Mending My Broken Heart

Recently, I’ve been trying to take Nell out for two long walks a day. The aim of this is to wear her out, but it’s a bit like training Mike Tyson and I think it’s wearing me out more. However, it’s all good for the legs, the abs and the circulatory system, the endorphins and the lungs. That’s what I tell myself, anyway. 

A few weeks ago, I found myself in the cardiac unit of a local A&E department following an episode which I can only describe as akin to having swallowed a frog. My heart was ricocheting all over the place, my blood pressure was rocketing and I was having trouble catching my breath. I did not feel right at all. After consulting the online version of NHS 111 where I was advised to get myself checked out NOW, Andy drove me to the hospital and I spent the next four hours mostly sitting around and waiting in various departments, but in between times being prodded and poked and given a good going over. 

Turns out I was experiencing a rush of ectopic heart beats which, apparently, often happens as one grows older and can be an unpleasant experience when it happens. Typical, I thought. I turn 60 and it’s ‘Welcome to ageing!’ My blood tests all came back normal, which was reassuring, especially as I haven’t had a blood test for well over 20 years. My blood pressure was still high, but the doctor wasn’t worried. ‘It’s not high enough to be of concern,’ said he. 

And do you know what? Ever since I was checked out I have felt absolutely fine. It’s almost like I needed a bit of reassurance that my health is still fine. I just got myself worked up into a tizz, that’s all, and it came to a head on that Saturday. 

But I kept thinking about this old heart thing. Something was telling me - instinct, intuition, a nudging sense of je ne sais quoi - that I was missing something. And then I kept seeing and hearing references to something called ‘broken heart syndrome.’ And whilst I don’t think that’s what I ACTUALLY have, it suddenly made sense to me that the emotional stress and anxieties I’ve experienced in the last three years have taken a physical toll on my heart health. 

The thought, when it happened, was like a light bulb being switched on in my brain. 

And now, every day, I spend conscious time with my heart. I ask it how it is. I speak warmly and kindly to it. I visualise it - I see the harm that stress and anxiety has done and I imagine it healing, a bit like fractured porcelain being repaired with gold. Except I don’t imagine gold - it’s a mix of silver and pink for my heart. I hold my heart in the healing energies like you’d hold a tiny kitten against you for its warmth and comfort.

I’ve noticed in the last couple of weeks that I am no longer bothered by those events that caused me so much heart break and heart ache. They happened. They are the past. I am no longer the person they happened to. My heart is new. 

This all sounds a bit woo-woo, I realise that. But one man’s woo-woo is another woman’s healing. And I know now what works for me.