A Little About Me

My gudu (teacher who brings one from the dark to the light) suggested that I start a blog to talk about my journey and thoughts on things of a spiritual or healing nature.  For me, this encompasses all aspects of my life from finding God to the basics of raising my children.

The journey has been both horrific and joyous.  More horrific than joyous I want to say because I am just on the cusp of learning about joy whereas I have experienced horror about life for a long time.  As I look back, I have no idea how I ended up here and I say that with confusion and amazement.

I like to think that the journey began about three years ago on the first day that I went to yoga.  In some ways that is true.  But really every thing that happened from the time I was so young has been part of this journey.  Everything that happened, every choice I have made, every thought I have had, put me in this place at this time.

By way of quick background, I was born in the late 1960s and grew up in the midwest with my sisters.  My parents were divorced and we lived with my father much of my childhood until I ran away as a young teenager and then briefly lived with my mother.  I had a lot of pain and confusion that would last a long time.  My teenage years were filled with an eating disorder, drugs, alcohol, suicide attempts and psychiatric hospitals.  After I ran away I did not see or talk to my father or sisters for many years.  I had very few friends and can now recall the names of only a few people from that time in my life, mostly because people passed through my life so quickly and I did not retain friends easily.  My relationship with my mother was volatile and she moved out of the country for over twenty and I did not see much of her after that until the last decade.  I had little expectation that I would amount to anything and was told by some that I never would.

When I was 19 I walked away from the drugs, 23 when I walked away from the daily alcohol, 38 when I walked away from eating disorder.  My issues with not wanting to be alive and how much hated myself resulted in suicide attempts at different times of my life but it has been several years now since I have been in a psychiatric hospital but this is not the place where I want to talk about mental health oppression.  I am just noting that it has been a few years since I have had that experience.

Even though I had no support, emotional or financial, I somehow got to college albiet a few years later than I would say is typical.  Then I got a full scholarship to law school and graduated in the top five in my class.  I had a great job right out of law school making more money than I used to fantasize about making when I was first on my own as a young teenager.  I practiced law for three years and then walked away to move to New England to get married and have a family.  I still reside in New England and the most fabulous twins I adopted are now thriving young teenagers.

I was 34 years old when I realized that I had checked off all the things on my list that I thought I needed when I was a teenager to be happy.  I finished high school, walked away from so many things, I graduated from college and law school, had started then walked away from a legal career.  I was certain that having a family of my own after the despair of my childhood and young adult life would be the key and I then had a husband and two children.  There was nothing left on my list of things to do, achieve, or obtain.  I was financially secure and did not have to work anymore.  I was miserable and wanted to die all the time.

Knowing that I had checked all my boxes and was still so miserable put me in a tail spin that would last more than a decade.  I anguished with wanting to kill myself a great deal of the time and made various attempts, some more serious than others.  Mostly I treated my body like a science experiment.  I did all of this while still keeping my family together and raising my kids.  I thought life would continue in this place of despair forever until I died and I was constantly waiting for that moment when I could finally be done with life.

But then about three years ago I went to yoga and began a spiritual therapy/healing process that I did not know existed.  And now, while the struggle is still so very real in some ways, there have been shifts in my life and in me that are nothing short of miraculous.  I don’t know where this journey will take me and it doesn’t really matter.  It truly is about the journey not the destination now.