The Road To El Dorado

Walking into our home last night felt like the most amazing thing, after a long day on the road and then the airport. This week away has seemed like a year mainly because I have shed so much skin.
I feel shot out of a cannon this morning, disoriented in a way.  I slept more last night than I have all week. I am wrapped in a cocoon of love.  I never realized until now- how truly grateful I am to be in this place in my life.

I went to Santa Fe, The Road to El  Dorado literally- to meet with a man who has been  doing meditation/healing work with me. Simply put- letting go of the past. Things that were getting in my way, holding me back.  To get to his home,  I had to overcome my fears of driving way the hell out in the middle of the New Mexico desert by myself. That scared me to no end. Santa Fe in itself is a very confusing town to navigate, then throw in being very bad at directions- and having all your fears come up and time to face them.
Cool mix.

The work I did with this man I have to say was  intense to say the least.  For the past thirty years I have been working on myself, but that was stepping stones upon arriving at his door. I fought like a wild banshee to lay down the gauntlet of my ego. It was probably one of the toughest things I have ever experienced.
Being away from home, altitude sickness, fears coming up like I can't tell you- and time to face the skeletons in my closet. No excuses, just do it.

We worked two hours at a time each day- I never have cried so solidly,  mourned so much loss - I didn't know was in my body. He dug out things that were from so far back. Over and over throughout the years I had been told to let go of my story. The hurts and pains we repeat over and over again.
The next person we retell the infection to- emblazoned brighter,  more lavish, details crisper each time.
 Please understand my pain, don't let me be alone in my agony. I don't know where to put this massive weight- burden.

This week, I finally connected with laying down the story. The  greatest, most dramatic story of my life.  Cinematic version: The Story of Feeling Unloved.  Beginning with my mother. I let it go after fifty years - I finally buried it, laid it to rest. I really was sad, terrified, frightened. Who would I be without my story with feelings of rejection, unwanted, unloved by my mother?  I was more terrified of this than anything.
Just letting in  the love in that I am worthy of,  allowing myself to be loved- just for me.

Of course every challenge came up this week to shake me to my core, have me run and hide and say I can't do this. I wanted to give up- be rescued. Believe me. But  I knew it was time for me to show up on that beautiful white horse and rescue me. That I was worth it. If I am the damsel in distress, I will show up. If I am a child frightened huddled in the corner- I will show up. Strong, proud , brave- again, I will show up applauding myself for the courage it took- instead of berating myself by saying..."that was nothing loser."

This week is the week of acknowledging- showing up for myself. Crossing the finish line.
It feels like I tore down it all so I can begin anew. It is Spring. The rebuilding, regeneration, renewal process begins.   Was it hellacious bootcamp. Beyond. Would I do it again- in a second.