Seven years ago, I rescued a cat who had been abandoned in a house when her owners moved out. She was starving and battling eye infections and a respiratory virus. She was also being bullied by the other cats in the house. Having no food for weeks, all five cats were fighting each other to survive.
Fighting to survive. It’s what we do when we’re stressed to the point of breaking.
In the first couple of months of caring for this cat, I noticed that her claws were out all the time. I winced every time she walked across my lap because her little nails would prick my thighs and stomach. I thought her claws would never retract. She seemed stuck on defend, survive, and don’t trust.
I can understand. I’ve spent the last 15 years of my life in much the same mode. In a sense, my claws have been out, just like hers. I experienced big losses in my life in a short period of time. In the first five years, I lost my parents, my home, my retirement savings, and my marriage. For the next decade, I felt anxious and fearful of the what ifs. Losing everything caused other issues like the inability to focus and depression. I felt like I was in a freefall, dealing with chaos and one crisis after another without being able to feel any kind of stability. I couldn’t relax. Just like this cat, I was stuck on defend, survive, and don’t trust.
In the cat’s situation, I offered her food, kindness, and isolation from her bullies (because distance is a great healer). So, even though her claws were out, she easily purred when touched. She was affectionate and nuzzled into my chest every night. Despite coming from a place of abuse, she wasn’t hissing and scratching. Instead, she seemed gracious. I named her Gracie. Gradually, by being receptive to love, she was leaving the past in the past and allowing herself to adapt. She was slowly healing and owning her new space.
Owning her new space. Those words hold an epiphany.
Of course, it was easy for Gracie to own her new space. She was behind a door in my bedroom and didn’t have other cats invading her domain. I removed all her stressors, so she was free and unencumbered, which is what she needed to heal.
Most of us, however, do not have the ability to remove our stress. We have children, work, spouses, parents, health issues and, often, not enough support. Our emotions, like anger or grief, complicate our ability to think clearly, as do our egos, which is where fault and blame originate. Sometimes, money is a problem. When we can’t move forward, anxiety and depression set in. We go through the motions of living because we have responsibilities, but the result is healing that is shallow and incomplete.
I recently watched an interview with well-known life coach Tony Robbins as part of Matthew McConaughey’s The Art of Livin’ presentation on Mastermind.com. In the interview, Tony Robbins said, “Where you focus is where you steer.” Looking back on the last ten years of my life, I realized that his statement rings true. My healing began when I focused on it.
For a long time, my focus was on handling the crisis that was happening that week, because every week seemed to bring another one. The stress of so many battles wore me down so much that I went on autopilot for protection. The sun came up, and the sun went down, and, in between, I wasn’t living. I felt so much despair for my future that I would wake in the morning and say to myself, “What’s the point?” That was a scary place to be. I knew, then, that I needed something to change. I wanted my brain and body to start functioning like it used to before my life collapsed, so I started taking small steps to improve what I could. I began with counseling, and I was lucky to find someone who offered useful advice. I talked to my doctor about depression and hormonal imbalance. After researching my treatment options, I chose supplements over an anti-depressant, which worked. And, for the first time in my life, I prayed for myself. I’ve experienced seeing my prayers work for others, so perhaps I, too, would be afforded some help. By doing these things, I had developed a focus. Even though it wasn’t a focus on the exact causes of my grief (because they were not easily identifiable at the time), it was a focus on my health and my future. This was the beginning of finding my grace.
We often think of grace as politeness, or being gracious, as Gracie was. However, grace also means dignity and self-respect. I believe I needed to find dignity in order to heal, a dignity that is not related to ego. It’s the dignity that comes with accepting what I can’t change and taking responsibility for myself and my actions. It’s the dignity that comes with owning my own space.
Those initial steps, along with time, led to learning more about myself than I ever thought was possible. It turns out that I actually do have an ego, and I am now better at separating myself from it in order to see a situation clearly and make better decisions. I can also say that everything that happened to me in the last decade needed to happen. Without the relationships and events in those years, I wouldn’t have learned anything. I wouldn’t have progressed emotionally. I wouldn’t have healed.
I say that as if it’s a done deal, but it’s not. The learning and the healing continue, but I have more understanding and more tools in my belt, if you will, to handle what comes my way. Like Gracie, I finally feel strong enough to let go of the past and own a new future. Now, I choose where my energy goes, and it really has made all the difference. Through writing, I hope the healing will continue and lead to something greater and more satisfying.
I hope you will join me every now and then for some laughter and insight. Perhaps you’ll find something in my essays that opens a door for you or encourages you to begin your journey of healing. We all live with regrets, and we have all made mistakes, but, with grace, we can move through and find our inner peace with positive connections and thoughts.