The Healing Project- part 1 of 2

It was almost a year ago when I surprised them again, showing up totally unexpected at my parents place, just in time for Christmas.
Compared to the Christmas gift they received by me showing up, what they gave me was a gift like no other.
From one day to the next, life changed, drastically. Others will tell you that they are born again Christians, or born again virgins, but I? Quite simply, I was born again to my parents.
What happened that evening, 31 December, 2013, was the beginning of my immense healing, which continues still to this very day.
It wasn’t like I pulled them over and said, “hey guys, I need to heal,” let’s talk… Far from it. The only thing I knew was that I had to I needed to tell them my life’s tales, from the time I ran away at 19, refusing their way of life, seeking my own truth, my own light.
At the time, even for me, it seemed like “the easy way out,” but I assured them, that for a long time, it was anything but easy.

Contrary to the hearsay of many of those in close proximity to me, I wasn’t off gallivanting, oblivious of their pain. However, I couldn’t handle my own, let alone anyone elses’. I had to go, or I would die.

The reprogramming of my Self, began with three years of psychiatry, where meds were often suggested, but I refused, despite my severe depression. This was followed by four more years of some form of therapy,(psychotherapy, homeopathy and naturopathy).
I was like a ghost in a shell, empty, but so very empty. I couldn’t tell who or what I was anymore, neither Indian, nor Canadian, not fitting in anywhere.
My boyfriend at the time, did his best to fill me with love, but we would both come to learn that, in order to give or receive love, it first had to exist within the self, and surely, it didn’t within me, hence, it wasn’t long before we unravelled at the seams, despite which, we still stayed together for a number of years.

And all the while, you see, I kept myself cuffed to my cage, though I always had the key and door was never closed. I released the cuffs when I got divorced. He was by no means a bad man, my ex-husband…It was just that I had to leave, in order to find my truth.
They listened intently to my stories, not knowing, nor guessing how it had been. They had no idea about my pregnancies, about my severe self-destruction, about how much I yearned for their acceptance of me, and that I missed them dearly, despite stopping communication. 

I told them of my one saving grace in those times; much as I loathed myself back then, somewhere very deep inside of me, I knew that one day I would be great.
“Seeking my own truth, my own light”
And so it was.
Almost ten years after I’d run away from home, I ran away from Canada, to England, (running away from my divorce), thinking that my truth was there. It wasn’t. Depression set in again- how could I have left him? We could have made it work…
Once again I was getting ready to run, and this time, my “go-to,” place was Greece. 

A month into a job I hated, I stopped.

I stopped absolutely everything. On the last day of my 29th year, (same day as my wedding anniversary), I quietly celebrated the death of my marriage, and turned 30, with a different view. For 2 weeks, I did nothing but write, & read, most often in solitude, and I cried a great deal.
Life started to become colourful again, I told them. 
I moved back to London, (England), and a job, (that I actually loved), fell into my lap. It would later become the catalyst for my starting a business in Slovakia, where I was led to by an ex-boyfriend.
Finally I was on Slovak soil, (which was more home than anywhere I’d lived in my life), and thriving for a while, until the old habitual patterns started to come back, with severe depression, with money, with love- twice lucky, twice lost, (or so I’d thought).
I was coming to the end of my tales, & in full blown tears, about my latest loss, and even my mother, with her hand on my shoulder, (something I’d wanted all my life from her), welled up too. I wasn’t asking for their pity, but I was asking for something.
I was asking, and still do, for them to trust in me. Trust that my life is as it’s meant to be, with all its rich lessons.
There it was, my whole life on the table, I’d finally spoke my heart out to the people I’d chosen as parents. Finally, and they listened without judgement, with love.
We wished each other a happy new year, parted ways and went off to sleep.
A few hours later, I awoke in a different way then ever before. I awoke in love, “in a state of love,” that is. It was the most beautiful, glorious feeling I’d ever experienced, which repeats time and time again.
Part 2 of The Healing Project to come shortly. Thanks ever so much for reading.<3

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