Month in Review: October 2017

Sunset in Maui

I procrastinated writing this post. I didn’t want to do it. I wasn’t sure that I could. There’s so much to say about this month, and I’m certain I’m going to fall short.

There are moments, big and small, that set our lives on completely different paths. It’s difficult to pinpoint that one specific moment in October that shoved me in a new direction, so I guess it was the sum of many little moments.

Perhaps it was even a buildup of momentum from little moments that have been happening all year long (my entire life?).

It’s hard to explain. Like I said, I wasn’t sure how to even begin summarizing this past month and all we’ve been through.

But it changed us.

These moments changed us.

And we feel as though we can’t really go back to the way things were before, because it simply wouldn’t feel right.

So, now that I’ve got you fully confused and hopefully a little intrigued, I’ll do my best to highlight the moments, big and small, that changed us so drastically in so little time.

In October 2017…

I saw a behavioral health counselor for the very first time.

I was 16 years old when my father died. He’d struggled with alcohol abuse for several years and it was liver cirrhosis that eventually took his life. We were devastated. And we hadn’t understood even one iota of his pain.

At the time, it seemed as though I allowed myself ample time to grieve. Although my memories of that time are extremely vague, I seem to recall staying home from school for at least a week after the fact. We talked about my father, shared our favorite stories and laughed heartily at the memories, and dug our favorite photos out of dusty old baskets to keep close to our hearts.

In hindsight, I can see that this was hardly enough. Not just for me, but for my whole family.

While musing in my journal yesterday morning (per my counselor’s instructions), I questioned whether a 16-year-old child has the capacity to process such a traumatic event on their own. We value independence so highly in our society that it often feels like the “right” thing to do.

Be strong. Pull yourself together. Grow up. Move on.

But this idea is ridiculous. We need support from others, especially those who can look at our situation objectively. We need an outlet for our pain. I had neither of those things.

So while I dove back into my schoolwork with as much verve as ever, my heart still bore a gaping wound. From an outsider’s perspective, it would have seemed as though all was well–as well as it could be given the circumstances, anyway. But inside, a different story was unfolding.

This unattended wound eventually manifested outwardly in a number of destructive ways. Most notably, this was around the time I developed trichotillomania and dermatillomania–repetitive behaviors classified as impulse control disorders (the former relating to pulling out one’s hair, and the latter relating to picking at one’s skin).

This was also around the age at which I developed disordered eating; I engaged in binge-purge behavior on and off for nearly 7 years, a secret I kept from literally everyone in my life until many years after I’d stopped.

Travel was yet another of my coping mechanisms, although I wouldn’t have classified it as such until recently. At the time, I simply thought I was following a passion to see the world. I have to believe this was true in part, but it’s easy to see, in hindsight, how travel allowed me to evade the negative feelings associated with losing my father that were never truly explored, experienced, and released.

Throughout my 20s, I was living in survival mode–in my root chakra–never sitting still long enough to necessitate healing my heart.

I’m not sure what compelled me to avoid these feelings; there’s a chance I was really just delusional enough to believe I’d already faced them. Given the sheer volume of tears I cried, I could be forgiven for feeling as though I had none left to cry.

But I’m sure you can tell where this story is going. I did have more tears to cry. A LOT more tears. And they began surfacing in just the last year, in unexpected and often inopportune moments.

The pain I’d never dealt with began to surface, likely because I’d begun settling down and was feeling more rooted, more grounded. I was moving my way back up through the chakras, finally arriving at my wounded heart.

In the end, avoiding the pain of losing my father did me no favors, because it was only a matter of time before it caught up to me and demanded to be faced. I now know that before my life can unfold how it’s meant to, I must face this pain, and feel it as deeply as it requires.

When I went to see the counselor for the very first time, I declared my trichotillomania (hair pulling) as my primary reason for coming; the battle I was most tired of fighting. It didn’t take long for her to see right through my hollow answer, to the real pain that had led to the hair pulling in the first place.

A long road lies ahead of me, and I know it is littered with obstacles. It will not be an easy one to navigate, but at least now I have the support necessary to do so. I’m in a stable place (speaking both geographically and emotionally), surrounded by people who love me. I have a qualified professional to guide me through what is sure to be a harrowing process.

I have the resolve to finally heal my heart so I can pursue my life’s higher purpose. I’m ready to become my best self.

It’s a scary thing to admit that you need help and to actively seek it out. No one likes to admit that they feel broken. I know there will be more tears to come and plenty more pain.

But most of all, I know that it will be worth it.

We went to Maui and started to remember.

Believe it or not, this is the part of the post I was most hesitant to share, not the story above. Because remembering is a far more difficult process to explain–and to many, it will sound like utter nonsense.

Using human language to express it is insufficient. The finite (human mind) cannot comprehend the infinite (God, or the Universe).

But we are humans, and so we try (ever heard of the Bible?). Language is the best method we know for helping others to remember their divine essence. If something I say here resonates with you, it was worth it. If not, it wasn’t the right message for you, or it wasn’t delivered at the right time.

But I digress.

The Iao Valley, Maui, Hawaii

You see, Hans and I have been on distinct yet complimentary spiritual journeys, and there is no doubt that we found each other when we did so that we could both continue to evolve, together. Just as it takes a village to help a person heal, so, too, does it take a village to help a person reach a new level of consciousness.

And we don’t believe in coincidences.

I don’t think it was a coincidence that we chose to take a trip to Maui at this particular point in our lives, just like it was no coincidence when we later learned that Maui sits at a vortex (intersection) of ley lines, a place of great electromagnetic energy that is also known as–wait for it–the heart chakra of the earth.

A place of healing for the very part of me that needs healing, wouldn’t you know it?

The Iao Valley, Maui, Hawaii

And throughout our time in this place of deep spiritual significance and healing, we were constantly being nudged toward our higher selves. The island gave us many tools to continue learning and connecting with our sacred essence. The most obvious instance of this was our encounter with two very special women while hiking through the Iao Valley.

We met Sue and Kate as we wandered along a covered forest trail in search of the famous Iao Needle. Upon learning that Sue was a Maui resident, we inquired as to whether we were on the right path to the monument. She informed us that the trail was on the opposite bank of the stream, but that it was still closed due to damage caused by flooding the previous year.

Though momentarily crestfallen, we were so enraptured by our current surroundings that this “bad news” was quickly forgotten. After a few pleasantries and smiles, we continued on ahead in the same direction as the two women, in search of a good spot to wade into the water and relax.

The Iao Valley, Maui, Hawaii

Just before we descended over the edge of the river bank, they caught up to us once again, this time with an invitation. Sue and Kate, as we learned that day, were mediums capable of transmitting messages through light language, or the language of our Source/God. It is a powerful tool for healing and helping us humans ascend to higher levels of consciousness, and they wanted us to experience a channeling session before we left the island.

I understand that we’re getting a little abstract at this point, so if your eyes have already rolled to the back of your head, I get it–I was once in your shoes. All I ask is that you keep an open mind and if you’re still reading, well hey, that’s a good sign.

Anyway, the concepts of light language and what they called ‘DNA activation’ were new to me, but Hans’ eyes lit right up–it was an easy yes from both of us. We exchanged contact information so we could set something up and told them how grateful we were for the encounter. Then, we exchanged hugs and parted ways yet again.

The Iao Valley, Maui, Hawaii

A few days later we found ourselves at Sue’s home in Maui’s lush upcountry, settling into comfortable positions on her couch with hot cups of tea in our hands.

What ensued over the next few hours was an experience that would be quite literally impossible to describe to you. I’ve tried several times since returning to the mainland, to no avail.

What I can say for certain is that we heard, saw, and felt the various expressions of light language, and that it changed us. For me personally, it caused a very visceral reaction in the moment. I wept openly at hearing the powerful tones that came through Kate, tones she assures us she’s incapable of producing when she’s not channeling.

After the messages were transmitted, Kate and Sue did their best to help us interpret these messages wherever possible, although gleaning an absolute meaning from these messages isn’t really the point. The language itself sets you on the course of remembering our divine source, whether you understand the messages or not.

Since the experience, we’ve felt all kinds of out of sorts. Like I said at the beginning of this post, it was one of those moments that you just can’t backtrack from. Knowledge that can’t be unlearned. And I don’t mean ‘knowledge’ in the sense of facts and data–I mean knowledge in the sense of an innate understanding of where we came from.

Traveling in a campervan in Maui

I would try to explain this better, but it’s probably best saved for my memoir…or at least its own blog post.

And if I’ve just outed myself as ‘That Woo-Woo, Hippie Blogger,’ then so be it. I’m not the same person as I was before, and I don’t intend to hide that fact.

In fact, Hans and I have been questioning just about everything in our lives, and plan to make some fairly significant changes in the wake of our meeting with Kate and Sue.

But more on that later, and plenty more Maui updates to come.

Hans and I got engaged!

In case you missed the announcements, the BIG moment that took place this October while we were in Maui was our engagement.

It happened the same day that we met Sue and Kate, just a few hours later. Admittedly, I was sort of expecting a proposal on this trip, I just didn’t know when it would happen.

And leave it to Hans to find the LAST moment I’d EVER expect him to pop the question–right after we’d had an argument. Okay, it wasn’t so much an argument as it was a case of me worrying when I didn’t need to worry, but still. I wasn’t exactly at my best, which is what made his proposal all the sweeter.

Traveling in a campervan in Maui

The scene of the crime.

It was an expression of the purest, most unconditional love.

I said yes, naturally!

We’re in no rush to plan a wedding, we’re just excited at the prospect of navigating life together, growing and evolving and loving deeply along the way.

He’s my person, the person I waited 30 years to find. Kind, compassionate, giving, forgiving; goofy, intelligent, and honest.

Now, we just need to honor the changes that October, and Maui, imparted us. No small task, but one that will be more easily achieved together.

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The Sacred Geometry Movie – This will change the way you view, well, everything. This is another one of those things that can’t be unlearned (in a good way, of course).

How to Create Your 2018 Freelance Income Plan – As I begin to reconsider my path, I find the prospect of freelancing creeping back into the picture. I can’t say with any certainty what’ll happen moving forward, but this post is a fabulous guide for anyone wanting to make a full-time income as a freelancer.

That’s all for October (phew!)…onward and upward!!

5 comments

  • Eva

    Thanks for sharing this Leah! I can relate most to the first part, as my mom died after years of being sick (brain tumour) when I was 17. I also grieved, but by far not enough, returning to “normal” as soon as possible. These days I feel like the time to “face my grieve” again is coming closer, I am just not sure yet, in which form I want to go about this. But, it is good to know I am not the only one with a situation like this!

  • Jodi Robinson

    I look forward to the follow up post/blog/memoir. Thank you for sharing. This makes me want to take a trip to Maui 🙂 congratulations by the way!

  • Katie

    Amazing Leah. I would love to get Kate’s details if she does paid channelings. I am struggling emotionally with something that happened to me a couple of years ago, and the devastating fallout, and along with getting some help once I can afford it, I would love to do something like this. Congrats on your engagement! I got engaged last month too

  • Erika

    Congratulations on your engagement! And finding your way back to yourself, too (I’m not sure how to phrase it, hope you understand what I mean!).

  • Leandra

    Leah, while my spiritual journey is different from yours (but that’s okay, right?), I resonated so much with this post. In fact, so much so that I’m crying right now. I too have spent this year riding the waves of grief over something that happened years ago — but for me, a divorce; and grieving a living person is proving to be a lonely, confusing journey. I’m not sure what the point of this comment is except to say thank you. Thank you for being open and honest about your struggles and your triumphs. It’s something I’ve always appreciated in you as a blogger, and it shines bright and clear in this post. Thank you.

    And congrats to you and Hans!

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