Radically, I Love Me! To Be a Psychonaut.

Authors Pic: Holotropic Breathwork 6.8.24

I arrived just in time to say a few awkward hellos, find my room, drop off my suitcase and show up for dinner.

My room was full of bunk beds and one full size bed by the window. I didn’t see anyone else’s stuff and I wasn’t sure which bed I should pick, so I just put my stuff on the floor figuring we could work it out later when I met my roommates.

There were a few friendly faces at dinner. I felt comfortable, welcome and relaxed. The food was outstanding, all fresh vegetarian selections. I would later tell my partner that if I could, I would eat this way for the rest of my life.

I found myself in conversation about mothers with a woman I had met before at another breathwork event. This was nourishing to me.

After dinner we moved into a large sharing circle. When it was my time to share, I heard myself talk about being by myself, which was interesting for me to hear.

I talked about how most of my adult life I did many things on my own and that I was comfortable with that.

That I met my partner at my first breathwork experience.

That I had done, so far, all of my breathwork experiences with him as my sitter.

That it was important for me to have this adventure by myself.

That, surprisingly, I now felt myself missing my partner.
That I was feeling vulnerable.
That I did not have a breathing/sitting partner for our upcoming experience.

That share felt good. They usually do.

When I returned to my room, I found that I had no roommates. I was by myself and I had the room to myself. I was surprised and I was caught off guard by this unfolding. I picked the lower bunk which was away from the big window and close to the fan, and I went to sleep.

In the morning, I ate a very light breakfast and prepared myself to breathe.

I went to the room and set up my space, with my pillow and blanket. This is something my partner had always done for me and perhaps I had taken his care for granted.

My sitter arrived. She would be sitting for me and another breather. We were to be a triad. I was excited by this prospect and felt comfortable with the arrangement.

We started with a relaxing meditation. We were instructed to begin breathing as the music began. I increased the volume and speed of my breath. As I breathed, I tried to release my thoughts about where the journey would take me. I let my body move to the beat of the music.

My journey started with me playing with energy, the healing energy in my hands. I used the energy to heal the parts of my body that most needed it. I spent a fair amount of time balancing the left and the right side of my body. I had too much energy and focus on the right side, the masculine. I needed to release and/or push some of that energy to the left side, the feminine part of my body.

I was feeling my belly and reflecting on all of the self-violence I had experienced and felt in my life, and in my last breathwork session. The violence felt gone now. I felt love for my belly and my body. I “knew” radical love for myself.

I wanted to know if it was true that my self violence was gone. So I flipped myself over onto my knees to assume the position I had in my previous session where I acted out the violence by stabbing my mat repeatedly.

I stabbed the ground and screamed. I did feel some violence and anger.

It was like I had to release all the new anger I had felt since the last breathwork to move forward into the new breathwork. So I released it. The pounding of my fists on the ground, my screams, they both felt good.

When my release was finished, I found the scene had changed and I was up the stairs and into the bed which have become the symbolic vision for me of my childhood sexual abuse.

I did not relive the abuse within my breathwork, but I had a breakthrough that came in the way of a knowing.

This came as a shock to me.

I could see how I had loved my abuser as a parent, a substitute father, a substitute caregiver, a friend of sorts. He did not come at me quickly or aggressively. He came at me in cuddles and sweetness and then quietly explored my body in a way that suited him as a grown man, not me, as a little girl. I was frozen with fear.

Sexual Abuse + Love & Tenderness = Confusion around “What is Love?”

I also knew that my sister Marti and my brother Randy also sat with me on those symbolic stairs.

Jenny.
Marti.
Randy.

The scene changed and I felt my mom’s presence, and her mom’s presence, and her mom’s presence. The lineage of women. Is there a legacy of abuse?

I felt as if I was embracing my mom on the couch, holding her like I did many times while she lived through her Alzheimer’s journey. I was feeling some of the confusion again, some of the guilt I have felt for not doing as well as I would have like to do with her illness and death. She told me, again, that “It was Ok. I did OK. All is well. All was well.”

I wanted to stay like this, holding her… forever.

I asked her what it was like, death and heaven?

I had feelings about heaven, my family there and me here.
I felt abandonment, specifically that of my sister, Marti.
I felt all alone.

My mom let me know that I could go with her.
That I could go at any time.

That the time of our death is our own choosing.

That was a radical thought.

I looked at her and I wanted to go.
AND I also did not want to go.
I thought of my life, my loves, my children, my partner, my dog, the rest of my family.
I did not want to go.
I chose to stay.
I want to be here on Earth doing earthly things.

I felt at some point that my breathwork was over.
I waited for the music to end.
I listened and I stretched my body, looking and feeling for more sensations to heal.
I realized that I am my own inner healer, that this is true and I am learning how.

I was offered some bodywork and I accepted.
I did not feel a huge release.
I felt acceptance and love.

I radically love me.