I grew up not knowing whether I was related to the ancestors my grandmother lived with or not. My mother repeatedly told me stories that her mother had handed down to her about an aristocratic lady who was related to us, and had eloped with a groomsman near where my mother bought a house. As I grew older the stories left me with no real sense of identity of who I was. I felt like a part of me was always missing and where did I belong? When my mother died the house was sold; a few years later my daughter moved to Galway for college, it felt right for me to move back to the area again. Ironically, I found a cottage to rent very quickly just a few fields away from where my mother’s house was. It felt like fate. I just knew that this was the right time to go on a self-discovery journey for me and my ancestors. Once the thought was in my head, it would not go away. A few days later transgenerational trauma popped into my head and disappeared again. My phone seemed to have a mind of its own and words cropped up; trapped in a timeline, karma not released, negativity building up, toxicity to the land, reason trapped there and ancestral healing. All I needed to do was to take that first step forward and then wait; the universe would let me know what to do next.
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