Spiritual Detox: Letting Go of the Past

Spiritual Detox

I couldn’t sleep last night.

My mind was a jumble of emotionalfragments replaying the days events over and over in the calmness of insomnia

Yesterday, I cleaned out quite a bit of the physical remnants of my past.

That night as each old memory resurfaced shedding layer after layer of emotion, unearthing all that has been hiding. It was nothing I had considered but never the less it revealed itself.

The attic

The attic.

The bottomless pit inside my mind that hid within its shadows; those silent tentacles that slithered out of its darkness, encircling themselves around me gripping me firmly in the past.

I was about to experience a Spiritual Detox.

It was about 11:00am before I finally felt tired enough to fall asleep. I felt empty and a bit scared of what the effect of releasing so much emotional turmoil would be.

I never lived without the distorted comforts of my beliefs and letting go of so much in such a short amount of time left me feeling almost incomplete.
Fear may grow within the emptiness of uncertainty, investigate this site.

But so does my spirit.

But so does my spirit.

I fell asleep but not into the deep la-la fantasy of candy land dreams. Inside me the pieces of myself I had imprisoned within the deepest part of my being prepared themselves for the battle of my freedom. To confront the fat sloth of my ego which sat heavily upon my spirit munching away on a hot fudge sundae of my pain.

It was time for me to be released.
I had served my sentence.
I had willingly done my time and it was time for me to take my freedom back.

It seemed that I was awake but asleep, if that’s even possible. I was in the kitchen of my apartment and something kept playing tricks on me. The stove would go on without me turning it on. Things kept appearing and reappearing. It was just freaky.

When I awoke bits and pieces were still with me but mostly I didn’t remember what it was about. I couldn’t really make sense of the remnants that lingered, so into the kitchen I went to get a cup of coffee. As I’m standing there still half asleep I look at my stove and I remember the dream.

I remember how the stove was burning something and I now saw what it was. I looked around me and I saw it all. Every memory of every event I felt I was a victim of …

The metal divot on the stove from Mike, The first serious boyfriend I ever had who cheated on me again and again.

The vase from the apartment where I first stuck a needle in my arm.

The rug in my bedroom with the burn holes from nodding out.

The clothes from Will who had beaten, raped and imprisoned me for years.

The jewelry from Karl who treated me like a cheap porn star.

On and on the list went. It was all there with me now.

The self-deceit.
The lies.
The torture.
The insecurity.
The jealously.
The anger.
The resentment.
The self-pity.
The disillusion.
The disappointment.
The lost hopes of my dreams.

The absolute boiling hatred of myself that oozed out from these wounds infecting every action I displayed throughout my life.

I had voluntary carried it all with me never understanding or comprehending for a moment it all represented…


It was everything I never wanted my life to be and everything my life was.

I cried.

I cried for the burden of shame I silently carried into adulthood of the man who molested me.
I cried for the little girl that felt so ugly and unloved.
I cried for the girl I grew into who settled for the table leftovers of love tossed to me by men that I allowed to abused me.
I cried for the woman I became who was determined to destroy herself.

I’m crying as I write this, because I know I don’t have to keep this anymore. I don’t have to carry any of it. Every bit and piece of the pain is not a burden I choose to follow me into the future.

I’m free.

I choose me.