I almost died before my life happened.

Somatic work changed my life and the way I relate to the world by providing relief and glimpses of regulation. Isabell Correa was my first somatic therapist, who explained that being stuck during birth imprints the narrative “I am going to die before my life happens.” That’s why we run around like maniacs until our 40s trying to make $hit happen. Unfortunately, I almost died. Sarah Farwell was my first craniosacral therapist who tractioned my skull, coupled with a lymphatic technique that released my spine, allowing fluid to rush out from my midline, filling my limbs. I cried as years of grief and dysfunction evaporated. Prolonged grief states can be traced back to prenatal trauma and ancestral inheritance. When you tie together prenatal issues with birth complications, you develop tight fascia and a psychology that oscillates through grief, some movement, lack of movement, and dread. What a dream life:)

Long-COVID wrecked and disabled me for 4 years; I lost two dogs, 3 family members, and identity/status as an online poker pro (my 1st career and love). Craniosacral therapy was a religious experience, and once I melted into the table, I could feel a cloud of energy about 6-8 inches thick surrounding my body, bathing me with a slight euphoric sensation on my skin. Think of a barely existent orb cloaking the body like a blanket of electricity that feels alive and restorative, while also restful. This was another data point showing me what I was capable of.

“The body, when fully accessed, has enough space for all of your experience past, present, and future.”

Embodiment and self-regulation are some of the strongest predictors of health and well-being. Trauma, especially from birth, can warp the fascia and bones, promoting constriction and restricting the flow of energy or fluid throughout the body. Family is the next most formative source of dysfunction. I am the identified patient in my family. My mind and body displayed the unresolved conflicts in the system, also predisposing me to chronic disease. So when my parents and grandmother started to die, old dynamics resurfaced with multiple siblings calling me to say it’s your fault that we’re all suffering. I kept long-COVID a secret for years, and when I mentioned that I was diagnosed with it and disability by a doctor, my brothers said, “You’re mentally ill, you’re sick, you should be psychologically medicated, and you are the reason Mom and Dad are declining.” I said “goodbye” and left the family. My parents also told relatives that I was the reason “everything went to sh!t.” My father, one month prior, who was a lifelong alcoholic, fell asleep at the wheel at 10 am and woke up on the sidewalk. My mother, who couldn’t even dress herself due to Parkinson’s, drove to help him change his tire and go to work. My brothers forced them into retirement and sold off their law firm. Once retired, my brothers told them that they were mentally ill, too. Where to begin? Venom, deceit, lack of boundaries or compassion? Apparently, the only two self-proclaimed healthy people in my family are the hedge fund guy siphoning money through shell companies for Caesar’s bankruptcy case, and a law firm partner writing wills for incarcerated ex-mafia bosses who killed their siblings.

The day I left the family, my health improved for the first time in four years.

Somatic work saved my life by showing me that I could be healthy, as with Isabell, Sarah, and later on, Rebecca, who was the best therapist I found. She praised me for navigating the $hitshow that was my pandemic, family, and career transition. Boundaries helped me understand myself. No matter how many times I checked into the ER for pinched nerves, slipped discs, near strokes, or the inability to walk, swallow, sleep, and remember my own name- fuck!ing terrifying, somewhere deep down I trusted my ability to feel into myself and regulate at some point daily, even if it was just for a blip before going to bed where I felt genuine love and belonging as I started pursuing craniosacral therapy. Five years later, I am back walking, writing, exercising, and enjoying my life.

These issues are prevalent across the population, causing health concerns when stuck for long enough: autoimmune, career, postpartum, friends, self-esteem, and chronic failed relationships all trace back to a stuck imprint from birth, prenatal trauma, and inherited trauma, coupled with family dynamics. The unconscious thread in the Cereste household is that if I die before my life happens (IE, I’m stuck in some regard: work, partner, other, and self), I refuse to take care of myself, as seen in my parents. The role of the identified patient is to be “sick,” so that others can stay alive. Because even if you received little to nothing in terms of relational support, as I did growing up, you still love your family, but may not be able to remain part of it. If you’re ever stuck in a deeper, darker spot than they told you would happen growing up in school:), using a checklist is the easiest way to regain traction and control. Look at work, relationships, yourself, and family/friends. Where do I struggle, and now take a boundary from the appropriate people. If the boundary is correct, something moves internally- likely grief, shame, guilt, or disgust. As you get traction in that area, you can revisit the boundary to decide whether or not to include that person again.

SOLITUDE

I chose to leave completely, an immensely painful decision, where the potential flip side is a relationship with your body where it feels good to be alone with everything, because there is space for enough of it in your blood, fascia, muscles, and bones. I recently wept when I saw an image of the Earth and whispered the word 'solitude' to myself with awe, realizing that I had made it out of that home alive and found a way to feel at peace with myself whenever I’m alone in nature. At one point, I felt like shame was mine to hold for life, and now nothing significant is mine, except space and ground.