SLAYING THE DRAG-ON,
EMBRACING MY DRAGON

✨AI Generated

By Shaianna Dot …. and Auriis …. (aka Špela Tajnić)

In 2013, I suddenly started having vicious panic attacks. 

The first one came during our family vacation, accompanied by nausea, vertigo, and that horrible feeling of being on the verge of losing consciousness. I was fighting it, trying to will it to pass, and eventually, it did – an hour or so later. It might have been more; it might have been less. I didn’t really keep track of time.

Afterward, I didn’t think much about that episode, and life went on.

A few weeks later, another one hit while I was at work. First, I felt a big surge of energy, then nausea, then the vertigo again – and, of course, the big dread and panic, along with everything in between. This time, I just lay down on the floor, scared and bewildered, and my coworkers called an ambulance. I was rushed to the hospital, and after a barrage of check-ups and tests, a doctor came in to tell me that there was absolutely nothing wrong with me physically. “It’s just a panic attack,” she said, “but maybe you should seek professional help, because you are the one doing this to yourself.”

I was shaken to the core, terrified, and scared. I couldn’t believe this was happening to me. I had two small children, and I was supposed to be their rock, not some fragile, panicky mother they couldn’t rely on. Nothing should bring me down and reduce me to panic attacks. I just couldn’t afford that. But … 

A few days later, another attack came – and then another, and another. To top it off, I got a nasty stomach flu that lasted about a week, with relentless stomach cramps. The nausea and cramping were constant, 24 hours a day. It felt never-ending, which only added to my all-consuming fear. 

At that point, with everything going on, I started spiralling down into an abyss of despair and constant dread of the next episode or stomach flu – or, worse, something terminal. And every time these panic episodes came, I felt like I was on the verge of death. Day in and day out, I was completely consumed by fear of everything and an awful ongoing angst, terrified to the core.  But I kept fighting.

I had no idea what to do or how to help myself. After several episodes, I realized that taking actions like moving, walking, drinking water, splashing water on my face, or taking a bite of food helped me get through the attacks. Much later I realized that doing those things actually helped to ground me. 

I was coping, but knew this was no way to live, so I started going to counselling, even though I didn’t feel it was helping much. Discussing the complicated relationship with my mother and other family issues didn’t bring any release or relief. If anything, I felt even more submerged in all my feelings of victimhood, and the episodes kept coming. And I kept resisting them. I was offered medication, but didn’t want to start taking pills because somehow, I just knew they weren’t the solution. A few times, I tried valerian root tea, but it also didn’t help, so I just kept struggling on – one day at a time, one fight at a time.

After a few months of psychotherapy, I moved on. In the continuing the search for help, I started seeing spiritual healers, meditating, practicing Reiki, working with crystals, and attending various spiritual classes – the whole package.

In the hope that spiritual methods would bring some peace, I meditated every day. But as time dragged on, it got to the point where I started counting ‘panic attack-free days.’ I was exhausted from the constant fear, fighting, waiting and counting, desperate to gain back some control over my life, but I just kept losing it.

Finally, one evening, while meditating in bed, another episode struck. This time, though, I didn’t fight it. I didn’t jump up, walk around, drink water, or do anything else to resist what was happening. Instead, I just surrendered, ready to lose consciousness, die, or face whatever would happen. I’d had enough. I just couldn’t do it anymore. In that moment, I didn’t even care about how my children and husband would go on without me; I was done. There was nothing left to do but surrender. So I did.

And, well, nothing happened. It passed very quickly. For the first time in months, I felt in control to some degree, like those episodes no longer had power over me. At the time, I didn’t realize that I was finally allowing; I just felt like I was beginning to take charge.

After that night, the episodes weren’t as intense. They became less frequent, though they still occurred, and I continued my spiritual journey with books, classes, and meditation. For a while, I thought these spiritual practices were the answer to my problems, but a little voice inside kept saying, “This isn’t it. Every school you attend teaches about some greater power out there in the universe. How is this any different from the concept of God promoted by churches?” I pretended not to hear it, because to me, meditation, crystals, and everything spiritual were my saving graces.

After a couple of years on my spiritual path, I felt like my life was finally back on track. I was super spiritual now and had a few diplomas in my pocket. Tired of my dull, mind-numbing job, I quit and planned to start practicing Reiki and the other skills I’d learned. I was packed with spiritual bullsh*t (pardon me), knowledge, and full of passion.

I rented a small space, but within two months, all my passion for Reiki, crystals, and the rest went out the window. I was left feeling completely empty, passionless, and with my new-age identity crumbling to pieces.

I realized I didn’t believe in all that “stuff.” None of it brought me the sovereignty, freedom, or joy I’d sought. No matter what I learned, there was always some ‘greater’ force out there, some guru, someone above me who had all the answers. And those answers constantly eluded me – I just couldn’t grasp them, take them in, or make them mine. They simply didn’t fit. Arrgh, what frustration! I knew there was more, but what? Where could I find it? I had no idea what to do next.

So, I did absolutely nothing. I’d had enough – no more books, classes, or crystals. Friends kept bringing me new books or talking about new methods, but I didn’t care. I didn’t want to read or listen to any of it. It all seemed the same.

Then, in early 2017, a friend told me about a book she was reading. I thought, “Great, another book I don’t care about. Whatever.” She went on, “Blah, blah, blah … Act of Consciousness … blah, blah, blah … St. Germain … blah, blah, blah … I Am that I Am …” Somewhere between my boredom and the “blah, blah, blah,” I picked up on those few words. Something inside snapped to attention. The same day, I ordered Act of Consciousness, received it a few days later, and started reading.

To this day, it was one of the most profound moments of my life. I resonated deeply with everything in that book. It was surreal how familiar it felt, how a knowingness within me started bursting out. I ordered other books and devoured them.

I wanted more, but I was skeptical, and reluctant to go down another rabbit hole. So, I superficially checked the Crimson Circle website mentioned in the books – just a quick peek and quickly closed it. I loved the books, but that was it. I was done. And in a strange way, it actually suited me to feel lost, without identity, a future plan, or passion, because there was a sense of freedom in that. So, I was determined not to give in.

Well, that determination lasted about a day. That persistent little voice inside kept nagging, “Visit the Crimson Circle page, go see what they’re all about. This is it.”

Me: “No. Everything was always ‘it’ until it wasn’t. Leave me alone. They’re all the same. I’m not doing it. Go away and stay away.”

Voice: “I can’t go away, because I am you.”

Me: “Oh, fine. I’ll check it out, prove myself right, and then go back to my blissful idleness.”

So I did. Timidly, I started browsing the site. Somehow, I clicked into the recent Shoud page, though I wasn’t sure how to find it again later. I listened, and I was speechless. Like with books, it felt as though the message was coming from within me, yet spoken by someone else. It felt like coming home. And also, it felt deeply personal, like nothing else ever has. I just couldn’t talk to people about any of it, and I still don’t.

Now, years, Shouds, and classes later, I understand that those panic episodes helped me grasp what allowing meant. But I still hadn’t fully understood why they began in the first place – until I took the Threshold.

✨AI Generated

In that class, I realized the dragon had been kicking my butt. Big time. At first, I fought it relentlessly, but to no avail. It won. It brought me to my knees, yet I still tried to get up. It put its big leg on me, but I still kicked and screamed – until I was utterly exhausted, ready to die.

Now it still shows up, of course, in various forms, shapes, and sizes. Occasionally, it still has to kick me, but not as often and not as savagely. It all depends on how quickly I let go.

Do I wish I’d known all of this years ago? Yes and no. It might have saved me a lot of grief, fear, and misery, but maybe not. I don’t think I would have understood it back then, and I certainly wouldn’t have let go right away. I was far too stubborn, tenacious and … immature. 

If anything, my story has changed, and now I cherish those past days with a newfound appreciation. What once felt like a time of bewilderment and despair, I now see as a period of naively taking on a dragon and ignorantly fighting a losing battle. While I learned the hard way that the Dragon cannot be defeated, I also learned that the Drag-on can be slayed in a heartbeat, like magic, just by allowing.