I close my eyes to bring forward a pre-Covid airport scene. In doing so I feel my heart rate rise, my breath catch in my chest as a knot forms in my stomach. Ironically this is how I felt when I got off the plane in CA that January day. A wave of  “why did I do this, I wonder if I can go back home?” brought tears to my eyes and a choking ache to my throat as soon as I sat down in the Uber.

Traffic whizzed by as we made our way to the hotel. I asked the driver about how his hobbies, distracting myself from the discomfort steadily increasing in my chest.  Arriving early I had plenty of time to take a nap, bath, freshen up and attend the first nights meet and greet activities; my body, mind  and spirit had other plans.

I tossed my suitcase on the extra bed and opened the sliding glass doors, a California January breeze swept through the room as I unpacked and got my bearings. Everything about this trip represented me believing in me, me choosing me. Energetically it was as if all the ties I had in place to determine my worth; being available to others, helpful and working hard for approval, were brought to my awareness and then cut. My soul knew it was a necessary cleansing, my body was not as ready or happy.

The tears started in the bath, rocking back and forth, painful through my chest, can’t catch my breathe, head on knees with eyes that can’t see, tears. They continued as I attempted and gave up on drying my hair, putting on clothes and turning down the covers. I finally fell asleep around midnight, listening to solfeggio frequencies after calling a friend who talked me through the hardest hour. She reminded me how far I’d come and what she knew to be true, which was the mirror I needed to stay present, to be still.

I woke up on top of the covers, face mask still on, my eyes so puffy and red. The urge to pack up was still so strong, I had to fight it each turn as I got ready and headed out the door. Groups of women passed me in the hall, I wanted to speak but I didn’t want to cry and I could feel it just at the edge of throat. I felt so vulnerable, so alone, so scared to show or admit the full extent of either.

As I pushed the hotel exterior door open I saw her standing there by herself, her head down searching in her large silver bag. The clank of the door closing brought her attention back up with a jolt and we smiled at one another. ” Are you going to GirlTalk too?” I asked her. ” I am, and I don’t know where it is!” she replied looking back into her purse. “But I know I put those directions in here somewhere.”

“Let’s walk together, we’ll just ask the front desk. It’s nice to meet you, what’s your name?”….