Gaia is my Healer

Becoming Armadillo.

I read recently read a meme that said 

‘” You are so sensitive” 

Thanks. I have worked really hard to unlearn the idea that feeling things so deeply is something to be ashamed of.’

It resonated deep in my core. In fact, I commented ‘Thoroughly over sensitive person here – and I don’t think anyone really understands. I get a lot of ‘don’t be so ridiculous’ or ‘you are just being silly.’’ I finished with the invisible emoji.  But in truth, I am ashamed of my sensitivity.

I’m the sort of person who cries at films, and books and pieces of music that move me; I can get lost wandering in the woods admiring spider’s webs shimmering in iridescent magnificence or rain drops glittering in the sun; it deeply upsets me when I see a dead animal at the side of the road; I am unable to watch the news reports of war and human tragedy and the destruction of our incredible world.  When I expose my soft underbelly and vulnerability to someone I am supposed to trust and they tell me ‘don’t be silly’, it wounds deeply.  When my much-loved young German Shepherd dog was killed by a car at just 2 ½ years old, I mourned as though he had been my second child, something that few people were unable to comprehend. 

My social media feeds are filled with memes such as ‘I will always be the girl who stops to wonder at the sunset’, along with posts about feeling most at peace when walking in the woods. For many years I have embraced reiki and energy healing, crystals, horoscopes and tarot. I see butterflies as signs and online follow those who tell me that by just raising my vibration I can attract amazing things into my life. I practice gratitude and listen to healing binaural beats. I have believed in walking in nature to find peace and that connection with the natural world is important. I have sat with trees and told them my dreams.

And yet, at nearly 50 years old, I am struggling. From the outside, I have it all. A truly wonderful husband, a healthy, kind and well-adjusted teenager, a lovely home. I work for myself and therefore have flexibility and freedom, both personally and financially. I should not want for anything. And yet there are times where I am overwhelmed by perceived slights or what I see as failure in myself. A mistake at work. Brusque words in a WhatsApp or in person from a family member, a friend who I worry I have offended. My heart feels the blow and my self-confidence crumbles into sharp fragments of self-loathing and doubt which impale themselves in my tender body. I retreat into a place of hiding, a cave of darkness filled with guilt and confusion. 

I have been here again. I am here right now. And so, it is time for change. A reimagining. A reincarnation of sorts. My softness and sensitivity is not serving me well, so I must evolve into something harder. Something that can weather the ‘slings and arrows of outrageous fortune’ and bounce the hurtful words back into the world leaving me unharmed. I am becoming Armadillo, that curious armoured creature with its tough shell protecting it from injury. As Armadillo, I won’t care any more about the woman across the road who seems to dislike me for no reason. I won’t have an exposed underbelly that is pierced by harsh words – they will now slide off my shiny scales. That friend who is only there for the happy, party version of me will heave a sigh of relief that they don’t have the embarrassment of dealing with the needy, sad me. 

Armadillo will go through life from now on as an impenetrable force. Strong. Unmoved. Unbreakable. Armadillo does not require crystals, or a belief in energy healing and spiritual leaders promising the universe. Armadillo is brisk on her dog walks and does not need to dally for a shining raindrop or blazing sunset. She remains calm and even tempered, a good wife and mother who does not alarm with tears or heightened emotions; an acquiescent child and sibling who is not a cause for infuriation and social shame. Armadillo is in control and controlled by none. She is a product of this world, a rigid shell that allows nothing in and nothing out; Armadillo is who I must become.

And yet, this is not who I am, and I am unable to truly become Armadillo. My sensitivity allows me to see the beauty in nature – the way the sun beams dance through the trees, the songs of the birds and the delicate majesty of a flower. It gives me words and a connection with animals. It helps me to see when others are hurting and the empathy to reach out to try and heal their wounds. It delights in watching a butterfly dance across a wild meadow.  I shall not forsake my crystals and my meditations, my belief in a greater power that is accessible to all. I will continue to embrace gratitude and offer a thank you for a white feather, and ask for signs that I am following the right path through life.

So whilst Armadillo might offer me protection from those that are unable to understand my gentle inner world, maybe I shall just adopt the shell and keep safe the authentic me, shown only to those who deserve my truth.

To all the sensitive souls out there, I hear you. I hope you find your protection whilst still keeping your soft inside. Much love to you all.