In search of a miracle

As a lawyer, I'm used to providing a concrete benefit to my clients. My client needs someone to draft an agreement. I draft an agreement. My client pays me. Easy as pie. (Boring as hell, but easy). I'm moving into a totally different realm now and I'm struggling with the fact that, for the most part, my results won't be tangible or measurable.

I think Reiki is great. The few times I've gotten treatments, I've felt the energy flow and I've felt clearer and calmer afterwards. Usually when I give treatments to other people, I feel energy flow. But, based on the feedback I've gotten, they don't always feel anything. I've been told that's normal - some people feel it, some people don't. To be honest, I haven't had as much practice as I'd like. Several friends have offered to be guinea pigs and I should be taking advantage of that to get more practice. But I've been hesitating because there's a part of me that has lost faith that I'm capable of healing. Because I can't "see" any benefits. Even if I don't charge for my services, I'm afraid of feeling like nothing more than a snake oil salesman.

If you read about Reiki on the Internet, it's usually characterized as a stress reduction and relaxation technique. That's the characterization I feel most comfortable with. But there are lots of claims about what Reiki can do to heal various diseases. Claims of miraculous healing. Part of me is disappointed that I haven't been able to miraculously cure myself of my symptoms of withdrawal from anti-depressants. My 12 year old tells me she doesn't like Reiki even though she's never allowed me to give her a full treatment. She says she likes "real" massages. If Reiki was so great, wouldn't she immediately love it? And if she doesn't love it, maybe that means Reiki isn't real or (more likely), that I'm no good at it. But therein lies the rub (I don't even know what that means but my Dad always used to say it and it seems like it fits here) - I'm afraid to even practice on people because I'm afraid I'm not very good at it. But how am I supposed to get good at it, or even get any level of comfort with my skill level, if I don't practice? (And, of course, maybe it doesn't make sense to base my whole career path on one 12 year old person not liking it.)

I was watching re-runs of Top Chef Masters last week. Last season's winner, Rick Bayless, talked about his favorite mole sauce which has like 8 million different ingredients and is really hard to make. He said that it took him 20 years to learn how to make it right. TWENTY YEARS. That's a lot of practice. And maybe at the beginning he even made something that was inedible. But he kept working on it because he wanted to be good at it. He believed in himself enough to keep trying.

While it's good for me to remember that it takes practice and work to get proficient at most skills, I still have to get over the desire for objectively measurable results. Whether or not a mole sauce is good is fairly objective. Whether or not a Reiki practitioner is any good is totally subjective. Helping someone relax and de-stress is a good thing. As a trained Reiki practitioner, I can help people do just that. Whether I can cure cancer remains to be seen. But what I can provide is hopefully enough for a few people to be willing to pay me for my services (once I'm ready for that). I just need to believe in myself enough to charge for my services.

Part of my struggle is that I'm still not sure I look like a healer. A true healer doesn't lose her cool when her kids act like crazy idiots. A true healer would never call her children "crazy idiots" either. When those kinds of things happen (when I act like a living, breathing human), I feel like I should give up and going back to "real" life as a lawyer. But I haven't given up yet because I believe in my soul that I've found my calling. I guess I just thought that once I found my calling, Once I acknowledged it, things would fall into place easily. But maybe the problem is that I haven't quite jumped into the water yet. I'm just dipping my toe in, keeping open my option of running away to safety. I don't quite trust in whatever this energy is that's pushing me down this path towards the water. Maybe it's time I just jumped in.

Defining my calling to find my people

As I've said before, I'm trying to figure out what I want to do for a living now that I've acknowledged (grudgingly) that I'm a grown up. I know that I want to do something that involves not just my head (like being a lawyer), but also my hands, my heart and my spirit. Sort of an all-things-to-all-of-me kind of thing. For the last year I've been moving slowly along this path of finding my calling. Last summer I decided to become a massage therapist. Now that my divorce is just about final, I'm ready to start school (hopefully in July! Yay!) and should have my certificate in a year.

Massage therapy is the base on which I'm going to build my practice as a healer. I figure that, at least at first, I will get a part-time gig as a massage therapist at an alternative health care type place and develop my personal practice during my off time. So far so good. The real issue is my who-who-what and finding my right people (or, more accurately, helping my right people find me). But really, I can't find my right people and I can't fully figure out the who-who until I figure out the what.

Ok, in non-favorite-bloggerspeak, what I mean is that now that I've decided I want to be a healer. I have some other things to think about. The big one is figuring out just what kind of healer I want to be. That's a really big one. And the difficulty is that I'm like a kid in a candy store right about now. Although I have my Reiki Level One certification and I'll get Level Two this month, I'm not sure if that's the direction I want to go. Or the only direction I want to go. There are so so so many different kinds of healing (beyond traditional Western mediciney type stuff) such as (in no particular order): Acupuncture, Acupressure, Ayurveda, Shiatsu, Rolfing, Pranic Healing, Chios Energy Healing, Aromatherapy, Aura-Soma Therapy and Past Life Regression, to name just a few. I'm always picking up books and reading articles and websites about all the different modalities. I love Reiki. I love massage. But it seems like maybe there's something more or different that I'm needing to find.

The other thing I need to think about is what kind of people do I want to help. Even though it might seem counter-intuitive, it makes good business sense to specifically define your target market. I could just hang a shingle, so to speak, and announce that I'm a healer. And then try to heal whoever walks through the door. The problem with that is (as the very smart Mark Silver teaches in his who-who-what article) potential clients won't really know what it is I can do for them. And I won't really know who is a potential client. My right people and I could be passing each other like ships in the night. But if I define my services and the types of people it could help, then it's like sending out a beacon to all my right people and letting them know where to find me.

Although I know this will evolve as I learn more about my skills in this area, my gut instinct is that I can help women in life transition situations - going through a divorce, career change, empty nest. I also think I can help women in abusive relationships. This feels like a tough one for me - for reasons that deserve their own post. (Mostly having to do with whether I have the right to call myself an abused wife since it was mostly "just" emotional abuse. More on that crap another time.)

Part of the impetus for this post was having read Havi's latest brilliant piece of writing in which she says that when you commit to a mission stuff starts to happen. That's the way the universe seems to work. When you put your dreams "out there" and make them concrete, the universe takes the blueprint and starts building. So, with this post, I'm committing to my latest mission: Discovering the kind of healer that I am, the people I'm meant to help and how I'm going to help them.

There you go, Universe - do your stuff. Let me know what I can do to move this thing along the path, ok?

Honesty sucks when you're on the receiving end

Don't get me wrong. I'm all for honesty most of the time. Especially in our important relationships. I'm also a big fan of white lies. I think they grease the wheels of civilization. For example, what good would it do to be honest with your co-worker who asks you what you think of her ugly hat which she obviously loves? None. Zip. Nada. "It's an interesting hat! Wow!" Best thing you can say. Now, if it was your sister and she was asking what you think of the hideous wedding gown she's about to spend $5,000 on, you'd better be honest. And hopefully your relationship is strong enough to survive if she disagrees with you and buys it anyway.

Can someone explain to me how I manage to digress in my very first paragraph?

Anyway, my point is that I'm feeling like a hypocrite right now. I want my close friends and family to be honest with me if I'm doing something that bothers them. Holding things in and allowing them to fester = bad. Getting things out in the open = good. So now that someone close to me has actually told me that I bug the hell out of him, is it wrong for me to wish he had kept his mouth shut? I mean, can't he just do some passive aggressive counter-moves like normal people? Apparently not. He has to be all adult about it and tell me that he gets anxious at family dinners/brunches/lunches/snacks with me because I'm "manic" and "talk too much" and it's like I'm "on crystal meth." Hmmm. He's "overwhelmed" by my "personality."

To his credit he said that he wanted to tell me this because he wants us to have a good relationship. He said that I can feel free to tell him all the annoying things about his personality whenever I want to. He kind of said all the right things and I think he was coming from a good place. I think. But I have to tell you. It hurt like hell to hear all that and it still hurts over two hours later. (The crystal meth reference really got to me and to my nine year old's credit, she said "It's not very nice to tell someone that they act like they're on drugs. If he was trying to be nice about it, he should have said it nicer." Damn she's a smart kid.)

Normally, something like this would knock me off of my feet and I'd be a wreck for days. I don't have time for that crap right now. So I'm trying to process it and figure out what to do with it. Here are some facts about me: I talk a lot. I talk fast. I have kind of a big personality (or so I've been told.) I'm not a shrinking violet for sure. When I'm excited about something, I suppose I could appear a bit manic. And this isn't the first time someone has told me I was overwhelming. Or the second . . . But it is the first time that someone in my family has said that. And that's what has me twisted in knots.

I've been estranged from most of my family for the past 12 years. Now that my divorce is nearly final, I found the strength to "go back home." And it's been great for me and my girls. I know my family is happy to have us around. But 12 years is a long time to be gone and my place in the family isn't the same as it was. Maybe I thought I was like a lost puzzle piece that was found under the couch. You take the puzzle out and I fit back in right where I was supposed to fit. Not to state the obvious but a puzzle is a static thing and a family isn't. Families are dynamic and everyone's role within the system changes over time. It's not that there isn't a place for me. I think that no one is quite sure what that place is exactly. Least of all me. So there are growing pains I didn't expect to experience at 45.

On the one hand, it's good that he expressed his feelings. On the other hand, I'm not sure what I'm supposed to do with them. If I'm being rude and talking over everyone, I need to cut it out. But I'm also never going to be the kind of person who sits on her hands and doesn't participate in the conversation. He's not asking for that extreme but where in the middle is the right place? Of course I'm replaying all the recent family meals in my head and trying to figure out if I've been rude by some objective measure or if he's just throwing some shoes my way. (Which is Havi-speak for when someone is mean to you but it's really just because he has his own issues that are about him and aren't about you really at all).

The question is: How much do I need/want to change in order to make him happy?

My first reaction was to feel like I should avoid going to big family gatherings. Again. Which doesn't seem like the right answer. My second reaction was that I just got out of a relationship with a control freak and who the hell is this joker to try to control me now? My third reaction was that I should be more enlightened about it and at least think about his criticisms as unemotionally as I can because he's my family member and I love him. My fourth reaction was to cry. Because really, I don't need this right now. And ouch.

I don't really know how to figure this out so I guess I'll let it percolate some more. I'll have to decide how much I want to change in order to help him feel comfortable around me. Hopefully, he'll get used to me again and maybe I won't seem so overwhelming after awhile. Maybe once I've been back in the family for more than a month I'll calm down a little and it won't be an issue anymore. Or maybe I'll continue to overwhelm him - even when I try to tone it down - and he'll just have to leave the room every once in awhile when I'm around. And I'll have to be ok with the fact that not everyone loves to be around me all the time.

I think the important lesson that I appear to have learned (or at least started to learn) is that just because someone doesn't like what you're doing or how you're doing it doesn't mean you automatically have to change what you're doing to make them happy.

I often believe six impossible things before breakfast

I took the girls to see Alice in Wonderland in 3D last night. It is the best movie I have ever seen. Ever. It really was magnificent for lots of reasons that I'm sure I'll be writing about for days and probably longer. I promised my Facebook friends that I would post the impossible things I believed today. Here's what I posted:

Here are a few of the impossible things I believed this morning: It's never too late to repair broken relationships. Age 45 is not too old to start a new career and a new life. I can get my kids to school on time. One act of kindness can change the world. We're all connected - if I harm someone, I am harming myself and those I love. Exercise is good for you.

What impossible things did you believe today?

Do I look like a lawyer?

Last week I attended a presentation on diversity in the legal profession and had an interesting conversation with the woman seated next to me. She said that, growing up, she didn't personally know any lawyers. It never occurred to her that she could become a lawyer until a woman - a lawyer - spoke to her high school class about the legal profession. She couldn't picture herself as a lawyer until she had an example she thought she could emulate. Maybe she thought that as a woman she couldn't be a lawyer. Or maybe she thought that she wasn't smart enough. Or tough enough. She had a picture in her mind of what a lawyer was like and it didn't match her picture of herself.

My experience was very different. My father was a lawyer. Many of my friends' parents were lawyers or doctors or "business people." Until I was in high school, I didn't know that not everyone went to college. It was a given that I would go to college - I thought it was a given for everyone else too. I knew - with a certainty that I didn't realize was somewhat rare in the world - that I could become a lawyer. Or a doctor. Or go to business school and do whatever it is that "business people" do (it was never obvious to me as a kid). I went to college and was pre-Med for two years until I realized that I hate hospitals and couldn't stand the higher level science classes I needed to take. It was a big crisis for me. I couldn't be a doctor. I didn't want to be a lawyer. I didn't know what I would do with an MBA. I didn't really see a lot of other choices.

I ended up going to New York and working in the entertainment industry (television commercial production mostly). But after a couple years of struggling in entry level jobs and feeling like I wasn't getting anywhere, I went to law school. Plan B.

It was easy to see myself as a lawyer or doctor. I had so many varied pictures of lawyers and doctors that it was easy to match them to my picture of myself. It was a path for which I had a good road map. I couldn't see myself as a film producer - which is what I really wanted to do at the time. I was scared that I didn't have what it takes to be successful in that business. For me, following that dream meant going without a map and at the time I didn't have the courage to do that.

Now I find myself in a similar predicament to the one I found myself in sophomore year of college. I don't want to be a lawyer anymore. I don't want to be a doctor. I don't really want to be a film producer anymore - it's kind of a thankless job and now that I'm a mom to a pre-teen, I have enough of that. (Although I still have a fantasy about winning an Oscar for Best Picture . . .).

My new dream is to be a healer. I don't really know what a healer looks like and I sure don't have a map for that particular path. I have a picture in my mind of what a healer acts like which is based mostly on assumptions rather than observation of reality. Whenever I don't behave in ways that are congruent with that picture, it makes me question whether I am capable of becoming a healer.

For example, this morning I totally over-reacted when my older daughter got pissy and obnoxious in the way that only 12-year-old girls can. I was over tired. I was anxious and feeling guilty because we were running late - again. I'm going through nicotine and anti-depressant withdrawal. She hurt my feelings. So I blew up. And yelled at her for way too long. And then she yelled at me. And we cried. And she refused to eat breakfast. So I said "You're not going to school until you eat breakfast." She called my bluff. "Fine. Take Meredith to school. I'll stay home." And I yelled at her again.

That is definitely NOT how a healer acts, right? A true healer gets all Zen and stuff. A real healer stays calm and says "Abby, I appreciate that you are exerting your independence but if I wasn't so Zen and stuff, you would have hurt my feelings. Please be nicer next time." Or something like that. A real healer would get enough sleep and would wake up on time with a smile on her face and a spring in her step. No bags under her eyes. No going on Facebook to tend to her farm before she makes breakfast for her kids. A true healer never loses her cool. Right?

Just like doctors and lawyers, I imagine that healers come in all shapes, sizes and degrees of mental stability. I think I need to stop looking for a road map outside of myself and make my own path. I need to look in the mirror and remind myself that I'm looking at a healer. Visualization is a strong tool for achieving dreams but only if it's used in the right way. Until now, my mental pictures have limited me in ways I didn't realize.

In what ways do you let your mental pictures limit you?

Home sweet home

I'm sitting here crying and I'm not really sure why. I just read this post over at Fluent Self. One of my all-time favorite places to hang out. Because Havi and Selma the duck are amazing.

So the post that made me cry is about doing tax prep. The "have to" that I've been procrastinating on for months. It's a task that is now smoldering and about to turn into a huge fire. I didn't do last year's tax prep until October. Yes, October (after a bunch of extensions and all that). I don't want to do that again and my soon-to-be-ex will be (rightfully) pissed if that happens again. (He does the kids taxes and I do ours. It's an arrangement that works and I really am ok with it).

What is it about doing the damn tax prep that makes me so crazy? It has to do with money, numbers and paperwork. It's a thing adults have to do and, frankly, I'm sick and tired of being an adult. I hate being responsible for everyone and everything. I hate being responsible for paying for everything. I've been the sole financial support for this family for the last six years and I don't want to do it anymore. But now that I'm getting a divorce, there isn't anyone else around here to support me and the kids. So it's me. And these are the last taxes (I think) that my ex and I will file jointly. So getting the work done means finalizing the divorce. I want the divorce. I need the divorce. It's a good thing. But that doesn't make it easy. And that doesn't mean that I'm not sad as hell that that my marriage ended.

And here come the tears again. How can I be so happy about the divorce but be scared to death and crying about doing the final bits of work that will allow us to finalize it? I guess finalizing it means that I really am alone. I'm scared of being alone. And of having to do everything myself. I'm scared not knowing where I'll be and how I'll pay the bills. I want so badly to trust that if I follow my inner guidance, everything will be ok. If I'm crying and I'm scared does it mean that I don't trust the Universe? Does it mean that I won't be able build the life I want to live? Or does the fact that I can admit how terrified I am mean that I'm more likely to be able to let go of the fear and do what needs to be done?

No wonder I haven't been able to do the taxes. Because it's so much more than just taxes. I'm still tied to the dock right now but doing the tax prep will mean cutting another rope that holds me there. When all the ropes are cut, I'll be adrift. I'm not sure I have all the provisions on board yet. Do I have a motor? A sail? I don't even know how to sail. I don't know where I'm going. All I can see is open sea.

While I was writing that last paragraph, having my good cry, the song Home Sweet Home by Carrie Underwood started playing. And these lyrics made me cry even harder:

Just take this song and you'll never feel left all alone.

Take me to your heart, feel me in your bones.

Just one more night and I'm coming off this long and winding road.

I'm on my way

I'm on my way

Home sweet home

I'm on my way

Just set me free

Home sweet home

The picture I got may seem backwards but it was of me sailing off in the sunset, on my way home. Wherever that might be. The long and winding road that I'm getting off is the familiar road. Now I'm taking a different path but it's the path home. Home to my true, sweet home.

Spring cleaning

Yes, it's spring cleaning time. For most people that means dusting, window washing and cleaning the carpets in their house. I hate cleaning my house. I avoid it as much as I can without allowing it to get so bad that my friends call an intervention and try to get me on Hoarders. I'm talking about a different sort of spring cleaning. I'm cleaning out my body, sort of. No high colonics or anything gross like that. It's more of a physical, emotional and spiritual purification of sorts. And I have a lot of purifying to do . . .

I'm embarrassed to say that last year I started smoking. Okay, the truth is that I started smoking two years ago with a few months of not smoking in between. Disgusting and expensive habit. I think smoking was one of the ways I beat myself up for "failing" as a wife. For hating - and then losing - my very lucrative job as a lawyer. And feeling like I failed my kids because I couldn't keep my marriage together. I didn't deserve to be healthy.

I've been on anti-depressants for about 10 years. I think. I can't even remember when I started taking them. I've been on several different kinds. Sometimes more than one at a time. I couldn't even tell you if they helped at all. I sure wasn't happy during all those years I took them. I finally got myself down to one small daily dose of one anti-depressant. And one or two daily doses of Adderall to treat my ADD symptoms. I've wanted to get off of the anti-depressants for awhile but every time I tried to stop, the withdrawal symptoms would get so bad I couldn't deal with them and I'd start taking the drugs again. And my anxiety would skyrocket. I didn't know whether I was anxious because I couldn't seem to get off of the drugs or whether I had an anxiety disorder that needed to be treated by the drugs. I was confused. And I'm sure the Adderall - which is an amphetamine - didn't really help the anxiety much. It helped me think a bit more clearly but that's it. I was still a confused, depressed mess. I felt like crap. Looked like crap. I knew it was time for a change but I didn't know what to do. Then I found Reiki.

Reiki is a form of energy healing and balancing that anyone can easily learn to perform on themselves and others. I had heard about Reiki over the years but had never had a treatment. I was skeptical about whether the simple "laying on of hands" could actually do anything worthwhile. The fact that Reiki practitioners can provide distant healing was something that sounded like bunk. Even more difficult for me to understand was the idea that in order to learn Reiki, you had to be "attuned" by a Reiki Master. You can't just read a book to learn it. You have to pay over $100 to take a class. I thought that all seemed fishy at best; a moderately expensive hoax at worst. But despite my reservations, Reiki kept popping up in my life. People would talk about it. I'd stumble on articles and websites. I'd randomly think about it for seemingly no reason at all. But still I resisted it. I figured that I would learn about it during my studies to become a massage therapist. It was something that I would maybe do later. The universe apparently had other plans.

A few months ago, my father got sick. And then he got sicker. One morning I woke up after a dream in which I saw my father as a shaman - a healer. He was crying and reaching out to me. He asked why I hadn't learned the "lessons" yet. He needed me and I hadn't done what I was supposed to do in order to help him. I jumped out of bed and immediately started searching for Reiki lessons. It just so happened that there was a "Reiki share" that night where I could learn about Reiki and get a free mini treatment. I was hooked as soon as the practitioner placed her hands on my head. I could feel the energy transfer between us. That night, I signed up for the Level One certification class being held later that week. The next day my father found out he would need open heart surgery. I knew I was doing the right thing.

I got my Level One certification* the week before my Dad's surgery. I gave him treatments every day that he was in the hospital. I really have no idea whether the treatments provided any measurable benefit from a physical standpoint. (The surgery went great and he was out of the hospital 5 days later. He's at home and recovering well.) I know the treatments relaxed him and he enjoyed it. Giving him those treatments allowed me to feel as if I was doing something concrete to help him. And it let him know how much I care about him. Now I'm practicing on my kids (when they let me) and my friends. I plan to get my Level Two certification at the end of the month and hopefully start getting some paying clients.

I knew that giving myself Reiki treatments would probably help me reduce my stress levels and maybe help me get rid of headaches or other aches and pains. But it had an unexpected effect. Almost immediately after my attunement, smoking made me a little sick. It wasn't bad enough to make me quit but I was smoking less. And then a few days ago - about two weeks after my attunement - I started smoking a cigarette, took two puffs and put it out. The same thing happened the next day. And I haven't had a cigarette since. No cravings. My body just won't allow me to smoke any more. At the same time I decided it was time to give up the anti-depressants and the Adderall. I won't lie - the withdrawal symptoms from giving up the anti-depressants are kicking my butt a little. But I found a technique for dealing with that (which will have to wait for another post).

I just know - on something other than an intellectual level - that I need to be a clear channel for healing energy. And with the nicotine and the other drugs coursing through my system all the time, I was anything but a clear channel. Hence the spring cleaning. (Except for allergy medicine. This time of year, without a little Claritin, I'm not a clear channel for anything except mucous). I'm not following any sort of well-thought out plan here. I'm simply listening to my inner guidance which is telling me - loud and clear - that I need to clean house. So I am. And I'm feeling better every day.

Last year I decided that I want to become a massage therapist and get involved in alternative health care strategies. I'll be starting school in July (hopefully). But I've realized recently that my real calling - what I know in my heart of hearts that I need to do - is to be a healer. Becoming a massage therapist - without any of the spiritual healing, "woo woo" stuff - would have been a big change in my life. Add in the idea of being a "healer" - with all the "woo woo" crystals and auras and stuff - and you're talking about a HUGE change from my old life. I have no clue what my life will look like when this transition is over. Not. One. Clue. And it's scary. And incredibly exciting. Just writing that made my heart beat a little bit faster. But I've never been happier in my life.

*There are three levels of certification in Reiki. After Level One, you can perform it on yourself and others but you aren't authorized to charge money for treatments. After Level Two, you are authorized (but not required) to charge for treatments. You also learn how to do distant healing. At Level Three, you become a Reiki Master. At that point you can teach classes and attune others.