From Shadow to Medicine: My Journey Through Healing and Shamanism

I was born beneath the wide Texas sky in the border town of Del Rio on September 28, 1983. I grew up surrounded by my mother, father, two younger sisters, and my older brother. Some of my happiest moments were with my grandparents — nights spent under the stars, my grandmother’s love wrapping me in peace and wonder. Slumber parties with my cousins, the sound of crickets and chasing lightning bugs, the smell of grandma's delicious Mexican food filling the air, my grandfathers constant whistling, fishing and bbq's at the lake--- childhood was such a simple time.

Night sky filled with stars

But at fourteen, my world shifted. I accidentally stumbled across my birth certificate and discovered that the man I called my father was not my biological father. My father, a man I had never met, had a life consumed by addiction and prison. That revelation planted deep questions about identity and belonging that followed me into adulthood.

At eighteen, I became a mother. My son’s father left when I learned I was pregnant at seventeen and I found myself repeating the same cycle of abandonment that had shaped me. I struggled to hold everything together — often reaching for alcohol to quiet the ache. The ache of always being unwanted.... The ache of not being good enough?

Me as a teen mom with my newborn baby boy

In 2017, I found sobriety and turned to Buddhism for grounding. But shadows returned when I was diagnosed with Rheumatoid Arthritis. The year that I watched my best friend battle her own demons. I sat in the hospital next to her as she passed away. I spiraled into a hidden year of addiction that no one knew about. I kept things buried deep inside to avoid chaos. I was a closet of secrets with a wardrobe filled of shame. When I finally came back into the light, three years sober, everything began to change.

Receiving my gohonzon (buddhist scroll) in July of 2017

I found Andean Shamanism and began studying at the School for the Shamanic Arts in Glendora, California. This wasn’t just learning — it was remembering. My ancestry is deeply rooted in Indigenous tradition, and I could feel my ancestors calling me back to the medicine they once carried.

I learned to work with Pachamama, the Apus, and the sacred directions. I learned ayni — sacred reciprocity — and how to transform wounds into wisdom. In this sacred remembering, I found forgiveness for my biological father before his passing.

Spiritual healing through Ceremony with my Nusta Karpay Ayllu

When my mother passed away this past April from non-alcoholic cirrhosis, I turned again to ceremony, and it carried me through my grief and the hardest time of my life. My mom had always been my biggest supporter and encouraged me on my shamanic path. I still feel her essence, her presence walking beside me, as I move forward in my healing journey.

Grief during the final days with my mom

Today, I walk as a healer, teacher, and guide, holding shamanic meditations, teaching the ancient ways, and helping others find peace and purpose through energy work. My Ayllu and mentors have been my medicine keepers, walking with me as I step fully into my calling.

My story is not just one of trauma — it is one of transformation. The same pain that once closed my heart now opens it to others. The same abandonment that once silenced me now gives voice to my purpose. All of those moments of sadness and guilt, brought me here.

My ancestors whisper to me that I am enough. I have always been more than enough.

This is my medicine — born of shadow and light — and I offer it in service to all who seek healing, remembrance, and reconnection.

Munay. Llank’ay. Yachay.

Andean Shamanism Ceremony

Mel K.

*Altomesayoq & Bodhissattva of the Earth*