Feeling Full of Light and Love After Healing Through Open and Vulnerable Connection

The closer we got to our destination, the higher my heart inched up into my throat, my entire Being vibrating. My emotions were intense, excitement mixed with trepidation. What was that first moment of beholding going to look like? Feel like? I did my best to stay centred, filling my lungs with long, deep breaths. And then we were pulling into the parking space outside Mama Toucans in Dominical, Costa Rica.

Mister spotted her first, sitting at a picnic table outside. As I descended the steps, my daughter rose from her seat towards me. Something unseen propelled me towards her, a force so compelling I felt like I was floating. We almost fell into an embrace. Electricity shot through me, then transformed into a gentle breeze that felt like angels whispering. As we stood there in silence, just holding onto one another, the tears I’d been holding back released in a sob of gratitude that was echoed by her. It felt like a miracle unfolding. Everything I’d been hoping and praying for during the past three years seemed held in a halo of reverence.

I don’t remember now, what I said, what she said. I recall pulling back and looking into her face and muttering something irrelevant, about how tall she was. Pinch me, I’m dreaming, I thought. On one hand, it was like we’d never been apart. On another, it was as though I was beholding someone I’d never met before, her healing transformation was that palpable. I felt so alive, my cells full of blood and sweat and love. Like I might explode with the exaltation. She smiled, from her soul, and I recognized the girl, now a woman, that I’d birthed into this world. In that moment our realignment was born too, the journey to our mother and daughter healing. My worries melted away, replaced with a deep knowing of what was already beginning to take shape.

My daughter laughed, in her fairy-warrior-priestess manner, that has the power to draw everyone closer. The spell was broken and we moved apart, inviting Mister to join in our reunion. We both started talking animatedly over one another, so excited to share everything, not knowing where to start and wanting to honour one another at the same time. We opened up all the way during our short fifteen-minute drive to Villas Alturas, the accommodation we’d booked, perched high on a hillside, backing the jungle and overlooking the ocean, the perfect sanctuary.

That first evening we sat in the resort’s restaurant and regaled each other with story after story, over food and wine, a deluge of rain pouring from the heavens encircling the open-air space. The Universe shedding tears of joy, I thought to myself.  Over the first few days we hurled ourselves out of our comfort zones into various adventures. Some stickiness came up, as was to be expected. But the miracle continued to blossom as we discovered, together, new ways of resolving conflict and breaking down communication barriers through open, vulnerable, and non-judgmental conversations. 

Hand-in-hand, I walked with my daughter down silky soft sand beaches speckled with small stones and sticks. We frolicked in the waves of the majestic, yet calm energy of the ocean, contained inside cozy peninsulas. We prepared food together and for one another. We dipped into the resort pool amid softly falling rain. We immersed ourselves in nature, embracing the healing remedies that the jungle and ocean offered; so many varieties of birds, iguanas and even the howler monkeys, with their surprising, distinctive roar that my daughter imitated so well, much to our amusement. Mostly, we talked about our personal paths toward healing, sharing the insights and wisdom we’d achieved through our vastly different, but equally effective methods.

Then a defining challenge happened. Over breakfast at the restaurant, my daughter shared some of her feelings from the past that triggered old wounds for me. I didn’t want to interrupt or shut her down, so I sat in my darkness as it formed a knot around my heart. I felt the signs of a panic attack coming, knowing the heart palpations and acid-rising in my throat all too well. I was allowing myself to be transported back in time, to the trauma. I felt like I was in it, like it was happening, even though my logical mind knew it wasn’t so.

I excused myself from the table and stumbled down the stairs to our villa. I threw myself on our bed, the anxious feelings taking hold and rising. “I’m not good enough,” I’m not a good mother,” “I didn’t protect her.” When Mister didn’t come after me, my mind raced to all kinds of terrifying scenarios. I paced the villa floors, calling his name, crying, like a crazed, caged animal. When he finally approached, likely only moments later, I threw myself against him and cried even harder.

My Mister was rocking it, calm and steady. And then my daughter appeared. She took my hands in hers and looked me in the eye. She told me she would not run away or back down from this challenge, or from me, ever again. She committed to embrace me and all the stickiness of our past, present and future with open arms. I let that sink in, feeling like it was too good to be true, while praying it was.

Over the remainder of our time together, the trust that was planted in that interaction continued to blossom, becoming a fledging flower on Mother’s Day. My daughter showered me with gifts from sunrise to sunset, but the most incredible was later that afternoon. I went over to her villa and the two of us sat on her couch. She opened her art journal that chronicled her healing journey in Peru. The paintings she’d created were masterpieces that revealed such depth of meaning, and my daughter filled in the gaps with her words.

The details of our communion are far too personal to share here, but what I want to express is the courage we both summoned to the occasion. Somewhere along the way we lost sight of the boundaries we’d promised, into territory we’d said was off limits, and yet somehow it felt safe. I heard an angel whisper in my ear that it was okay, that was the past, that all was well. Tears streamed in rivers down both our cheeks and we felt what we were creating and becoming.

We will have hard times ahead, as all of us do, but in that beautiful, precious moment we were gifted by the Divine. We witnessed one another in our truth. Life is a blessing to behold. Miracles are constantly manifesting, if we only have eyes to see, ears to hear, and hearts open.

So yeah, I’m feeling light and love after healing through open and vulnerable connection.