“I release myself from worry, guilt, and regret about my past and present. I am aware enough not to repeat it.”

15.61 miles – Up and over the Mountains of Ponte de Lima, moving from the coastal route to the central Portuguese route.

Destination: Rubãis.

The day was scorching, and we knew we had a long transition to complete from the misty coast to the forest interior of the central route. Parts of today were filled with some of the most beautiful miles I have seen, and some of the most industrial and gross: desolate bridges, bags of poop, grafitti, stray animals, highways miles, and trash.

The weather was hot, and my body began to break from the inside out. There was a distillation happening. By the end of the day, it would feel like a true transformation, and I would be baptized in both water and tears.

My body had given me so much on this trip, and I realized I had given it very little in return. Most days, we finished our hike, hobbled to our room, took turns washing the urine off our legs from the trail-side pit-stops, and stumbled to the nearest pub for wine and whatever food they offered. Crashing into bed before dark, we reviewed the miles for tomorrow and bandaged our feet some more. I slept like the dead, only to wake up before dawn the next day to repeat the trend.

Unlike most Camino pilgrims, and against all the advice we were given by blogs and chat boards, we did not factor in rest days. Not one. Instead, we punished our bodies with relentless walking, very little food on the long stretches of desolate trails, and barely enough sleep to get us up before the sun the next day.

Today was the day I realized I was taking more than giving. My body was carrying me in new ways, but it was running low on necessities, and would allow me to ignore it any longer. I had to come to terms with my overestimations and underestimations about this trip. What would it look and feel like? What I would have or might need. How I would mentally encourage myself if and when struggles came.

Up and over the mountain from Ponte de Lima, I was reminded again of home, of Castle Crags and the Trinity Alps wilderness. It made me lonely for home and helped to clear up the longing for who I used to be as a European traveller in my 20s. I love my family. I was invested in story, heritage, and relationships. But I didn’t know how to have those things while staying committed to myself. No one taught me how to do that. I thought one would come at the cost of all the others.

The blazing day’s highlight was climbing the steep Alto da Portela, taking shelter from the sun in the canopy of trees, and stopping at the Cruz dos Mortos for a reflective rest.

I took off my shoes and let my toes rub into the dirt. I ran my hands over the leaves of nearby shrubs and let my lungs fill with the energy of those who had lived, travelled, and died there. I cried for the honor of walking in the history of this place. I began to reflect on the fourth CoDa promise that I was my meditation for the day: “I release myself from worry, guilt, and regret about my past and present. I am aware enough not to repeat it.”

• Worry.
• Guilt.
• Regret.

If there were three mascots for my life as a codependent, these would be them. Worrying about what others were thinking about me after I had left the room. Worry about oversharing or undercontributing. Worry about a hypothetical future I was determined to be prepared for, if not to control. Worry does not come from trusting God. It comes from playing God in your own life.

Guilt about ways in which I fell short. Guilt over disappointing the expectations of others. Guilt about being selfish for considering my needs first. Guilt over living a life that would overshadow the one my parents had in mind for me. Guilt over what kind of mother I would be to my kids. But Guilt does not come from the Lord, at least not the one I serve and trust.

Regret is the aftermath of these other things. Regretting the words I didn’t say, or ones I only said to myself as I was driving away from an argument. Regret about the ways that the other versions of Shellie were cut off at the knees to serve someone else. Regret over the life I was “supposed” to have before I let others write the chapters for me.

As I descended the mountains and wandered underneath grapevines, I felt myself release into the last half of today’s Promise: “I am aware enough not to repeat it.”

I was aware of how I had gotten to this point in my life. I was no longer sleepwalking and allowing life to lead me. I was leading myself in a more rooted, spiritual way. Instead of blaming my ex-husband and God for the loss of my marriage, I accepted the parts of myself that were not healthy and contributed to the downfall. I knew I was making connections to people, places, and things that were no longer healthy for me. Though I lacked the steel backbone that confidence requires, I was at least building it from scratch, piece by piece, one decision at a time.

God provided peace and comfort. I remained present and grateful as I watched the sun set over the Portuguese mountains. I am not sure the depths to which I released myself today at the cross on the mountains, but I also know that it will come. It will be revealed, and I cannot rush healing on a timetable. I appreciate the words “release” and “present” that are included in reminding me that bondage is temporary and not always in the past. Sometimes, it is a choice in the present because it is familiar.

It was our last day in Portugal, and tomorrow, we would cross into Spain to finish the last half of our walk. We were rewarded with our first private beds of the trip, a swimming pool to soak our swollen feet, and a canopy of hydrangeas towering over the fences. There would be more “ah-ha” moments of the trip, but this day was the first. I can mark a “before” and “after” on this trip because of this day. Because of the mountain cross. Because of today’s promise.

“…not to repeat it.” I am constantly becoming a new person, with every breath. With every choice. With every pivot. With every step. I do not have to repeat anything, because I will honor the sacred rebirth happening every minute.

“You cannot step into the same river twice.” – Heraclitus