Emotional Release, A Story of the Heart

I have an excellent example of emotional release in action, so I thought I’d share to give anyone reading some insight as to how it can manifest.

Recently I had been scanning for Aroma Life — a blend of Cypress, Marjoram, Helichrysum and Ylang Ylang — which I don’t yet have in my oil cabinet. Using the only similar oils I do have, I’ve tried to recreate the effects of Aroma Life with what I have on hand: Joy — a blend containing Ylang Ylang — and Marjoram. Inhaling them, wearing them topically on my wrists and neck, etc.

I’ve also been scanning for Lime. So I’ve been making FANTASTIC cherry-limeade dupes using Knudsen’s juice, purified water and 3 drops of lime. Delicious.

And lastly I’ve been scanning for Idaho Blue Spruce. I love the smell of this oil, so I put a few drops in my hands, rub them together and inhale deeply. I’ve also been applying it to my wrists.

But even after a few days of this routine I kept scanning for these three oils. I knew what this meant. Once before I kept having a repeat oil on my scan until I used it on specific reflex points for emotional release. And then I didn’t scan for it any more.

I’m talking about Transformation, by the way. I had diffused it, anointed my forehead with it, put it on my body for a couple months, but I kept scanning for it. Finally, after I had been on an emotional release kick during an intense detox, I was in the middle of a conversation with my husband about being on the verge of giving all this oily stuff up when my right hand began to hurt. It was a specific point in the middle of my palm that I could point to. I had noticed it recently but didn’t think much of it. This time I decided that it couldn’t hurt to look at the alarm points in Dr. Carol Mein’s emotional release workbook, which I had next to me on the couch. The spot that was throbbing was “ego”.

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That didn’t mean anything to me. Ego? Huh? So I flip to another page, look at ego. The emotion attached to it is “commitment”, and the oil to use is “Transformation”. I was stunned. I was literally mid-conversation, bawling my eyes out about that very topic. And as soon as I worked on the alarm point with the oil, resolved to commit myself to the things that work and guide me to the goals in my life, my hand stopped hurting AND I stopped scanning for Transformation. I kid you not.

Anyway, I digress.

I had been told by another oily friend that Idaho Blue Spruce was a particularly powerful essential oil to use for handling toxic emotions involving trauma. Just do a Google Image search on the oil to see some of the graphics other users have made. Go ahead, I’ll wait.

The problem is that it’s not in Dr. Mein’s emotional release workbook. So there is no specific emotion attributed to it and therefore no affirmation to resolve whatever the IBS is working on. The best I could find was to apply it to the center of my forehead near the hairline and on the top of my foot underneath my big toe and second toe. And then just pray and let its super megahertz powers work their magic.

As I was applying the IBS, my right hip began to hurt while I was bent over. Like right on the bone. So, what the heck, I go ahead and look that up to. The emotion is “rigidity”. The opposite side of “rigidity” is “amusement” and the way out (that you say aloud) is “it’s a cosmic game”. The alarm point I was feeling in my hip, where you apply to oil (peppermint) was “heavy metals”. I literally laughed as I applied it and let rigidity go. As I was heavily medicated with psychotropics such as Lithium — and ultimately suffered a medication-induced seizure because of improper diagnosis and overmedication — this seemed appropriate and necessary.

By the way, lest you think I am some gullible weirdo with zero intellectual capacity, your assumption would be incorrect. Well, I most certainly am a weirdo, but only in the best ways — that is I live my life authentically and unabashedly. I wish I didn’t care about your opinion but that’s a lie. It scares me to be thought of as anything less than what I am, or to have my intentions misconstrued, even by strangers in a faceless audience. I just want to reach through the screen and tell everyone reading this “YOU MUST BELIEVE ME! THIS IS NOTHING SHORT OF MIRACULOUS!”. But alas, you will have to believe what you want at the right time.


The alarm point for Lime is the lung, and it dealt with being unmotivated, something I was most certainly ready to let go of. I said aloud the night before that I have found my true calling and passion in life: to be of service to everyone around me in any way I can, and to follow the way of Christ. Period. Everything else either falls in line with that, or it doesn’t.

It was the emotion connected to Aroma Life that really hit home: aloneness. The alarm point is the heart protector. Sometimes, when life literally takes me aback, or a friend is telling a heart-wrenching story, I naturally place my open hand over my chest, right where the alarm points for the heart protector is. Your physical heart and all of the symbolism attributed to hearts (think Valentine’s Day, love, romance, vulnerability) and the spirituality attributed to hearts (look up Sacred Heart) are not as disconnected as you would think. Matthew 15:18 reminds us “the things that come out of a person’s mouth come from the heart.”


So, I worked on all of those points last night, prayed about them and then went to sleep.

Today I woke up in a funk. One of those take-it-easy kind of days, where I let Jackson nurse for his entire nap while we snuggled on the couch and I read. I had planned on a playdate with a good girlfriend who I haven’t seen in a few months, which I thought about canceling but I knew I should keep my word. We met through Bible study and have a lot of the same interests (and dietary restrictions — meaning she made sugarless, gluten-free cookies for me that I could eat!!! Good thing I went, right?!). She was with me at the beginning of this transformational process and wanted to know how the story has unfurled.

At some point she mentioned navigating a relationship with someone who she can’t fully trust, who is manipulative and self-centered, and how difficult that has been for her because she’s never been in this situation before. I was floored. “Wait. You mean.. you haven’t encountered these kinds of relationships? Never before? In your whole life?”

They were the only types of relationships I had ever known amongst friends and family until just recently. Toxic, hurtful and/or unstable relationships. Within minutes my heart was showing it’s colors through my words, and I was telling her random bits about my past that I hadn’t thought about in a long time. Very personal, very hurtful situations that if I watched a stranger undergo in a movie, I would shed tears over. I said it all in a quite removed fashion, however, very matter of factly. There were no tears shed. I’ve become good at distancing myself from the emotional reality of my story, and the story itself. Compartmentalizing has been my survival.

But as I pondered them in my heart on the drive home, this cloud descended upon me. I tried to focus on my work, on upcoming events, burying myself in the tech world of Facebook, but it wasn’t fulfilling. Something was amiss.

That evening, over dinner, I spilled my heart out to my husband who patiently listened as I cried into my mashed potatoes and roast chicken. I would jump from scene to scene from my life, mostly reciting times of intense betrayal and rejection. Some lamentations were generalities, some memories of elementary school, some from teenage years. Some of it was cliche (which is a fear of mine) but all of it was valid. I cried for the little girl who didn’t deserve any of it. I cried for my tender heart who, in my nature, only wanted to love and be loved, and was met with cruelty. I cried for who I might have been, all of the painful, self-destructive decisions I made that could’ve been avoided, if I had someone, especially a father, who would have reaffirmed my worth to me every day. Or if I would’ve been taught from day one that my self-worth is not rooted in my physical beauty, my accomplishments, perfectionism, school grades, social status achieve or any other worldly ideal, but in the simple fact that I am fearfully and wonderfully created by the King of Kings who calls me His beloved. How different it all could have been if I had known God from the get-go.

My heart broke so early on in my life that I didn’t even recognize it as heartbreak until tonight.

Now was not the time to say “but everything happens for a reason and I wouldn’t be who  I am today if it weren’t for my hardships”. My intellectual brain knows that. Now is also not the time to nitpick my own responsiblity in these situations, or how they could have been avoided, or how people across the world over have it worse, or to just get over it. This wasn’t the time for my intellectual brain to take center stage. Now was the time to allow my limbic system a safe space to breathe, to release, to feel deep pity for the injustices I suffered as a child, teenager and young woman… and for how things should’ve been, could’ve been if heaven were on earth. But alas, this is the world and it is sadly fallen. And tears are most definitely appropriate for that reality.

Almost immediately I felt relief. My shoulders dropped. I could smile. I took a few big sighs. I finished my mashed potatoes and ate some greek yogurt with frozen blueberries to help me overcome a craving for ice cream (any time I experience emotional distress I crave ice cream. Can someone explain it to me??). I moved on.

Might there be more still to release? Probably. More and more will come to the surface. I have many years of trauma to work through. I might scan for Idaho Blue Spruce and Aroma Life for months! Who knows?!

Update: today, the morning after writing this blog post, I woke up feeling refreshed and revived, wanting to pray, listen to music and dance. I love these mornings. My heart is filled with such gratitude!

This is what I want for everyone. The way there might seem weird or unconventional. But the fact of the matter it works — the oils, the alarm points, the way through Jesus Christ. It all works. How badly would you seek freedom from pain? To what lengths would you go? To the depths of substance abuse or self-harm? Promiscuity? Suicide? Because I tried that end of the spectrum. There is nothing but death and destruction there. There is relief. I have found it. Now I will spread it to the ends of the earth, no matter what it takes. Truth is truth, friends. And these are truly life or death matters.



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