A Community Healer Without a Community

Last week, my hours were cut in half at the job I’ve been working for the last 14 years as my primary source of income. I knew this change could come. It felt jarring and disorienting nonetheless.

I touched old fears of scarcity and uncertainty, welcomed the raw sounds of my anger to connect my belly, heart, and throat, felt waves of shame related to providing, shed tears honoring the loss, and went to sleep feeling a little clearer and more hopeful, though still a bit anxious.

“I can figure things out.”

The next morning, I woke feeling quite tender. Something deeper was being touched, and I opened into a powerful flow of sorrow that emerged from my ancestral nervous system, accompanied by these words:

“I am a community healer without a community.”