La Llorona

I am La Llorona, the wailing woman who wanders along riverbanks calling for the children she drowned before killing herself. This Hispanic story has always haunted me, and while exploring some deep sadness inside me during a massage, the image of La Llorona came up in my mind (or in my heart?). The children I've lost are really parts of me that have disassociated for various reasons over my lifetime. This incredible sadness, which feels sloshy and wet, like I'm standing next to a cool ocean of sadness feels too deep to even begin to penetrate.




In the last few weeks I have been reading a book by Sandra Ingerman, a shaman who works with Soul Retrieval. Soul retrieval is based on the belief that during trauma (even small traumas) often a part of our soul disassociates from our body. What struck me was how similar this is to working with trauma patients who often experience disassociation. And in the spirit of self-reflection, while meditating, and through my massage, I have been able to identify at least, a few parts of me that I have been missing.



There's my baby self, floating in a basket, screaming into the void, wondering where mama is. It left when I was relinquished. The part that stayed in place was the compliant one, the one that became adaptable and self reliant...never too trusting.

I can see my third grade self, who calls herself Jennie after my great-grandma (my namesake) Jennie died. What sparked this fiesty eight year old to leave?

My thirteen year old self at least came up to me during my visualization. She said "what took you so long?" She is my "Seattle Self," the one who stayed when I sacrificed and chose to vote for moving to Yakima rather than staying in Seattle.

Before I was naive that they were gone, and then I realized that they were, and that was what prompted my deep grief and sadness. Because I miss them...all of them...even the ones I don't know are gone.