The Bear Who Bites

I didn’t realize how ungrounded I was until the ground was completely gone beneath me. When I came back from Asia, I had no home, no direction, and no sense of stability. I was bouncing from ex-boyfriend to ex-boyfriend’s house, drifting, untethered. My body reflected my disconnection—I lost my period for six months. I barely slept. In 35 days, I slept maybe 20 hours total. I was running on something else entirely, something both terrifying and exhilarating: a full-blown kundalini awakening.

My dad thought I had a demon in me. My mom wanted me medicated. A therapist handed me a prescription and told me if I didn’t take it, I would be institutionalized. I brought it home, placed it in my father’s hands, and waited. I didn’t beg. I didn’t argue. I just stood there, exhausted, waiting to see if the world was going to swallow me whole. He looked at the paper, looked at me, and then something changed. He decided to believe in me. To this day, he still says, “The best decision I ever made was to trust you.”

But trust wasn’t easy—not in myself, not in my body, not in the world around me. I was seeing everything through a foggy window, knowing there was something more, but unable to grasp it. I could feel a deeper truth humming underneath the surface, an instinctual pull toward something primal. I wanted to dance around fire to the drumbeats that played in my head. I wanted to climb trees, move freely, and walk barefoot through fields. I felt alive in a way I had never known, yet disconnected from a world that didn’t seem to understand.

And then came the bear.

The Bear Who Bites

The bear has visited me in my dreams for years. He is a guide, a protector, but also a wake-up call. When I start veering too far from my truth, when I lose my grounding, he bites my left hand. Sharp, painful, unforgettable. He forces me to pay attention, to stop numbing, to return to myself.

During this chaotic time, the bear came again. He bit me hard. It was a warning, a command: Wake up. You are losing yourself.

But not all his visits are warnings. Sometimes, when I am on the right path, he curls up behind my knees like a loyal dog, grounding me in my dreams. In those moments, I feel held, safe, and deeply connected.

Finding My Own Grounding

Without a home, without stability, I had to create my own grounding. And I found it in the simplest of places:

• The Shower. I would stand under the water, chanting, feeling the vibrations deep in my chest. Sometimes, I coughed uncontrollably, like I was purging something old, something toxic—not just physically, but energetically.

• Movement. I let my body lead. Dancing, stomping, flowing. I wasn’t performing—I was remembering.

• Nature. Barefoot in the dirt. Climbing trees. Sitting against a rock and letting my spine rest into the solidity of the earth.

I wasn’t crazy. I was waking up. But not everyone wakes up the same way.

Rooting Into Power

The root chakra is the foundation of everything. Without it, we drift. We become untethered, anxious, lost. My journey was about reclaiming my roots, not through external validation, but by listening to my own primal knowing.

The bear still visits me. He still bites when I start to slip, and he still curls up beside me when I am aligned.

And I’ve learned to listen.

Reflection

Have you ever had a moment where you had to trust yourself over what the world was telling you? What symbols or signs appear to guide you back when you feel lost?

Drop them in the comments—I’d love to hear your experiences. 🐻🔥