No One Is Coming for Me: The Spiritual Bath That Marked My Release

Welcome to Sacred Musings, a space where I share reflections from the heart on love, life, caregiving, and the lessons that shape us into who we are. My hope is that these words bring comfort, perspective, and inspiration to anyone walking their own path of healing and growth.

On forgiveness, surrender, spiritual cleansing, and the power of finally choosing myself.

A few days ago, I decided to make a spiritual bath.

Not because I believed that a bath could magically erase my problems, but because I needed to do something symbolic. Something intentional. Something that would help me shift the energy in my mind and spirit.

I had been carrying things for years. Memories, disappointments, attachments, questions, and feelings that simply would not leave me alone.

And the only way I could describe what I was feeling was that it was parasitic.

Something was feeding on my peace.

Not a literal parasite, but an emotional attachment that had occupied far too much space in my mind. I was tired of revisiting the same thoughts, the same people, the same disappointments, and the same unanswered questions.

I wanted my mind back.

I wanted my spirit back.

I wanted myself back.

Why I Chose Black Walnut

In holistic traditions, black walnut hulls have long been associated with parasite-cleansing practices. I knew of that association, and the symbolism spoke to me.

If I was trying to release something that felt as though it had attached itself to my spirit, why not choose something that represented the removal of parasites?

So I prepared a bath using black walnut hulls.

I allowed the mixture to steep for three days.

Three is my favorite number. There is something about it that feels complete to me. A beginning, a middle, and an end.

I placed the preparation beside my bed, and over those three days, I prayed.

I prayed the Lord's Prayer.

Over and over and over again.

But something had already begun to change before I prepared the bath.

The Prayer I Finally Understood

One day, while walking home, I began reciting the Lord's Prayer.

It was a prayer I had known for much of my life, but on this particular walk, I began to hear the words differently.

"Forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive those who trespass against us."

I thought about that.

Really thought about it.

I have trespassed against others, just as others have trespassed against me.

I have made mistakes. I have hurt people. I have misunderstood situations. I have acted from pain, fear, anger, and disappointment.

And while I have certainly experienced hurt at the hands of others, I am not exempt from taking responsibility for my own behavior.

That realization was empowering.

I don't have to spend the rest of my life identifying myself through what other people have done to me.

I can acknowledge the harm. I can acknowledge my part where there is one. I can seek forgiveness. I can forgive.

And I can move on.

Forgiveness does not require reconciliation. It does not require reopening a door. It does not require me to pretend that something didn't happen.

And taking responsibility for my actions does not mean taking responsibility for someone else's mistreatment of me.

It simply means I am willing to look at myself, too.

I realized that I wanted something more than an apology, an explanation, or even justice.

I wanted freedom.

The Bath

Last night, after three days of preparation and prayer, I finally took my spiritual bath.

I removed the black walnut hulls from the dark liquid and discarded them, continuing to recite the Lord's Prayer as I did so.

Then I showered.

Afterward, I took the pot of black walnut tea, poured a little over my hair, and doused my body with the rest.

I probably should have poured it more slowly.

Because when I looked down at my shower stall, it looked like a bloodbath.

The dark reddish-brown liquid was everywhere.

And the symbolism was extraordinary.

It looked as though something had died in that shower.

Something I had been carrying.

Something I had been feeding with my thoughts, my attention, my memories, and my emotional energy.

I stood there looking at the water and thought about everything I was ready to release.

And then something dawned on me.

No one is coming for me.

No one.

And perhaps no one was ever coming.

Not the man I had loved. Not the people I had hoped would understand me. Not the people I had wanted to protect me, choose me, defend me, or finally recognize what I had been through.

I had spent so much of my life waiting for something from someone.

An acknowledgment.

An apology.

A rescue.

A return.

And standing in that shower, I decided to stop waiting.

Not because I am undeserving of love, protection, or support. I absolutely am.

But because I no longer want to suspend my life while waiting for another person to provide them.

I can love myself.

I can protect myself.

I can choose myself.

And I can leave.

I went to bed that night without rinsing away the black walnut tea. I put on my pajamas and went to sleep.

I felt that I had completed something.

The Very Next Day

The next day was interesting, to say the least.

I got up, went to work, and went about my day.

And then the phone rang.

It was my first real customer for Sacred Heart Nursing Services.

My first customer!

I had received an inquiry before, but that conversation had felt uncertain. The caller had questions, reservations, and skepticism.

This woman was different.

She called, explained what she needed, and booked her appointment.

Just like that.

There was no interrogation. No suspicious tone. No hesitation.

It was as though she already knew me.

"Yes, come on over. I want you to do X, Y, and Z, and I'll see you at three o'clock on Saturday."

And that was that.

I had a customer.

A real customer.

For the business I had been working so hard to build.

I was grateful. I was excited. And I couldn't help but appreciate the timing.

The day after I symbolically released what had been occupying so much of my emotional energy, something I had been working toward professionally began to materialize.

I don't know that the two events were connected.

But I know what that moment meant to me.

My attention was beginning to return to my own life.

And Then Something Else Happened

For some time, I have wondered whether someone from my past has been calling me from unfamiliar numbers, listening to me answer, and hanging up.

I don't know whether those calls are actually from him.

But I do know that the possibility had kept a little part of my attention attached to the past.

Then, on this same day, my phone and tablet disappeared.

I had set them down, and when I returned, they were gone.

I believe someone took them.

I was upset. Of course I was upset.

Those devices are expensive. They contain information, contacts, work, and pieces of my everyday life.

But after the initial frustration, I began thinking about the symbolism.

That phone was connected to so many things I had been trying to release.

Old conversations. Old expectations. The possibility of another call. The temptation to reach backward.

And suddenly, I was faced with the possibility of getting a new phone.

Maybe even a new number.

A fresh start.

Not because having my belongings taken was a blessing. It wasn't.

But because I can choose what I carry forward from an unpleasant experience.

I can protect my information, replace what I need, and decide which connections deserve access to me in this next chapter.

Knowing When to Leave

Something else had been weighing on me: my job.

I had been increasingly frustrated, and on that particular day, I felt a strong urge to quit.

It was almost as though something inside me was saying, "You've done enough here."

And then the tablet disappeared.

I don't interpret that as an instruction from the universe to make a reckless decision. I still have responsibilities, bills, and a business to build.

But it did make me think seriously about how much longer I want to remain in situations that leave me feeling depleted.

I have another per diem opportunity. It may pay more. It may not.

Either way, I have options.

And I have Sacred Heart Nursing Services.

A business that I have been building with my own hands, my own education, my own experience, and my own determination.

For years, I have used my nursing skills to serve other organizations.

Now I am learning how to use those same skills to build something for myself.

And perhaps the greatest shift is this:

I am becoming more comfortable saying no.

No to unnecessary frustration.

No to emotional attachments that keep me stuck.

No to relationships that require me to abandon myself.

No to situations that take more from me than I am willing to give.

And no to the belief that I must wait for someone else to give me permission to change my life.

What Actually Died in That Shower?

When I think about the dark water running down the walls and floor of my shower, I don't think about literal evil being washed away.

I think about the death of an expectation.

The expectation that someone would come back.

That someone would finally understand.

That someone would make everything right.

That someone would rescue me from the emotional consequences of my own attachments.

And I think about the woman standing in that shower, finally realizing that she has the ability to choose differently.

That woman is me.

I don't know what tomorrow will bring.

I don't know whether my business will take off as quickly as I hope. I don't know what will happen with my employment. I don't know whether people from my past will ever acknowledge the pain they caused.

But I am beginning to understand that I don't need all those answers to move forward.

I can forgive without receiving an apology.

I can take accountability without accepting blame that isn't mine.

I can love someone without returning to them.

I can be disappointed without becoming bitter.

I can leave without being chased.

And I can begin again without anyone's permission.

The spiritual bath was a ritual.

The black walnut was a symbol.

The prayer was an invitation to examine myself.

But the decision to change?

That was mine.

And perhaps that is what spiritual renewal looks like for me at this stage of my life.

Not waiting for the heavens to rearrange everything around me.

But recognizing that I have the power, the responsibility, and the freedom to rearrange my own life.

No one is coming for me.

And for the first time, that thought doesn't have to feel like abandonment.

It can feel like liberation.

Because I am already here.

And I am finally choosing myself.

Sacred Musings | A personal reflection on faith, forgiveness, emotional freedom, and new beginnings.

Look who showed up for herself.