It takes a lot for me to cry (mainly because of my Prozac dosage, which kind of numbs me). On October 3rd, my emotions poured out of me like a volcano that's been dormant for 4 years.
It was intended to be a "work" retreat/offsite to learn about the wonderful work this organization does (especially with their youth). This was a once and lifetime opportunity. Upon reflection, something inexplicable happened to me. My new(ish) company (I've changed my job and joined a new company in May 2024) had a retreat at Nawalakw in British Columbia.
Holding everything in is tiring.
Fighting for everyone is tiring.
Expectations of yourself and from others to be "normal" is tiring.
Living in constant fear is tiring.
Trying not to waste a single moment, but also the pressure not to waste a single moment is tiring.
When I said goodbye to the Nawalakw team at Hada, I broke. The floodgates opened unleashing pain and trauma that I've been holding in for so long.
This is a place to let go and be in peace. Listening to their stories, but also opening up and being honest about my experience (and why I am like this), and trusting these remarkable human beings with my journey, I feel like I am now a part of their family, and they are a part of mine. They welcome everyone with open hearts and arms, after everything that that has been done to them. After all of the atrocious acts and abuse that they have suffered, they are so incredibly generous with their hearts, love, stories, knowledge, affection, and acceptance. They deserve their land, respect, and the opportunity for the younger generations to have everything they were never allowed to have. They don't even ask for anything. They are selfless and humble.
When we went to catch the crabs for dinner, I felt like the crabs we put back in the water because their claws were too soft. They weren’t ready yet.
At the final goodbye at the dock, the release of emotions overtook me. I couldn't control them or keep them in. My work colleagues were surprised to see me breakdown (we don't know each other very well). I haven't shared my story with many of them. I did share with a few from the Nawalakw team, K'odi (Hereditary Chief, Executive Director, and overall wonderful human), Scott (my new friend, and planner extraordinaire), and Brit (social support, and plant healing encyclopedia). I started to to share my ideas with them about what I thought could be possible for the next phase of Nawalakw. When I broke down, I was comforted by K'odi and Brit on the dock, and a few of my colleagues (they didn't even know why I was sobbing). I opened up to a few of my colleagues afterwards about what triggered this tidal wave of emotions (even though they never pressured me to share).
The vision for this magical place has no bounds or limitations, I envision it as a place where people can come to reflect before, during, or after their treatments or while they are waiting for their upcoming scans, clinical trial acceptance, or after a new diagnosis. If they need to drown out the noise and really reflect on what they want want to do (within their soul), without judgement or pressure from their doctors or loved ones. A place where they can learn from this community about alternative ways of thinking, medicines, and just be with the land, its energy, and its people. They can decide for themselves what is best for them.
Nawalakw has changed me, and I am eternally grateful. I wish I could have experienced this is the "before" times, but then again, maybe I was meant to to experience it at this point in my life. Maybe my mission is to help them and spread the word so that others can experience this as well.
I can't stop crying. It's like a poison that's trying to drain out of my body. I sit here writing this on the plane "home" and back back to my regular life.
Thank you to the Nawalakw team from the very bottom of my heart for changing me for the better.
For more info, please visit https://nawalakw.com/
I encourage everyone to check it out and support this in any way you can.
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