And the Winner is...FEAR
A while ago, before COVID-19 put the world on notice, I drafted a post about choosing love over fear when integrating healthy practices.
I was perturbed because the habits I developed to protect myself from illness—using doTERRA OnGuard, taking enzymes—were not done out of love for a body that has been shockingly good to me this year, but in fear of getting sick.
What’s the difference? You could argue that as long as I’m doing good things for my body, the motivation behind it doesn’t matter.
On the contrary—the whole point of healing is to live life from a place of love rather than fear. When Joe Dispenza implores me to ask, “Who am I being?” the reply should be: A woman living her life out of love. Not: someone paralyzed by fear.
In the wake of the coronavirus, the distinction feels less important. I’m also scared of everything.
A month ago I took a trip out of state and came home sick. I don’t know if it’s the coronavirus. In the absence of an epidemic, it looks like any other cold I’ve ever gotten: sore throat, cough that won’t leave, Chiari pain, sleepless nights. I haven’t been tested but have been staying away from people since my doctor recommended I self-quarantine a few weeks ago.
I did everything right. Before traveling, I pumped myself full of vitamin C. I used essential oils and enzymes in all the doses that protected me before. I isolated myself—as much as possible—at the airports, and turned hand-sanitizing into a religion. I practically dared a bug to test my defenses, instilled by confidence from the past few years of travel without picking up so much as a sniffle. I thought I mastered the game.
Until March of 2020 knocked me off my pedestal.
It’s not the worst cold I’ve ever gotten. The Chiari pain is intense, but fleeting; something I can live with (for now). I was nearing the end of my employment in preparation for the birth of my son anyway, so leaving a week early didn’t destroy my best-laid-plans for a smooth exit. I’ve had the uncommon luxury of being able to take all the time I’ve needed to rest with little consequence. And I’m starting to feel better.
But I’m still responding to the world around me in fear.
Getting sick means more to me than the average person. Once a cold settles in my lungs, I’m in for weeks—if not months—of agonizing Chiari pain as the pressure from persistent coughing builds in my skull. I avoid sick people in the best of times. Now…being 8 months pregnant and having more than just my own health to care about, it’s my full-time job.
Threats abound. From the unexpected visitor, to the germs carried in on the groceries we need to live, to wondering when it will be safe to introduce family to my son when he’s born, I feel ill-equipped to do the right thing when I’m not even sure what the “right thing” is.
Thus, FEAR prevails. Maybe I chose the wrong time to analyze my motivations. After all, if I wasn’t afraid, I might fall short of protecting myself. I don’t get to pick and choose when to take the coronavirus seriously. Maybe that means I’m giving my power away (which essentially happens with all fear) to circumstances I can’t control. For now that’s OK.
Because I’m choosing to love myself and my little man enough to stand up for what we need to be safe.
Besides, shouldn’t we all be a little afraid right now?