My more externalized way of being was starting to shift. I began to stop rescuing others solely to the exclusion of myself or secretly committing emotional suicide. I started to see some occurrences and signs that I just might be healing, as unfathomable as that might have been at first. Don’t get me wrong, this Heilkunst process wasn’t easy but it was starting to feel like the narrow escape from self-destruction and a certain death might be staved off for at least an additional moment or two.

Crazily, I started to see signs occurring in my outer ambient as having a direct affect on my inner millieux. For the first time in my life, there was a bit of space in my belly where I could intuit things, and actually make small decisions. This doesn’t mean that I was heaving buckets of hate over the bow, but I was feeling visitations from motherly monarchs as a sign that I was not an accidental disaster. I felt that my Mom was actually trying to help me from beyond the veil.

I also started to catch up with inner experiences to do with “the light.” A clear indication of attempting to heal, stepping into my true astral (dreams and aspirations) desire function. Allowing external impulses to lead me more through the domain of occurrences and inspiration. It had been a long time off-grid and I was mystically and spiritually starved for a sign that my life might have some intention, meaning or even a purpose.

I was hungry to experience other modalities in this realm that might hasten my awakening as I was terrified of the healing process. I went to a craniosacral therapist to try and screw my head on right and facilitate the nasty nature of my healing reactions to help pick up the slack of the gnarly rubber band effect that I felt. I was also starting to buy books en masse in order to understand better the healing power of my own illness.

I was gradually gaining some conscious footing with regards to my health and with that, my symptoms were angrily beginning to abate. God knows, I can never do anything with ease, grace or gentle aplomb. If my suffering was going to diminish, I was going to know why and how. I was marshalling resources to go into the heart of my darkness, this time from the inside out.

I began keeping a journal and although, I’d not cultivated faith, an inkling of hope was shining like a flashlight down the long dark and arduous tunnel of my history. I suddenly realized that I was writing again. I was truly shocked and amazed that a little placebo water pill was turning this all around. How was this possible?

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