photo credit: dulyposted.com

I am having surgery on Tuesday and I can’t think or talk about anything else. Wellness right now just means giving myself whatever I need, and some days that means pizza and other days it means manically de-cluttering the kitchen.

My surgery is not classified as serious. What’s wrong with me isn’t life-threatening. It’s not even painful. A fibroid has grown huge inside me and needs to be removed. That’s all.

It’s not classified as serious, and yet it IS serious. It feels serious, to me. It feels huge.

A few months and weeks and days ago, it felt TOO huge. Insurmountable.

The surgery is a huge deal for me. I’ve had a phobia of the medical profession as long as I can remember. I was the one who was already crying in the waiting room. I was the one with the panic attacks before and during any procedure. I was the one who could never handle doctors, needles, hospitals. I’m the one in hysterics.

But I don’t want to be that person any more, so I’ve been doing a lot of work. Painful, deep, emotionally-draining work.

I worked at the level of my subconscious and addressed everything that has happened to me in this life. I dove deep, deeper than I ever wanted to go. I worked through memories I didn’t want to remember. I cried and I hyper-ventilated and I got angry.

I worked at soul level, where my past life memories live. I made myself relive the horrors I remember from another life, I made myself go there again and experience what I had already experienced.

I remembered and I analysed. I dove deeper. I remembered some more. I forgave. I forced myself to make peace with it all. To get closure.

Only yesterday, a wonderful friend helped me push through the last bit that made me panic. I sobbed. And sobbed again.

Now I feel that I pushed through the worst of it. I feel almost ready. I am starting to think of the energetic opportunity to let go of everything that my soul has been carrying around but that no longer belongs. I feel my guides with me all the time. I feel something shifting.

I know that I will be different afterwards. A part of me will be gone. I feel sad. It is an ending.

There will be space for something else. What will that be? I want to know but I have to wait. It is a beginning.

I feel scared, but I am not in panic. I feel that I am able to put distance between what is happening to me and what my soul remembers. It is not the same. I feel supported. I feel grateful. I can finally believe in the possibility of kindness, and softness, even in a situation that is the opposite of soft.

My surgery will take place on Tuesday, the 9th day of the 9th month. At the full moon. I know that this is significant, I know that it is perfect. I know that it is necessary. I know that it’s the last page of this chapter and the first page of the next.

See you on the other side of my transition.