I finally realized what my purpose is while shaving my legs in my stand-up shower. Sometimes, massive soul downloads happen this way; when you least expect it, and when your body is in a completely uncomfortable position.
I washed my body, avoiding the task of retro fitting myself into the tight space of my stand up shower. As I went to lift my leg to brace my foot up against the wall, I realized that I exerted a little more effort than usual. I’ve noticed this about myself lately. I need extra nudges, I guess it comes with getting older. Now I know what you would say. Cristina, you’re 40! But I feel as if I’ve lived longer than that. I’ve certainly seen more than I should have given my childhood and adolescence.
In that moment, I asked myself “How many times have I done this? Shaved my legs, I mean?” I immediately had a flashback of when I shaved my legs for the first time. The night before going to an amusement park. I wanted to wear shorts. I was 11.
Have I really carried everything with me for this long? The shame, regret, sadness, anger, until I really began to feel the extra effort required of my body? 40? Really?” At the Sagittarius Full Moon last week, I wrote down everything that I had been carrying with me emotionally. The wounds are some I wouldn’t wish on anyone. Ever.
As much as I had scoffed the idea of writing down the baggage, I finally embraced it and then set the list on fire. I knew my reluctance was because if I saw it on paper, then it was real. I wrote as quickly as I could to make sure I didn’t miss anything.
The shift I felt as I saw it burn was immediate. Like the sun breaking through the heaviest, stormiest clouds. Here I thought I had gotten past all of it. I am pretty put together, or so people have said. There are times when even my husband says “I don’t know how you made it out of that family and life, to be as you are now.” I didn’t know either until I braced my leg against the slippery tile wall.
I am a walking cautionary tale. I am here to share the gift of my wounds, my freedom and all of the lessons in between. I feel so strongly that I want to keep people, women especially, from carrying around shame and guilt for longer than they need to. Shame is the silent killer for us. For me. It’s so sneaky and small. It comes in the night when we are trying to sleep and embeds itself in our psyche, like a tick digging under an unsuspecting dogs’ skin in the summer. It slowly sucks the marrow of our dreams, hopes, strength, courage and wisdom. It chips away at our rightful experience to take up space in this world, to be as we are, no more, no less. To embrace ourselves with such authenticity that we teach others how to embrace us with the same care and delight.
I’ve been through some shit, and I’ll tell you this, I shouldn’t be sane. I shouldn’t be kind. I shouldn’t be a doting mother. I shouldn’t have a deeply committed marriage. No one would be surprised if I was in jail, on drugs, or dead.
My husband came up with the tagline for this blog. I finally found my calling as a yoga teacher (in training), writing, being a mother, and sharing my tarot reading gifts through the lens of my trauma. He said “it’s like you’re no longer stuck in traffic, babe.” I’m not. And neither are you.
I am here to hold space for you, for me, for us.