The Troll in the Garden

November 25, 2021

It’s shocking to come across a really ugly emotion like self-hatred. A bit like discovering that a ferocious troll has replaced your cute little garden gnome. 

I know our shadows keep reappearing to be observed and released. But really, how many repeat performances are we supposed to host? This audience is getting tired of welcoming the same old show back to my personal theater of the absurd.

And if it’s “processing for the collective,” well, I suppose I agreed, somewhere, somehow, to do that. At least that’s what channelers repeatedly tell us.

This feels personal, though. Hating my painful body…impatient (after seven years) to feel better already…discovering the unpalatable X-ray truth that my bones are merrily deteriorating away, less and less willing to support my frame…

Shoot, who wouldn’t take that personally? After years of self-healing, energy work, and just plain work, to find out that instead of improving, it’s quite a bit worse—looking like a hip replacement for you, my girl—is more disheartening than I can say. (1)

But I will attempt to say it.

*****

I recently started listening to the audiobook of Louise L. Hay’s classic self-help book, You Can Heal Your Life. It was published in 1984 and I’ve been avoiding even glancing at it in the New Age bookstore ever since.

Now that I’m listening to Louise reading this enlightening tome, I’m reminded of why I never wanted to read it. I knew, from what others had said, that its basic message is “Love yourself.” Louise avers that loving yourself unconditionally can literally heal dis-eases of all stripes, from emotional to physical and anything in between.

How easy that sounds! Just use the helpful affirmations and actually do the workbook exercises instead of skimming over them. Sincerely taking these steps toward self-love can eliminate any dis-ease (with a karmic asterisk for exceptions, I imagine). 

Walking from the family room to the kitchen, having digested another few audio pages, the thought slipped through while I was pondering something else. I HATE my body! I hate how it’s betrayed me. I hate myself, for that matter.

Well, goodness, that’s a ten-foot-tall ticker tape from the subconscious. Why bother reading the book when the cure it touts is self-love? I can’t love myself, there’s too many things wrong with me. And don’t get me started on how badly my body has treated me, rendering it ineligible, in my black-and-white world, for me loving it. Why reward pain with love? Isn’t that just asking for trouble, as in, I love this! Where can I get some more?  

I’m experiencing an epic push-pull between spiritual / psychological truisms, like “I choose all my experiences,” and an exasperated why me? I couldn’t possibly, in my right mind, ever have asked for this degree of pain and disability over this long a period of time. That’s unimaginable self-cruelty.

Unless…perhaps…this dis-ease is there to highlight the self-hatred I apparently still harbor as a generalized, underground emotional tenor. Automatically assuming I won’t benefit from a book promoting self-love—a book I’m seeking out to “cure my hip pain”—is kind of a big wake-up call.

Since this notion creates an instant hollow-gut feeling and borderline tears, I have to say it’s probably accurate. 

*****

Despite my misgivings, I’ll read this too-illuminating book. Louise recommends doing one read-through and then reading it again, slowly, taking several days to do each exercise. I wonder if there’s one to exorcize the demon of self-hate? An incantation that would bring back my sweet little garden gnome and boot that nasty troll back into its cave? Let Gaia deal with it. She can absorb and transmute that much negativity; her body is far larger than mine.

How helpful, I suddenly think. Ask Gaia to help.

I have Guides and Angels all around me who would help. I have Reiki. I have tools. Best of all, I have a dear friend who is willing to do the exercises, too, and compare notes, something Louise suggests in the workbook. The buddy system at its finest.

I remind myself: I’m not alone. This isn’t 1984 or even 2014, which is when all this hip nonsense began. It’s 2021. I know how to Ask for help. I know how to Ask for enough self-love to give this workbook a genuine run for its money.

My Angels, my Guides, vastly overmatch that one stubborn troll, that materialization of self-hate. The troll doesn’t stand a chance when faced with an entire Team that I am quite sure wants to help me as much as I want their help.

Ah, here comes the little gnome. Welcome back, friend, pull up a chair next to that toadstool, and let’s have a chat. Remind me again why I actually do love myself? Oh! Many reasons, indeed. Hold a mo’ while I get my notebook and write it all down. 

That way I won’t forget, if the troll tries to steal into our garden again.

(1) All is not lost, I remind myself. A nurse friend encouraged me to go for an orthopedic consult, since I have a referral. Another friend said, “Always get a second opinion.” My chiropractor said, “I have a different view on this than others might…” And despite the possibility of questionable information being circulated, I also anticipate / hope / believe in med bed rollout sooner rather than later.