girls suffered while I was breast feeding still haunt me. I turn away and put on another part of my delicate unmentionables that she likes to wear as proudly as Madonna (the singer, not the Virgin) did with her metal cone bra.

And thusly, this is my morning and I haven’t even left the bedroom. What surprises await for me today?  I suppose it’ll be more of my daughter excitedly wanting to look at the contents of her soiled diaper. Maybe she’ll pull at the waist band of my pants and exclaim, “Poop? Poop mommy?”  Maybe she’ll even try to give me the child’s version of a titty twister.

One thing is for sure; these scenarios will play out again and again and when it stops, when she outgrows it, I’m going to miss it. 

Predator

neonpsychic“You’ve got some bad past life energy around you and you need to get rid of it or you’re not going to find love. I have some (insert: bath salts, oils, crystals, candles, etc.) that can help. You need to purchase this. It’s $1,000 and I take credit cards. If you don’t buy it today, the price goes up” said a local, transplanted psychic to me.

I knew the second I walked into her office that I shouldn’t be there. I knew it.  It felt wrong. It felt slimy somehow. Maybe it was my emerging spidey sense that set me off; maybe it was because she ate her (smelly) fast food hamburger and fries during my session. Maybe it was because she raised the price of the tarot reading when she discovered I was interested in learning about love. Or maybe it was because she put an egg timer – a TICKING egg timer – on her desk. Whatever it was, I was put off by her conduct and attitude. It wasn’t friendly or welcoming; it was cold and aloof.

“Uhhhhh” I stammered, as my eyes opened wider, “I, I don’t have that kind of money.” She replied, “Your choice, but you won’t get rid of this energy without it” thus playing into my fear that I wouldn’t find love (without her help, that is).  I left without purchasing whatever product she was selling but I had allowed her word arrow to hit its mark; I believed I wouldn’t find love even though, on some level, I knew better.

While I no longer believed a certain ‘energy infused’ candle, bath salt, etc., was the key to my happiness nor would it remove negative energy, I was still bothered by what was said. I turned to the only person I trusted with stuff like this; Susie.

Susie, with her gentle, calming, loving voice that was full of compassion said, “Oh honey. No. Please don’t buy into any of that. You WILL find love. There is no potion you need to drink or any type of elixir you need to buy. You’re fine. Just keep believing, trusting and walking your path.”

I felt, even back then when I was just beginning to be cognitively aware of my spiritual journey, the difference in their energy. One dealt in fear, the other in compassion. But, as with all things that change one’s life, that encounter helped shape how I would relate to my future clients.

Prior to this experience and prior to me finding Susie, I had gone to another local, but transplanted psychic. I had been seeing her for about a year when she suggested I buy a crystal she had found especially for me. She said how she knew saving money was important to me but that this crystal would help with so much. I had built a relationship with her, or so I thought, and did what she suggested. I paid, gulp, an embarrassingly large amount of money for a crystal that was probably worth $20. All because I believed in her and believed in what she was telling me.

My gut was telling me not to buy the nauseatingly expensive crystal, but I trusted this psychic and thought she had my best interests in mind. At the time I was in a lot of emotional pain and was reaching, blindly, for any port in the storm. Sadly, she was reaching for her pocket book.

In the following months, she suggested I spend $1000 on two white tapered candles that she had meditated over and infused with psychic healing energy. That’s where I drew the line even though she was saying all the right things. The ridiculously priced crystal was supposed to be the end all of end all so why would I need candles?  When I asked that exact question, her eyes widened and she said, “Oh! The crystal will take care of everything but these candles are in addition. They are issue specific.” That’s when our ‘relationship’ ended.  I felt betrayed and worse, I felt like a fool.

As with any profession, or in nature itself for that matter, there are predators. Some are obvious, like the psychic I described in the beginning of this story and some are not so obvious or even insidious, if you will, like the last one I described.  I can’t blame a person for trying to make a buck but I have a real problem with others using intuitive gifts to exploit people’s vulnerabilities/dreams/wishes/desires. I have a HUGE ethical and moral problem with that.

People who seek the wisdom/services of psychics or intuitives are usually searching for answers and may be in deep emotional pain; they are often very vulnerable. They may easily trust in those that seem to have accurate information they (psychics) have no reasonable or comprehensive way of knowing.

How do you know if your psychic or intuitive is ethical, morally responsible and/or has integrity? One way might be to see if they use fear or manipulation to motivate you into buying services or products. Are they pushy? Do they say, “If you don’t return for x number of visits, the bad karma won’t be lifted” or “If you don’t buy this, your problems will continue.”  If so, the proverbial shoe may fit.

But it wasn’t all a head slap moment for me. I came to realize it wasn’t the crystal that helped me; it was believing the crystal would help. That belief changed my thought pattern and helped attract a different, lighter energy. Geez though, talk about an expensive placebo or in my case, an expensive paper weight!


Medium

“Tell her about my comb” he said while sitting in a chair a few feet from me. I raised my eyebrows and said, “He wants me to tell you something about a comb?” My client starting laughing and said, “Melissa! He didn’t have any hair but he always carried a black comb in his pocket! It was a running joke in our family!!” and then she became quiet as tears streamed from her eyes. She had lost the man who was sitting in front of me, her husband, to an insatiable cancer just a few months prior to our session.

On another day and with another client, her (deceased) husband was in session with us once again. He showed up during our first session and re-appeared often during the following sessions. Sometimes he is in human form and sometimes he’s a glowing ball of orange energy that roughly resembles the human shape.

I was over this client’s stomach when I intuited the words, “butter cookies.” I told her it appeared her tummy wanted butter cookies. She, with a slow smile spreading across her face said no, it was her husband. She said she had talked with him on her way to our session and had asked him to make a reference to butter cookies. Evidently, once upon a time, she had made butter cookies and brought him a plateful. Her intent was to finish up a few things and then share the cookies with him. When she returned, the plate was empty and her husband was grinning like the cat who ate the canary.

Another story has the granddaughter wanting to know about her recently deceased grandmother. I instantly saw a rose and at the same time, heard the word. I asked her if her grandma’s name was Rose. She said no, but she placed a red rose on her casket. Grandma didn’t appear in my office but said she was “too busy to stop by as she was playing cards” and “could we reschedule?” My client said, “Yep! Sounds just like grandma!”

I’ll share one more story and it’s about a client’s long deceased grandmother; a woman whom my client had never met. This soul wanted my client to know she had a lineage in dealing with healing herbal remedies. My client told me herbs had always resonated with her but she never knew why.

Some of these deceased individuals tell me they’ll be ‘moving on’ soon as they have ‘work’ to do. This is code for they’ll be leaving behind the ability to make their presence known either to me or their loved one. Some thank me profusely for being open to communicate. Others say nothing and request I not let their loved one know they are there as they don’t wish to be a distraction. Still others wish to help with the Reiki session itself.

These deceased souls are thrilled to have someone to communicate through. Each and every time I’ve been a part of these exchanges, they have been filled with gentleness, compassion, love and reassurance.

One deceased husband conspiratorially told me he was ‘pulling strings’ for his wife but he had to be careful as he could upset the balance if he went too far. He assured me, and I assured her, he was doing all he could to help her. Then he approached her side, put his energetic hand over hers, bent slightly forward and gazed so gently and lovingly into her eyes that I felt like an interloper. I was moved to tears by what I saw and felt. It was as if he was capturing her image – or drinking it in – one last time.

The unconditional love these – and countless others – have shared did not diminish with one of their deaths; it transcended.

Melissa’s Note: For those of you who still physically have your loved ones, a regret openly expressed by those who remain is they wish they could have hugged their loved one again. You have the opportunity to do just that.

Holidays

Years ago, in 1999 to be exact, celebrating the Holidays lost its luster (yes, pun intended) for me. In September of that year, my mom died. When the holiday season rolled around just two months later, I was mired in grief so palpable it felt like my heart was being squished. I would burst into tears at the smallest of things. Then it started; the seasonal well-wishers who didn’t have any idea of what was going on inside of me or that I was mourning the loss of not only my mother, but a way of life.

1999 was a big year for me. When my mom unexpectedly died, I realized how deeply unhappy I was in my (starter) marriage.  I realized how quickly things can change and I didn’t want to spend the rest of my life in a marriage that was harmful and hurtful. I also realized that my excitement for the Holidays was irrevocably tarnished. It felt like I was seeing everything in monochromatic colors instead of the bright, festive colors that once were. It felt like, if you’ll forgive my indulgence, I had just discovered after years and years of believing in Santa, that it was all a cruel lie.

Now, I was never one to go overboard on Christmas both in the gift giving and decorating aspect. In fact, in all the years I was single, I never put up a Christmas tree. Not once. Why bother? I wasn’t here for Christmas; I was with my family at their home(s). I would tire of people saying, “Did you put up your tree?” and having to justify why I hadn’t and wouldn’t. You wouldn’t believe the comments or the incredulous looks I received for this simple act of not conforming.  You would have thought I told people I worshiped the devil. I’m not kidding. This still happens today, but I no longer feel the need to justify my actions.

The question, “Do you have all your Christmas presents bought?” is asked by well-meaning individuals and I get the reasoning behind it as it’s top bragging rights if you have. But for me, I feel like it’s no one else’s business, even though I know they are just making small talk. When I reply, “I don’t buy gifts” I’m given the look.  You know the one; wider, slightly disbelieving eyes, mouth agape and head cocked to the side. You can almost hear people wondering if they’ve heard me correctly. You’d think not buying gifts was a sacrilege!

It was around the time of my divorce that I started to feel empowered enough to stop the rat race of gift giving, too. Those changes were occurring because of my girl Charmaine telling me her thoughts on how she was trying to live her life (see my Networking blog) and me trying to apply those thoughts to my life. Well, it was that and the fact I was once again in mourning (loss of my marriage) and I physically didn’t have the finances to buy gifts.

It was incredibly liberating (although scary to go against the norm) to let my relatives/friends know I wouldn’t be giving gifts. In reality, some even took a page from my book and pared down their lists. You see, I subscribe to the theory of giving gifts all year long. Those gifts, whether they are random acts of kindnesses, a large gratuity or a physical gift, mean more to me and feel real versus the banal, stress-filled experience of buying/wrapping/giving Christmas gifts.

Oh yes. Long ago, through my own experiences (aren’t those the best ways to learn?), I realized not everyone is festive and excited for the Holiday season. I realized there were others who were grieving a loss of a job, a death or the demise of a relationship. I understood then that there were others, still, who were struggling with anxiety, depression or even abuse.

Prior to 1999, I was one of those who would end a conversation with, “Merry Christmas!” or “Have a happy Thanksgiving.”  Now you’ll not hear me utter those words unless you have said them to me.  As a side note, you also will not hear me wish you a happy Valentine’s Day as I was lonely for far too many of them, some even while I was married.

I’m deeply aware, both through personal experience and my Work, that others are in emotional pain during a season where merriment rules.  So for me, if I don’t wish you a season’s greeting, it’s not because I’m being unpleasant or have lost my ability to make polite small talk. It’s because I’m trying to honor those who own their grief during a season where grief is not acknowledged.

But before you think I’m all Ebenezer Scrooge, I’ve noticed that since having a baby, my monochromatic vision now has a hint of color. Maybe it’s because I anticipate the excitement and wonderment she’s going to experience. Maybe it’s because I get to experience them with her. Either way, it’s no longer black and white for me but I still won’t be asking if you’ve got your shopping done or put up a tree.

Student

“What’s your problem!? You should be able to figure this out. You’re not a child, you’re an adult. Figure it out!” If I had a dime, no a penny, for every time I’ve thought something like this about myself, I’d be able to retire. Seriously (eye roll).

What am I talking about? Glad you asked. I was going to tell you anyway, but I’m glad you asked. The other day I was working on a client who has been battling a long standing issue. When I was over her heart area, I ‘heard’ her say, “You’re so stupid. You should be able to figure this out. You’re highly educated and yet you still can’t get a handle on this.”  My mouth dropped open and I asked her if this was true. She said it was.

I don’t know what surprised me more; her intuitive information or the fact that I do the same thing! Maybe it startled me because well, it was her. She’s a highly educated and accomplished woman who teaches at the collegiate level.  Maybe it was because of this exact thing, her with her vast education and me with my limited one, which allowed me to realize we are mentally doing the same harmful thing.

I received some life changing intuitive information after those thoughts left my mind. I was told she needed to treat herself like the student, not the teacher. Awwwww. Yes… that makes perfect sense and I listened to those wise words as well.

We talked about how when we reach a certain age, we think we should have the answers to why we do or don’t do certain things. We talked about how we belittle ourselves when we can’t arrive at an answer.  We also talked about how we would never speak harshly to ourselves for not knowing how to perform, say, brain surgery if we weren’t a brain surgeon. And yet, for things we deem we should know the solution to, we berate and chide ourselves constantly.

The Guys had a valid point (yes, I’ll give you that one Guys) when they said, ‘become the student.’ When we want to learn about a particular subject, we try and find teachers to help us. Those teachers could be at the academic level, Google level or even the spiritual level. But in matters that deal with ourselves, instead of seeking a teacher we use harmful negative self-talk.

There are so many flaws with this line of thinking. I mean, you wouldn’t try to improve your knowledge with a verbal beat down, would you? Uhhh, the answer is ‘no’ in case you’re still thinking about this. No! You’d find the answers. So it makes me wonder; at what point do we feel we are omnipotent about our own lives? When do we consider ourselves adults and feel we should know everything about ourselves in order to solve our sometimes life-long dilemmas?

How about the next time you catch yourself being internally harsh about a problem you think you should have the answers to, you change your response.  Maybe you say, “I don’t have the answers but I’ll try to find someone who does.”  Wouldn’t that feel more empowering than snapping, “Grow up. You’re not a child! Figure it OUT.”  And the answer is ‘yes’ for those of you still thinking about this.

In life, we don’t stop learning. Putting unrealistic expectations on yourself about what knowledge you should have once you become an ‘adult’ only opens the door for negative, abusive self-talk. After all, we don’t reach a certain magical age and know it all about ourselves. We still – and always will be – students who need teachers.

Lost

When I was a little girl, maybe 7 or 8, I became very lost. I had gone to a neighborhood not far from my own but one that was foreign to me. I went walking with a friend and we got into an argument and she stormed off. I was to mad to follow her. Puhhh. I didn’t need her. I could find my own way home. So I ended up wandered around hilly streets until I became tired, hungry and frightened. 

I had walked by a house, at least once, that had a beautiful weeping willow in the front yard. I remembered that house, in particular, because we had a weeping willow in our backyard. On my second (or third) pass, I decided I couldn’t keep wandering around so I sat beneath the branches of the beautiful tree in hopes someone would find ME.  Why I ultimately chose that house or that tree wasn’t consciously known to me. But as you all know, I preach there are no coincidences.

As I sat with my chin resting on my knees and my arms wrapped tightly around my legs, I cried and wished for my mom. The house’s garage door opened and a car pulled in. A tall, middle aged woman got out and slowly walked toward me. She had kind eyes and instead of standing to her full height, she bent down as she approached.  When she reached me, she knelt next to my little, tightly curled up body and said, “Honey. Are you lost?” She was so caring and so maternal and I felt so relieved that someone had found me that I started bawling even harder. All I could do was nod my head. 

She asked if I wanted to call my mom or dad. Did I know my mommy or daddy’s number?  Yes. I did. She brought me inside and made me hot cocoa while she (or I?) called my mom.  She had an easy, flowing way of helping me become calm. She chatted with me (not to me, there is a difference) as if I was an old friend who had stopped in for a visit.  

I don’t remember much more of the experience except getting into the back seat of my dad’s car and wondering if he was going to yell at me for getting lost, for going into a stranger’s home or for interrupting his work day.  He did not yell and he did not berate. What he did was asked if I was OK. For my rather unemotional dad, this meant the world to me and it helped me feel safe.

As we topped a hill, I caught my bearings and knew where we were. I felt silly because I was so close to home and yet didn’t know it. But that experience began a lifelong fear of becoming lost.

As a young adult and well into my adulthood, I would suffer from anxiety when I needed to be somewhere I’d never been before.  This was well before the days of GPS or even MapQuest.  This was when you actually had to go to a brick and mortar library if you wanted information on a particular subject. The internet hadn’t been created and cell phones were still a glint in someone’s eye.

Keep in mind I traveled for a living when I worked in banking. I traveled all over the vast, great state of North Dakota and each time I faced a new address, I would get my mini-freak out on.  I would arrive at my destinations ridiculously early so I didn’t arrive late. My thoughts were this: if I became lost I would have time to figure it out before I was late. Being late was (and is!) incredibly distasteful to me.

When I was in counseling, we worked on this powerful memory. Some 13 years later, I’m still working on it. With the invention of GPS, etc., I feel more in control but I am still glued to the little computer voice that tells me when to turn and that my address will be on the right.  I still plan my route before I leave the house and I make sure I have some wiggle room in the time area.  I often joke that I am ‘directionally challenged’ and more often than not, I hear others say, “Me too!” 

I’d like to put the finishing touch on the story I began earlier. Not long after my lost  incident happened, my Brownie den leader quit and I was reassigned to another troop.  As fate would have it, the woman who found me, the woman who owned the house with the beautiful weeping willow, was my new den leader. Yep. Seriously. 

Putting this story on paper has helped me recognize that there has never been a time when becoming lost (physically, emotionally or spiritually) didn’t turn into finding my way. The countless fearful scenarios I’ve created in my mind over the years have never come to life, not once.

With or without consciously knowing it, we all come equipped with a roadside (uhhh, heaven side?) assistance plan. It doesn’t matter if we feel we are on the wrong spiritual, physical or emotional path. There is always guidance available to you, whether it is a physical person, an Ascended Being or an intuitive feeling.

Remember: If you feel lost, maybe you’re just one hill from being home, too.

Empathic

“I’m a what? An Empath? What’s that?” That’s the response I often receive when I tell my clients they are empathic. My standard response is that you feel other people’s emotions; you just ‘know’ a person/animal’s emotional state.

According to a definition search on Google, an Empath is, “(chiefly in science fiction) a person with the paranormal ability to apprehend the mental or emotional state of another individual.”  (Insert a derisive snort, eye roll and for good measure, let’s throw in a chuffaw)  ‘Chiefly in science fiction’ my lily white bum.

The word “Empath” comes from the word “Empathy,” which Google tells me is “the ability to understand and share the feelings of another.”  This form of the word “empathic” must be more acceptable as there isn’t a ‘chiefly in science fiction’ disclaimer attached to it.

How do you know if you’re Empathic? Well, according to The Healers Journal, there are 30 signs to look for. Here are five of them:

1.    Knowing

2.    Overwhelmed in public places

3.    Taking on the emotions or physical ailments of others

4.    Intolerance to watching (or reading about) violence or cruelty

5.    Excellent listener

As long as I can remember, I have had issues dealing with large crowds. I’m talking weddings, funerals, graduations, award ceremonies, even watching little squirts play hockey.  Anywhere there is strong emotion, I’m bound to tear up even if I don’t have a vested interested in what’s going on.

Years ago, YEARS ago, I was one of several students giving Reiki to my (now) bestie and (then) mentor, Susie, during a Reiki Gathering. Susie is an imposing figure (she’s over 6 feet tall) and she is, in my opinion, responsible for forging the path of Reiki/intuitive work in Fargo. I tell you this because, for me, all of that – her stature, her intuitive gifts and her knowledge – was very intimidating to a newly practicing intuitive such as myself.

I was working over her heart area when I was overcome with sadness. Before I could even register what was happening, I opened my maw and said (sighed, really), “Oh Susieeeeeeeeeeee.” She, who had been trying to hide her feelings and the drama that was going on in her personal life, looked up at me, clutched one of my hands and burst out crying.  She felt ‘seen’ and that, she later said, was reassuring and comforting. Because of my empathic skills and the cojones to not let intimidation stop me, a deep and trusting friendship began.

One of the biggest issues of being an Empath is dealing with the ‘energy vampires.’ You know what I’m talking about; the leeches who suck the (energetic) life right out of you. The constant and eternal Debbie Downers who thrive on drama and negativity. These people are infinitely unhappy in their own lives and like a moth to a flame (the flame being you, my empathic friends), flutter about you until they either burn or you manage to shoo them away.

Back when I didn’t know how to protect myself from these psychic attacks, I constantly felt drained and I found myself trying to avoid certain people. As I spiritually learned and grew, I embraced a couple simple protection techniques that saved my proverbial bacon. They are as follows:

1.    The Bubble of Protection: Imagine yourself inside a “Glenda the Good Witch” bubble and nothing but the energy for your highest good can penetrate it.

2.    Purifying White Light: Imagine yourself bathed in a beam of pure white light. It cleanses you and keeps out all that is not for your highest good.

3.    Mirrors: Imagine yourself behind a large, unblemished mirror.  All that is not for your highest good will be repelled.

Those are three of my favorites. I’ve even created a meditation about them. I used these techniques a lot before I built up energetic ‘calluses’ which naturally protect me (somewhat) from those that seek to syphon my energy.

As I find myself on our way to my father-in-laws funeral, my mind turns toward this subject. He is a man whom I’ve never met and yet several times this week I have been moved to tears. I must be picking up on the energy of those he has left behind; the wife who stood by his side for over 25 years, the hired hand who worked tirelessly for him for over 30 years and, I suppose, for the granddaughter who will never know her grandpa. I think his death is also triggering emotions from my own dad’s death.

I know I’ll be bawling at the funeral and it has nothing to do with my personal feelings. I’ll be picking up on the emotions of loss, sadness and grief.  But I’m good with crying. Totally.  I also know I’ll be seeking some quiet time (another empathic need) to help me unwind from all of these emotions.

Being an Empath is a gift and it helps me see what my clients try to hide. It allows me to be a far more effective Healer and a more compassionate person.  Clearly, this empathic stuff isn’t just for Deanna Troi of Star Trek: The Next Generation (yes! I’m a TREKY!).