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• My long walk to forgiveness:One writer's voyage of discovery on the Carmino de Santiago pilgrimage. Published: 19:27 EDT, 4 October 2014 Updated: 19:27 EDT, 4.

My long walk to forgiveness: One writer's voyage of discovery on the Carmino de Santiago pilgrimage. 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 7. 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. Watch Boys And Girls Hindi Full Movie more.

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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.

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Sonia (centre) with her siblings and father Paul in 1. Her brother Bruce is second from left.

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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 7. 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. Watch The Postman Dailymotion on this page. Watch First Sunday Online Ibtimes.

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 2. 6km 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 1. 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.

Lane Kiffin Owned By Autograph Seekers. Florida Atlantic head football coach Lane Kiffin, the most frequently dunked- on coach in recent college football history, has willingly shared two more stories about times in which he was savagely owned. ESPN’s Heather Dinich has an entertaining story in which college football coaches share the strangest autograph requests they’ve ever received.

Kiffin, perhaps resigned to the fact that he must always be the butt of the joke, shared two stories. The first: Lane Kiffin was head coach at USC when some of his own autographed items were sent back to him. It had a little something to do with him leaving for the Trojans just 1.

Knoxville.“A Tennessee fan mailed me things I signed for him because they said they don’t want this trash in their house,” he said, “so they mailed it back to me.”Ruined. The second story ocurred while Kiffin was the offensive coordinator at Alabama. He told Dinich that a Crimson Tide fan asked him to sign a picture of the famous “Rocky Block” play from 2. Alabama’s 1. 2- 1. Tennessee, where Kiffin was the head coach at the time: Kiffin was Alabama’s offensive coordinator when he was handed the picture to sign.

She asked me to sign it with ‘Roll Tide’ on it,” Kiffin said, sounding still incredulous at the request.“I said, ‘I’ll sign it, but I don’t think I can really write ‘Roll Tide’ on this picture.”Wrecked.[ESPN].