Although a successful self-help author, SONIA CHOQUETTE felt angry and confused after the sudden deaths of her brother and father and the break-up of her marriage. So she decided to walk the Camino de Santiago pilgrimage trail in the Pyrenees – but would the arduous 790km trek give her the answers she craved?

Sonia in the village of Hornillos del Camino, near Burgos

As the initial shock over my losses began to wear off, I found myself consumed with anger. Top of my list of targets was my brother Bruce. He had introduced so much pain into my family with schizophrenia, bipolar disorder, drug addiction and depression that his death was just one more bullet to our hearts. I had tried to be loving to him during his life, but his addictions and self-absorption made that difficult. I did my best to be a good sister, but he had been so manipulative and self-centred with his drug use that it disgusted me. I never told him. Instead I tried to love and accept him as he was.

But he was dead. I was supposed to be glad that he was at peace. What made me so angry, though, was the way he was allowed to live with impunity from all the pain he had inflicted on us. The unspoken family rule (or maybe my own) was to be kind, loving and nonjudgmental and not have a single negative reaction to his endlessly crappy behaviour. While he was alive I had managed that. Now I could not shut off the negative feelings.

Sonia (centre) with her siblings and father Paul in 1969. Her brother Bruce is second from left

I was also angry with my father. All my life I had been a ‘good girl’ and done everything I could to love him, but for reasons I could not understand he seemed to resent that. He often lost his temper with me as a child and used to smack me. When I became a published writer he told me never to speak of my work when I came home as he feared it took the spotlight off my mother. My father had met her as a GI in Germany at the end of the war. She was Romanian and had been imprisoned there. My father brought his pregnant bride back to America and felt responsible for her. He showed heroic dedication and loyalty to her. I never understood his conditions but agreed to them anyway. Now they made me furious. It was as if he was banishing my light and it hurt me terribly that I’d never let him know. The minute he died, ignored feelings erupted like a volcano. I remembered the father I was frightened of, the one who was angry and depressed and felt threatened by me.

I was angry with my husband Patrick, too, for the way that he failed to comfort me when I was in pain. Why couldn’t he just put his arms around me and reassure me that everything would be OK? Instead he withdrew, leaving me to struggle on my own. When he moved out, I knew I had to get away.

Shortly after my father and brother died, a woman showed up at one of my workshops with a seriously injured foot. She told me she had injured it walking the Camino. I had never heard of it. ‘Oh Sonia,’ she said. ‘If anyone should walk the Camino it’s you.’ The Camino was one of the three major Catholic pilgrimages: to Rome, Jerusalem and Santiago in Spain, where it is believed the bones of James the Apostle are buried. I decided to walk the 790 kilometres from St-Jean-Pied-de-Port in France, over the Pyrenees down to Santiago de Compostela.

THE ROAD MORE TRAVELLED 

The Camino de Santiago

The Camino de Santiago follows several different routes across France and Spain (see above). The path Sonia walked took five weeks, starting in Saint-Jean-Pied-de-Port on the French side of the Pyrenees and taking in the cities of Pamplona, Logroño, Burgos and León on the way to Santiago de Compostela in northwestern Spain. 

I had read that the Camino gives you a gift every day if you pay enough attention to receive it. As I began my bottom burned, my back hurt and I had to stop a lot to catch my breath. Taking breaks allowed me to appreciate the incredible beauty around me. The colours everywhere were extraordinary – expanses of intense green dotted with small budding yellow flowers. I also saw birds of prey overhead, lifting my spirit and telling me to look further than my nose as I walked.

 When my father died, ignored feelings erupted like a volcano

For a long time I had no thoughts at all, simply focusing on my breathing and taking one step at a time. Then my thoughts began to drift to my father. I remembered at first all the ways in which I felt he hadn’t supported or celebrated me. Then my mind began to turn to the challenges he had faced and my heart opened to him as I walked those last difficult kilometres on my first day.

I recalled him telling me, in one of those rare moments when he shared something personal, how as a child during the depression he’d had a pet pig which he loved and how his family had slaughtered it one day for dinner when he was at school. I thought about how he had to work hard all his life, how he married my mother while he was stationed in Germany. Then there were so many of us to support – seven children as well as his parents who lived with us and depended solely on him.

Left, mapping the trail in Castilla and León; right, the route passes through many picturesque small towns

With each step I realised how difficult that must have been. But he took care of us all and never complained. We were not rich, but we ate well and always had lots of toys under the Christmas tree. As we grew up, my brother Bruce became sicker and he took care of him tirelessly. Suddenly, I felt sad that I had judged my father so harshly and my anger gave way to sadness. I had failed to recognise him for who he was. Tears rolled down my face as I finally walked into Roncesvalles on my first day and called in at the pilgrim’s passport office for my pilgrim’s stamp.

The next day proved more challenging. The ground was unstable and shaky, which was how I felt inside. I was not in a good mood. Suddenly, I slipped and slid ten feet down the mountain, landing in the mud. I stood up. My dodgy knee was ok. I was fine. The descent continued, as did the slippery ground. I kept banging my toes on the fronts of my boots, making it impossible to take a single step without feeling excruciating pain.

Left, a makeshift shrine to honour past pilgrims; right, the yellow and blue signs were a reassuring sight

As I walked I thought this was how it felt to be married to Patrick. As much as I wanted to forgive him, all I could think of was how much pain I had been in being married to him. Like the slippery ground under my feet, I had never felt fully safe with him. I wondered if this was fair. How much of that was me being stuck in a pattern of not asking for help and how much was about his not having it to give? Then my foot slid again and I landed in a puddle, the mud sliding into my boot.

‘That’s an answer for you, Sonia,’ I said out loud, between cursing. ‘You took the step into the muck.’

Negative thoughts made the Camino more difficult to walk. When I let go of dark thoughts I could keep going even when I thought I didn’t have another step in me. The more I walked, the more these angry feelings rose in intensity then subsided. And as they began to subside, it felt like they were ebbing out of my body, leaving me with a sense of quiet.

Left, after a 26km first day’s walk to Roncesvalles, Sonia ate her first pilgrim’s dinner of soup, bread and wine; right, the going gets better on the Camino as negative thoughts begin to subside

After walking for many days Sonia counts down the last 100 kilometres

As my outer effort increased, my inner struggle abated. My sense of injustice began to ease as I breathed, slowly putting one foot in front of the other, again and again. The muscles in my legs were on fire, melting into the pain in my toes. I had no other option but to stay focused and keep moving, leaving my anger behind me for now.

Looking at this mountain of grief, I realised I had no reason to feel ashamed 

Walking for so many hours in silence was the best meditation of my life. There were long periods when I found I wasn’t thinking at all. My heart became lighter. So many of the burdens I had come to the Camino with were beginning to shake free.

For the first time in a long, long while, I missed Patrick. We had travelled a lot together and there were times on our wild adventures when we had to scramble to find food. He made sure I always ate well. He was a wonderful cook and at home his dinners were legendary among our friends. I began to wonder what had gone so terribly wrong between us. I had married for life and yet it was me who finally said ‘I quit’.

Left, the cross of St James is a regular landmark along the Camino; right, Sonia celebrates her arrival in Santiago with a selfie at the cathedral

During the weeks of solitude, it became more evident that while my life circumstances had been challenging, it was my own thoughts that were causing me the most difficulty. I looked back over my marriage and wished I had been able to love both Patrick and myself more. I could see how working so hard to take care of others meant that I didn’t have the time to take care of myself and us.

Another walker had told me that a big part of walking the Camino was selecting a rock to carry to the top of Cruz de Ferro, between Rabinal and Ponferrada, and place there as a symbol of the burdens I was leaving behind. The fog thickened as I reached the summit and I could barely make out the huge iron cross. I was taken aback by the vast amount of stones and talismans piled high around it. There were photos, teddy bears, letters, shoes, rosaries and more, each representing someone’s heartache. Looking at this mountain of grief, I realised I had no reason to feel ashamed for hurting, for feeling like a failure because I got angry and scared. I placed my huge rock on the pile and thanked all the people who had touched my soul.

Sonia shows off her Camino certificate or 'compostela'

As I started down the mountain, the icy wind blew in my face with such ferocity that it felt personal. Rather than fight it, I let it scour off the remaining barnacles of hurt. ‘Go ahead,’ I screamed, ‘blow it away.’ I finally descended below the fog into a vast valley. It was incredible. The past was behind me, just like the Camino. I was free. 

Two months after Sonia completed the Camino and returned to her home in Chicago, she received an email from her husband asking if she would like to meet. They talked about how they missed each other and decided to give their marriage another try.

This is an edited extract from Walking Home: A Pilgrimage from Humbled to Healed by Sonia Choquette (Hay House, £12.99). To order a copy, go to you-bookshop.co.uk. Free p&p is available for a limited time.

Reunited in more ways than one with her husband Patrick and daughters Sabrina and Sonia

  

 

ncG1vNJzZmivp6x7pa3IpbCmmZmhe6S7ja6iaKCforJwxc6uZpqqpJ6wrbGMa25wcWRrhnCZ2GajqKaXYsSiuMpmnaiql57DprrErKpmh56aeri%2ByK2cq2WjYsOwxcCgnGacmaiwsMLEq7Bme5Gnuqq6zmaKmqaknq6ou4ypoKWfop66orPEZ5%2BtpZw%3D