TW: Near-death experiences, trauma exposure, questionable parenting, sensitive stories about my family
When therapists have asked me, “Have you ever almost died?” I have to ask… “Which time?”. I believe in luck and magic mainly because, by all rights, I should be dead. So this is kind of a story about that. But also a story about overcoming our fears and living in our truths.
Lately, I’ve started a journey to do ice baths. There are a lot of reports of benefits, but the science is still a bit shaky. Lady Gaga says it helps her Fibromyalgia, and sometimes anecdotal evidence is also okay. Yesterday, I made it 10 minutes while up to my shoulders. When reflecting, there is just an immense pride that comes up in having set my mind to doing something and then doing it, but it didn’t happen overnight. These ten minutes are a culmination of close to ten years of internal work and healing.
When I was 16 years old, I got sick. I had what I thought was strep throat. I woke up feeling like death, so I sat at the computer to play video games, and I could tell something was wrong. I couldn’t eat, I couldn’t drink, I was shivering, and my mind wasn’t working right. At this point, I begged my dad to take me to the doctor. When he said no, I called my mom to get me, but she was hours away, and there was no way she could make it. She was caring for an elderly woman then and could not leave her alone or bring her. She tried to convince him to take me to the doctor.
For those worried, she did come to pick me up first thing the following morning and took me to a doctor, at which point I received antibiotics.
Things start to get a bit hazy from there. I was shaking so bad I thought, okay, I need to take control. What can I do to help myself? Call 911. Call grandma? Then, I remember when I had high fevers as a kid, my dad stuck me in cold baths, sometimes with ice.
So, I decided this was what I needed to do to ensure I made it through the night. As the tub was filling, I was shaking. My teeth were chattering so hard my jaw hurt. My skin was red hot, and the hairs stood up all over. I remember so many little details, yet so many significant details illude me. I know that I attempted to take my temperature. I was shaking so hard I couldn’t keep the damn thing in my mouth. When I finally gave up on the thermometer, it read 104.9. Something inside me KNEW with certainty that if I didn’t get in that bath, I would die. That my brain was melting and that I would not make it much longer. I don’t know how true that was, there was also an element of deep fear and abandonment that I can now recognize for what it was. So, at 16 years old…. that’s what I did. I filled the tub with cold water, and shaking and crying and desperate to save my own life, I got in. Until last week… that was the last time I ever got in cold water.
I had lots of excuses. My ankle hurt, the screws were bothered by it. Nah, I just didn’t like swimming anymore. I didn’t like when my friends dunked me, so I used friends being shitheads as an excuse plenty of times too. I used to be a water baby, but… not anymore. I wanted to be a mermaid…. but I cut off my tail, and I left it in that frigid tub. Using excuses to bypass this core abandonment wound.
Just a few years before this incident, I remember sitting with my Uncle Rick. Well, he was sitting, and I was swimming. The pool was 60 degrees, but by God, I was getting in, and he was the only adult willing to sit outside and watch me freeze my butt off. He would talk about taking Ice baths in Alaska. He was a bullshitter, so I never knew what was true, but I loved his stories.
Then, that part got locked in a box. It was hard for even me to articulate because, at 16, I simply didn’t have the words to understand that what I went through was an extremely traumatic experience. Many of my experiences were like this growing up. I didn’t understand that they were not “normal” until I was an adult and began telling my story. To be perfectly honest, I had mostly forgotten about this incident by this point in my life.
The second my foot hit that ice water the first time. I remembered. With absolute clarity, I remembered. That’s when I knew that this was so much more than just “taking an ice bath”. This was so much more than just getting some muscle recovery. This was about taking back my story. Saying I’m a fucking survivor, hear me roar. Is it sad that at 16, I had to be my savior? Of course. It is tragic that I would have to stand up for myself and save my life this way. And.. it’s also a big part of who I am today. My therapist even said she had tried ice baths, which weren’t for her. She mentioned how hard it is to make your body do something against its will. It made me reflect on why I can do this when someone as resourced as my therapist felt it was outside of their capabilities. I know that I am not built differently than anyone else. I can’t do this because I’m better, stronger, faster in any way. If anything, I can do it because of how broken I am. I was. I will be. We have to break before we can put ourselves together again. We have to fall apart before we can build ourselves back up. We have to look back before we can move forward.
When I stepped foot into the ice bath for the first time, I experienced an almost re-traumatization. I think this is also something we have to be very careful about when doing our healing work. Before stepping into these types of extremes, it is essential to be fully resourced. So what did I do? How did I respond when this part of me brutally broke back into my psyche? I loved it. I loved her. With my feet standing in ice water, I closed my eyes, and I loved her. In my mind’s eye…
I busted into the bathroom door. I looked at her/me with every bit of love I felt for the absolute BAD ASSERY of what, at 16, that little girl had the capability of doing to save herself. As the thermometer fell from her hand, I took hold of it. I climbed into that bathtub with her/me, and I laid on top of her/me, and I held her to me. Because she was never alone, she always had me. The warrior. The survivor at her side. I held her as I dipped my body deeper into the water, and I asked her if she could just let me hold her and relax around the pain. Relax into me, and let me take the reigns because she was so tired. Tired of trying to protect me? Tired of being alone. Tired of feeling like she had to do everything herself. So I held her, and I let her rest in, knowing that I’ve got this. I’ve got us. I will not abandon her. I will not abandon myself.
Each day, it gets a bit easier. The ice baths are helping to reduce my pain and also helping me to build tolerance for the stresses in my life. Thanks for coming on this adventure with me and as my Uncle Rick used to say, “See ya on down the trail.”.
Much love.
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