At this point, everything seemed hard. I sound fussy, but I don’t remember breaking down camp, getting somewhere, planning, figuring shit out, traveling so goddamn hard. Shit usually clicks into place, but not this time.
The train from Madrid to Pamplona was speedy. Lugging my suitcase, along with wearing a 38L backpack up the hill into the old city was, and amazingly still getting lost even with gps on my smartphone almost made me breakdown. I’ve been to Pamplona a number of times, but this time it was dark outside, I was jet lagged, hungry and irritated. Pushing my way through crowds of jovial Spaniards enjoying their pinxtos, vino tintos and cañas of beer in the streets with friends and family didn’t have the usual effect on me. I felt lonely and sad. Alone.
Because I didn’t know what was to come. The reason I was here was to walk my 4th Camino de Santiago.
Since it was late winter, early march, I decided to just get myself to Pamplona, then bus to Roncesvalles. I gave myself a few days in Pamplona in order to shake off travel and get situated.
Only I couldn’t shake off anything. It all felt stuck inside my cells. Eighteen months of grief and whiplash had settled into my bones and calcified, leaving me exhausted, sad beyond repair and numb. I tried to be excited but I was highly anxious for what was to come. I couldn’t shake jet lag at all, staying up until 5am. Walking the streets of Pamplona, I felt awkward, out of place. I also didn’t want anyone to look at me. I had gained weight and nothing fit me, making me want to shrink and hide away.
A far cry from how I felt a year and half ago.
A year and a half prior I was flying. Not the too-close-to-the-sun kind of flying, but like I had finally lifted myself up off the ground. The veil of almost life-long depression had lifted, quiet contentment and joy settled into my heart, the world was amazing.
Then I came back to the US and experienced a betrayal so traumatic, so destabilizing, that it totally shattered my world. Shattered my psyche, my spirit, my body. I’m still picking up the pieces. Is there a timeline for this? Shouldn’t 2.5 years be enough? I dunno.
Part of putting myself back together was starting this journey on the Camino, yet I knew from past caminos that walking this particular pilgrimage isn’t a vacation from one’s problems. In fact, the camino forces you to contend with your inner landscape.
That can be a welcome and beautiful thing, or a very, very uncomfortable thing.
Best fuel up on strong coffee and plenty of croissants.