Lessons From The Heart: Could Today Be My Last?

It’s happened before. But this time…this time was different. This time I truly faced my mortality. The reality that my body, this flesh shell that I live inside, is fleeting, disposable, perishable and is subject to weakness. When the body seems to “fail” us, we realize that the power we think we have over life and its circumstances is a persistently convincingly lie.

As I laid on a bed in the ER on Sunday night, tears kept streaming down my face. I’ve been in this very position a half dozen times, but my heart hadn’t done this in almost 3 years. I thought it would never happen again. I thought I had “mastered” it. The last time I experienced atrial fibrillation with rapid heart rate I converted it at home on my own. Now I was again at the mercy of doctors and procedures and my anxiety was mounting. I just wanted it to stop.

Being present was challenging. I attempted to practice deep breathing, but it was labored and my body felt strange and weak. I was angry. The doctor’s very serious speech about the risk of stroke propelled me into the future with the thought, “What if I die today?”

As the nurse was preparing me for electrical cardioversion, I texted my children to tell them I love them, one more time, just in case. Creepy, perhaps. But the possibility of never being able to send a text to them again made it essential.

Long story short, I’m still here. For whatever reason, I am. There is still work to be done. That brings me to today.

After spending the past three days in a depressive, grieving state…my body feeling worn out and sore, with the lines of “burns” on my breast where the electrical pad stuck to me, I am feeling a bit more alive. I’ve thought a lot about what it would look like if I wasn’t here this week. I’ve also considered what it means to be alive this week.

There are challenges in my life that seem monumental, at times unbearable, and the memory of lying there in that hospital bed brings up an intense feeling of aloneness. In a way, it would be simpler if I was dead. On one hand, I wouldn’t have to deal with any of it anymore. On another, I wouldn’t have the opportunity to face my fears and disappointments, to learn and grow from them. (I say that halfheartedly because I’m not 100% there yet) What I know for sure is that there is purpose in all of this, and I am opening to it.

I am currently creating a new life coaching business. The process seems painstakingly slow. It has taken me a long time to get to this place in my life, and sometimes I am impatient. (That may be an understatement…) I want the knowledge now, the wisdom now, to help people now, to make a difference NOW. Still, life happens, and I move at the pace that I move. Things unfold as they do, in their own time. This “hiccup” with my heart is just another piece of that.

I have also been called (for months now) to discontinue doing the only other income producing activity that I’ve been doing: Uber. I’ve felt it in every pore, every cell of my being…”No more.” It drains my energy, takes away my quality sleep time and my weekend freedom. Yet I’ve continued to do it from the fear of not being able to pay my bills. Until Sunday. I was Ubering when my heart went into a-fib. I was even having a good run, driving friendly people and making good money. Then the body said, “No more,” and it made sure I was done. Now I’m staring down the decision to never get in my car again with the Uber placard out. That next week my income from Uber will be zero. Zero. This creates a lot of fear and extremely unpleasant thoughts. It’s terrifying really.

The past few months I have been intentionally practicing living with an open heart. I am also in the process of changing my surname…to Heart. It is no accident that the heart in my chest is trying to get my attention. Of course, there are no accidents. I have been sitting in prayer and meditation frequently for several weeks. Messages about surrendering, resting, and staying on the path have come up over and over. I feel as though I am being called to put on some cape of supernatural faith and jump from a super tall building, with the hope that I will fly. It sounds ridiculous. Why in the world would I do that? Yet the idea of walking back away from the ledge, choosing something “safe”, not taking that leap, makes me want to crawl into a hole and die. I must move forward. Only forward. It’s not even an option not to anymore.

So while I scramble to find “side work”, I am preparing to officially launch my new life coaching business as Becky Heart. My website still needs work. I am slowly creating offerings and flubbing along figuring things out. I believe wholeheartedly in the work that I am doing. It is life changing. I am coaching people using gentle yoga, while on hikes, and during snuggle sessions. While there are a few others practicing yoga coaching, hike coaching and snuggle coaching are concepts I created through my training and understanding of the wisdom of the body and how safe, physical, non-sexual touch is vital to our well-being. It is my intention to put this work out into the world with as much love and care as I can. I would be honored to have the support of my friends and family to spread the word about what I’m offering.

Today I am just beginning to accept that things will never be the same. There are forces moving with or without my permission that promise to bring great change. I must be willing to move with them. I believe there are many other people who are being called to shift in this way. Join me if you dare with the following promise:

I commit to trusting (deep breaths here), and releasing control over life and its circumstances (as if I could control them) to God or Higher Source. I will honor the body and its intuition, remembering to check in regularly, in order to stay on course. My work is to spread love and light in this world without attachment to how it’s received by others. Even though I will make mistakes, I hold the intention to always be the best version of myself.

We never know when our time will be up. Life is brief. Take inventory with me. How do you want to be remembered? What will you leave behind? With every moment and every decision, that question hangs in the air. It is the question of today.