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In 2011, in the open unit of a psychiatric hospital, a nurse told me that my panic disorder would not be cured as I inquired about possible solutions to get me better after she introduced me to mindfulness. I received her words like a sentence stripping me of all illusions of regaining my life. I didn’t want to believe her; I so desperately wanted to be my old self that I was determined to find a way back. This was the beginning of my healing journey, exactly 13 years ago.
I never saw her again and I don’t even remember her name. Yet, her care was imprinted in me. Leaving the hospital was taking that first step into the unknown, into a world that so suddenly had turned scarier and more painful. I had people that loved me through this; a partner, children, my mother, and sisters. My darkness did not scare them away.
I was grateful for the medications that initially helped me get a breathing moment free from panic, until it didn’t and it only made my symptoms worse. I had to keep looking. I took a Mindfullness Based Stress Reduction program of 8 weeks. Once a week, I would drive to a location 20 minutes from home and, in the company of others, learn skills and practices of mindfulness. Alternating my practice with moments of deep fear and sorrow. Feeling defeated at times and wondering if that nurse was right.
Then came Yoga, I tried the classes at my local gym and marveled at the way my body could move differently. I noticed the gradual changes until all my teachers either left and stopped teaching and I could no longer connect with this practice without the community I had originally met.
Medications I could take as needed were helpful whenever I found myself struggling to come out of a panic attack. And it was helpful whenever I needed to fly, too. It was my last year in my first Masters program when I attempted to get help again from medication. With no insurance, I went to the clinic at the college I was attending. The medication prescribed made my panic even worse and the doctor dismissed my experience. I was so fearful of having turned into a monster. I spent another year working with a therapist who specialized in biofeedback in Tijuana.
I returned to mindfulness, even as I continued working on my graduate degree and raised a family. All those years trapped in survival mode, being able to see only what was next; stressed, searching, and lost, at times. But I also learned that even in survival mode there are moments of great joy. My family became my anchor and refuge; my kids embodied the hope I had placed in life.
This healing journey has taken many turns, and it has introduced me to many teachers along the way. I experienced the healing power of being in a community that accepts you fully. I also experienced having a job that allowed me to do meaningful work. I learned about and from different people. I found spaces where I could be creative and connect with others.
I learned about trauma and the body. In somatic work and trauma healing I found purpose; to make the knowledge I had acquired accessible to others. I am committed to bring to my community the tools that I have learned and to make them accessible. Healing and wholeness is everyone’s birthright.
I learned to feel. I allowed myself to feel. I visited the old house with ghosts and monsters and rescued the younger versions of me that were trapped there. I felt love and loved, and repeatedly abandoned and rejected. All these things were happening at the same time. Feeling allowed me to return to my body. I grieved my losses. I leaned into the process of being present with the difficult emotions that showed up. I learned that once you allow yourself to feel them, they don't last; difficult emotions want to be acknowledged, too.
I have left behind many versions of me, the ones I had to give up in order to become someone else whenever growth happened and I could no longer remain the same person. I still carry with me the memories with compassion for the woman I was that, fearfully, pushed forward with life, hopeful that tomorrow held a different promise.
Spirit has been with me all along. This journey has also given me a deepened spirituality that allows me to experience the world differently. My heart aches for the suffering of beings around me and, at the same time, is moved by all the goodness and beauty it gets to witness. I know I have been held all along. I know that Spirit has come to my aid when I needed it the most, that it has provided for me and for my family. I can look back and know with certainty that I have not been alone. I have never been alone, not even when I experienced loneliness.
The person I was in 2011, so desperate to be okay, would have felt defeated to know it would take so long to feel the way I feel now. I am grateful for the stubborn hope that kept her going. My healing journey began exactly 13 years ago. The number thirteen is a sacred number in Mesoamerican mythology and sacred is the only way I can describe my ruta (path). I have had human angels by my side as well as divine guides and ancestors looking after me.
I want this new cycle of my life, these next 13 years, to be about friendship, authentic human connections, and community building. I want to surround myself with people who are as eager as I am to savor life and to feel fully alive.
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