What's buggin' you?

This past week, I have been covered in a rash--an extreme reaction to something that didn't agree with me that required medical attention.  Doing my best to spare you the T.M.I. details, it has been no fun to be covered in a crimson, splotchy rash that itches and burns and had me swollen into a red version of the Elephant Man (girl).

Ewww.  Now add to that, a few bug bites -- to which I am also allergic or have strong reaction to--that has really gotten my attention.

I'm forced to ask myself: What's eating me? What's buggin' me?  Because I am clearly manifesting something rash on the outer to match the inner. We are not amused.

On the tail end of this outbreak, as I am starting to heal, I managed to become a target for a few other random insect bites.  Since my body was already in a state of rash vulnerability, I guess I was quite the taste treat.

Late last night while working at my office, I swatted away a few flying insects paying little heed.
Then I saw one land on the stack of papers next to me.  It was... a mosquito.
I gulped, my pulse raced and my mind scurried with thoughts of what to do. Kill it or be eaten.
I sat there motionless.  I stared at this bug for several minutes as it stayed still on the paper as we seemed to share an unspoken communication.  I knew that I stood the chance that this mosquito would bite me and send me into another round of redness, itchy discomfort and topical medicine.  And yet, how could I so blithely consider killing it when all it wants to do is to live to its fullest expression?

Of course, I have killed insects before. Usually, I try to escort the insects outside or find alternative ways of removing them before resorting to drastic action. And yes, I always say a quick prayer for their next incarnation before the final blow.  And yes, I have not always been a vegetarian and eaten food that had to be, well, killed before I could have my meals.  But there have also been times when I have faced my fellow creatures and remembered that we share this Life together and could not be the one who  sent them to their proverbial maker.

The mosquito flew away once I realized I could not kill it.  And yes, it did bite me. Thrice.

This reminded me of an old parable (with variations often attributed to Aesop):

The Scorpion and the Frog is a fable about a scorpion asking a frog to carry him across a river. The frog is afraid of being stung during the trip, but the scorpion argues that if it stung the frog, the frog would sink and the scorpion would drown. The frog agrees and begins carrying the scorpion, but midway across the river the scorpion does indeed sting the frog, dooming them both. When asked why, the scorpion points out that this is its nature. The fable is used to illustrate the position that the behaviour of some creatures is irrepressible, no matter how they are treated and no matter what the consequences.  (source: Wikipedia)

The mosquito did what is wired to do to survive but I didn't.  Even as I sit here in my calamine desire, I cannot truly attest as to why I did not kill the mosquito last night.  Was it to make up for the numerous random and unconscious exterminations that I have done before?  Was my Pollyanna awake and believing that the mosquito heard my plea to not bite me and I would not kill it? I don't think I actually wanted to have yet another red welt on my body requiring topical treatment.

This mental roundabout requires I return to the inner question of what's bugging me?  Is there an internal irritant that is showing up in rash displays of discomfort?  The answer is yes.

I can say that recent weeks of awareness, contemplation and into transformation, I have uncovered pockets of distress and woundedness that are coming forward to be healed. At the risk of sounding oh so New-Agey, since my birthday in August, I have been on an upward spiral of returning to my authentic self in spite of and despite of how others perceive or expect me to show up in the world.

The more I began to honor my needs, my desires and my feelings, the more the people around began to act out.  We humans are more like cats than we realize --we don't like changes in the way we live or the people with whom we share our environment.  When someone else's world get rocked by another person changing their patterns or behaviors, well, then everything gets put under a human magnifying glass that is then held under the bright sun of scrutiny often causing a burn or rash to whatever was being observed.

Or when a few other circumstances flared up (notice my choice of words) I heard myself respond with "Don't worry I won't do anything drastic or rash."  Did I really say that? Yes and I was eavesdropping long enough to pay attention.

Whether I like it or not, I don't have a good poker face so to speak and I reflect and outpicture what is going on inside me or around me.  I have been called "a delicate flower" and "thin-skinned" which is why I have such a reaction to the environment.  I guess that is a fairly accurate assessment in some ways.  However, the positive side to all this is that my body reacting as it does is sure a good barometer that I have not been paying attention to something bothering  (bugging) me.

To assist the healing of the body symptoms, I have begun an internal balm of prayer and self compatience.  I am forced to now deal with the irritants that I have been ignoring so that I can really move forward with strength and ease and comfort to making some much needed changes in my life and my work.

So, if you've read this far, I gotta ask . . .

What's buggin' you?


Mel said…
Loving you today, dear Duchess. I support your impeccable self care.

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