I’m in my laundry room, in my basement. I just asked for a separation. Things are completely falling apart at the speed of light. I asked for a separation and since neither of us can afford to move out, I decided to move my stuff in the laundry room. I set a mattress on the concrete floor. I tried to make it as comfortable and cozy as I could. But it is a simple cluttered laundry room, in a dark and humid basement.
I asked for a separation but what I really wanted was to ask for a divorce. I felt so lost. So angry. So enraged. So desperate. I was looking for answers. Any answers. Anywhere I could think of. To be honest, deep down I already knew the answers, but I wasn’t ready to face any of them just yet. So I looked everywhere else. Later on, these outside responses will just show me that the answers were to be found inside.
Everything was drastically changing. Everything was falling apart. All I had ever believed in, all I was ever told to do, to be, to know… all of it, just died in a blink of an eye. All felt like a ridiculous illusion. Incredible unmeasurable pain and profound hate were settling in my heart.
I’m in my laundry room, in my basement. Realizing that this is just the beginning of tremendous but oh so necessary changes, and not grasping just how much torment and discomfort were aiming my way. I don’t have a very high tolerance for pain, emotional or physical, so I jump into various addictions (which is completely new to me)… and so begins the long insufferable three years of debauchery. Self-destruction to its finest. But also the first step into shadow work. The first step into getting to really know myself. The first step into testing limits and beliefs. The first step into accumulating incredible magical (very painful at times) new experiences.
I’m in my laundry room, in my basement. I think about the fact that all of this is not a surprise. All of this nuclear explosion in my life was written in the stars. And I know. I know when it all changed; she died.
She died and the world as I knew it evaporated.This was just a long time coming. I start retracing my steps and linking dots to what led me here, on my mattress, in my laundry room staring at my unfinished ceiling. Watching the spiders turn my basement into their own little kingdom.
I look at my bed sheets. There’s blood at the end of my bed. My feet bled during the night. Another night of partying, drinking and dancing until my feet bleed. Literally. This is just starting and I already know I can’t endure this and won’t be able to live through this much longer, but I was somehow on the path of self-healing… how ever long this takes.
One of the most valuable steps I took towards finding answers, was to look for ways to ease my excruciating pain, how little ease possible, to find a bit of peace somehow, to find a way to reconnect with myself and to listen to my inner voice… and here came Reiki.
I had done some research about it, after a friend told me she just became a Reiki Master. It had piqued my curiosity. Not really knowing what it was, not really understanding what it could do, not having the money for it, I still decided to book my first long distance Reiki session.
I’m in my laundry room, in my basement. I’m setting the mood as much as I can. Candles, music, pillows… tissues, just in case I cry my eyes out. I’m laying down on my mattress. I’m so nervous. And desperate. So desperate for help, for answers, for a way out. My desperation is so palpable that it physically hurts.
The session starts. We’re doing this via WhatsApp. It lasts not even half an hour. And in that time, life seemed to be on pause. As if nothing exists. Nothing matters right this second. There’s peace for a split second in my soul. A feeling I never want to let go of.
I’m in my laundry room, in my basement. There is calm. There is also a glimmer of mysterious and intriguing excitement. The anxious anticipation of what’s to come next. The incessant series of “what ifs”. And then, in the very back of my mind, the tiniest shadow of an idea… “Maybe one day I’ll help others find healing through some wellness, holistic and spiritual practices, like Reiki”.
The treatment just finished and I already know I want to book an in-person session with my reiki master when she comes back to Montreal a few months later. And here commence my passion for Reiki, or as I call it, Massage for the Soul.
This is only a glimpse of a chapter in my life. The story starts way before this moment. And the story is far from over. This was a few years ago. Almost five years to the date. Now looking back, I can comprehend better all that this was. And I wouldn’t change any of it, because it led me exactly where I am right now. And writing those blog entries is just another stop on my self-healing journey. I already know not all those entries will be fun to write or discuss, but it will bring forgiveness, peace, compassion, love and healing. Exactly what Reiki is all about.
