I was asked to rate my mental health on a scale right now. There are parts of my life that make me smile endlessly. There are parts of my life that make me cry unconsolably. There are all kinds of parts in the middle. The truth is all of it. I think I've talked about this in the question, "How are you?"

I want to be real. All the time, I want to be real. It hurts to not be real. By talking about the crappy stuff, I'm being real. When I talk about the great stuff, it's authentic too. None of it is the whole picture, the whole me.

That's the crux of it. I want to be seen wholly and not just in pieces. I'm looking for the impossible. The only person who can know all of me is me. I am the only one who has all of my story. And everyone else only gets bits and pieces of it. Some more than others, but still only pieces. This is why it hurts so much to lose the people who have known us the longest - family, lifelong friends, even those short term friends who get us at that moment in time. It hurts us to stop being seen and understood by that person who held our stories.

Being seen and understood is such a relief for me. I want to give this to the world. It's vulnerable, but the most rewarding part for me of this human condition. And I genuinely love seeing what is the most rewarding part for other people.

A friend of mine is considering separating from her partner. They have had the same frustrating conversation for years and nothing has changed. I feel for her and only she has the power to choose her next actions.

This past weekend, I took a BodyTalk class for the first time since a few months after Sullivan was born. He's turning five in about a month. It was called Lymphatic Drainage and Applied A&P, which when you write it out in full becomes Veltheim Method of Lymphatic Drainage and Applied Anatomy and Physiology. Quite the mouthful and, as it turns out, quite the brainful.

I was nervous. I hadn't taken a class in so long. I used to know quite a few people in the classes I took. And now, there was no one I had ever met before or seen in a class with me. It was a bit intimidating to not be known in some way, like I had to prove myself which is silly because we were all students.

And then I had some wonderful pairings with the other students and I remembered why I love being in class sooo much. It's not just the learning, it is the exponential learning that comes from being in a class environment. If everyone in the same place is thinking about the same thing, everyone learns it a little easier because of the energy in the room. And in this COVID-19 contagious world, we were able to take this class and keep everyone safe by having it online.

During the parts of class where we practiced, I was able to practice on my mom as she was here helping with the kids. I loved that she could be my practice dummy for the class. It was truly remarkable.

I came away from class calmer as usual, but I was still following the habit of snapping at the kids. It was such an interesting dichotomy. I didn't feel the bite in my physiology that was ever present when I would get frustrated. Had that biteyness just become normal to me? Likely yes.

Google wasn't able to recognize my voice after class either. Jeremy noted long ago that my voice changes significantly from before class to after class. I can hear the change as well. Google was kind enough to not play any of my playlists because of this.

One of the coolest moments in this class was being able to visualize the sameness of the interstitial fluid (which collects debris and becomes lymphatic fluid) and looking up into the night sky, into space. The microscopic and the macrocosmic worlds reflect each other. The space between things is the focal point of the Veltheim Method of Lymphatic Drainage technique to create lasting waves that optimize the movement of the fluids within the body. I could see and feel all the potential stagnancy and fluidity. This immersive experience of what I'm working with is part of why I love what I do.

Then there was the Applied Anatomy and Physiology portion of the class. Tissues and fluids in the body are made up of cells which are made of chemicals which are made of atoms which is made up of quantum potential. And all this started with a single cell dividing which means that every cell in the human body has the instructions for every other cell in the human body. Being able the work at the quantum level of energy by drilling down through the layers of priority to after the deepest energies of the cells means we can affect even greater change within a single link of communication reestablished.

My mind expands to allow these new possibilities that are available to all of us. The limits we live within are what we have been told. For me, that all encompassing awareness of interconnectedness is how we find peace and love and authenticity in our lives. And I'm grateful for it all.

What an incredible tarot reading I just had. She meditated and chose cards while I concentrated on my query.

My introduction to BodyTalk came through a recommendation from my mom. I heard peace in her voice and I had her set up an appointment for me on my next trip home to Nipawin. I didn't know what to expect, but I hoped it would be BIG.

It was.

I had been consciously struggling with a childhood belief that I was stupid. If anything anyone said or did could be interpreted as them thinking I was stupid, I would lose it. I would get defensive and start beating myself up and a lot of times it came off (and sometimes I aimed it) that I was angry with the person who had implied it. How dare they?!? I had tried thought retraining, traditional talk therapy, EMDR, and while it helped, I was still fighting the idea that I absolutely knew to be not true.

One of the first things to come up in my session was an Active Memory. An active memory is one in which there is still emotional baggage. When we relive the memory, our whole being experiences the memory again. Regina Taschler of Infinite Health in Nipawin was my first Certified BodyTalk Practitioner. She told me to start thinking of memories. A slideshow of all my painful moments started flashing through my mind. And as soon as she said, "That one," I stopped the slideshow. It was an image of my dad standing in our kitchen mid-yell and angry. He was telling me how stupid I had to be that I couldn't even get the dishes done. There it was, the root cause of my belief. And wow, did it hurt! She asked me to be in that memory to the fullest extent while she performed the technique to allow the emotional baggage to be processed by my system.

A lot of other things came up in the session, but I don't know what anymore. All of it was important though. I stared at her BodyTalk protocol chart during the whole session to see if I could follow along as she told me what was coming up. I was fascinated.

When it was over, Regina asked me how I felt. I know now that this is a very hard question to answer sometimes. I asked her to give me a moment, to let me listen to myself. The first thing I did was imagine walking into my parents' living room and seeing my dad. In my mind, I walked up to my dad and hugged him fully for the first time since I hit puberty. Tears rolled silently down my cheeks as I hugged my dad and allowed him to hug me for as long as he wanted instead of trying to get away. It was magical.

The next thing that I felt was a weirdness in my diaphragm. It was like a tickle, but not. It was familiar, but not by itself. After a minute or so, I recognized it. It was the feeling of laughter without actually laughing. So I forced a laugh. And as I watched the minutes tick by, I continued to laugh. I took drinks of water and had to lie down as I laughed for a solid 20 minutes before it started to dissipate. What an incredible experience of release.

Thank you, Regina, for this first experience of BodyTalk and what can happen when I let myself be truly seen. It has led me down my own BodyTalk path and my own business of Choice BodyTalk. So much gratitude for these moments.

It's been a long time since I tried to dig into what makes me me. I went hardcore for about 5 years, but then I had two more children and sabotaged another friendship and got very burnt out. So, while I kept most (not all) the lessons I learned about who I am and my world.