What Happened When I Gave Routine Bloodwork Last Week

I left yoga on Friday, buzzing or something, maybe I was floating. That yoga high is a thing, and I felt it. I was lifted, lifting. I said thank you to the teacher en route out the door, just before hitting the door on the way out, lightly.

But before I left I told her, “My intention for class was to be one with, unity.” (Which is really what yoga is, to yoke, vinyasa, breath and body.) “And the entirety of class, I was in the breath, in the music, in your voice, not thinking about what was or what might be, just one with … me. Thank you.” It felt like a prayer … one I practice daily, “Take me I’m yours,” I say as I lift my heart towards the sky, arms high, “Leave me I’m mine,” as I bow down head to feet, nose to knees. More here.

I thank father sky above me and mother earth below me, I feel my heart crack wide open as I lift in up dog — guided by something much greater than me, and held comfortably by all that which is creation all around me. No matter how alone I’ve often felt in my life, I have a deep knowing, that I’ve never been alone — and not just because I have me, because I am part of something much greater.

And so sweaty me floated into the hazy Austin morning streets, to jump into my car and drive south for routine bloodwork, which I avoid diligently. No one likes bloodwork, but like yoga, psychedelics, and so many other things, functional medicine has been a huge part of my healing journey.

I found Caleb Greer shortly after moving to Austin, after years of seeing the “GOOP lauded functional medicine doctors in NYC.” I didn’t know it at the time, but I came to Austin for healing. We cleaned up my insides of trauma and other things that manifested physically as a result of much of the emotional junk I was carrying, we balanced out my thyroid, my hormones and supplemented with b12 for energy and it wasn’t long before I was back in business, with even more energy, which is arguably scary. His newly opened Dasein Health in South Austin is noteworthy, a young team, a dedicated following, and more than medicine but alternative forms of healing, fitness ie ARX machines, cold plunge and red light therapy. He offers ketamine treatments and IVs. Needless to say I fervently support what he’s building.

Functional medicine has played a big role in how I’ve supported rebuilding, resetting, dare I say resurrecting me. And so I floated in for bloodwork Friday for the first time in a year or so, post sweaty yoga, wearing my More Love sweatshirt. I considered stopping home to grab a crystal and more Love bracelets for moral support, but there was no time for extra and so I arrived crystal less but ready. Bloodwork scares me. For years, I’ve passed out routinely. I hate the needle and the feeling and the fasting and the Capri Sun juice to pump me with sugar after. I detest the man at Quest who last time while drawing said, “OMG this is a lot of blood,” which resulted in me almost puking. The same experience that led me to arguing with my insurance company for nearly a year over a $5,000 bill because the bloodwork was submitted incorrectly. To put it more precisely, I like to keep my blood IN my body.

Mia greeted me kindly. I kept my composure while reminding her that I pass out sometimes. I sat back in the chair, “I’m not going to look,” I said and asked nervously, “It’s not so much, right?” Mia just fed me with kindness. “You have good veins,” she replied. Yes, this I know, I move my blood through my body routinely, oxygenate my breath and body daily to move the stickiness, stress, anxiety, out of me, I guess I’m an athlete. I didn’t say any of that, I just kept breathing. If I breathe deep enough, my mind stops thinking. “Will you just keep talking to me?” I asked. She agreed.

As Mia pumped my blood, I repeated in my head, “You’re ok, you’re ok, you’re strong, you’re courageous,” even roaring internally.” I trained my whole life for this moment. “You’ve got this,” I said,” to me. This is reparenting, the ability to hold myself in love and compassion no matter what I’m feeling. There’s no shame in my vocabulary or tough love, even. I just speak to myself with love and compassion, always. I tell myself (and often my scared inner child) what I need to hear, sometimes served with a lollipop. Six year old me likes lollipops. “You’re strong, you’re doing great.” In healing, I’ve become my best cheerleader and needed to become my best cheerleader. In healing, I’ve unlearned all the shit (the patterns, habits, conditions, fears), that stuck to me, in order to re-learn me, and learn to love me. That is what “LIVYOUNG” is, putting in the handwork to find the ease and love yourself unconditionally. And so I’m here, living and loving.

But in the moment, I was back in the weird leather chair, trying to breathe. Staring at the fridge filled with hot diet drugs Ozembic and Moujaro and for a moment letting my anxious brain fill me with thoughts or fears of “what if I have to do IVF to get pregnant, more needles? … but anything to not think of what was happening. Mia asked me questions about my weekend and other small talk before I felt myself getting woozy, “Are you almost done?” I said, anxiously. She was halfway there when I felt my body giving out on me.

As I began to pass out, my subconscious memory appeared — similar to what happens when I’ve done psychedelic assisted therapy, but this wasn’t under the guise of substance, instead having my blood drawn triggered its release, the memory of being sexually assaulted by a cab driver in college, memory I’d previously remembered via psychedelic assisted therapy.I was half conscious and half passed out when Mia finished. My stomach in knots but empty, my mind reeling, the memory present, and me remembering that I was safe in the present, but the tears just started coming. And with it a blessing and more information: The memory revealed to me that me passing out was and is just my brains way of protecting me. That in that moment, it was too painful to stay present— My brain saved me and also saved me by not remembering for nearly 16 years.

I told Mia this through tears and she received it wholeheartedly. “You changed my day today and my life. So many people come in here with trauma and are triggered by needles or blood and don’t even know why. You made it so clear for me.” “Can I give you a hug?” I asked her unabashedly. She agreed.

I sat down again for a few moments before I could lift my body physically. Sipping on the Capri Sun she gave me, I remembered I had to give a urine sample too. I walked to the bathroom to pee as the memory continued unfolding. Boston, late night, dark, cold, rainy. I left the nightclub alone to find my ex-boyfriend. But what I found, I didn’t want to find and so I got in the cab, alone. As clear as it is, the memory is still hazy. But the blur is alive, the face, the rape, the shame, the fear. I peed on myself. I remember that part. And the part of me died that night. I was so consumed, I forgot to actually pee in the sample cup. “You’re ok Olivia. You’re safe.” I reminded me. I returned to the patient room and hugged Mia again, her request this time. And sat in my car a while before driving, home.

Anything can trigger a subconscious memories, or trauma, and a memory can trigger a response or reaction. So much of trauma, PTSD, is how people who’ve been affected are living Now, as if the trauma is still happening. Trauma sticks to you, grows on you, gets stuck in you and on you, shows up as addiction or illness or self sabotage, shame, anxiety, depression, fear, or worse, tragedy. Post Traumatic Stress Disorder is living in the past as if it’s still in the present, living as if what has “happened” is still happening, which is why we have to face the subconscious using tools to put ourselves back together, which is why I share the tools I’ve used to put me back together, functional medicine being one of them. Healing to unlearn what was and learn to love us in spite of our “story.” We are not. You are not. I am not my story.

But my bloodwork experience last week wasn’t about the memory, but about the gift that life keeps giving me … the gift of still being — here. I’m alive. The passing out was just a reminder of being connected to something much greater than me, clarity that even in that trauma, it wasn’t my time to die. That I have more on this earth to do, to share, to heal for greater humanity. But it wasn’t that simple. The gravity of remembering stung me, but I had plans for the weekend, and fun actually. I busied myself and was busy … until this morning when I found myself as I always do routinely meditating, journaling, praying, before moving, and the tears again started running. But this time, tears of joy, not fear. Of love and abundance and gratitude and reality that I’m here. And so it is my duty to do all that I can to live fully —- because I’ve been offered the opportunity, of Life.

So, if you’re feeling stuck in past memory, in present unworthy, in addiction or struggle or self pity, lack of self love, or otherwise, I beg you to find your breath, your feet, your heartbeat.

You are where you are because you are here. You are who you are because you are you. Never doubt the power of new beginnings. They start here. They start with you. This is your chance to start living. Gratitude helps. Shift your perspective … less of what you’re not and more what you are. Less of what you don’t and more of what you do. REMEMBER: You are still breathing.

That my loves, this present, is the gift, this moment: Stop existing. Start LIVING.

Trust yourself, everything You need is inside.
I’m sending you my love, always.

Olivia xx

If you feel called to shift your life: I have 2 spots available for Spring coaching. Reply directly here and we can jump on a quick call. If you feel called to share your story, reply here. I love learning about you.
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