My kids call me quirky. Doing things the same way as everyone else was never my deal. Even if I wanted to be just like everyone else, I did it differently. I’ve come to accept it and even embrace my quirkiness, which has worked really well when looking at new ways to do things (such as looking at alternative medicine and treatments).
One way that my different thinking shows is by reading Archie Comics to Adam before bed while other parents are reading the great classics. (I’ve offered the classics, but Adam loves comics also.)
I think in cartoons, and when I told Bethany about this new great way to release, she reminded me that I’d even had a kitchen decorated in cartoons – pictures, mugs, towels, doodads, and more. Of course, Bethany (an interior designer) would remember this. Also, at various times, my refrigerator has been covered in comics cut from the newspaper. That is until I get in a cleaning mood and clear off the refrigerator door. But it is quickly filled again with more comics. And since I’ve stopped getting the newspaper, the comics are what I miss the most.
But anyway, the other day, Dr. Ron Jahner told me about a way to combine humor and healing. After all, it’s hard to feel bad if you are laughing. And besides, a lot of research has been done on the positive relationship between humor and healing. (Dr. Jahner learned it from Dr. Richard Bartlett. I’ve got to go research what else he had done.)
I was ready for this unconventional technique. He told me to think of Bugs Bunny and how silly he and his buddies were. Then, make up absurd situations to handle whatever I was releasing.
Let me explain. This morning I was walking Cole B., and my hip was aching. So, I tried out this new technique. I imagined (visualized) my body on the operating table with Bugs Bunny as the doctor. He chomped on a huge carrot while performing surgery. Daffy Duck assisted and bumbled around the operating table. Bugs opened me up and then started removing old chairs, a chest of drawers, a toaster, and more old stuff. It kept going and going. I just knew that the stuff represented old emotions I didn’t need any more. Then, the Tasmanian Devil swirled in my body, cleaning it until it sparkled – complete with twinkling stars. To finish it off, Bugs zipped me up with a big zipper from the bottom of my torso to my top. I laughed about this visual and kept walking. All of a sudden, I realized that it had worked. My hip didn’t hurt any more.
This new method resonated with me. Not all methods do, even if they are good for someone else. We are certainly lucky to be living at a time when so many different techniques are available for us to select from, AND we have the freedom to choose. This new method was just quirky enough for me. Now, I can’t wait for releasing. It is actually fun.