By: Lex Jacobson
I am working with a naturopath who is helping me get my body ready for getting and being pregnant. She does energy work and neurology work, which is a good mix of both scientific and spiritual worlds. I have absolutely no idea what she does to me, but I have faith that it helps. It certainly doesn’t hinder. Short of being a miracle worker, she’s a miracle worker, and I have a lot of faith in her healing powers, even when sometimes I feel that what she does with me is a bit frou-frou.
As I was lying on her table this week, she asked if I believed in God. I got flustered for a second, and finally answered, “Short answer: Yes.”
She then told me about a study from Japan, where two bowls of rice were placed in front of a college classroom. Every day, the students were instructed to send positive energy to one and negative energy to the other. Over time, the bowl of rice that was receiving negative energy turned brown, while the bowl that was receiving positive energy remained white and did not spoil.
When it comes to positive energy, I want to say that I believe in it with my whole heart. That good health can be visualized and suffering can cease and be wished away. I have had a few friends who have beat cancer with what seems like will alone. But I find that when it is a mental illness, there are a lot of layers.
Part of my illness is an inability to think positively – at least initially. When the mind is up against the mind, it is a particularly hard battle. My first response to anything is negative. I have tried to teach myself to change this over the years, but my gut will always spew out negativity over positivity. Every time. I don’t believe that it is my choice; I believe that my brain is wired differently than healthy people’s brains. Regardless of what my heart wishes to feel, my brain will always beat out my heart. It’s a good thing I listen to my heart over my head most days.
I am a catastrophic thinker. I think the worst, and I always go to the “what ifs” and the “buts”. With some training, I can now re-imagine the positives and can slide those in once I catch myself. Although it has taken a long time, I am getting better.
My naturopath has asked me to hold my antidepressant medications in my hand before I take them and just before I wash them down, say to myself, “these medications are helping my body get ready to be a healthy mother and to carry a healthy, happy baby.”
I had a tough time with this the first few days, thinking it a bit ridiculous, but it has become my mantra before I go to bed. Though my brain wants to interrupt with words like, “you’re kidding yourself” and “this illness will always own you,” my heart is actually winning this one. It’s become easier every day to believe that with time, I am creating a healthy place for a baby to grow.
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Originally published on The Seattle Lesbian
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