Lessons from the Armadillo
by Christine Davis
As a born-and-raised New York City girl I never could have known that decades down the road I’d be writing about armadillos.
Yet, here I am—a Greenwich Village hippie who left New York years ago, landed in Portland, Oregon and wound up in commercial construction working on huge buildings. I spent fifteen years with extraordinary men who brought me my first piece of armor—a hard hat.
My path took a wondrous turn and I became a writer of heart-felt books for dog and cat lovers. I’ll always be grateful for the many friends I met along the way…two-legged and four-legged. We shared stories about our critters and shed unending tears when the time came to say goodbye.
In 2012, a scene in the British TV show MERLIN left me screaming on my bedroom floor. When I came to my feet, I stood up a sword fighter and began a journey that would reimagine my brain and clarify my purpose. This led to the writing of my sixth book, Breathing Fire.
The Universe opened up doors for me that had previously been hidden. I joined a sword-fighting class and had a sword made for me by a blacksmith I met at a pirate festival. I named the sword Clarity and took her with me wherever I spoke. From time-to-time, I checked in with my siblings and friends who listened to my stories about traveling through the stars and made sure I always had food and clean socks.
Three years into this adventure, I went to a hospital for a conscious-sedation surgery that was supposed to take two hours but ended up taking four hours. However, something went horribly wrong and my right leg pulled up two inches into my hip. I had to bring my right leg around to the back so I could walk. It would stay that way for four years. The surgeon removed himself from the case.
Unable to stand or walk, I found myself on a long and lonely journey through the dark side of healthcare. I felt the sorrow of doctors who wanted to help, but couldn’t. It became clear there is no plan that protects women when a surgery goes wrong and no safe platform from which the staff in attendance can speak. I stopped looking for competent, ethical care and spent much of the next two years on my couch.
Time passed. My world became small and unfamiliar. One day, I found myself searching online for animals who could bring me guidance and an armadillo presented himself. Here was a creature who uses its outer shell as a shield. The word “armadillo” actually means “little armored one.”
I asked Armadillo if he could teach me about setting boundaries. He answered by crawling into the cavernous hole that had been left in my heart and began sharing his magic. Not all people, places or experiences are safe. What heals one person may devastate another. I had dropped all boundaries when Merlin came into my life because it was safe to do so. I had no way of knowing I should have restored those boundaries once I stepped out of the land of swords and into healthcare. What a huge lesson to learn.
Protecting oneself is not a gift available only to special people. It’s a right intended for all. If armadillo’s magic calls to you hold it close and learn how to use that power. You just might save a life one day…including your own.
With love,
Chris