Get Back UP


I wrote about inspiration a week ago, and boy did I need to find some.  I don’t normally like to say this, but it’s been a bad couple weeks.  Everything’s relative I guess, no one died, I didn’t find out someone’s deathly ill, but everything just went to blah.  The weather was dreary and wet, and I was hurting on multiple levels.  Even my favorite songs couldn’t lift me up; I needed to dig deeper.


It started with slamming my hand in the car door.  BAM!  Great, now I can’t write.  So while blog posts, and plot twists and new stories swirled and jumbled in my head, I couldn’t get them out.  Frustrating!  The pre-holiday rush at work slowed after the New Year started, and then a massive snowstorm took even more hours away from the paycheck that covers the mortgage.  That’s why there’s a savings account, right?  But it still makes me sweat.


Friday, February 3rd would have been Dad’s 79th birthday.  He died on May 1st 2010 after a long, slow and painful slide downward.  It was the kind of disease progression that makes you long for the person to die and end the suffering.  And then you feel like a horrible daughter.  You might think that being a mediumistic psychopomp, and able to talk to the dead would give some relief from the grief and sense of loss that his absence makes, but no, it doesn’t.  Even though I know that Dad’s spirit is alive and well, I miss being able to hug him, and hear his voice.  I broke down again last night, while Hub held me close; the void that was Dad’s place in this world still hurting because I couldn’t call and wish him Happy Birthday.


It gets better, it gets easier, but sometimes, I just have to cry it out.


Then, a miracle happened.


I was starting to seriously consider seeing a doctor to fix my hand.  A hard lump that ice and ibuprofen had no effect on, pain, and that whole not able to write thing, had me on the edge of freaking out.  Oh my god!  What if I can’t write anymore?  Yeah, I know, hyperbole, but when you’re having this conversation inside your head, things always seem horribly final.  When I poked and prodded at my hand, testing range of motion and pain, I thought it possible I’d dislocated something, but wanted to give it a little more time.


Enter my friend K.  K is a powerful woman in all respects, a businesswoman, singer extraordinaire, and amazing friend.  She grabs my hand, all unknowing of my injury, and squeezes, doubling me over.


“Oh my god, what’s wrong, what did I do?”  She was instantly concerned, so I told her what had happened and tried to reassure her.  “You didn’t know; it’s okay.”  I said while trying to calm the waves of pain flowing up my arm.


“No, no, no!”  She was insistent.  “I do that!  Why do I always do that?  I seem to have this sense that knows wherever someone is hurt and I grab it.  Why is that?”


“You’re a healer, so you’re drawn to where people hurt.”  The words popped out of my mouth before I could stop them.  K was pleased, like the concept hadn’t occurred to her before.  “Do you really think so?”  I nodded, shaking and flexing my hand, which was no longer throbbing, and we moved on to other topics.


Later that night, I ran my thumb over my injury and did not feel the large lump that had been there.  Really?  It can’t be that easy.  It was.  The lump was negligible, the pain almost nonexistent, and…I could write again!  I had to tell K she had fixed my hand, and she was thrilled.  Hmmm.  Will have to check and see if she’d like a Reiki I attunement…


These weeks have been a great reminder that life is a rollercoaster, not a flat track.  Exhilarating, funny, and wonderful, but also scary, sad and painful.  I had to remind myself that when the coaster takes you down on a plunge, there will be an upswing on the other side.  But you may have to get up and go looking for it.  Don’t try and deny or repress the sad, it will only eat you up from the inside.  Get it out, let it go, however or whatever that process is for you, and you’ll find the courage to pick up and keep going.  Remember also to be kind to yourself.  There is no time limit on grieving or healing, it is it’s own process, and it’s yours alone.  Take it, own it, and learn from it.


Today is a beautiful sunny day.  I’m writing, I have my home, my family, and life is good.  I hope that you are all doing well.  Drop me a line and tell me about it!


Pictures taken by and under copyright to me.  Please ask permission before use.  Thank you!

Serena Dracis, Author

I'm a lot of things. A Reiki Master-Teacher, a psychopomp, a medium. Once I was a trainer of exotic animals, once I worked in hospitals. Now I'm a writer. I write about the paranormal, the weird, the fringes. I write non-fiction and fiction, sharing my own life experiences as well as creating new worlds. Come in and explore!

This Post Has 23 Comments

  1. susielindau

    Your friend’s healing touch gave me shivers! So very cool that you recognized it right away!
    Great post!

  2. Lisa Hall-Wilson

    Life is good today for me too. Very inspirational words about healing. Thanks for sharing. Glad you’re on the upswing.

  3. deborahjhughes

    Glad things are looking up! Very cool story about your healer friend! She should check into that, see if she can develop her gift consciously. Sorry about your dad, you never stop missing those you love. My grandparents died over 30 years ago and I still miss them very much. It’s easier to deal with but it doesn’t make me stop missing them. I do get little signs from them every now and then to let me know they aren’t really gone. Glad the hand is better! Thanks for sharing your inspirational story. Blessings.

    1. That’s so cool your grandparents give you little reminders. Dad does too. 🙂

  4. rachelfunkheller

    Great post. I’ve been helped by some wonderful Reiki masters over the years, it really is a marvelous technique. And think of it this way, maybe your hand needed to be given a good shock, so now the writing may be different, let us know how it turns out.

    1. I hadn’t considered that aspect. I’ll have to pay attention and see if that’s so. Thanks Rachel!

  5. Rory Green

    Hi Serena – i really enjoyed reading this post and can relate! I thought of this post that I recently wrote and wanted to share it with you.
    It helps knowing that we are all in this together… connected in ways beyond our imagining. I will continue to stop by!

  6. Louise Behiel

    so glad you’re able to write again. Healers work in some strange ways and your friend is obviously one of the best.

    1. She’s truly wonderful! It’s a relief to be able to write again. Thank you Louise for reading!

  7. Pat O'Dea Rosen

    You had an awful three weeks, and I’m glad they’re over. Maybe we’ll see a future blog post about your friend and her reaction to learning she’s a healer.

  8. Coleen Patrick

    An inspiration and healing story–thanks for sharing Serena!!

  9. Emma

    Hi Serena, that was a lovely post, so glad I had a chance to read it. Ireland is really beautiful right now in this cold weather so life is good. Who knows? Maybe we’ll even get some snow.

    1. Have never been to Ireland, but it is on my list of places to visit. Sounds gorgeous, hope you got snow. 🙂

  10. Molly Pendlebury

    Yay Serena!!! Way to find your way back girl!! My heart breaks for your hurt and rejoices in your upswing. Totally awesome that your friend has that kind of intuitive healing energy/practice. Your post gives me hope that when I’m on the nasty plunge down on my roller coaster that the upswing is ahead even if I have to flinstone my car to get there faster.

    1. Thanks, Molly! So happy to hear you enjoyed my post, and glad it gave you hope. “Flintstone my car” is great, I love that!

  11. Unbelievable, Serena! I have chills. Thanks so much for sharing this. Thank goodness your pain is gone and your writing can continue to inspire us.

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