It is very important that I emphasize just how emotionally and spiritually healthy I am these days. In fact, I have never been more so. Many times in my life I had witnessed people who were radiant and alive, and I assumed that I was not meant for such beauty. It was crushing to feel that there was a happiness and vitality available to some, but not to me. The healthy, the wise and the fortunate as reminders of what I was not. Today, however, these displays no longer torment me. It must be noted that my new-found health is born of a different life experience than that of those I used to envy, but nonetheless I sense a life force within that illuminates me. My dominant emotion these past two years has been and continues to be gratitude. Truly, I never thought I would feel like this.
Make no mistake, however; this has been a very tough haul. I have taken part in 47 ayahuasca ceremonies, and each time it was with the knowledge that I might be shown the hidden torments of my own personal lion’s den. Thankfully, many times I experienced the utter dimensionless beauty of the cosmos and the pure intelligence of all that is, and I will write of some of these later. However, I was strangely compelled to find my way down that long, dark and threatening corridor to the darkness each time, driven by the gut feeling that there was more work to be done. As I became accustomed to these ceremonies, I began to understand that there are equal parts beauty and horror in this life. I had hidden from the horrors of abandonment and sexual abuse. But how was I to know at such a young age that hiding may have helped me survive the terrors, but it also hid from me the beauties? These darkened men shared their darkness with me, robbing me of the freedom to view the beauty.
I have come to realize that the hiding was almost as damaging as the abuse itself. If parents or teachers had noticed my grief and disassociation, maybe my secrets would not have been needed, my experiences acknowledged and ultimately I could have been honored and supported as I healed. This would have been a more effective route to healing than hiding for five torturous decades, tormenting the lives of those alongside of me as well. This highlights the failure of those that were negligent in detecting the abuse, if not preventing it. It could have been handled so much differently, and healing could have been a family affair, but two generations earlier. Imagine leaning on my parents for support instead of my children? Damn.