Still here! 🙋🏻‍♀️ #rapture {The Awarewithall #11}



Yesterday, my Instagram algorithm showed me a parade of rapture reels:

📞🐶 the born-again girl calling her atheist friend to ask her to adopt her dog after she got raptured;

🙆🏻‍♀️🤸🏽‍♂️ the trainer demo-ing a warm-up sequence to prep your body to be snatched up into the sky (wouldn’t want whiplash!);

👖🙈 the question about whether you’d be raptured clothed or naked, head first or feet first…

It felt so good to laugh. These days I have exactly zero fear about the rapture.

It wasn’t always like that

By the time I was eleven, I had raised my hand at altar calls more than once, and whispered prayers to be saved before falling asleep too many nights to count. But one summer evening, in the largest evangelical church in Temuco—a church founded by my missionary great-grandfather—stands out.

A Thief in the Night was the film. Apocalyptic horror, though no one called it that. The sanctuary was packed. And hot. Then dark. Tick, tick, tick—what I thought was a bomb turned out to be the ticking of a clock, followed by an alarm going off. Heart at a gallop. Goosebumps up my arm.

Seventy minutes later, when the credits rolled and the lights came back on, my mom was no longer next to me—she had slipped up to the piano. As her soft notes began, the preacher’s voice dropped low and slow: Are YOU ready for when the Lord returns, like a thief in the night?

Yes? I think so? I hope so?

My anxious little arm shot up. Again.

“Me, me!” I thought. I didn't care if it was the hundred and first time. I wasn't risking the last one not having taken.

No wonder

Of course I didn’t want to be left behind when everyone I loved disappeared. Of course I didn’t want to be abandoned on earth with Satan’s minions and the Antichrist—aka the beast—in charge.

“No wonder,” I say now to young-me. No wonder you raised your hand again and again. I’m right here. I’ve got you.

So you can understand how good it feels to laugh about something that once terrified me.

Beyond belief

Healing, for me, has been about much more than parsing what I do and don’t believe.

It’s my body feeling safe enough to be present, to laugh, to play, to work, to relax, to enjoy...

It's about my body and mind being in sync. Because it’s one thing to say I don’t believe such and such—and another to not be anxious all the time, whether about hell or anything else.

One sign of healing: laughing more easily.

Another: the freedom to live my own life and my truth without apology.

The “without apology” part is still in progress, haha. Some days feel light and free, and other days... well... others show me what’s left.

Like right after I sent “My bikini debut at 57”

For me, that 10th issue of The Awarewithall was a proud and joyful middle finger to patriarchy—a celebration of visibility in an aging, nowhere near model-thin body.

The responses from women came in quickly: “Go Heidi!” “So proud of you!” “Celebrating with you!”

The resonance felt like a chorus of solidarity.

And then there were also a couple of sexualized replies from men. And just like that, my loud and proud shrank as old shame rose up: What did I do wrong? Did I lead them on? Was that icky reply my fault?

Thanks to the layers already healed, I noticed pretty quickly what was happening.

“Did I do something wrong?” I said out loud to my husband, handing him my phone with the email open.

Even as I asked, I could recognize the old messages that are still, in part, internalized.

“No!” he said. “Do I need to go beat him up?” which made me laugh—not only because it was sweet, but because of the old patriarchal script in that response, too. Another layer. Another laugh.

A few days later, I brought it all to my therapist, and together we shone some friendly light on what’s left of my shame-based conditioning.

Spiraling, in a good way

Healing is not once-and-done, but layer by layer.

"Like a spiral," I sometimes say to my clients. We circle back to a similar place, but this time at a different layer and with more resources like connection, friendliness and curiosity. And always, safety, which is what nervous system healing is all about.

Every time we circle back at a different layer, we get to integrate the healing—very practically, and in real time.

What about you, Reader?

Is there something that’s better now—maybe even something you sometimes laugh about—that still, from time to time, brings shame or insecurity?

Hit reply if it would help to say it out loud. I read every note.

So much love,
xoHeidi

P.S. Do you like getting The Awarewithall? Forward this issue to a friend!

Or post a link to one of these reader-favorites in your socials:

The Awarewithall #10: My bikini debut at 57​

The Awarewithall #7: That time I made my dog a cabbage bra​

The Awarewithall #5: Co-regulating with my cheffies👩‍🍳👨🏽‍🍳


Heidi Fischbach, EdM [she/her]​
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xo Heidi

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The Awarewithall | Heidi Fischbach

Weekly-ish missives from Heidi Fischbach, a nervous system coach who believes in science, takes most things with a grain of salt (probably Maldon, preferably smoked), and practices joy as resistance.

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