I don’t take the phrase “coming out” lightly. I’ve had to make a big admission to myself recently, and I’ve already privately approached some family and close friends about it. It’s something I’ve been avoiding and repressing for a very, very long time. Given the context, this might sound a bit silly, and maybe it is. Hey: I own being silly. As a friend recently proclaimed upon her first time visiting my home and seeing my room, “Olivia! Your room looks like a teenager’s! You’re ridiculous.” I am ridiculous. I love being ridiculous, and my friend loves my ridiculousness, too.
Off-topic observation: my room does, in fact, look like a teenager’s… I just never realized it until now. Perhaps it’s the shelving unit hosting a mythical mix of the Harry Potter series, framed by fairy figurines and an Olivia Pig plush. (How could I not have Olivia Pig?) Or maybe it’s the wall of multi-colored scarves offset by racks of clumsily arranged shoes. Or that fact that it’s just a mess. Which it is. Which is why I have my own room. I convinced my husband to let me be messy with my own stuff, as long as I contain my mess to one room. This room is hands-off to his cleaning and organizing. He agreed… eventually.
Okay, so back to the actual topic of this post…
My first exposure to the idea of an “empath” was from Star Trek: The Next Generation, in the form of Deanna Troi, the half-alien,
all-gorgeous ship’s counselor, who had a hard-to-place accent (what is that, Welsh?) and could read other’s emotional motivations and states of mind. “Captain, I don’t feel the Ferengi are being honest in their dealings.” But come on, were the Ferengi EVER honest in their dealings?! Oops – I think I also just outted myself as a Next Gen Trekkie. But I digress… I thought Empaths were some kind of spacey clairvoyant that weren’t necessarily based in reality. And also, it was never really that specific of a power for Counselor Troi. More like extra-strong gut feelings she had about situations that other people didn’t. So, what’s the good of that? She couldn’t win the galactic lottery, or predict an illness undetectable by Dr. Crusher’s tricorder. (Trekkie. Full on Trekkie.)
So what does being an “empath” really mean? I do think it’s become a bit of a trendy term, or a buzz word, as of late. Which makes me cringe that much more to use it in regards to myself. But it really is a real thing. And it runs in my family. (I could jump right into a Star Wars reference here, but I think you’ve had enough of my nerdiness for one post.) An over-simplified definition would be this:
“An Empath is a person who connects with other beings in such a way as to actually feel what they are feeling, understanding their motivations on a very deep and personal level as if they were her own. If sympathy is feeling for someone, empathy is feeling them inside you as if you are living that feeling.” – Me
I gotta tell you, being that open and raw absolutely terrifies me. When I was a kid, I felt things so deeply and so intensely I would be pulled in to experiencing full-on terror, often resulting in something resembling a panic attack. So, I made a decision after several traumatizing experiences, that I didn’t want to “feel things” that much anymore. It was too intense, and I felt like I was literally going to lose my mind. Pretty heavy for an 8-year old, huh?
From that (unwittingly defining) moment on, I avoided the overwhelming intensity by internally retreating and closing up that part of myself. People that know me may be surprised to hear this little revelation, as I often come across as a very open and extroverted person. Surprise! I became a master at hiding this truth from everyone. I chose to altogether avoid the potentially dangerous emotions that come along with being too open to the energies around us.
But… you know the ironic thing about this? It didn’t actually stop the panic attacks. I still had them often throughout my adolescence. I occasionally have them now. I created an emotional pattern of “disconnection” in order to protect myself – a pattern I lived every day since – and the thing I wanted to escape from is still here. As a child, I associated my empathetic nature with the anxiety. But they were actually two separate issues. Blocking my own empathic nature didn’t cure Anxiety Disease, which, by the way, also runs in the family genes. Hooray!
All recent Chakra readings I’ve had done, or have done on myself, reflect a closed Solar Plexus. I guess that’s the door I closed a long, long, time ago in a galaxy not too far away. And now, I’m ready to announce my big decision:
I’m ready to reopen that part of myself that’s been closeted for so long. I’m ready to begin living as an Empath.
It’s going to be hard, and uncomfortable, and I might have a panic attack now and then because of it. But as a grown-ass woman, I know I can handle it now. I also have collected an amazing group of peers which currently include Energy Healers and Reiki Masters to guide me in my journey. Not to mention, I have abundant access to Citrine for the Solar Plexus, various red stones for grounding, and Xanax. I mean Sage! Sage. For cleansing. Sage.
(okay and maybe Xanax…)
Photo credit: Star Trek ladies’ pic pulled from http://www.fanpop.com/clubs/star-trek-the-next-generation/images/32404575/title/wallpaper-wallpaper
And all of this is the O that I love