I was in the worst physical pain of my life, during the biggest week of my career.
I bent over and felt my back pop. I maneuvered to my knees, like a puppet whose strings were being snipped, and crawled to the living room. I stayed there for 72 hours. Flat. I had to commando-crawl to the bathroom. I would wince-yelp when the pain flared, then I’d laugh-cry (because this was hilariously unbelievable). My kid took the day off school to feed me tortilla chips and lemonade.
I was just about to fly to NYC for my sold out book launch party and TV interviews. Timing is everything.
You might be thinking, “she was having an upper limit problem,” a self-sabotage situation. Ya, that crossed my mind. As my acupuncturist (and my chiro, and my osteopath) made ER house calls, and my friends ran over with various awesome drugs, I was sobbing into the carpet, thinking… What.The.Fuck.? Because I’ve met my upper limit before. I would get sick before a speaking gig or recording session. I didn’t feel 100% worthy of expanding, so I manifested things to hold me back.
But this felt very different. I knew it. In my spine. I was doubt-free about my capacities and my worthiness. I was expanded. I’d done the work. I was not subconsciously blocking my success. Instead, I was having to very consciously fight for it.
Lightwork can be a fight. If you think being on the “spiritual” side of progress guarantees you harmony, then either you haven’t been at it long enough or you’ve been playing it safe. Harmonizing, healing, serving, shining…it’s messy work. Beautiful. Worth it. But messy.
If you’re working for the Light you’re going to face some darkness — a resistance that’s beyond you.
If you believe that everything is energy, then be prepared for equal and opposite reactions to your expansion.
If you understand that we’re living in a multi-dimensional universe, then know you might contend with other forces, policies, narrow-mindedness. And there will be friction.
Friction creates turbulence. Which creates focused strength…for lift off.
Challenges on the cusp of your success aren’t always “self-sabotage”. Sometimes it’s a cosmic call to arms, an opportunity to prove your devotion. An initiation that can come in the form of back attacks, derailed plans, shocking political upsets.
Getting tackled by the other team doesn’t necessarily mean you’re weak or that you made a wrong move. It means you’re in the game, not the sidelines. If you’re playing full on, you’re going to take some hits. Take it like the light warrior that you are. Rely on your team. And get back up and run farther, even faster.
Back to me wailing on the living room floor: I cancelled my TV interviews and I vowed that, if I had to, I’d get on stage in a wheelchair. I figured that the incident was part of the hazards of my job, and not mental weakness this time. And I renewed my commitment to unstoppability.
On Sunday I took an ambulance to the ER. It took a village, but by Thursday I was in heels, in NYC, doing my one-woman show. I had even more light to give by the time I got there. Because light gets brighter in the darkness.