I Fell In The Shower And Healed My Heart

An empath’s story of healing

I fell in the shower yesterday. The housekeeper had pulled up my non-slip mat when she cleaned and didn’t fully stick it back down so when I stepped into the shower, it slid out from under me and I found myself sliding face-first down the wall of my shower. My elbow broke my fall on the edge of the tub then my head hit it too, and then I lay in the tub assessing the damage as my husband raced from the bedroom to find out what happened.

I managed with his help to get out of the tub and get dressed and then, just to be safe, we headed off to the hospital for x-rays and a Catscan. I tell you this because I want to talk about what happened at the hospital. Before we go any further, I will tell you that I’m OK. Nothing broken, just a lot of bruises. But the hospital was more healing than they would know.

My mother was a nurse. She was also an alcoholic who was emotionally 5 years old my entire life. This made her a bit of a narcissist. We’re are little narcissists when we’re 5 — “look at me mommy! Look at me!” But she never grew out of it. Add to this the ingrained lack of concern for minor injuries that all nurses seem to have, and it meant that my pain rarely got any consideration. When I would say “ow!”, she would immediately respond with “come here, I’ll cut it off for you”. She thought it was funny. But what it did was teach me not to pay attention to my body and its pain because it wasn’t going to get any attention. There was no kissing of boo-boos in my house.

My mother’s back always hurt. It was kinda her thing. And her pain mattered. So when I bent over in class to pick up a book from under my chair in 7th grade and couldn’t get back up, she was certain that I was just trying to be like her that I should just stop making it up. When the doctor prescribed 6 months of physical therapy for the spasms induced by scoliosis combined with cross country running and forbade me to run anymore, she still insisted at each appointment that I should just stop faking it. She grew more frustrated and upset with me with each trip as though my pain somehow made hers less important.

So when I was in the hospital yesterday and each person I spoke with said “I hope you feel better” or “I’m sorry you’re hurting, let’s see how we can make it better”, it took everything I had not to start bawling. You see, when you’ve had no expression of concern for your pain, the grief of that lack of caring builds up in you. It fills you until no more feelings can come in. And when someone does express care — even if it is something they are just trained to say (which was clear that it was since?everyone?did it) — it pushes some of that grief out. So each time I received the care, a little of the trauma of not being seen in my pain leaked out my eyes. When they would look at me, they couldn’t understand why I was crying. They thought it was the pain. I told them it was the emotions catching up with the trauma of the fall because that was easier than explaining the entire story to them.

But the truth was that I was healing, right in front of their eyes. I was releasing the ingrained belief that my pain didn’t matter. I was letting go of the grief of that disregarded child and letting in the love. It didn’t matter that the love was scripted. It didn’t matter if they meant it or not. The sheer simplicity of accepting it AS THOUGH it were true was sufficient to receive the healing I had not been aware I so desperately needed.

So while I tend to the aches and pains of the bruises and soreness of my body, my spirit is soaring a little higher today. Thanks go to the Bon Secours hospital and my housekeeper for the healing.

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Kelle Sparta is a Transformational Shaman specializing in helping empaths build lives and businesses they can love. She is also the host of the popular?Spirit Sherpa Podcast. If you are an empath and you’re having trouble separating yourself from other’s emotions, download her free?Boundaries for Empaths program. You can find out more about Kelle at?www.KelleSparta.com.