Is My Mission on Earth Finished?

Late into the night, I was having an anxiety attack. It had been going on for a few hours, and my usual remedies (breathwork, body awareness meditation, essential oils) had helped, but the anxiety was still hanging on. Now it was late. I brushed my teeth, turned the lights out and said my good-nights. I was ready for sleep. The anxiety persisted. 

I thought about dying.

No, not suicide. I have too much love and respect for life to do that. Sometimes, when life feels oppressive and difficult, I’ll ask my guides and angels to take me home. But they know I’m referring to my heart, to that delicate, inner, sacred space where I find safety and rest in the midst of the storm.

The first time I experienced an anxiety attack was right after bringing my daughter home from the hospital. She was days old and so perfect–rosy cheeks, a warm radiant smile, and brilliant blue eyes that oozed love. I wrapped her in a soft pink blanket–a gift from my mother–and laid her down in the middle of our king size bed. Looking down at her I was overwhelmed by her sweet innocence. 

I broke down and cried. I cried because I had no idea what the frick I was doing! What if I screw up? What if I make a mess of her life? What if she hates me? 

I had absolutely no tools to help and neither did anyone else. My mother said this mood would pass, and she promptly went to an upscale department store and bought me several beautiful negligees and a breast pump. My husband, unable to deal with the situation, did what he always did, he went to work.

Over the years, I gleaned information and tools to use to help with these inconvenient episodes. And mostly I have had success in putting the fears to rest. 

But on this night, there I was, lying in bed, lights out, yawning and desiring sleep. But the anxiety was stubbornly hanging on. I thought maybe I was actually having a heart attack. 

I didn’t panic. Honestly, death doesn’t scare me. But I was curious. What would death feel like? 

I imagined my family feeling both sad and relieved. I tried to remember where I put my will and DNR. Did I file them or give them to my daughter? Oh, and what would happen with all my crystals? Would my family toss them, thinking they were just rocks? Did I need to put that in my will, “Please distribute all my crystals among all my friends”? The thoughts seemed to go on and on, and at one point I thought I might want to get up and make a list.

That’s when I caught myself! I laughed out loud until there were tears. I could hear my beloved Craig snickering–even from the great beyond–at my compulsion to control things.

I’m not afraid of death. I am at peace with that inevitability. But death isn’t always about the physical body. Throughout our life we experience many deaths. 

As a nine year old, the death of my childhood innocence deeply affected me. Then there was the breakup of my first marriage. I also experienced the painful dissolution of my relationship with one of my spiritual teachers. More recently, a sudden physical impairment imposed a major life change–losing my job, my car, my independence. Death is a part of living life on life’s terms.

Here’s a test to find whether your mission on Earth is finished: If you´re alive it isn’t.

Richard Bach

Through all the many types of deaths I have endured, there has always been a gift. Losing my innocence when I was only nine gave me a deep understanding that led me to being more compassionate. This kind of death gave me the desire to dive in and explore the human psyche and pursue a quest for emotional freedom. 

The divorce from my first husband opened the door to finding the love of my life, Craig. And with him I have lived happily ever after. He was the first person that heard my fear and anguish. He provided the safety and loving space I needed to confront my demons. Today Craig is gone physically, but his spirit dwells here within me, standing by my side as I face my demons.

Invite your demons in for tea. 

Ram Dass

My spiritual teacher kicking me out of the Sangha was the mother bird pushing the hatchling out of the comfort of the nest. She gave me wings and said (in so many words), now go heal yourself!

My current physical condition has imposed limitations I’m not used to. Yet I am now more focused on my breath, slowing down and being oh so very tender with myself. 

Can’t clean up the whole room? Clean a corner of it. Can’t do all the dishes? Do a dish. Can’t get in the shower? Wash your face.

Always look for the thing you CAN do, with the energy and focus you DO have. Little wins pave the way for bigger wins. 1% beats 0%.

Dr Glenn Doyle

My most recent health situation, although strange and new, has offered the gift of presence during a night of relentless anxiety and the ability to explore the many forms of death we experience as spiritual beings. These kinds of losses also deserve a gentle grieving process, just as a physical death would.  

Through it all I have never lost faith in myself and my ability to simply, as Ram Dass says, “Be Here Now.” Of course, there are still moments when I want to run and hide, moments when I cry in deep grief and despair, and moments of anxiety. But then an aroma or photo or song will catch my attention, and I am reminded of just how beautifully blessed I truly am. Gratitude is key to thriving, healing, and continuing on with this mission.