If you have made it this far with me; wow, thank you for reading my words, my rawness as I drag the skeletons out of my proverbial closet. I am almost finished. I am almost completed -- I know that my words are running dry about this topic. I know that the cleaning is almost finished.
I find it healing to share my story; at this moment it has been a must. Writing is a form of natural medicine, it's a way of expressing oneself. I'll give you a really cool example that I learned recently. It was in the form of a story (that I could not find a source); however, I used my medical knowledge to show how the heart and vocalization/expression are inter-related.
So the story goes that during World War II various types of cattle, specifically horses and donkeys were used to transport raw material on the "fighting field." They transported materials in locations where bombs and bullets were shooting. And they would all freak each other out with their voices. Devocalization procedures were extremely common during the war for this reason. And at times it did keep the animals calmer as a group. However; the animals died at much higher rates of heart attacks than those that did not have the surgery.*
And that is what I cannot verify. But it makes sense. Here is why:
The recurrent laryngeal nerve (RLN) is a branch of the vagus nerve (cranial nerve X) that supplies all the intrinsic muscles of the larynx, with the exception of the cricothyroid muscles.
Parasympathetic innervation of the heart is also mediated by the vagus nerve. Specifically, the vagus nerve acts to lower the heart rate. The right vagus innervates the sinoatrial node. Parasympathetic hyperstimulation predisposes those affected to bradyarrhythmias.
Knowing that the vagus nerve stimulates both the voice box and heart rate shows at least some type of relationship between expression and our cardiac system. It is a very interesting story that I would love to ponder deeper, later.
When I express myself, I feel a deep healing come over me. It is like I am able to sort out the truth from the falsehoods. It's as if I am freed of all the deceptions about myself. I am free to re-create myself in whatever fashion I desire. I am freed of the past and what I felt that it held over me.
So I have a few more posts in me about this topic, and then I think I'll go back to writing how I usually write. I love writing on the topic of natural medicine. It is one of my favorite things to do. I want to continue to do this about all the topics that I am learning in school, and whatever else I am interested in that day. Like I said before -- I will be writing... daily.
I am not sure when the day will come when I merge back into some of my old content, a bit more educational compared to these short memoirs. I hope soon? I am beginning to miss that old content. I am ready to heal, I am ready to let go of the past. I think that is why I am writing -- to let go. To heal.
I hope this inspires you all to write to heal. Telling stories is how our species evolved and came to life. Telling stories is how we organize our thoughts and beliefs. I am completely reorganizing: every aspect of my life is being stripped and tested. I am looking for the true me; I am looking to become the most authentic version; I am looking to grow, as we all are.
Cheers to another step down the path of health and healing through freedom, through writing.
Dear Mother;
You wrote me an impact letter back in 2007. I was forced to read how I impacted your life in front of a group. You told part of my story -- I am here to tell you the rest. I have much compassion for you; you are right I do not know your story. I do not really know you, yet your pain from those wounds you held onto impacted me nevertheless.
Our pain cannot truly be hidden as well as we think it can. You set your pain down on my head, and I fought to try and bring your awareness to it. I felt you owed me forgiveness for setting your fears and struggle upon my shoulders. And then I realized — that your parents did the same to you. I wanted you to cheer me on as I healed for the generation. I wanted you to be aware of my struggle. I wanted you to guide me down the path. I thought you’d be with me forever. I thought you were suppose to hug and cuddle with me. I thought you were suppose to love me they way I needed to be loved. Turns out, you could only love me how you knew best; and it felt like abandonment. I want you to hear that, even though you may not have intended these outcomes. Although you did it for a good reason — it hurt me. Period. It fucking hurt; you and dad paid for it, literally. And the lack of awareness of my pain. Telling me that “parents have feelings too” invalidates my entire experience. You were right, you weren’t my friend. You were only my mother. And that’s the entirety of the role you wanted to play.
When I needed you most for guidance and reassurance — it was too hard for you to bare. You couldn’t help me with my pain because you never successfully managed yours. I forgive you, mom.
That’s all you ever were; a mother.
And of course, I’ll let you become a grandmother. I have mercy on you, I don’t know your story. I don’t really know you. All I know is that you tried your best. And I’ll give you that.
I’ll always love you for the role that you did play and the life that you gave me. I will always love you for the beauty that you passed down to this meat suit — and will think of you always. Even as I grow old, and you aren’t here.
I am grateful for experience, I truly have become. I wish you could’ve seen this. Maybe in the next life, I’ll show you? Maybe in the next life you’ll understand.
I’ll always have hope for then.
Your daughter,
@laurabell
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