"I feel powerless!" and all that means
In August, I spent three incredible weeks in New Zealand. I visited my seven-year-old goddaughter in Auckland and then backpacked for 12 days in the South Island.
The trip was symbolic: I had not seen my goddaughter since she was six months old. When I was last in New Zealand at the beginning of 2002, I was healthy, fully mobile and full of energy. Little did I realise how far my health would deteriorate in the upcoming year, and how different my life would become as a result. Going back felt as though I'd come full circle: I had the energy to backpack, stay in hostels, travel by local transport and survive on limited sleep. All this was something I could not have imagined a few years ago.
When I was bed ridden with ME/CFS, I could not have envisioned a trip to the nearest city, let alone a trip to the other side of the world!
While I was travelling, I was able to see how far I'd come and how capable I was, but it also helped me realise my limitations and how much further I still have to go. As I travelled, I realised the need to pace myself. If I felt tired, I knew I had to rest - and so I did. This meant I was able to enjoy myself when I was sightseeing and I usually had enough energy to enjoy the moment.
When I returned to Canada, my husband told me that my godmother in England had died while I was away. It was unexpected and I was devastated. It seemed all the more poignant because I'd been away visiting my goddaughter and appreciating the importance of being a godmother.
After a few days, the full extent of the 'hacker incident' began to reveal itself. My assistant, Nicole, and I spent hours and days contacting various sources trying to resolve the email issues that had ensued. It was an extremely frustrating process because I felt so powerless - when we thought we'd resolved one thing, another problem would arise.
If there's a problem, I'm the kind of person who likes to act and do as much as I can to sort things out. On this occassion, in part because of my limited knowledge, there was very little I could do. I had to wait while others worked their magic. I probably wasn't in the greatest space to be dealing with all of this either. I was still very sad and grieving my loss.
As always, EFT came to the rescue. I tapped on my frustrations, my fears, and how powerless I felt. I have included a transcript of some of the wording I used to help me regain control. You might find it useful if ever you feel powerless.
With your dominant hand, tap the karate chop point on the other hand while saying the following:
"Even though I feel completely powerless, I want to accept myself anyway
Even though no matter what I do, I don't seem to be able to resolve this, I am doing my best
Even though I don't have any control over this, I deserve to remain calm and confident."
Now tap the following places while saying each of the phrases below:
Top of head: I feel completely powerless
eyebrow: and I don't have any control.
side of eye: No matter what I do,
under eye: I can't seem to resolve this.
under nose: It's so frustrating!
chin: I'm stuck
collarbone: and I feel ungrounded.
under arm: I've lost my power.
top of head: Maybe there is a light at the end of the tunnel here
eyebrow: I am doing my best to resove things, after all.
side of eye: I want to feel grounded and safe about this
under eye: and perhaps I can!
under nose: I deserve to feel calm and confident in what I'm achieving.
chin: I am doing my very best
collarbone: I'm starting to feel more focussed and grounded
under arm: and I'm grateful for this clarity and insight.
Disclaimer: In tapping along to this transcript, you take full responsibility for your health and well being.
About the author: Annabel Fisher is a licensed NLP Practitioner and runs a successful EFT practice. Find relief from pain, chronic illness, fears and phobias, headaches and migraines, weight issues and more through EFT. Get your free "The Essentials of EFT Guide" plus one-hour EFT Q&A audio recording by signing up for her newsletter at: www.theefthealingcentre.com.






