I’ve been struggling recently with my nemesis, fear — and its antidote, trust. After a “series of unfortunate events” several years ago, beginning with being a passenger in a tragic car accident, I learned first-hand how PTSD can mess with the mind, and although I had treatment, it still periodically rears its ugly head. Being intuitive and empathic can make it even more challenging. I am the kind of empath who can take on (usually without realizing it) the suppressed emotions of others, and I recently had a client who suffers from PTSD. My empathic tendency apparently kicked in when I worked with the client and, without my realizing it, locked onto a fear of mine that was being pulled into the light for me to face, resulting in my own PTSD being triggered.
Thankfully, between the methods I have learned for dealing with out-of-control emotions (prayer being among those methods) and the wonderful, supportive people in my life, I was able to get back to “normal” within a few days. As I processed what had triggered the PTSD, I realized that I was experiencing another lesson on trusting Source. Trust is the BIG lesson that I’ve been working on for some time now. With that realization, I saw how recent events fit together and, especially, how I had drawn to myself — only in my mind this time, thank God — that which I most feared. I say “this time” because I have previously manifested physical, albeit minor, versions of something big I was fearing.
The Universe being what it is, it provided me with wonderful and humorous synchronicity. One evening I heard on TV numerous versions of the word expressing what the PTSD had conjured in my mind, the thing I had decided I should be afraid of, and not something I would normally hear on the TV four or five times in one evening. Two evenings later, the word I kept hearing was “trust.” And then, a few days later, it was once again my horse, Morning Star, who provided me with a lesson, this time through a humorous demonstration.
I had taken Star out to do some grazing, and then into the indoor arena for a while. As I led him back out of the arena, he saw a lush patch of grass and headed for it, not noticing the huge mud puddle next to it. Having spent his early years living on dry prairie land, Star finds water frightening if he can’t see through it, in spite of my efforts to get him over his fear. I can only assume that a reflection in the puddle caught his eye when he put his head down to graze because suddenly he spooked. I tried to calm and reassure him, getting him to try once more to go for that tasty grass, but again he spooked, dancing a circle around me — right into the puddle! I couldn’t help but laugh at the irony of his fear taking him smack into the thing he feared. It took another day or two for me to see how what he had done was exactly what I had done with my fears. And in both of our cases, that whole dance into the very thing we were fearing could have been avoided if we had simply trusted right from the start.