This blog post traverses some deep and tender edges that are quite common for those with persistent bodily sensations. The very edges of darkness where we feel like life is not worth living anymore. Let’s talk about it.
Please read this knowing that you are not alone, and feeling the intense parts of life is part of reconnecting with ourselves, our body, and our purpose. It all belongs. For 1:1 support with me, you can reach out to me here if you are feeling like co-exploring any of your own edges. There is nothing wrong with you, you do not need fixing and I can support you to feel more equipped and confident with your own inner darkness.
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Imagine me walking through an arid featureless landscape, alone, no water or food. There is thunder rumbling and lightning bolts shooting closer by the second. The noise is exquisitely chaotic. There is no shelter.
I’m parched, sunburnt and despite pitch-perfect efforting, I’m out of ideas. Lost.
I have no map, no compass, no phone and nowhere else to be except right here, deserted. The darkness closes in. There are no stars, no moon. There is no shape or form at all, anywhere. The atmosphere is thick, dense, and black.
I rest into my breath and body. Heart pounding and every tiny strand of hair raised. I’m naked to the dark world.
I search for a clue, a foothold, a rock, a sign of light, but there is nothing and no one.
The seduction of death sings to me with her lovely hummingbird voice. I want to die and return to the atomic song of oneness; it feels so lovely to rest in the idea of dying.
But I do not die, I keep breathing. Life thrums through me. Sigh.
I’m at another Sacred threshold. I’m asked to choose life, over and over. Again and again.
So I keep doing that. This life gig. It keeps rolling. And I question everything including my own purpose.
Why am I here? What am I contributing to our collective? How can I honour my sense of interconnectedness and live in a world with so many fractures?
It’s hard. It is tremendously lonely in the deep, arid places. And it cycles, over and over. Returning again, to more darkness, year after year.
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First, suicidal moods are within the healthy scope being human (attempting suicide is an entirely different situation and conversation).
If you experience suicidal thoughts, you are not alone. You, like me, are a deep feeler, exploring the edges of life within your human body. It’s extremely uncomfortable yet safe to feel intensity and to traverse big inner experiences. Your body may be asking something of you at this chapter of life; perhaps there are core needs yearning to be touched, nurtured and shared. This is Sacred.
I’m sharing this post here because many of my ROCK STEADY members have said how supportive and helpful it is to air these suicide conversations and to connect with our deeper sense of shared humanity. I’m widening the reach to whoever wants to join us, to share here. Put on the kettle, sit with me.
Life is hard at times and moving these dark-dark nights out of taboo helps to bring some hint of light; that we are not alone in it.
Like joyful moods and peaceful moods, these existential dark moods are part of our human handbag. It all belongs.
When I was younger, I thought that everyone experienced suicidal ideation.
As the waves of darkness washed over me, I felt through it, noticed it, observed myself and my thoughts, and I journaled. It never occurred to me to call a friend or talk about it. It just seemed like my Sacred process.
I would venture deep into the rigid locked boxes of my psyche and after the labour of pain, I’d retrieve a little gift of knowing—something made sense to me, and I would return to the living.
It felt like a profound touching into of my own Soul. A crossing of thresholds and a seeing beyond the veils of the known.
As I reached my late 20s or early 30s I started sharing with my friends about these suicidal thoughts. I was met with judgment, shock, disbelief, advice, pathology, laughter, and recommendations to go shopping, get drunk or hook up with a guy. I was questioned.
Or told to cheer up, it’ll pass. Be grateful! Life’s a gift!
I learned not to talk about it.
I learned that it was unusual to meet death and hang out in its lair.
I learned that people of all ages are not generally understanding or supportive when it comes to deep, meaningful inquiry about life, and death.
It felt strange to be sent to a therapist, to walk away feeling extra complicated and abnormal. Why pay someone to talk about things I already know about myself? To be seen through the lens of pathology instead of seen in my wholeness: of which death is a part.
When my kids ask questions about dying, I light up: finally, some good conversation.
Them: “Are we going to die mum?”
Me: “Yes. Just, probably not today.”
Them: “Oh… we want to die now! Please!!”
Me: “Wait your turn. We all take our turn at dying. It usually only happens once.”
Them: “Okay”.
The truth is, it’s hard to experience walls of silence, shame and fear when it comes to conversation around death and dying. It is a valid part of life. But hardly anyone talks about it, or wants to explore it.
We have had far too many young suicides in our local area. I understand how they felt and why they chose as they did.
It’s real.
I have danced with the idea of dying often enough throughout my life.
Becoming a mother did not stop it. My desire to explore the darkness only increased. My yearning for a world that honours life, the living, and individuality soared. And, the very real expression of daily harm, dying ecosystems, wars and political corruption surround us. It’s everywhere. And I feel my part in it.
I believe that collectively we need to feel it all, so that we can learn how to do things differently here on earth.
To let our somatic intelligence offer us strength, clarity and new ideas for collective gentle living. To follow the body’s lead and let it guide us through the dark.How can we each become more honest, more connected and more true to our Soul’s calling?
Can we descend into the desert of our own psyche and sit through the storms of our own becoming until we capture the threads of who we are and what we are here to contribute?
Can we hold each other’s hands and talk about it?
I support people living with persistent pains to trust their bodily sensations and explore their inner landscapes.
I teach them how to use their body as a compass and how to read their inner terrain with their own inner map.
I invite everyone who encounters me to digest the Paradigm of Fear and Separation, transforming it with love into the Paradigm of Sensuality and Connection. The body knows who we are when we feel sensation and connect to it. Insights are born, intuition flows from here. Instincts kick in.
I believe we are here on earth to feel the sensations that our bodies create. We are a mirror of the world that we live in. Our bodies hold vital information for understanding ourselves, each other, our planet.
Even when it hurts.
Perhaps, especially when it hurts.
I believe we feel it, to make sense of it, to know who we are, to liberate ourselves from the illusion of separation.
We come home to unity and togetherness. We arrive at a collective place where pain and darkness is shared with song, stories and laughter—in ritual with bare feet and thumping drums.
Where we all belong and existential moods are celebrated.
Suicidal lows are real, painful and they belong. You are not alone.
What is the Soul anyway?
A useful inquiry for us all to ponder and come to our own conclusions about.
