Time to Start Again

by Gurpreet Sihat

I’ve had suicidal thoughts since I was sixteen. Longer, maybe. 

Back in 2018, I first started on my ‘road to recovery’. I cut off toxic relationships, I said goodbye to a career that was making me feel inadequate, I started to make myself a priority. Change followed pretty quickly. Not all of it was good, but it was happening. I chose to get better. I chose to be happy. I chose to work for it every single day because I believed I deserved it.

Until I didn’t.

I can’t entirely pinpoint when it started – I wasn’t consciously aware of it – but I slowly began to slip. I had started to simply… give up. Simple tasks like showering and combing my hair were forgotten, the clothes I had chosen to wear were tattered or pyjamas, my health only mattered when the pain got too much. I even filled my schedule with online tasks so I wouldn’t have to talk to real people, camouflaging it with the odd coffee date so everyone would just think I was busy. 

Even I started to believe it. I was busy. Nothing was wrong, I was just busy.

In the space of a year, my family and I said goodbye to eighteen people. But I was still fine. I shrugged it off. You cannot sit in the grief of eighteen lives, you’ll never get out of it. I even managed to brush COVID under the rug. I was fine! I was built for not leaving the house. I was looking after everyone around me, I didn’t have time to feel messed up about it myself. I woke up, I worked, I looked after the people I loved, I slept, I started again.  

And then Edinburgh happened.

Initially there just to visit with family, I ended up meeting up with an Edinburgh based client. A master in a number of energy therapies – including Reiki and Akashic Records – she had been feeling my energy depleting for months. Over the years, I’ve watched her help countless people, my own sister included, but I didn’t need help. I declined every offer of a virtual session with her, but my excuses dried up when I was in the same town as her. Even if I had found one, she wasn’t taking ‘no’ for an answer, anyway.

Just like five years ago, when I couldn’t find an excuse to say ‘no’ to a trip to Amsterdam, I couldn’t find an excuse to say ‘no’ to a healing session with my client. I was so nervous I had a string of panic attacks in the hours leading up to my first session.

From what I understand, energy vibrates at a certain frequency. While I’m not sure what scale we were using, I was told that we should all be, at minimum, vibrating at an 80. Me? I was vibrating at a 30, filled with guilt and shame, grief and fear. And my meridians – the paths through which energy flows – were blocked… every single one of them! 

What hit me hardest, however, was the state of my chakras. While my crown and throat chakras were fine – the chakras that tie to the spiritual – all the others were completely out of place, blocked and lost in all regards. One clear message hit me: Those suicidal thoughts (though they had never left) were further and fewer between and easier to quash than they used to be, which I had convinced myself was fine, but my body still didn’t want to be here. I’m not sure if I was just lying to myself better than ever before, or I was keeping myself so busy there wasn’t enough space to listen to my body. 

I started thinking about all the things I knew about chakras, specifically the attributes connected to imbalanced ones. Physical issues such as pain and issues with the immune system, check. Stress about financial security, check. Constant fear of betrayal, check. Lack of self-respect and self-compassion, check. Unrelenting inner critic, check. Digestive issues, check. Chronic fatigue, check. Upper back and shoulder issues, check. Arm and wrist pain, check. Constant fear of being alone, check. Sinus issues, check. Eye strain and headaches, check. Check, check, check, check, CHECK!

What I realised was that I hadn’t recovered, even though I had convinced myself I had. Recovery isn’t a straight path. It’s a roller-coaster that disappears for a while in the Bermuda triangle and searches in vain for the North Pole. It dives to the depths of the ocean, struggles to get back out again and then takes you to the highest peaks of the mountains. It’s maddening, but it’s still moving. I’m still moving. And, most importantly, I’m still moving in the right direction, even with the pitstop. 

So here I am, in November 2021 after 18 months of hiding, ready to start again. 

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