St. Patrick’s Day is not about getting drunk in spite of what society in the States tells us. The root comes from St. Patrick ridding the Isle of snakes in the from of Pagans by converting them to Christianity. And today is a way for the Irish diaspora to reconnect with their heritage.

For me it highlights the loss of my grandmother whom I never knew in physical form, though she has been with me since conception. And the loss of her sister whom I adored, and a piece of myself, a version of myself that I left in Ireland 16 years ago. A version of myself that could have been or was, and a love that I held so dear who passed this past year.

That brilliance, that fire of what could have been if we had met at a different time and place. It took me a long time to come back to the reality of what is in the here and now. And my want of that feeling again led me astray into a relationship with a man who could never tell me that he loved me. A man cruel in his distance and living deep within his addictions.

I gave him full reign — the space to go through whatever he was going through. Naiveté led me to believe him to be an honest man and that he would speak his truth when he was ready. However, truth did not exist for him until he was cornered to admit the magnitude of his betrayal by his 9-month old son’s mother. A son born on my birthday, a product of his years of philandering.

This was 2005. The start of a year that nearly shattered my existence as the snakes in the form of falsehoods showed themselves all around me. This was the start of my awakening as I dove deeper into my Kundalini yoga practice and started to build a life based on my needs.

I moved into a 350 sq ft apartment a couple of blocks from Greenlake in Seattle as I could not imagine occupying any space bigger and walks around the lake provided solace. It was the perfect cocoon in which to lick my wounds from those unspoken acts. It was the untruths that did me in as it was a relationship that I was surprised to still be in. The lying is what shattered me… the facade.

Months later the nuclear family that I was born into imploded as the untruths mounted and the depth of my father’s addictions came to light. I was implicated to knowing about the facade my father constructed in spite of living 3000 miles away. My guilt lies in saying yes to what was asked of me in order to keep the family facade from perishing sooner in spite of it never feeling right in my gut. My regret is in saying yes.

Finally saying no, however, was the best decision I ever made for my self. It is the one thing that I do not regret. Even now after almost 9 years of the “silent treatment” from my brother and having no relationship with my niece and nephews who have been born during this time.

There is no regret because I followed my gut. I listened to the messages and the visions. It was a struggle to come to this place of making a decision for me and my best interest rather than for the greater “good”.

This is the moment that I said “YES” to me.

And I was exiled for it. Partly self-exilation and partly banishment. In December of that year when my brother flew my parents to LA for Christmas I thought I might die. But I didn’t. The wound was cut so deep and all I could do was cry and comply to my friends who cared for me. Those who guaranteed my passage through the fire.

On the other side I discovered energy coming out of the palms of my hands after a Kundalini yoga class. And so begins my journey to the place in which I inhabit today. A place of health and healing and light where I am able to help others follow what their gut is telling them in spite of years of not trusting that feeling.

I am a testament to the resilience that exists within the human condition. The most wondrous quality that we each carry. You are more resilient than you know.

xoxo, s