From freeze and fear to finding a home

I haven’t sent off any articles for a very long time now. I was in such a deep functional freeze that writing just didn’t flow. But I am now sharing my personal story in the hope it offers strength to those who walk this path. Because in the end, I did make it to the other side— a happy ending of sorts, a new beginning. This spiritual journey after great loss brings my indigenous friend Hazel back into the picture toward the end of this article. 

I had sold my piece of paradise about four years after my husband's death, trusting that the universe would show me the next step in my grieving and letting go journey. But the next step was sixteen months away, and I often wondered if I would ever find my way back home again.

Every day for these long months, I would wake up with fear by my side. A sense that I was trapped with no way forward, sideways, or backwards. Doomed. The doom was dunked in a dense, suffocating weight of shame.

After waking, I would spend the rest of my day trying to get rid of the doom. Religiously riding to the beach could not be skipped. Movement was my biggest weapon while being in a freeze for such a long time, while feeling the terror so close to my skin.

I still managed to make new friends and go freediving, and I had days of laughter and carefree fun while visiting Germany—but for over a year, the headline was one of fear, freeze, and feeling “homeless”.

I have so much compassion for people who are actually homeless. I had a roof over my head and still found the simplest of things difficult. Taking a shower was sometimes an effort, and cooking meals without having my own kitchen was the biggest stressor. I would go to the farmer’s market and buy fresh produce only for it to sit in my fridge. Feeding myself was packed with stress; it felt like trudging up a steep hill carrying a boulder. Some days I would cook myself a meal with ease; that’s when I knew I was having a good day, and the freeze was lifted for a little while. But it never fully left; it stayed put for all these months where hope seemed gone. Only glimpses on the far horizon. 

Friends said, that they envied me for my freedom. I could live anywhere on the planet! But I was completely overwhelmed and felt I did not belong anywhere. I missed the wild bush. “I hate…” was in my head as I dodged cars, noise, traffic lights, and exhaust on my push bike. I had moved to Fremantle with the romanticised idea of what it was twenty-five years ago, but the reality was a felt density that hit me hard: Big blocks had vanished, replaced by three or four houses without yards. Trees and beaches were gone. My nervous system was in constant overload, and I didn’t get to do any of the fun things cities offer. Not once did I jump on a train and go to an art gallery. 

I did look at houses on the market while the prices went up and up and up, finding a home was more and more out of reach. I looked in Shoalwater, back in Denmark, Bali, Broom, Exmouth, over east—I considered putting everything into storage and living in a van or travelling the world. I had to follow my instincts, and not knowing where to go was part of my journey. I trusted this inner knowing of my body and knew this was not a decision my mind could make. This is what I teach my clients. But when I started this journey, I never knew it would last for so long. 

I aimed to escape every morning and just rode to the beach. Every day, sometimes twice. I am such a homebody, but I never pottered at home; I stopped singing and did a hell of a lot of scrolling on my phone to numb myself, and only occasionally did I do qigong and yoga. The beach called me every morning. I loved the wide horizons, but the sand and water underlined the lack of trees. I longed for wild nature, for green. The disconnect made me feel so utterly, utterly lonely.

And city people are busy; you can’t just pop in for a visit. Their nervous systems are overloaded too, but they don’t notice it anymore. 

How desperately I tried to reach out to friends on Digby’s birthday. A day when no human should be alone unless they choose it. One ‘friend ’ said they could ring me in six hours, but when that call finally came, I was shamed and told I should do more therapy. I just needed an actual human being on my side. In the evening, I finally shared my leftover birthday cake with friends, and I knew I was okay. Humans are herd animals. Grieving needs to be witnessed by others, and some days it just needs company, laughter, lightness, and a cup of tea. 

I had days where the constant mantra in my head was “I don’t want to live. I don’t want to live any more”. It went round and round like a ferris wheel, turning without care. It’s the biggest turn-off for any friendship, so some days I would say nothing. I’d go for a walk with a friend, pushing their pram, grateful to not be alone while the wheel in my head kept turning.

Gratefulness. Another chapter I could write about for ages. When a person is in a deep freeze, gratefulness is out of reach. It’s not accessible. Spiritual bypassers would urge me to enjoy the small things, to lift my frequency. But on the doom-laden days, this was just not possible. I felt broken, damaged, lost, and covered in shame.

I still worked and saw clients. I was able to hold people as I had learnt to hold my own doom. I was capable and, surprisingly, really good at my job, connected to a higher source when working. Maybe I was whole and okay, and just walking through a really long and dark night of the soul? A spiritual journey of deep inner suffering that maybe one day would end? Maybe.

In the two weeks leading up to finding my new home, I was in the deepest of freezes.  The fear and terror were bigger than ever before after the New Year. I did not know what to do anymore, so I just imagined being greeted out of my mother’s womb by my beloved aunty. I visualised that she became my mother as soon as I was born. In my mind’s eye, I saw her holding me tight and just gazing at me with utter delight. She really saw me, and I could just relax and be. I did that over and over again and rested a lot while visiting Margaret River. That was where I finally found my new home. Visualisation is a potent, powerful medicine when it hits the sweet spot and nourishes the nervous system in just the right way.

And this story is really a continuation of my spiritual journey with Aboriginal Elder Hazel from Ningaloo. Some might remember that a huge manta ray at my local beach near Denmark, WA, had sent me travelling to Exmouth a year after my husband’s passing. My new spiritual totem animal led me in mysterious ways to Hazel’s doorstep near Coral Bay, a farm directly on the manta ray dreaming beach. Hazel gave me a manta ray brooch she had bought prior to my unplanned turning up. “I had wondered why I bought this brooch. I am a turtle woman. But now I know that I bought this for you two weeks ago”.

We connected over the years, and I loved her stories of spirit; they always made me feel at home. My husband saw spirits, and I missed having a person like that in my life. After Hazel’s husband passed, I camped at her house as the only white person attending an Aboriginal festival. Hazel had asked me to organise a road trip to Margaret River and Denmark in the New Year. As campervans were all booked out, I rang around until a practitioner friend offered me her home while she was away. When it was time to head off, I rang Hazel, only to find out that she never left Ningaloo and was still up north, not feeling too well herself. It was a big blow, but in the end, I just jumped into my car and drove down alone to this empty house in Margaret River. This turned out to be a blessing. I was feeling unsociable, I slept and rested a lot, read a book, watered the gardens. I felt at home for the first time in a very long time. This feeling of being at home followed me to the beach, where I remembered that a dear friend had sent me a house for sale a few months earlier. I didn’t have the energy to check it out back then, but when I received her email, I said out loud, “If this house is meant to be for me, it will wait.”

And there I was in Margaret River. The house had, of course, sold in these crazy market times, but the three-month settlement had fallen through at the last minute. The house had waited for me. I no longer own any land, but I have a home again. 

I am singing again, I am playing my drum and making up songs. I am able to write again in my home, and I have made this place the most beautiful home ever. I hope to build a new community of friends around me. It is my new place for now.

with love

Barbara 

If you want to find out more about your nervous system and the incredible healing from trauma I am inviting you to read the short article on www.counsellingsomatic.com.au in my blog section  - you can subscribe to my newsletters via my website and receive all future blogs conveniently via email. If you no longer wish to receive emails from me, please unsubscribe.

Feel free to forward my article to others, but please add my name to it for copyright reasons.     

You can also find me on my Facebook page “Counselling Somatic Barbara Schmidt" 

 

Barbara Schmidt

Counselling Somatic

Trauma & Nervous System Recovery Specialist

Mental Health Social Worker

Somatic Experiencing Practitioner, EMDR

m: 0458 234 410

e: barbara@counsellingsomatic.com.au

w: www.counsellingsomatic.com.au

We can’t push the river - when we are pushing we are not creating

We are 80 percent water and so the saying “you can’t push a river” refers directly to us: we are the embodied river! Life means going down this river with its rapids and slow flowing sections. We follow the river all the way to the ocean where we can rest, become vapour and be pulled up by the sun towards the cosmos. And one day we might end up as raindrops falling down onto earth again.

Moving along this river we will come to parts where there is little flow and sometimes it can become so stagnant that we might even stop moving altogether. We can then go into a nervous system freeze state (see blog article “Trauma education I: Freeze state”) and being there isn’t exactly fun. It is so very tempting to start pushing so that we can get out of this uncomfortable place. We strangely seem to learn from an early age to push harder when something is tight; but you cannot undo a knot by pulling it, you need to ease the knot open with patience and a gentle hand.

Stress, trauma, life interruptions or any other overwhelming events can cause our nervous system to tighten. Each time we say “I should …” we are most likely pushing, and then our nervous system automatically contracts. A tight nervous system loses its flexibility and cannot bounce back so easily from life’s ups and downs. Life will always come with its bumpy sections, but with a relaxed nervous system we will be able to ride the waves with more eloquence and ease. When we start pushing while in a freeze state we will most likely push ourselves over the edge.

In the Greek mythology Zeus punished Sisyphus by forcing him to roll an immense boulder up a hill.  Every time it neared the top it would roll back down, repeating this action for eternity. Once we start pushing we are on the endless journey of rolling a big rock up a massively steep hill. We won’t succeed. Should we make it to the top of that hill, we will be paying a price. A price so high, that we wish we’d never started this climb. The cost for our summit success can be adrenal fatigue, brain fog, insomnia, exhaustion and massive burn out symptoms.

Now time won’t equal time any more: if we keep talking to someone once we have had enough might mean we are exhausted for the rest of the whole day. A week of pushing doesn’t equal a week of resting – it may take us weeks if not months to recover from it. If we don’t give up on the things that don’t flow, we will inevitably give up on life itself: Once there is stagnation it will be hard to trust the flow of life or even life itself. We can start feeling suicidal and in a deep freeze state.

Instead of beating ourselves up for being lazy, procrastinating, depressed, overwhelmed or suicidal we need to be really kind to ourselves. We can recognize that the river of life simply got jammed up, so anything coming after it started accumulating and blocking its flow. If we truly give ourselves permission to rest and let go our whole system can relax and we are on the right path.

Time to call in helpers and friends as some of the blocking items are “heavy” and cannot be removed on our own. Via the world of sensations and somatic therapy we can dive deep into the wisdom of our reptilian brain to recognize what is actually blocking the flow. We are herd animals and in times like these we do need a village around us. We can acknowledge where we are with curiosity and surprise: “Oh, looks like something got blocked up! No wonder I’ve been feeling so crap.”

When you’re having a day where there is no flow, get up and go for a gentle walk. If possible try to be mindful of your movements and nature around you. And if you feel like crying, do so, but put your attention on your movements, not on the tears that flow naturally. Allow sound to come with your tears. Make sure you open up all your joints and your spine so flow becomes possible: Yoga and Qigong can be great for this. And swimming is one of the best flow openers while you’ll be cleansed by the ocean plasma at the same time. Don’t forget to drink plenty of water on days where you feel stagnant.

Pushing can take so many hidden forms and I myself at times still overlook serious pushing moments. My grieving journey has gifted me with many deep freeze experiences and at times it felt like I would never recover nor get anything ever done again. But I can only say from experience, no matter how tempting, pushing never works. Instead of going forward you’ll be taking a very long detour instead.

Sometimes we simply need to be patient and trust until life takes us where we are meant to go next. Once your body has regained a better flow you will soon find yourself miraculously doing the things that before you had to force yourself to even get started.

Instead of trying to tick off things on your to do list, you will go into a natural and deeply connected flow. The things around you all of a sudden will let you know what wants to be done versus what seemingly needs to be done.

On some days it may be doing the dishes, finishing your tax, mowing the lawn, chain sawing fire wood, weeding, exercising, reading a book, making art or visiting a friend. On other days it will be having a nap and resting deeply.

With love

Barbara

Barbara Schmidt

Counselling Somatic

Trauma and nervous system recovery 

If you want to find out more about your nervous system and the incredible healing from trauma I am inviting you to read the short articles on www.counsellingsomatic.com.au in my blog section  - you can subscribe to my newsletters via my website and receive all future blogs conveniently via email.
Feel free to forward my article to others, but please add my name to it for copyright reasons.     You can also find me on my Facebook page “Counselling Somatic Barbara Schmidt"