A Narrative on Care
This past New Years Eve, our neighbors decided to light off fireworks. I get it… bang that 2020 outta here! But these were very big, very loud, very close fireworks. They began at 9pm. Every hour, until midnight. My son, Leonidas is terrified of fireworks. It took him two months, following the last 4th of July, to stop talking about the fireworks and how they made him feel nervous. As soon as I heard the first one, my heart jumped, then my stomach sank… I knew it was going to be a long night.
My partner, Blake, went with Leonidas into our room and created a “container.” He lit candles, played relaxing music through the speakers, burnt sage, and layed out all our soft blankets & pillows on the floor. Blake prayed with Leonidas, to Creator, to protect that space, and keep a safe and calm energy inside, no matter what was going on outside.
After getting ready for bed, I join them in the bedroom. Leo had fallen asleep. I curl up beside him, on the floor. A firework goes off. His entire body jumps, he gasps and his eyes open wide. “I’m here, love,” I whisper. “You are safe. I got you.” He lies still, with eyes open. Another firework. Another full body gasp. “I got you.” I snuggle him close. I slow my breathing, encouraging him to slow his. He takes a deep breath. And another. Silence. Soon, he is asleep. I daze into a light, dream filled slumber.
Bang! We both suddenly awaken, our bodies tense. Leo lets out a quiet cry and quickly curls into me. He is trembling. Breath is shallow and quick. I realize mine is, too. My heart is beating quickly. Another firework goes off. Leo is sweating and continues to tremble. He feels so small and vulnerable in my arms. If I could hold him closer, I would have. “You are safe, my love. I got you. I’m right here.” Another bang. I look at him, his eyes locking into mine. “These are so loud. I’m so glad we are safe and cozy in here.” He nods. We chat some more. I reassure him. It quiets down again. Even after that, it takes him a while to calm down enough to doze back to sleep, but eventually he does.
BANG! We both startle awake, both incredibly tired. BANG! It is midnight. There are many... I’m too tired to do much. I simply begin to observe. Bang! “Oh, there’s another one.” Bang! “Oh, there’s another one.” I start to notice something interesting. When the bang goes off, before my brain can register what happened, in order to narrate another firework, my body, or more specifically my heart, feels it first. My heart receives that information that a firework has gone off, and then sends that signal to my brain. I knew this pathway, in theory. I just taught about it in my recent heart class. The heart sends more signals to the brain than the brain sends to the heart. When studying intuition, it was found that the first organ to receive information isn’t the brain, but the heart, as well as the gut. Our 3 brains - the head, the heart & the gut. Just like with the first firework of that evening, my heart jumped, my stomach sank, and finally my brain concluded, “Well, this isn’t good.”
The fireworks eventually stop. Silence. We blow out the candles and go to bed. Leonidas lies in between Blake and I. He is awake, terrified, still slightly trembling, his body anticipating another firework going off. His poor nervous system. My poor nervous system. I reassure him, again, that he is safe. I think he deeply believes that. During that entire night, he never cried. For some reason, it moves me. It feels as if, despite being scared, he trusted that he was safe and felt cared for.
It had been a long night, but finally, we were able to get some rest. The next day was spent in care and recovery. I was exhausted. My mind & body were tired. Coffee was my best friend. We did not create much for expectations of the day. We went slow. Leonidas talked about and process fireworks a lot that day. He also clung extra near to me. I embraced it. We read books, played with play dough, colored in his notebook.
Usually, I like to do a special outdoor adventure to bring in the new year - a run, cross country ski, or polar plunge. Doing something like that on this new year felt impossible to me. I had mentioned a polar plunge the day before. Apparently, Blake remembered, and was not just talking about going, but about where we were going to plunge. “Oh goodness,” I thought. “Blake thinks this is happening.” Rather than protesting, I decided to simply wait it out. With the days getting dark at 4pm, I did not think there was much of chance of going the later it got. "Maybe if I just wait it out, it will pass..." It didn't.
The morning went on. I put Leo down for his nap. He had a hard time falling asleep, and kept sharing with me that he was feeling nervous. He did eventually fall asleep. Shortly after he wakes up from his nap, Blake goes about “getting ready.” I feel slightly paralyzed. I just can’t imagine jumping into cold water on a cold, dark, rainy day, or even tagging along. I consider staying home, parking myself on the couch, much like I had been doing all day. I even tell Blake that is my plan. But then, something inside begins to tug at me. It is small at first. I recognize it. This feeling. This little voice. I call her my “inner girl.” “Go”, she implores, “play!” I start to imagine… My adult self agrees, “You know this would be good for you.” With some further consideration, I agree. I slowly climb the stairs to get ready. I ask my inner girl which suit she wants to wear. “Duh!” she says, “the shiny gold one.” Okay. I put on the shiny gold one. I’m feeling more ready. I generously bundle up over it, grab towels, some tea and we head out.
We arrive at the Lake Samish Regional Park. In the parking lot, there is a group of 5 other polar plungers, hanging out in suits, towels, boots and hot chocolate. We greet them, or, rather, our ambassador doodle, Mali greets them. There is a path that follows the lake shore, through the forest. We head towards it. We find a spot where several large, flat rocks lead to the water’s edge. It is deep below. This is the place. I decide am not jumping in. I want to lower myself into the water. Be gentle about it. A negotiation. We set our towels down. Leo is amused. He will not be plunging, but rather, smile mischievously as he watches his crazy parents. I know I cannot drag my feet with an endeavor such as this. The more I think about it, the more I hesitate and think twice. Nope. I am not creating space for that. I strip down to my shiny gold suit, walk to the water’s edge, squat down, placing my hands on the cold rock, and lower my body into the very cold water. I pop quickly out of the water with one gasp. The difference between today’s gasp and last night’s gasp is that one was out of my control and one was intentionally chosen by me. One jolts my nervous system, one trains my nervous system how to be more resilient. Jumping into cold water is a stressor to the body. So is exercise, yoga, hot therapies, and even certain herbs. These little stressors nudge our bodies to respond to stress, adapt and get stronger and healthier in the process. It creates an opportunity to recover from the stressor in a safe & intentional way. The more our bodies are able to adapt to stressors in our life, the healthier we are. It is resilience. Freedom.
Though that plunge wakes me up, I notice I am feeling slightly unsatisfied. I did not get my head wet. I usually do, but hesitated too long on that first plunge and bounced back out before I could. I watch Blake dip their entire body and head into the water. I sigh. "Okay, one more, then I'm done!" I think to myself. I put my towel down, do a few Wim Hoff breathing techniques & movements, return back to the water’s edge, dip myself back into that cold ass water, this time, submerging my body and head into the water. “Woooo!!!!” I shriek when my head pops up. I get out quickly. Now, I am done. I feel alive, rejuvenated, baptized even, as I take a look at the beauty around us. I say a prayer of gratitude, "Thank you, Mother Nature, for your healing. Thank you, Water, for your medicine. I promise to tend to and care for you as you do for I. As I do for my son during a firework show."
In tender care,
Dr. Sarah Sue
*photo credit - The Happy Film Company