Return to Sender: Releasing Shame that Wasn’t Mine

Trigger warning: as a survivor of severe sexual assault and childhood neglect, my writing includes symbolic images tied to my trauma.

A Note about Spirituality inside Psychedelic Journeys: In my journeys, visions and symbols appear that go beyond my imagination. I’m not religious, but I’ve become spiritual– after interacting with my son who died, how could I not? Whether these experiences come from my own psyche giving me the answers I need, or from something outside myself, I’m not sure. Maybe it’s both. I’m excited to learn more and I ask that you read with an open mind and stay curious and non-judgmental, but if it’s not for you, just pass along respectfully.

___________

Setting My Journey Intentions: To Free Myself of Shame

Before any psychedelic-assisted journey, it’s recommended to set an intention: What do you want to learn, heal, or understand?

As I prepare, I tune into what’s getting in my way. I can feel the tightness in my psoas and in my neck. Yoga and meditation are helping to loosen it all, but something deeper remains – a dense knot of shame around love, sex, and money.

Somewhere along the way, those three became tangled together inside me. Sex became love. Love became money. Money became worth and security. It all fused into one heavy, tangled ball of shame – living inside my body.

My intention is clear: I want to untangle it.

I want to release the beliefs about love, sex, and money that were handed to me before I was old enough to choose them myself. I want each to exist on its own – to have love without obligation, sex without shame, and money without fear.

Right now they are tangled together. Sex is tied to money through the false security of marriage. Love is tied to sex, as if intimacy proves devotion. And my worth gets wrapped up in both, searching for validation outside of myself.

Sex became love.

Love became money.

Money became worth.

Worth became survival, for my Little Lauren.

I want something different. I want love that appears in unexpected places, untouched by money or sex. I want my worth to come from my authenticity, not from being desired, chosen, or loved.

Whatever this shame is, I don’t want it anymore.

And I don’t think it’s my shame.

I didn’t do anything shameful.

Return to sender.

My practitioner, a seasoned guide, listens to my intentions, checks in on my comfort, and, with deep respect for the work ahead, I take the medicine, lie back, and wait.

I’m wearing shorts and a t-shirt, an eye mask covering my eyes. I settle onto the double bed in her journey room. For this session, she’ll hold me as I journey. She climbs in behind me, wraps her arms around me, and we breathe together.

I’ve been here before, and I know the safety of being held allows my body to soften. As our nervous systems attune, I can feel myself letting go.

I usually talk throughout my journeys, describing what I see so we can integrate it afterward. My guide helps me remember the moments that matter because, by the end, the experience often feels like a distant dream.

The Journey Begins

My body feels tingly, and I can tell the medicine is starting. I feel grateful for the opportunity and wonder what it will be like. It’s always so different.

Almost immediately, a vision appears. I’m standing on a playground. A line of men face me, their pants open, exposing their genitals.

A wave of nausea rises, and I ask for the bucket. My guide hands it to me without hesitation. She rubs my back, brings me a warm towel, tissues, and water. This isn’t unusual. Sometimes the medicine stirs such a strong physical and emotional reaction that my body needs to purge.

For me, vomiting has become part of the release. It feels as though my body is letting go of something it has been carrying for far too long. Thankfully, it doesn’t happen with every journey, and it passes quickly. I rinse my mouth, take a few sips of water, and settle back into my guide’s arms.

When I close my eyes again, I’m still at the playground, and I notice that a large cage has appeared: an upside-down metal jungle gym. The men are trapped inside it, locked safely away from me. Their penises lie on the ground outside the cage, beyond their reach.

It’s safe.

Then I see my vagina like a cash machine, money pouring from it. The bills flow toward the cage, and the men scramble on their hands and knees, reaching through the bars for every dollar they can grab.

I feel sick.

They’re taking money from my body.

From my vagina.

It doesn’t feel right.  

A Visitor Appears

Suddenly, Vishnu appears.

Over the last few years, I’ve been studying Sanskrit mantras, chanting the Sri Sukta – an ancient hymn to Lakshmi, the Hindu goddess of abundance. The sound of the chanting soothes my nervous system while helping me find my voice. It wasn’t safe for Little Lauren to speak her truth, so this has become part of our healing.

I think of the Sri Sukta as Lakshmi’s frequency, inviting me to embody all that she represents.

Abundance.

Grace.

Vishnu is Lakshmi’s divine masculine counterpart - the preserver, the one who restores balance when life falls into chaos and protects what is sacred.

It makes perfect sense that he would come now.

To help me untangle the knot of shame where love, money, and sex became one.

He sits beside me and begins to speak.

“I am the container,” Vishnu says to me, “And you fill it with beauty.”

“I am the masculine. You are the feminine.”

“That’s not been my experience,” I tell him. “I wanted to fill it with beauty. But it wasn’t safe.”

“I know,” he says, “But please don’t give up on men. They got lost too.”

I feel frustrated.

How do you not give up when someone uses you, discards you, and hurts you?

It feels like I’m walking a delicate line: staying open without abandoning myself. Not giving up on men, while keeping my boundaries strong enough to remain safe.

I look back at the jungle gym  - the men still trapped inside, their penises lying outside the cage, unable to reach me.

“You are learning how to keep yourself safe,” Vishnu says, “And that is most important. Just don’t close your heart to the masculine. Leave a doorway for the healed masculine to find you. Don’t turn away. Stay with balance to your truth and safety.”

As we talk, I notice Vishnu is working on something attached to my jaw. Strings stretch from my jaw into Vishnu’s hands. They move too quickly for me to follow.

The secrets I kept. The silence I carried. The lies I learned to tell to protect people who didn’t deserve protecting.

Vishnu continues to work on releasing the strings and says to me:  “You are a Justice Anchor. You anchor truth where silence once lived.”

“What does that mean? Am I doing as I should?” I ask him.

“Oh yes, my dear,” he tells me, “You speak the truth about what others hide. Keep going. Do not be afraid. Every person who refuses to be silenced makes it harder for darkness to survive.”

I let his words settle into me. “But there are no consequences,” I tell Vishnu. “Children are abused, and nothing happens. We’re taught not to speak. We’re told no one will believe us. Why is it like this?”

“Change never comes from one voice. It comes from many.”

“Not long ago you believed you were alone and that it was your fault. Now you know neither is true.”

“Every person who steps forward and speaks their truth makes it harder to ignore how children are failing to be protected.”

I realize Vishnu is anchoring me to the earth with a large white lollipop stick. It feels nice. Comforting. Like I belong here. Belonging.

“There you go,” Vishnu winks at me, pleased with his lollipop anchoring. “There are many more of you, justice anchors. I know this alone bit is hard. You will be more together soon.”

“Speak your truth. Do not be afraid.”

 

Meeting a New Little Lauren

Suddenly, I notice something peeking out from my right, deep in the shadows.

It’s another Little Lauren.

I don’t know this one.

She’s tiny. Younger than the others. Curled into herself, almost disappearing into the ball of darkness.

Is that the shame ball she’s coming from? Has she been inside there this whole time?

“You can come out, Little Lauren; it’s just me and Vishnu. It’s very safe.” I tell her.

She reluctantly looks around and then emerges, hiding behind me and looking at Vishnu. She’s clinging to my leg like my son used to do, holding on tight. I put my hand down to touch her back and comfort her.

“Why is his head a boar?” She asks me, and I laugh.

“That’s Vishnu’s avatar form, the boar! From when he saved the earth from a thousand-year war. He’s here to help us.”

Little Lauren looks at him, and he actually looks a little nervous, like he didn’t expect her to be here.

“I hope I don’t scare you, little one,” he tells Little Lauren, “I come with nothing but love.”

Little Lauren studies him carefully, waiting for the trick.

There isn’t one.

No one has ever cared this much about how she feels.

Slowly, she steps out from behind me. 

We notice that she’s holding something that looks like a toilet paper roll, but it’s dark black and grey.

“What’s that?” I ask her.

“It’s part of the shame ball”, she tells me, and I look closer. It’s shaped like a toilet paper roll, but it’s a black web. “I think it’s time to lay it down.”

Little Lauren looks at Vishnu for approval or questioning; I’m not sure.

He nods his head, “You get to decide that, little one,” he says, “I trust you.”

Little Lauren looks shocked and smiles at me. “Thanks for bringing that boar to help us.”

She stoops to the ground and unrolls the blackish toilet paper roll on the ground to show me. It looks like a black cobweb, all twisted together.

She keeps unrolling it, and the black web spreads out in front of us.

Then I hear them.

Before I see them, the earth begins to tremble beneath the gentle, steady footsteps of enormous elephants. They surround us in a slow, unhurried procession, instinctively pressing the black web deep into the earth as Little Lauren unrolls it.

Somehow, it doesn’t feel like they are destroying the web. It feels like they’re honoring the courage it took to lay it down. As though this is work they have done a thousand times before.

When the roll is finally empty, Little Lauren climbs into my arms.

She laughs as the elephants continue their beautiful procession.  

Then she cries,

“I love you,” she whispers to me.

“Oh honey, I love you so much. I’m sorry you had to stay hidden for so long. I’m so glad to see you.”

 

Suddenly, a woman’s voice speaks gently.

“Well done, Little Lauren. When a feeling becomes too heavy to carry, you can give it back to the earth. Mother Earth knows what to do with our pain.”

“Who is that?” Little Lauren whispers.

I know immediately.

It’s Lakshmi.

The goddess of abundance. Vishnu’s divine counterpart. The one we’ve been chanting to.

“We hear you,” she says to me.

“You do?” I ask, embarrassed. “I’ve been learning your mantra, but I’m not very good. I stumble. I croak my way through it some days. I’m finding my voice.”

Lakshmi smiles.   

“Oh yes,” she says softly. “Of course.”

“Every note reaches us. Every imperfect chant. Every sincere intention. Keep singing. Keep raising the vibration. I’m so glad you’ve found my frequency.”

Little Lauren beams and walks toward her.

Lakshmi opens her four arms and gathers us into her embrace.

I can feel her holding us.

Little Lauren melts into the hug, smiling.

Someone helped her lay down the shame.

She isn’t hiding anymore. She’s been found, safely.

 

Vishnu is holding a glass filled with gray smoke. He chants over it, then lifts it toward the sky. A great force draws the smoke from the glass and sends it back where it belongs.

“Return to sender,” Vishnu says with a wink. “Keep your own shame. That was never yours, Little Lauren.”

Little Lauren relaxes.

“I kept the secrets they told me to.” She whispers. “I thought something was wrong with me.”

I gather her into my lap and rub her back.

“Oh honey,” I tell her. “You were just a little girl. No one should have expected you to know what to do. You did exactly what you needed to survive.”

She looks up at me, searching my face.

“You are so brave.”

 

Walking through the Mirror

“Do you remember who you were before the shame?” Lakshmi asks Little Lauren and me.

I think about this for a moment.

“No, I don’t think so,” I say. “I’m not sure I ever knew that version of me.”

“Oh, you knew that one,” she reassures me with a smile. “You just forgot.”

Then, she and Vishnu place a large mirror in front of us. Little Lauren and I peer inside.

There I am.

A version of myself I have never seen.

She’s lovely and vibrant. Confident. Beautiful, with a long dark braid down her back. She’s wearing a long white gown and from behind it emerges a large tail.  

“Was I a lizard?” Little Lauren asks. “Or some type of salamander?”

I laugh.

“No,” Vishnu says. “You are a dragon.”

 “A great, powerful dragon. And that power has always lived inside of you, even if you cannot remember it.”

“I have dragon power?” I ask.

 “Yes,” he says. “Dragons have the power to transform water. And you are water. You have been changed by what you have experienced, but you also have the power to change yourself.”

He looks at me.

“You have changed. Are you ready to walk through the mirror?”

Little Lauren and I look around at where we are and the vision of us through the mirror. Then we look at the woman waiting on the other side. It feels impossibly far away, where she is sitting.

“It’s one-way?” Little Lauren asks.

Vishnu laughs softly. “Yes, it’s one way, little one. But you won’t need to return to where you’ve been. You are bringing everything you need with you.”

“OK, I’ll do it,” I say, looking at Little Lauren for approval.

Little Lauren nods. “Yes, let’s go.” She agrees.

I take Little Lauren’s hand, and slowly, we walk into the mirror, together.

I don’t look back.

I only move forward.

The celebration and the lesson of worthiness

Little Lauren seems happier as soon as we are on the other side of the mirror. She’s jumping up and down. It feels clear and clean to me, and when I turn around to look behind me, there is nothing. Where I was is completely gone.

There’s a giant celebration starting, with the same elephants who grounded the shame. This time, they stomp on the ground in a joyous noise of celebration. I can feel the earth pound underneath us. They move in what seems to be an erratic pattern, yet every step is purposeful. I don’t understand it, but I feel completely safe.

Portals open across the sky, their glowing edges spinning as hula hoops twirled into the night. I can see inside some of them, while others are turned another way.

Jesus & Mary Magdalene appear, walking along the road together. Just like I’ve walked with many friends, it seems inconsequential and normal.

“Exactly,” they tell me: “We are not more special than you. Every soul is worthy simply because it exists.”

“The beautiful things you create are not what make you worthy. They are simply the expression of who you already are.”

“Worthiness is endless,” they say.

“There is always enough for everyone.”

Before they continue walking, they smile at me and Little Lauren.

“You will find love in hidden places.” They add.

“You already have.”

“You know how to see love now.”

 

Little Lauren’s Feelings Matter

I think about how men wanted access to my love through my body, but it didn’t always feel like love. I think about finding love in friends and places I never expected to. I think about my worth: I already am everything I need to be. I don’t need to be more than I am today or tomorrow.

“And my feelings matter,” Little Lauren says.

“Yes, honey, very much so.”

 “Can you feel that now?”

“Yes. You didn’t give up. You came back for me. All the way back here, for me.” She hugs me tightly.

“I did. It took a while, but I found you. And now that we battled that shame ball, we get to create our own truths about sex, love, money, and worth.” I tell Little Lauren. 

“And remember, love isn’t something your brain can force or negotiate. Love has a mind of its own. You will know it when you find it.” 

 

“Can I show you around?” Vishnu asks, and I look at him like he’s crazy. “Show me around where?”

“Our universe!” He says to me and starts pointing things out and speaking very fast.

“Go slower, please. I don’t understand,” I tell him.

He pauses and looks at me. “I’m glad you told me,” he says. “It’s nice to hear you speak up. Don’t worry, you will understand later.”

“Why are you treating me like… an equal?” I ask him. “Am I special?”

“Of course you are special – every human is special. They made you forget that. Every one of you is just as special as the next. You all deserve respect and love.”

I see my vagina again, and this time there is a large bowl catching the gold coins that come from it, like it’s a cash machine spitting out coins.

Little Lauren looks at him: “Even me, coming from the shame ball? Am I a dragon too? I matter? I’m important?” She looks quickly from Vishnu to me, nervously, as if we are going to reject her.  

“Of course, you are the same as me,” I tell her.

 “We are the same. You’re a part of me, and I’m part of you.”

Little Lauren settles onto my back, laughing as she admires her dragon tail.

She isn’t hiding anymore.

She isn’t carrying shame anymore.

We laid it down, together.

Love, sex, money, and worth are no longer tangled together inside us.

They were never meant to be.

Shame doesn’t live here anymore.

The web is gone.

Love is love.

Money is money.

Sex is sex.

My worth belongs to me.

 

 

Image credits: ID <a href="https://www.dreamstime.com/majestic-elephant-stands-proudly-blooming-flowers-displaying-intricate-floral-patterns-its-body-under-golden-sun-ai-image361309203">361309203</a> ©

<a href="https://www.dreamstime.com/anatolik1986_info">Anatolii Savitskii</a> | <a href="https://www.dreamstime.com/">Dreamstime.com</a>