DISCLAIMER: This is an account of a personal experience. In no way, am I encouraging the use of illegal substances. What I AM encouraging is for you to open your mind, do you own research, and ultimately follow your personal callings in life. You’ll hear them, once you make the space amidst all of the “other” noise.
The calling came last fall.
I began spotting different varieties everywhere, as close as my own backyard. King Alfred’s cake, Turkey Tail, Haymower’s, even Fly Agaric, also known as Amanita Muscaria, known for its bulbous, bright red cap, pocked with white flecks. It’s something plucked straight from a fairytale. I was driving downtown near the hospital when I saw a flash of red through the passenger side window in my periphery. I circled back. It was incredible. Over a dozen of these little anomalies had sprung from the ground at the base of a tree…next to the sidewalk…just below the hospital, which was perched on a hill. I admired them and left, but they consumed my mind for the next couple of days. I began doing some research and found that they were psychoactive, containing the compounds ibotenic acid and muscimol. They are poisonous if eaten raw, but could be consumed after dried or in the form of a tea, from the dark red blood they expel when heated to a certain temperature. They are known to have been widely used by the people of Siberia as an entheogen as part of spiritual practices, but they’re most widely known for their use as an insecticide in many European countries, where they are ground to powder and mixed with milk as a natural fly catcher, hence; fly agaric. Some even believe that the story of Santa Claus derives from shamans in the Siberian and Arctic regions, who visited the homes of locals in late December with gifts of psychoactive mushrooms, which they carried around in large sacks...Santa’s suit just so happens to match the color pattern of the Amanita Muscaria...flying reindeer (which were the spirit animals of the Arctic shamans)...Rudolph’s nose…????????
The following day, a friend of mine posted a video on youtube, explaining his first experience consuming a tea from the amanita. (Insert mind-blown emoji here). I had been somehow inserted into a story revolving around fungi. So, I went with it, and hopped down a wormhole online, consuming everything I could find pertaining to mushrooms.
My relationship to mushrooms up to this point was unremarkable. I knew that I enjoyed some of the varieties (which could be bought at a farmer’s market or grocery store) cooked and paired with a protein source and the “magic ones” I’d simply put in the same box as hippies, patchouli, drum circles and jam bands. I’d eaten a small amount on a particular evening in my sophomore year of college and sat on a friend’s couch enjoying the sounds of the birds outside. That was about it. I’ve always experienced fear at the thought of "mind-altering” drugs, which I now know was a product of never truly trusting myself (what’s inside) or feeling safe. I was terrified of what I’d find in there. No way...Not for me.
“I’ll most definitely be the guy who trips so hard that he ends up in a mental hospital, convinced he’s a glass of orange juice.”
In my research, I quickly became privy to a resurgence of research that was taking place regarding the therapeutic use of psychedelic mushrooms (containing psilocybin) in the treatment of everything from mood and anxiety disorders to addiction and cluster headaches. The success rates in these trials (though relatively small) have been staggering, as phase 1’s graduate to phase 2’s. It’s as as if you can hear the teeth of the pharmaceutical companies chattering…No. Wait…or is that chomping?
On 05/08/19 Denver became the first American city to decriminalize psychedelic mushrooms.
Per physician’s instructions, I weaned myself off of Zoloft this past December. I had never been comfortable with the thought of having to swallow a pill every morning in order to regulate my mood. Prior to Zoloft, I had been on stints with Lexapro and Paxil, both which had undesirable side-effects that I just couldn’t deal with. Don’t get me wrong here, antidepressants have their place and they help TONS of people. I know quite a lot of them. A recent poll found that one out of every ten people in the U.S. are on some form of antidepressant, so they must be doing something right, but, again…Not for me. To their credit, they helped to get my head out of the perpetual grey cloud of my first Pacific Northwest winter, but what has always made more sense to me is the thought that the earth provides the answers to what ails us. It always has...but as a society we seem to find ways to confuse and complicate this INFORMATION, then to build fear around it, and ultimately, criminalize it.
“Keep it out of the hands of the people, for it just might...change their minds.”
But what if that’s precisely what you’re looking for?
What if you want to reset that default mode network in your brain that keeps you obsessing and assuming and avoiding and creating false narratives ALL OF THE F***ING TIME, not just mask or dampen it.
In my research I found that conversations around psychedelics were circulating between comedians, actors, musicians and scientists. They boasted testimonials as to how these medicines have given them a greater understanding of life, feelings of purpose and connectedness and even brought them closer to GOD. There was a buzz around a book called “How to Change Your Mind: What the New Science of Psychedelics Teaches Us About Consciousness, Dying, Addiction, Depression and Transcendence” by Michael Pollan, which hit the shelves last year. I knew of Pollan, as I’d been gifted his book “The Omnivore’s Dilemma” years ago by my aunt, but hadn’t paid much attention to what he’s been up to since. As it turns out, he’s been studying the therapeutic effects of psychedelics, and in short, took a variety of them in the name of science, with the aid of GUIDES (people who hold space and guide someone through a psychedelic experience, and afterward, help them integrate what they’ve learned into their daily life). I downloaded Pollan’s audio book and devoured it over the next couple of days.
This is exactly what I need.
Michael Pollan is a well-respected author and professor in his 60’s with a wife and family. He’s a self-proclaimed “anxious type”, skeptical and reluctant in this journey, but yet, he’s done this...and not only has he lived to tell about it, his outlook on life has been transformed in an amazing way.
The doors are off.
It’s all happening.
So, I set a plan in motion. Being that what I was looking for could only be found “underground” (due to ridiculous governmental restrictions placed on medicines such as this) I was going to have to simply ask around…so I did, and as it turned out, I was only four degrees of separation from exactly the person who would inevitably guide me through the most profound experience of my forty years on this planet, well...since birth, which was an experience I was gifted with once again by the mushrooms.
I had an introductory video call with my potential guide so that we could get to know one another and determine whether or not I was a fit for this work. I gave her the abridged version of my story and expressed my fears around all of the “unknowns" of this journey. My greatest fear being...LOSING CONTROL, which was exactly what I was going to need to do in this endeavor. LET GO and TRUST. The irony in this, is that I’ve never had control of my thoughts in the first place, so what was I so worried about? She heard my concerns and felt that the best course of action might be a therapeutic dose of MDMA prior to my mushroom trip.
MDMA (3,4-Methylenedioxymethamphetamine) commonly known by its street name “ecstasy” was found to have therapeutic benefit by a select group of psychiatrists in the late 70’s-early 80’s, but was put on the government’s schedule I list of drugs (substances with no currently accepted medical use and a high potential for abuse) in 1985.
Per MAPS (Multidisciplinary Association for Psychedelic Studies), results from Phase II clinical trials have indicated that MDMA-assisted psychotherapy for PTSD is SAFE AND EFFECTIVE.
“So, the idea here is that the MDMA will provide the feelings of safety one needs…before embarking on the deep dive.” she said.
I liked this idea. It was comforting, but still, I questioned whether or not this meant that I would be in some way cheating or taking the easy way out. I had decided that this experience would need to be traumatic in order for me to heal. Fighting fire with fire. Burning the wounds, so they’d heal completely. I pictured footage I’d seen of people in ayahuasca ceremonies, writhing around on the floor, fighting off snakes and demons.
“I call bullshit on that.”
“It sounds like you’ve spent enough of your life in the depths your anxiety.”
“You don’t need to do that with this experience.”
“You deserve to feel safe."
This was exactly what I needed to hear, not just now, but throughout my entire life.
A couple of days later we had set a date to meet for the experience.
Less than a week had passed since our call, which was just enough time to transform my body into a full-blown toxic vessel of anxious energy (which was actually only a step above the typical manifestation of pseudo-heart attacks, negative thought cycles and sweating…lots of sweating).
I began building a wall of worst-case scenarios, which begged me to back out altogether.
I was waking in panic nearly every night with terrifying visions of what I was going to see on my trip. It was surely going to expose all of the darkness in my mind…all of that stuff that I spend my waking hours suppressing every day.
I had come up with a mantra, which I began practicing, as I was sure I’d need it when I was in the thick of it…
”This is knowledge…This is only temporary…”
The false narrative my brain was trying to convince me of was, “This is not safe for you and YOU are not safe for this”.
But I continually reminded myself, “This could be the reset button you’ve been needing all of this time. It is a gift from the earth, a tool that mankind has been using for thousands of years. It has provided us with infinite information and has never led us astray.
DAY BEFORE
My guide stopped by at 5:30 pm the evening before the journey.
We discussed things like; what I should expect and what I was hoping to gain from my experience the following morning. I have a tendency to over-share in rare instances of feeling SEEN, so I tipped the reservoir and let the story spill from as far back as I could remember. I had only just gotten to the part where, as an adult, the anxiety retreated inward, when I lost it.
“As a child the fear was external. I was afraid of the world around me, but as I grew older the fear turned inward...and I’ve become afraid of myself—”
Mid-sentence, the tears began to fall. I clenched my fist, pressed it to my mouth and turned my head. I couldn’t look her in the eye.
This was vulnerability.
Something that has never felt safe. Not for me. Not as a boy…and especially not as a man. So, there I was, bawling in front of this person I’d just met, as the air went heavy with the pain of my story. Every time I go back there to tell it, I think to myself, “I’ll get through it this time.” And I never do.
This was empathy.
“How would you describe what “being a man” is?
I responded with a disclaimer that I knew that what I was about to say was something that I didn’t truly believe, but it’s what was imprinted on me from a young age.
“A man is strong physically and mentally...he is a protector.”
“I know that there is strength in vulnerability, but it’s just so hard for me...It doesn’t come naturally.”
I was being SEEN.
She’s been battling through her own life journey. She’d been called by the mushrooms some time ago, felt the undeniable power of the truth and wisdom they hold, and had selflessly made a choice to devote her life to sharing this experience.
This was trust.
“The MDMA is going to allow you to have the experience of being the man you’ve always wanted to be.”
When we wrapped, I decided to go for a walk in a nearby park. It smelled wonderful. The earth, the old growth fir trees, and the hint of a campfire somewhere in the distance. Twenty-something’s sprawled out on blankets passing around a freshly lit joint. A man far past his prime, huffing his way up the steep hill of a trail, time and time again, testing endurance and mental fortitude. Dogs trotting by, heads trained low, noses brushing the ground, gathering information. A young woman holding her shoes in her hands as she quietly walks through a patch of wild dandelions as the sun lowers into its final bow over the city.
After a light dinner, I watched some TV and laid down for a very restless night’s sleep in anticipation of what was to come.
DAY OF
My Guide arrived at 9:00am.
I took the MDMA, and therefore, part one of the journey began.
“It’s going to take a little while for the medicine to take effect, so we can just relax and talk in the meantime.”
And gradually, my story weaved its way into the conversation again.
Here is where I found myself confounded. Based on what I knew of “ecstasy” I had expected some sort of pulsing ultraviolet urge to grab a pair of glow sticks and noodle my body around to an EDM soundtrack, but nothing of the sort occurred.
There was no pivot point or clear marker as to when the medicine took affect.
It was seamless, like I had just slipped on a new pair of shoes.
All I knew was that within a half hour’s time my body felt warm and I had a sense of confidence that I’d never experienced before. I was no longer in my head, questioning or framing what I was about to say. I was quite simply BEING MY MOST AUTHENTIC SELF. I spoke frankly about all of the things that forever clog my throat...those moments that blast me out of a cannon into childhood as if a day has never passed. I was no longer tethered to these moments. They carried no weight. I was honoring them and appreciating their value. I was aware of the power they held, but unaffected by it.
I felt SAFE.
It was nothing short of remarkable.
I boldly stepped right into that overwhelming, unexplainable fear I had as a child and the experience of never feeling safe, not feeling like I could trust people. Feeling that my fears, insecurities and vulnerabilities were invalid, unacceptable, and just downright disruptive. The thoughts I had that I was an overly-sensitive nuisance, which was validated by teachers and others close to me. The feeling of having so much to say, but not having a voice. The feeling of turning the metaphorical lock and shutting everything in, only for it to swell and multiply and inhabit every cell of my body. The feeling that expressing emotions (as a boy) was unacceptable and weak.
I was able to explain parts of the inner-dialogue that runs through my mind.
“I’ve always kind of thought that I’m not going to live long, you know, because my heart is perpetually racing.”
“I’ve always compared my heart to that of a small bird.”
I rapidly tapped my pointer finger against my thumb.
“Their hearts are constantly racing...like this.”
At 10:30 am I took the mushrooms. Four grams, ground and boiled with Lemon ginger tea.
It had an “earthy” taste, which I kind of enjoyed. It tasted like I thought it should…natural, and bitter.
We continued to talk.
We talked about children.
“Ryleigh and I have no plans to have any.”
“Why is that?
“Because there is so much pain in life…and it’s just...so...random.
She asked me to say aloud some of the things I’d have liked to have said (had I felt comfortable enough) as a child.
“I need to know that it’s ok to feel this way…”
And then the medicine began to take hold.
“Sorry…I’m having a hard time talking.”
Translucent geometric shapes began to play on the wall behind her, framing her face in structured patterns.
“Why don’t you lie down now.”
She clicked on a thoughtfully curated playlist as I stacked the pillows and tucked myself under the covers.
“The eye shades are here, if you feel like you’d like to go deeper at any point.”
The sunlight leaking through the shades on the French doors was growing brighter, flaring into white streaks, as if my eyes were a lens, pointing straight at the mid-day sun.
The Edison bulb hanging from the rafters above my head began to grow. The glass, expanding, as if it were actively being blown into a larger shape.
All-too curious as to what I was missing “inside”, I grabbed the eye shades and strapped them on. I rested my hands on my chest and without any hesitation…LET GO.
The MDMA had allowed me to step out of my own way. My anxious self was somewhere on the perimeter, nervously picking at the grass, quietly feeling lost, without anyone to control.
The following is my journey as best as I can recall (and put into words)
My hands and feet began to move in explorative gestures, as if I’d never used them before...as if they were completely new to me.
I was in the womb.
It was dark, with a reddish-orange glow.
It felt warm…and safe.
I began to feel my connection to the earth and everything within it...All of the plants, animals and people. The only way that I can put it into words is that THIS WAS LOVE. The purest, most absolute and genuine love I’ve ever felt. It was overwhelming and warm. It was a gift.
Being that I’ve always been obsessed with the racing and thudding and skipping of my anxious heart, I quickly noticed that I had no feeling of it at all. I knew that it was there and it was healthy and good, but the feeling of it was insignificant.
And I trusted that feeling and it felt wonderful.
As I floated in a state of absolute bliss, my body rhythmically swimming under the covers, I heard the distressed call of a crow outside. I remember wanting to say something…to acknowledge that this animal was in trouble, I felt its fear. I felt guilt for existing in such a safe place of joy and wonder while the bird was in a panic outside.
My left hand began slowly rising from the bed, with what felt like no effort of my own, as if I was a marionette, with the conductor of the universe pulling the strings. My palm facing forward, fingers arched back.
I noticed that my right hand was clenched tight onto the covers resting on my chest.
“MY LEFT HAND IS FREE…AND MY RIGHT IS HOLDING ON TIGHT”, I said.
“Your left side...your creative side...is free and your right, the logical side, is holding on.” she responded.
“What does that mean to you?”
“MY LEFT HAND IS FREE…AND MY RIGHT IS HOLDING ON TIGHT…AND BOTH ARE O.K.”
She validated my feelings with a comforting “Yes” and in that moment my right hand let go and slowly stretched its way out to the side. My left arm stretched out in time with the right, and before I knew it I was drawn open to impossible lengths, my back arched, chest pressed toward the sky, and then suddenly, but fluidly, my head slowly turned from right to left, my chin lowered to my chest and I felt life transition to death, as my body shriveled and decomposed into the soil, becoming part of the root system of a massive, old, evergreen tree. I now had a new voice, which was that of the tree, a couple of octaves lower than my own.
“I AM AN OLD TREE AND I HAVE SO MUCH WISDOM…I MAY HAVE A LOW, GRAVELLY VOICE…BUT I AM SAFE.”
Profound fundamental truths of life and the world began to flow through my body.
“THERE WAS NOTHING TO FEAR”
“THIS WHOLE TIME…THERE WAS NOTHING TO FEAR”
“SO MUCH TIME...WASTED”
This was accompanied by a feeling of “How did I not know this?
“S…M…H…”
“What’s that?”, she responded.
“S…M…H…” “SHAKE MY HEAD.”
I remember this moment being quite funny to me, being that I was thinking in text acronyms.
I laughed to myself.
“I’VE NEVER EVEN USED THAT IN A TEXT”
“THERE’S A LOT OF COMEDY IN ALL OF THIS.”
“I’M GOING TO GET A GIANT TATTOO ON MY BACK THAT SAYS…WHY?”
“W…H…Y…”
I let out a sigh, which felt like it had been trapped in my body for decades.
“I JUST SAID A MILLION THINGS IN ONE SIGH”
Another life cycle began in the womb and continued out in the world with an undeniable feeling of connectedness. I began making clicking and chirping noises, which were part of a universal language understood by ALL living creatures. The feeling here was harmonious, safe and filled with LOVE.
Connections, connections, connections. WE are ALL connected.
I was now part of a Native tribe, which had chosen me as their protector. Once again, my arms stretched out wide, but this time I had grown to what felt like a height of 200 feet or more.
“I AM A TOTEM”
“THE PEOPLE HAVE ASKED ME TO BE THEIR PROTECTOR”
“I HAVE THE POWER TO BE WHATEVER THEY NEED”
“I HAVE NEVER FELT SUCH CONFIDENCE IN MY LIFE”
The feeling was one of raw power and vastness, as I watched over my people from the sky.
I could hear the beating of their drums all around me.
I began drumming on the bed. I asked her if the music could be changed to something with more drums. I felt a primal need in my core for the deep thud of tribal drums. She warmly obliged.
“ALL WE NEED IS THE DRUM”
“IF WE PLAY IT LOUD ENOUGH...THEY WILL HEAR IT.”
THEY, meaning, our country’s leader and all of the other crooked men in power with all of their toxic politics that have been actively marching us backward in time.
This was followed by a deep sense of loss, as I assumed the pain of the Native Americans.
“WHAT THE F**K HAVE WE DONE?”
“WE STRIPPED THEM OF EVERYTHING”
The cycle of life ended with my sense of self (the totem) toppling over, being cast in stone and sinking into the ground to become part of the soil once again.
Again, I felt an all-encompassing, deeply powerful connection to the earth, but this time I had assumed the pain of the earth from the destruction that us humans have caused.
“OH MY GOD…”
”WHAT ARE WE DOING?
I thought about all of the animals we share the earth with. I thought about the feeling I get when I look into my dog’s eyes. I could see that sweet, innocent look of unconditional love in her eyes…a look that says “Please keep me safe.” The same look that resides in the eyes of a child. I pondered these parallels.
“I WANT TO BE ABLE TO LOOK AT EVERYONE IN THE SAME WAY I LOOK AT MY DOG.”
“ALL SHE WANTS IS TO FEEL SAFE”
I thought about the fight-or-flight network in my brain.
“SHE (my dog) IS AN ANIMAL”
“ANIMALS ONLY REACT WHEN THEY NEED TO SURVIVE”
“Animals react to Realistic threats”, she responded.
“MY FIGHT-OR-FLIGHT MECHANISM IS THE SAME AS HERS”
“…BUT THERE IS NO TIGER THERE”
This was the “A-HA” moment, where I could truly see how dysfunctional my brain’s hard-wired reactions to stress are. It all made so much sense. It’s not that I’d never thought of it in this way, but this felt different. This felt like there was an active change occurring…pathways re-routed. Could it be possible?
I pressed my fingers into my sternum. There was a latch there.
“THERE IS A LOCK AT MY CORE THAT NEEDS TO BE TURNED.”
“IT’S NOT A COMBINATION LOCK. YOU JUST TURN IT, SO I CAN OPEN UP”
She laughed, “Then, why don’t you open it?”
“BECAUSE BEING OPEN IS BEING VULNERABLE AND A VULNERABLE MAN DIES ON THE BATTLEFIELD.
"BEING OPEN IS LIKE…STICKING YOUR CHEST OUT FOR ALL OF THE ARROWS”
Why are we on a battlefield?, she responded.
It was one of the most simple, yet profound questions I’d ever been challenged with, and immediately, I knew the answer.
“THERE IS NO REASON TO FIGHT”
It was beautiful…the feeling that I didn’t have to fight any longer…that I was safe.
This was exactly why I had come here to this place…to this person.
It was as simple as that. I’d turned the latch to the locked position a long time ago in an attempt to keep myself safe. It was all I knew…and now so many years have passed by, and all this time I had accepted that it was meant to be closed for my protection.
I smiled and nodded my head “YES”.
“I AGREE”
THERE’S NOTHING TO DISAGREE ABOUT”
Fundamental truths. These were what I was being shown.
They were simple. They were true. They were everything.
I could see where the trauma of my story had spread far and wide in my body.
It looked like a network of mycelium glowing white throughout its entirety.
This was when things got emotional.
There went my of EGO.
It felt like the top of my head had been blown off and a vast surge of energy was being sucked upward by a giant vacuum. It felt wonderful.
“TAKE IT ALL”
“I WANT NOTHING TO DO WITH ANY OF IT.”
The surge grew stronger and then…nothing.
PEACE.
I had now assumed the pain of my mother and father as young parents. The hurt of knowing that their child was terrified of the world.
“I WAS A PART OF THEM…OUT IN THE WORLD…SUFFERING.”
“I FEEL FOR THEM”
I gripped my shirt in my fist and writhed around, fighting the emotions as they flooded in.
“I can see you trying to swallow it…Let it go.” she said.
And eventually I did.
And I cried what felt like a life's worth of tears, and then, just as with all of the transitions in my journey, and all of the lives I’d lived, there was that warmth of LOVE.
“THEY LOVE ME SO MUCH”
I could feel my parents’ LOVE for me and it was overwhelming. I was so grateful for them.
“THEY MADE ME WHO I AM TODAY”
I could see the whole of my thoughts in this moment. It was like peering into my own brain.
“THERE’S SO MUCH GOOD IN HERE”
The whole of my thoughts began to speak to me.
“WE’RE STILL HERE”
“They’ve always been there.” she replied.
“YES…WE’VE BEEN HERE THIS WHOLE TIME”
None of the “bad” stuff that I thought was at the forefront of my brain was even there. All of the negative thoughts I obsess over all the time were even there…
I was again a part of the earth. I could see my fellow beings, who’d deceased before me, now mycelium, spreading and growing upward toward the earth’ surface. I warned them not to breach the surface into the outside world.
“STAY DOWN HERE.”
“IT’S SAFE DOWN HERE.”
The outside world above the soil was my own backyard and (as my guide quickly deciphered after all was said and done)…it’s dangerous…because I am up there, mowing the grass and running around with my dog, and nothing that sprouts from the ground is safe.
I began pulling the covers away from me, as if it were an embryonic sac, then pulling them close, and then pulling them away again.
I WANT OUT…BUT I DON’T WANT OUT.”
I was struggling with whether to stay underground or breach the surface and grow in the outside world. This moment was packed with metaphorical content. It’s safe in the womb and under the soil. The outside world is unsafe.
“I’d like to invite you to sit up now, so you can see how that feels.” she said.
I sat up and removed the shades. My eyes flooded with white light, as the realization rushed through me that I had just breached the ground into the outside world…
and everything was O.K.
I was still safe.
POST JOURNEY
We went for a walk in the park to discuss my experience. Being amongst the trees felt like it never has.
I felt connected to them.
I felt connected to everything.
Everything was existing harmoniously.
We parted ways after a bit and I spent the next few hours in the park, simply BEING in nature. I moved from tree to tree, sitting on their massive roots. These makeshift seats provided for us...inviting us to get close, to communicate. To feel their strength and knowledge. I laid in the dirt on the pine cones, letting whatever felt inclined to fall on, crawl over, or scurry around me.
This was contentment.
DAY AFTER
My guide stopped over at 10:00 am for our integration session.
I checked in as to how I was feeling and what my hopes and expectations were now that I’m leaving the nest. She generously shared some of her own story to help validate my feelings and experience. She stressed the importance of boundaries, now that I had opened myself up in a way that I’d never done before. We agreed to continue with follow-up work as I continue my integration. I left with a deep sense of gratitude for how kind these medicines had been to me, and for my Guide, who provided such a safe, thoughtful, and empathic space for my experience.
FLASH FORWARD ——->
It’s been just over two weeks.
I’d be lying if I said that I didn’t feel completely lost during the first couple of days back. There was so much information to make sense of.
Everything felt different…clearer, but staggered.
My perceptions...shifted.
It's as if I’d just swapped brains with the person I’d always wanted to be...a guy who’s unafraid of vulnerability, who can live authentically, as he is.
A guy who feels confident enough to offer support to others.
I trust myself.
After a lifetime of isolation, I feel comfort in (and crave) connections.
I am no longer quick to judge, but rather, have compassion for others, having seen that ALL of us want nothing more than to feel SAFE in this world.
I want to share what I’ve learned. I want to help people. I want to provide a safe space for people to share their story and to be SEEN.
I have a newfound excitement around my potential for contributing to this earth.
My NEW purpose.
My anxiety feels completely different. It’s transformed from a chest full of angry bees to a belly full of warm honey.
I am making healthier choices. My cravings for sugar, caffeine and alcohol have simmered.
I’m processing feelings of anger and disappointment more easily.
And on top of all of this…the pain I’ve had in my right knee for the past few years (which I had x-rayed and treated with a cortisone shot last fall and felt no relief from after $400) has magically disappeared.
Still…there is much work to be done.
This new narrative needs to be nurtured and encouraged. I need to continue to trust myself and when the negative thoughts come (and surely they will) I need to let them float to the top and burst, not to let them envelop and suffocate me.
A day after returning home I was shaving my head in the shower, and as I guided the razor with one hand, I realized that I had been gripping the blade guard between the fingers of the other hand the entire time. It was serving no purpose, but to tie up a free hand for no particular reason.
I thought to myself, “Why am I holding onto this?”…and never has such a mundane passing thought been so charged with irony.