Journey to the Underworld: A Tale of Loss, Rebirth, and Self-Discovery

There are moments in life when the weight of existence feels too much to bear, when it seems like you’ve already lost everything, and the world is a cold, dark place. That was the moment I found myself in during a dark winter gathering. It was a time of personal devastation—a time when I had lost not just my marriage, but my sense of self, my identity as a wife, and even my role as a mother. In that moment, I felt like I had already descended into the underworld, and there was nothing left to reveal. There was only darkness, emptiness, and a deep yearning for something—anything—to pull me out.

I had separated from my ex-husband, and my son had chosen to live with him. My heart shattered as I no longer wore the crown of the wife or the mantle of the mother. The titles that once defined me were gone, and with them, I felt lost, abandoned, and invisible. I had nothing left to hold onto, nothing left to let go of. What else could the universe possibly ask me to release?

At that time, I was on antidepressants, dealing with panic attacks, and struggling to even connect with my body. My mind was in overdrive, and I was sinking into despair. I was seeing a psychologist, but even that felt like just another step in a long, dark tunnel that seemed to have no end. Every part of me was screaming, "What more do I have to lose?"

And yet, despite all of this, I found myself participating in something I never thought I’d be able to do: a Dark Moon gathering it was part of series gathering for the Four Seasons Journey.

Day One: Preparation for the Journey

We began our journey by studying the story of Persephone, the goddess of the underworld. While Persephone is also known for her connection to spring and agriculture, we focused on her role as the queen of the underworld. Her story resonated deeply with me. She had been taken into the darkness, into a world of uncertainty and pain, but in the end, she emerged stronger, more powerful, and more connected to herself.

That first day, I could barely feel my heart. It was numb, buried under the weight of my own despair. I could barely imagine what was ahead, but there was something deep within me that pushed me to continue. I was already so broken, so lost, that the idea of letting go of even more seemed impossible. But this was the path we had chosen. This was part of the ritual.

Day Two: Into the Underworld

By the second day, after hours of rituals and deep introspection, the sun finally set. It was time to begin the journey into the underworld.

We were asked to shed a part of ourselves before we descended. A title. A quality. Anything that we had been holding onto. Some shed titles of maiden, mother, or partner. Others let go of aspects of creativity, wisdom, or spirituality. It felt like an overwhelming challenge to release one more thing. And so, I did. I let go of something. But what I didn’t expect was the fury that would arise in me. I was filled with anger, so much anger.

As we entered the dark, I found myself crawling through the underworld in pure rage. The weight of everything I had let go of left me feeling exposed and vulnerable. I had nothing left to offer anyone—not the world, not myself, not even those I loved. I felt stripped bare, completely devoid of any identity or sense of purpose. It was as if I was in the same dark place I had been when I made the decision to leave my marriage or when my son chose to walk away from me.

The pain of loss came crashing down on me once more, and I couldn’t breathe. The world around me felt like a distant memory. Was this the underworld? Or was it real life? I couldn’t tell anymore. I was lost in the darkness.

Day Three: Rebirth and Return

Eventually, the time came for us to leave the underworld. As Persephone reunites with her mother, Demeter, and returns to the world of the living, I too began my return. But as I prepared to leave the underworld, something inside me resisted. I didn’t want to go back. The world outside felt so foreign, so overwhelming, and the darkness had become a place of comfort, a place where I didn’t have to face the pressures of the “real world.”

But it was in that moment, in the darkness, that I began to understand something important. I had been mothered by others, by my relationships, by titles and roles. But in the underworld, I learned how to mother myself. I learned to find strength in my own vulnerability. I realized that it wasn’t the titles or roles that defined me—it was my ability to love and care for myself, no matter how lost I felt.

And so, I left the underworld not as the woman I was before, but as a woman who had learned to accept herself, to nurture herself, and to rise from the ashes of her own destruction.

The underworld had taught me something profound: that even in the darkest places, there is always the possibility of rebirth. And sometimes, you must descend into the depths in order to rise again, stronger and more whole than ever before.

As I returned to the world of the living, I realized that the journey wasn’t over—it had only just begun. The underworld had shown me who I was beneath the layers of titles and identities. And that woman, the one who could survive the darkness and return to the light, was more than enough.