He (yes, he) is a troll who still carries a briefcase. But there isn’t anything useful inside that briefcase, only dirty socks and granola bar wrappers. Hair unkempt. Shoes don’t fit. Actually, they’re broken and torn. He smells. His breath stinks because he never flosses and has cavities in every tooth. So when he opens his mouth, he smells like rotten vegetables. He is always sick because he refuses to go to the doctor. He is stubborn af. He looks like a dirty used car salesman, ten years behind the world in terms of style and way of thinking. And he’s always ashy. Oh, and he’s a gaslighter. He says that he’s ready to buckle down and get to work but that’s lie. Quick to jump from one “important” distraction to the next. Ironically, he loves washing dishes. He loves to “go through his papers”, whatever that means. He prides himself in being able to meditate with his eyes open. He’s been this way for so long that I didn’t realize just how bad things had gotten.
But he is a part of me. I should love him. Right? To feel anything less would be resistance. And that’s where the spiraling begins. So instead I will learn to integrate our beings. Work with and not against each other. If I could I would clean him up. Give him a haircut. Take him to a play. A nice lunch. Enroll him in classes so he can start to become his best self. Find him a compassionate therapist. Give him a tarot card reading so he can get to know himself and make better decisions. Trust his intuition. I’d find out what exact time he was born so we could look up his birth chart. Most definitely sometime around 1995, like 4th and 5th grade. Get some insight into how he turned out this way. Balance his chakras. Cleanse his aura. Say prayers to God and ask the Universe, Archangels, Goddesses, Spirit Guides and All Who Have Gone Before for Divine guidance.
I used to resent him. Loathe his sloppy, scattered ways. But again, he’s part of me. He is my depression.
Now thanks to my spiritual awakening, my heart is more open to healing this part of myself. We can start by giving him a name. He feels like a Peter. From this moment on I give Peter my compassion. I give him courage and understanding and love. Way more love. I no longer fear and loathe Peter. From now on I will not ignore him.
One of the things I admire about myself is that for the most part I try to resist taking over-the-counter pain medication or opt for natural remedies instead. I prefer to feel bodily sensations rather than numb myself when things get uncomfortable. What lesson is the pain trying to teach?
Sometimes pain is the gateway. Transmutation yields transformation.
When Spirit wants to get my attention, I feel intense head pressure or heavy tingling in my crown chakra. Luckily I know and accept that these sensations are connected to my intuition. I don’t want to suppress myself or my budding psychic abilities. I choose to feel into any sensations or aches I feel. For it is part of the Divine process of ascension.
Hyper awareness of my physical body has made it easier to integrate with Peter. When I feel him waking up, I call in my inner stillness and turn up the dial on self-love. I speak to him lovingly instead of with disdain. When he’d rather clean my room than write a few pages, we talk it out and I take dictation. Resisting only makes him act out more destructively. So now I embrace him. Love him out of his miserable funk and persist.
We can work together. We can start over as many times as necessary.
*I originally wrote this back in October 2017 and posted it on Medium.