Last night after I posted the blog and as I crawled into bed, I was dead tired. My neck, back, and shoulders ached. I am so over this shit, I thought. Ready to pass out. But then I started thinking about myofascial release and about how almost four years ago I saw a rolfing therapist (rolfing is a form of bodywork that also works with fascia) who did a release on my sinuses by sticking his finger up my nose. (No kidding. I tell the entire story in a live video here.) Well, you guessed it. Lying in bed, I stuck my pinky on the inside of my nostril (first one, then the other) and applied gentle pressure until I felt any tension relax. And whereas I know this sounds odd, oh my god, y’all, I could feel the release into my neck and shoulders, into this knot that’s been there, I don’t know, over two years now. Seriously, just like that, it unraveled, like, thirty percent.

The idea behind working with your fascia is that everything in your body is connected. The way a spider web or sweater is. All knitted together. This is why especially by working with your internal fascia (by entering through an orifice, if you must know), you can affect changes throughout your entire body. In terms of my sinuses, I imagine they affected my neck because 1) things got “cinched down” through years of stopping tears, 2) things got “crunched up” due to any number of car accidents, or 3) things constricted when I had my sinus surgery. This last possible explanation is apparently a common occurrence, since surgeries actually cut the fascia, thus causing scarring and bunching. Think of the way your clothes are never the same after they’re mended or sewn back together. There’s always a pull somewhere.

What I’m learning, however, is that, with a little help, the body can repair itself, stretch itself back out or whatever needs to be done. If you’ve never had myofascial release or felt something let go and reverberate throughout your body, think of what happens when kids scrunch up the paper wrapper that goes around a straw. That’s the constriction. Then think of what happens when they drop some water on the scrunched-up paper. Like magic, it unfurls. That’s the release.

Tonight’s blog is #1090 in a row and begins my final week of this three-year-long project. Said another way, one week from tonight I’ll be done. Scratching my head. Probably writing to myself, What do I do now? But not posting it. Regardless, this is my last Tuesday post.

Wow.

Recently a dear friend asked, “What are you stopping the blog?” Hum. That’s a good question. My answer being, “In short, I’m tired.” Meaning this entire thing really has taken a lot out of me. Granted, it’s given so much more, but there’s still been The Taking. Of my time. Of my creative resources. Of my emotions. God, I’m surprised my keyboard hasn’t shorted out from all the tears. Suffice it to say it’s been exhausting, and Daddy needs a break. More than this, however, it’s simply time. That is, a little over three years ago I “just knew” I needed to start this thing, at some point I “just knew” it needed to last three years, and now I “just know” it’s time to stop. Everyone knows when a good meal, however delightful, is over, and, well, this one is. It’s time for me to go home now.

The thing being, of course, that this blog has brought me home. To myself. That’s the way I see it. That for years, decades, I was wandering about the world not really knowing who I was, what I was about, or what I was capable of. Then my ex acted like a total shit (seriously, he was fabulous at being an ass), and I started therapy (six years ago today, in fact). Not that one ever knows when their journey begins (I think we’re on it from our first breath, if not before), but that’s when mine began. Then this blog came along and really kicked it into high gear. If therapy was like getting a bachelor’s degree in understanding myself and my emotions, this blog has been like getting a master’s. Or even a doctorate.

Well, sooner or later, everyone graduates.

I just said that my journey began when I started therapy, but it would be more accurate to say that my dark night of the soul began when I started therapy. The dark night of the soul (or dark night of the ego, as Robert Ohotto calls it) simply being a technical undoing of the major patterns in one’s life that no longer serve them. Caroline Myss says that when we ask ourselves, “Why was I born, why was I given life?” that’s really not a question. “It’s a prayer,” she says. “To God. Who else do you think is qualified to answer such a thing?” Well, apparently this is a dangerous prayer to pray, since, according to Myss, when you ask it you’re in effect saying, “Show me why my soul chose to come here,” the answer to which, by necessity, involves a stripping away of all the strategies, beliefs, and systems you’ve come up with during the course of your life that are NOT in alignment with your soul’s calling.

Enter the dark night.

As I’ve experienced it over the last many years, the dark night mostly sucks. Which is why for the longest time I’ve said that I don’t recommend this path (even though I do). Because it’s painful. You lose your shit (or at least you lose your attachment to it), you lose your friends (or at least the ones that aren’t a good fit anymore), and you damn near lose your mind (the divine has this effect on a person). Part of the reason being, according to Ohotto, that the dark night is a holding pattern, meaning that you feel and are powerless. This is why I’ve said over and over again that I’ve tried, tried, tried everything under the sun to heal, grow, and be successful but have again and again come up with peanuts. As it turns out, this has been by design, on purpose. Meaning that I needed to spin my wheels in order to let my old ways, my old life, peter out. “The divine can’t let you experience what you want during the dark night,” Ohotto says, “because you’d just go back to doing things the way you did them before.”

And that way clearly wasn’t working.

According to both Myss and Ohotto, our entire world has, thanks to COVID-19, recently and collectively entered the dark night process. Meaning that, from a technical standpoint, a number of things haven’t been working for a while now and need to be deactivated. Of course, this sounds good if you say it fast, but expect (even more) weeping and gnashing of teeth. Expect your old life to be gone in the blink of an eye (sorry, bye bye now), and expect to feel and be powerless. Expect the whole thing to suck.

The good news, however, is that all dark nights come to an end. Sometimes after months, sometimes after years, but they do eventually move on. What’s left on the other side? Something better, something more in alignment with your soul, the soul of humanity, and with God. Feeling like I’m on the tail end of my personal dark night, I’m experiencing not only more joy and inner peace, but also more power. Or agency. That is, whereas for years I’ve felt like I was getting nowhere, lately I’ve been feeling like I’m getting somewhere, everywhere. Largely thanks to a number of different therapies and medical techniques I’ve been trying, I’m actually starting to believe, “Wait a damn minute, I can heal. I can be successful. I can really do something with this life I’ve been given.”

With the holding pattern/powerless idea in mind, I’m honestly not sure that the specific therapies and techniques I’ve been using matter. I’ve talked about and love them, of course–upper cervical care, EMDR, myofascial release–but apparently this whole thing has been a divine setup from the beginning. Meaning that when you’re in the dark night, nothing you do will work. Because you’ve got to learn to surrender. And not take credit for everything. Because life can get more done with you when you’re humble. Then, after you’ve gone through hell and have risen from the ashes, things will start working again. So sure, I’m getting a lot of mileage from putting my finger up my nose, but perhaps if I’d stumbled across yoga now instead of five years ago, I’d be in child’s pose instead of child’s nose. So take this to heart if you’re spinning your wheels. Maybe it’s not about you and what you’re doing. Maybe it’s about timing.

Getting back to why I’m ending this blog, I honestly think it’s because long, long ago (in a galaxy far, far away), I signed up to spend three years going through and talking daily about the dark night (but not necessarily what comes after it). In order to help myself heal, sure, but also to help others heal. So that we could all believe a little more, or maybe a lot more, not only that things get better, but also that we get better–together. Because no one is alone here. This is my encouragement to anyone, whether you’re going through a transition/transformation individually, collectively, or both. Hang in there. This process will, by definition, take something from you. (And that will suck.) Everything comes with a price. But you’ll be better, more beautiful, more content, more confident, and more you on the other side. (And this will be more lovely than you can imagine.) This is The Giving.