Day 56: The Healing Power of Connection
Abu Dhabi's Spiritual Friendship
I wrote a long post today that I feel good about - but it still feels too vulnerable to share with this community at this time, so I will keep it to myself for the moment.
I know I will share it eventually because I can already feel that I will become an activist for other survivors of what happened to me. There is not enough awareness of the frequency of what I experienced, happening to other women. And yet, many times when I share the story, another woman tells me, "That happened to me too." It shocks and horrifies me.
But for now, it’s too fresh. Too raw. So I will pocket these posts, save them, and share them when I am ready.
What I will share is that today, for the first time in a long time, I felt optimism—and it felt different. I said to my friend Madison, "I’m pretty sure this is the reason why this happened..." and then I told her my interpretation on the events.
(Note: Please note that I was the one who said that to Madison. She did not say it to me.
But I have had other people say things along these lines to me in the past two weeks, unprompted, and I find it horrific.
Never, ever, say to a trauma survivor that there is a reason why this happened to them. Ever. They can say that themselves—it is part of them making meaning, of coping, of moving on with their own life.
And if they say it themselves, then you can affirm it (just like Madison did for me). But it is not for others to say about them and to them, especially if they are in the immediate crisis of the aftermath of the trauma. I hope this makes sense.)
After I said it, I paused. "Does this make me sound like I’m manic or something?"
Madison shook her head. "No. People who are manic are making decisions that aren’t suitable for their lives. You are making meaning and trying to figure out how to live with what’s happened to you. And that’s perfectly normal behavior given what you’re going through. You’re trying to find hope."
I love you Madison. You are an angel.
Today was the first day I was able to do normal things again. I sorted out payment issues with India. I called Wise to resolve business matters. I reported incidents to the hotels where they happened and informed them that I will be filing a police report when I return to Bali. Up until today my responsibilities and commitments felt impossible. Today, they felt doable.
And for the first time in weeks, I felt excited about India again. There was a moment when I had thought, How the heck am I going to pull it together for this? But today, I think I can.
I also attended a yoga class taught by two of my YTT graduates—one from 2021, one from 2022. They introduced me at the start of the class as their teacher. That moment hit me hard.
I had been so absorbed in these past two weeks (as is absolutely normal in the immediate aftermath of trauma), but suddenly, I saw a greater timeline of my life. Not just this pain, but the whole picture.
I once wrote in Sober Yoga Girl that life is made up of millions of moments. One tiny moment, where I broke someone’s heart, did not define me.
And today, as my students introduced me as their teacher, my mind flashed through all the students I’ve taught, all the lives I’ve touched.
At the end of class, I expressed how deeply this moment impacted me. One of the students teared up, pulled me into a hug, and whispered:
"You saved my life, Alex. You saved a lot of people’s lives."
Later that evening, after the call to prayer, I sat in the back garden with Carolyn and Madison. We had cookies and chocolates, and I pulled out my harmonium to chant for them.
If you wanna be free
If you wanna shine like the sun
If you wanna be free
If you wanna love everyone
Don’t worry about it all
Don’t worry about it all
Don’t worry about it all
You’re already free.
Abu Dhabi, once again, you have held my heart. And for that, I am so deeply grateful.