Camino Didn’t Fix Me

My ex met her ex on the Camino… I always thought it was the most romantic thing ever. So, about a year and a half ago, I started planning to do the Camino. I figured out my leave from work, bought plane tickets, gathered the equipment I needed over time, and trained with weighted backpacks on long country roads… Yesterday, I returned home.

On the Camino, I saw rain, snow, and sunshine. I pushed through pain and discomfort. On average, I walked 32 km a day. I was lucky with my footwear; I never dealt with blisters. I tweaked my knee on the descent from Foncebadón, but a few meters of kinesiology tape did wonders to keep me going. I had brought a rock my ex touched with her hands from our backyard. I felt a release as I left it under the Ferrocruz.

The best part of the Camino was the people. Many came to process what had happened to them: job losses, divorces, breakups. What would be considered oversharing elsewhere was the norm here. It felt like everyone had something they needed to get off their chest. When anyone needed anything, there was always someone else lending a hand. Medicine, equipment, and advice were shared. I am grateful to Isabel for the tape, Claire for the magnesium, and Sonia for the Icy Hot. I hope Sam kept his hands warm with the merino gloves I gave him, and I hope the stranger wearing my toe socks is enjoying them.

Being out on the Camino, you had to trust in others’ kindness. Walking in a land you don’t know, with a language you barely understand, with only what you have in your backpack… I had to learn to be comfortable in other people’s hands. Sleeping communally in albergues was an experience. I had to trust both the other peregrinos and the hospitaliers. It was beautiful to eat a communal dinner and sing a song together in those rooms.

I saw quite a few different takes on the journey in those albergues. I stayed in places run by a hippie commune, by the Order of St. James, and by people simply making a living. In all these instances, one thing was common: you were welcomed as you were. You were given a place to put your head down after a long day, and, if you chose, the company of others.

What the Camino meant to me changed over time. In the year leading up to it, I was looking for a way to stay connected to my ex. Before I got there, it became a distant place where I would go and come back whole. Now that I am back, the Camino did not fix me. I brought back all the wounds I took with me. But it softened my heart, so that now I can forgive myself for the hurt I carried along the way.