I’ve been feeling really out-of-sorts the past 48 hours. My brain has felt foggy and just want to cry. In fact, today my son walked into the laundry room to find me sitting upon a load of laundry crying. I must have cried fifteen times today.
At times like this all I want to do is curl-up under a blanket in a cabin in the mountains and listen to the sound of water rushing down a creek. I want to sit by a fire and read and have someone deliver gourmet take-out to me for the next few days, or some good old fashioned comfort food like a loaf of crusty bread with some real good soup. But no, I can’t do that. I’ve got laundry to do, business to take care of, kids to feed, and toilets to scrub.
I figure this “healing crisis” may have been triggered by my last post and in contemplation of the next few chapters of my life that I am going to share with you. That’s because they were the most painful.
I find it odd at times that I am telling the entire world about my life. But then I feel that it is the right thing to do. I know that what I have learned, what I have over come, can help people. My hope is that it will help others who may be going through difficulties in their life. So I’m going to keep sharing my story.
But back to the healing crisis. I’ve come a very long way.
I think I’ve seen the end of episodes like this and then one will sneak up on me unexpectedly.
Here’s how it usually unfolds. It begins with panic attacks, sensitivity to noise and light, lack of appetite, and a desire to just escape from the world. My family certainly must pick-up on it because they all have to have to go into crisis mode at the same time.
Why is that?
It’s just not fair!!!
Why can’t I have my own crisis without everyone else getting involved? It’s true you know, the saying, “If mama ain’t happy no one is happy.”
Don’t get me wrong. This isn’t a pitty party, or a let’s feel sorry for myself moment. This simply means that I have gotten to another point in my life where I feel secure enough and safe enough to break down and heal a little more. No amount of positive thinking is going to help. I know because I am a positive thinker.
I used to think that something was wrong with me that I couldn’t think my way out of it until a friend explained it to me like this: “What you are going through it like a rebirth. Birth isn’t easy. Birth can be painful. But birth it is worth it. No one expects a new born mom to bounce back within minutes. You need to rest just as if you’d just given birth. Rest and heal.”
I realized she was right. That’s exactly what this is. Only I usually feel like I’m the baby. I’m coming from a point of being in a warm comforting space to all of the sudden being pushed and pulled out into a cold harsh world. It usually means that I need a few good crying spells, a good nights sleep, some good food, and I’ll be great again. So that’s why I call it a healing crisis.
But the more I think about it I hate the term “healing crisis.” It’s more like a “healing metamorphosis,” it’s more like my wings are being spread, and my soul is opening up a little more so the sun light can get in and heal my soul.
It’s like a forest first that burns out the old dead wood and renews the forest so something fresh and new can grow in it’s place.
So dear readers? What would you call it? What is a more positive term for this crisis?

P.S. Send take out please, no wait, send chocolate. Never mind, the food would do me more good and truly sounds better.
P.P.S. Oh yeah, the next round of the Entrecard Game will start soon. I promise. And if I didn’t get a Entrecard dropped back to you yesterday or today I apologize. I’ll be back soon.
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I think of it as seasonal change for my body and mind; all the things that have built up reach a point where I have to change. i have to remove bad things,i have to add great things, I have to let people know why I’m doing this. it’s usually signaled by some weeks of wailing and moaning and gnashing of teeth; crying fits in the frozen goods section of the local supermarket are also a good sign of progress; being unable to leave the house is a hallmark of the end of the crisis.
I always think, “Hey, I’ve felt way worse than this before, no doubt I’m going to feel worse again some time in the future” and you know what, i’m right, but I always come away stronger, and knowing something about myself that I didn’t know before. The times of pain I look at the same as I do muscle strain from the gym- they mean I’m getting stronger.
Hope things get better for you- they always seem terrible at the time, but persevere and you’ll pass through this one too.
“it’s usually signaled by some weeks of wailing and moaning and gnashing of teeth; crying fits in the frozen goods section of the local supermarket are also a good sign of progress; being unable to leave the house is a hallmark of the end of the crisis.”
Yep, sounds like the same thing.
You said, “I always come away stronger, and knowing something about myself that I didn’t know before.” That is so true. It usually unearths something about myself that I need to deal with, need to heal, or need to release. It’s as if an earthquake is needed to unearth it.
I tend to call them hurdles. I have to jump over them, but while I’m jumping, I’m flying to who-knows-where. Looking down the track of life, the hurdles are such insubstantial things, that they’re worth having, if only to make us stretch our legs as we fly over them.
I like that. Yes, they are worth having because they do change us. Hopefully for the better or we will keep having the same thing over and over again.
I wonder if it was a freudian slip that made me put “insubstantial” in bold?
Sometimes blogging helps. Putting things that bother us, or thing we’re going through, in words somehow can make things more manageable at times. Here’s hoping you have a super weekend… and stuff.
So true. I find journaling and blogging very therapeutic.
Thanks so much for stopping by and contributing.