As I read your memoir and learn more about you, I'm struck by how you've lived two distinct lives-- an inner life fraught with turmoil, pain, and desperation and an outer one that presents a beautiful, put-together, free-spirit, traveler of the world. You must have experienced a great deal of cognitive dissonance between how you felt and how others responded to the "perfect" version you presented to the world.
Without giving too much away (though I think you might already know), that cognitive dissonance eventually manifested on a cellular level. Which, in hindsight, leaves me bowing to the wisdom of the body. Somehow, she knew, that bringing that schism into her, making chaos no longer invisible or easier to ignore, I was forced to feel, acknowledge, allow and in some strange way, heal the break. Even if healing didn't mean "being healed." Like an OCD who must go through Exposure Therapy, slowly introducing that which the brain cannot tolerate, my body gave me everything I most feared, 24/7, never-ending... and after a few years of complete meltdown, she finally learned, "oh hey, I think I'm ok like this!" :)
Haha, a curvy path indeed, with lots of loops going back over themselves. Burning Man was pretty wild, especially because I may've been the only sober one there. ;) I found myself biking A LOT, wandering the vast, desert landscape day and night, discovering out-of-this-world creations and festivities. You should go someday!
And now I am wondering how many other chapters might as well. I look forward, with slight trepidation ;), to diving into more of your sublime wordsmithery.
"And just like that, I lose enthusiasm for the mystery. I need safety, comfort and familiarity." This describes so well what happens when illness takes hold...thank you for sharing!
Love this reminder... don’t turn the manifesto into a new psycho-spiritual goal! Still reading your earlier chaps but couldn't resist jumping in here! Love the letters to Charlie. The love of my life was called Charlie, I met him in my early 20s when was travelling around the USA. He knew I was a traveler and left me for a woman who could help him look after his young kids. The first man to break my heart, a hard lesson, but maybe I can thank him for it now.
When I read the first few lines of your comment I had to do some quick math, wondering if "your" Charlie could've possibly been "my" Charlie. From stories I've heard, he got around and was quite a charmer.:) But alas, no children (that he knew of!)
I'm looking forward to diving back into your memoir this week!
You're right, some early seeds of something new here. Seeds that definitely needed more sunlight and water to grow but at least they were being planted. The real turning point comes in a chapter titled, Pretty Poison...a few Sundays from now I'll be posting it. While the east/west doc became a helpful ally, alongside some profs at school, my story with healers has been fraught with opposites. Trust and distrust. Hopefulness and then hopelessness. They have ushered me into who I am, and what I believe, less through positive outcomes and more through traumatic events that lead me to denounce them.
As I read your memoir and learn more about you, I'm struck by how you've lived two distinct lives-- an inner life fraught with turmoil, pain, and desperation and an outer one that presents a beautiful, put-together, free-spirit, traveler of the world. You must have experienced a great deal of cognitive dissonance between how you felt and how others responded to the "perfect" version you presented to the world.
Without giving too much away (though I think you might already know), that cognitive dissonance eventually manifested on a cellular level. Which, in hindsight, leaves me bowing to the wisdom of the body. Somehow, she knew, that bringing that schism into her, making chaos no longer invisible or easier to ignore, I was forced to feel, acknowledge, allow and in some strange way, heal the break. Even if healing didn't mean "being healed." Like an OCD who must go through Exposure Therapy, slowly introducing that which the brain cannot tolerate, my body gave me everything I most feared, 24/7, never-ending... and after a few years of complete meltdown, she finally learned, "oh hey, I think I'm ok like this!" :)
That’s powerful and moving.
Amazing, wow you went back! That photo is mind blowing LOVE always wanted to go to burning man
Haha, a curvy path indeed, with lots of loops going back over themselves. Burning Man was pretty wild, especially because I may've been the only sober one there. ;) I found myself biking A LOT, wandering the vast, desert landscape day and night, discovering out-of-this-world creations and festivities. You should go someday!
Incredible story/ journey. And what an amazing, inspiring protaganist you are 💗
Bowing to you. You are such a generous reader, intellect, empath and new friend.
Gosh, I'm in!
I'm with James on the sublime wordsmithery. I'm going right now - back to the beginning. Looking forward to more of this read.
So happy you dropped by today, or it could have been ages before I found you.
Yay! Welcome Safar!
And now I am wondering how many other chapters might as well. I look forward, with slight trepidation ;), to diving into more of your sublime wordsmithery.
I'm curious as well. "Wordsmithery"! Hardly. But thank you for the encouragement. ;)
This hits home far closer than I had expected.
Really? What a surprise to find you here James. I'm intrigued to hear this chapter struck a chord.
"And just like that, I lose enthusiasm for the mystery. I need safety, comfort and familiarity." This describes so well what happens when illness takes hold...thank you for sharing!
I'm sure you relate! Illness is such a slowing, emptying and simplifying force. Dreams feel pointless when our bodies are trying to survive.
Like Jan, I also felt “and most importantly, don’t turn the manifesto into a new psycho-spiritual goal” deep in my bones. 🔥
I thought you might! A hard one to unwire. ;)
Love this reminder... don’t turn the manifesto into a new psycho-spiritual goal! Still reading your earlier chaps but couldn't resist jumping in here! Love the letters to Charlie. The love of my life was called Charlie, I met him in my early 20s when was travelling around the USA. He knew I was a traveler and left me for a woman who could help him look after his young kids. The first man to break my heart, a hard lesson, but maybe I can thank him for it now.
When I read the first few lines of your comment I had to do some quick math, wondering if "your" Charlie could've possibly been "my" Charlie. From stories I've heard, he got around and was quite a charmer.:) But alas, no children (that he knew of!)
I'm looking forward to diving back into your memoir this week!
Haha, yes, mine was a charmer too! Me too, I'll be back in yours!!
You're right, some early seeds of something new here. Seeds that definitely needed more sunlight and water to grow but at least they were being planted. The real turning point comes in a chapter titled, Pretty Poison...a few Sundays from now I'll be posting it. While the east/west doc became a helpful ally, alongside some profs at school, my story with healers has been fraught with opposites. Trust and distrust. Hopefulness and then hopelessness. They have ushered me into who I am, and what I believe, less through positive outcomes and more through traumatic events that lead me to denounce them.
Thank you for saying this! If I can be true to hardship while also conveying beauty then I'm happy!