The journey of the unknown, the scary, the seemingly unbearable began the moment I got the call that Mum had terminal pancreatic cancer.
I reeled in shock, as I had just returned home to New Zealand after visiting her in Sheffield, Yorkshire.
It was beyond shocking. We had expected Mum to live forever as you do. She never got sick.
Shortly after receiving the earth-shattering news, I was by her side.
Me! with a fear of hospitals, illness, death, and suddenly being on the other side of our planet and my partner, our fur babies, and our beautiful home in New Zealand.
It was a perfect recipe for anxiety and panic attacks.
I decided this was a universal assignment, an opportunity to connect with my roots, my loved ones, and most of all myself. The scared parts of me had to be on show, out loud, and upfront for all to see.
It was time for me to sit in places I had been traumatised, to be still in places I had been hurt, and to face the things that made my heart race with fear.
I have always loved the uplifting gifts of fragrances and am often equipped with roller balls, oils, and scents; they ease my soul.
One of the practices that helped Mum and me was using aromas and touch.
For Mum, the gentle massage with soothing oils eased her pain; she loved the physical touch, and she has missed it after losing Dad.
For me, it was a deep connection to her; it was a beautiful time to soothe both of us. I used this throughout the months until the very last breath.
I had a few nerve-soothing tools for my private practices, whether on the tram, bus or in my niece's guest room where I slept.
Click here for a free mini-guide, where I share a few simple practices for toning your vagal nerve, the inner Buddha of your clever but undervalued parasympathetic nervous system.
And as always, I would love to hear from you, so comment here or ping me an email.
