Breathe

I feel like I’ve been to battle.

I’m exhausted.

It was only early last week I woke myself from a nightmare in which I was being strangled. Feeling on one hand calm, and on the other freaked out (the reality of living alone in the woods hitting me), I started scrolling mindlessly in order to change my brain patterns enough so as to avoid falling back asleep and into the same dream.

From instagram, I hopped over to my browser and typed, how to heal asthma. All subconsciously.

Over the next hour or so, I read countless stories of people who’ve healed their asthma through a combination of physical, emotional and spiritual healing.

All this in the middle of the night.

I ordered books, and supplements online, and eventually fell back to sleep around 2am.

The next day during my morning ritual it dawned on me what a perfect time it was to work toward healing my asthma. I’ve been vegan for almost four years (so eating a cleansing diet of fruit and vegetables is easy peasey), I haven’t had any alcohol for around two months and have no desire right now to drink (alcohol has previously caused tightness in my chest), and I’m living an active and healthy lifestyle in the mountains of Colorado (apparently the best place in the USA for asthma and allergy sufferers).

In terms of dedicating time and energy to meal preparation, exercise and supplements, now was as good a time as any.

Chatting with a friend the following day, they said, when the student is ready, the teacher appears.

The masculine energy strangling me in my dream that night was my teacher, it seems. And I was ready.

Funnily enough I couldn’t remember if I’d taken my medication (a daily steroid inhaler) for the past few days, but I felt ok so I didn’t take it that day either.

Each day since I’ve been meditating and imagining healing white light entering my lungs with each inhale.

Each exhale I imagine any dark, grey energy leaving my lungs.

While journaling one day last week some profound words hit the page.

My asthma was my childhood friend.

It protected me from the feelings of unsafely I was experiencing at home.

When I had an asthma attack (which was very often) Mum would drop everything and we’d go to the hospital. I felt loved by her unconditionally in those moments.

At the hospital I felt safe.

Nothing could harm me.

I knew I’d nearly died several times, and spent countless nights in the ICU, however I realized while writing I was never really afraid of my asthma. We knew each other intimately. We worked together in order for me to get what I needed as a child.

Even as an adult it had served me. Protected me from the things I didn’t want to do.

Fear. A comfort zone of sorts. A place I could still be a victim. An area I could still reach for unconditional love.

What the actual f*ck?

It was blowing my mind as it all fell onto the page. Could this be real?

I started doing The Work by Byron Katie on my entire belief system around my asthma. Deconstructing the set of beliefs I’d adopted, things I knew to be real, to be fact. I worked through them, explored who I might be without them. Turned them around on themselves, which ultimately lead me to new possibilities and ways of thinking.

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On Tuesday of this week, I went camping with my EO Forum.

I still hadn’t taken any medication. I brought it with me just in case.

Late that night as we sat by the campfire, I checked my phone for the first time all afternoon. There was a message from a friend who was expressing some frustration toward me, and that he’d processed it now and all was good.

An immediate trigger.

Something I’ve struggled with for as long as I can remember is dealing with someone being upset with me. Usually I want to defend myself, then I feel angry at them, then I want to defend myself again, then I feel hopeless (and I usually repeat this cycle hundreds of times over internally).

All this has been shifting for me, as I’ve healed my abandonment wounds since discovering them in October last year. And so I got into my practice. Sit with this. Don’t react. Feel it out. Trust it’ll pass. Dig for truth.

Sometime later, as I sat quietly with myself (my boisterous EO forum mates having a jolly time around me) I fell asleep by the fire. Waking up, I took myself to bed and my chest felt tight, I was wheezy. I climbed into the nest I’d created myself in the back of my SUV and wondered if I should take my asthma meds. I really didn’t want to so tried to gauge how bad it was, and stay relaxed. Eventually I fell asleep.

I woke up around 7am, sun well above the horizon line and grabbed my journal.

Thoughts of the situation I’d learned of the night before swirling through my head. I needed to get to the bottom of it all.

Also, I was wheezy. My chest was tight and I was seriously considering taking my inhaler.

As I journaled. I got to the truth of the matter. Just fear. Fear that the person who was upset with me wouldn’t love me, and would decide not to have me in their life anymore. Classic abandonment wounding.

How would I react in this situation if I was secure in our friendship, unafraid of them leaving me? I wrote.

I’d say something like, sounds like the way we’re handling this isn’t working for you, shall we have a chat and change our strategy?

So. F*cking. Simple.

I didn’t need to defend myself, I didn’t need to dig through the past for times when they’d treated me in a similar way, I didn’t need to try to change myself, or fix or solve the situation on my own. This was yet another chance to respond differently and change the destructive patterns that’ve held me back my entire life.

As the words flowed, and the simplicity of it all permeated me energetically, my airways opened and I could breath again.

Oh my goodness. I could feel it.

Could it be true? Could my asthma really be attached to my fear of being abandoned?

All this happened yesterday morning.

I had a session with one of my spiritual healers, Victoria Cochrane, scheduled for the afternoon and decided to dive into it all with her.

We went back through a past life where I’d been strangled to death (a past life I’d explored before), and then talked through the way my asthma had served me as a child.

She performed a healing on me, and I felt all sorts of things moving and shifting energetically.

I hung up the phone and felt called to write a letter to my asthma. To perform a releasing ritual.

I did that last night.

I wrote a love letter to my asthma, thanking my dear friend for walking by my side all of my life. For being there for me always, I was never alone with asthma as my friend. I acknowledged our time has come to flow in a different direction, and signed off with love and gratitude.

Then I burned the letter, watching as the energy I’d transferred from my body to the pages, burned up into the atmosphere. I mixed the ashes with salt and water to diffuse the energy further and then poured it all down my garbage disposal flushing it far away from me.

I slept peacefully last night.

When I woke up this morning I had a moment of fear.

Am I f*cking crazy?

Stopping my meds just like this.

Will I be one of those people you hear about who crazily got off their meds, only to fall ill again. Reported as being irresponsible and stupid.

All. The. Fear. Creeping in.

And then I stopped, I grounded into my body. How do I feel? It’s been over a week off my medication, far longer than I’ve ever gone in my life and I’m taking clear, deep breaths. I thought about it. If my asthma isn’t real, then whether I take medication or not wouldn’t matter.

Surrender.

It’s not real, and I’m breathing clear, right here, right now.

This morning I decided to speak the words, my asthma is healed, to a few of my closest friends. Not I think it’s healed. Or I’m healing it. I decided to step into it with no caveats.

And now I know it to be true.

I no longer suffer from asthma. I have healthy whole lungs.

I’m grateful for what my asthma gave me, and I’m grateful to no longer feel afraid of being able to breathe. I can breathe. I am breathing.

And now I’m exhausted

I’m not surprised. The exhaustion will pass, but this work is not for the faint of heart. It’s the real deal.

Sarah Riegelhuth