MEMOIRISH UNCUT

CHapters 4-6

Chapter Four

I have begun a new path. I have entered a new vision. I am sailing on crystal waves. I am breathing clean air. The energy is soft. I am present. I am lifted. I am healing.

It is day 9 of an illness I have contracted and now I have given this illness the name of a shamanic illness. My dear friend helped me discover this was happening. There was some fear of my flu turning into pneumonia, walking pneumonia or bronchitis. I have had an infection in my lungs for over a week and I still feel faint and sick. Then I began to break down. I was sobbing and hyperventilating. My flu had blown me open emotionally. I am a delicate creature and have struggles with mental illness as well. This worried me. I needed to make a commitment to getting better and also to allowing this to play out as it would in the spiritual sense. I needed to wake up and make some changes.

I went for a small walk out to a private peninsula where there is a large stone circle. One of the stones, five feel tall and almost as many wide, was very crystalline in nature. Small granite crystals dressed her surface, and it felt as if she may have been filled with a geode inside. There was evidence of this on her surface. She was grandmother rock and I poured my retching into her. 

The night before was rough. Something was breaking. I sobbed and breathed frantically. I needed some sort of comfort. So the next day, sitting on the bluff with my friend, I breathed in the sea air and reflected on my situation. It became clear to me I needed to clear my life to hold and travel through what was happening to me so intensely on both a physical and spiritual plane. I resolved to take some time off of work and to commit myself to rest as long as I need it. It was a big decision to make. I came home and sent the email, securing some time off for healing. It is obvious that this sickness is hanging on and possibly going to continue for a long time. I was worried that if I did not make a long term commitment to rest that I would make my infection worse. I fear the threat of pneumonia or bronchitis is real.

My friend told me that years ago, when she was about my age, she returned from a trip and came down with a flu that lasted the better part of two months. She called it a shamanic flu. I have no doubt that this is what is happening to me. Perhaps that is just a poetic term for a major virus affecting my mental health, but it makes sense. It is time I recommit myself to a way of life that nurtures my gentle spirit. Making money and having a career feels violent to me. I also do not want to go anywhere or do anything where I have to wear a bra. My bra feels violent, it hurts. I need to be as gentle with my energy as possible. I need to let it flow. Again, I was offended when my father asked me what I did to get sick, but even though he may not be aware of his own wisdom, there may be some truth to this. My soul and spirit, my gifted self, my artist, needs space to communicate with my soul. My grief is coming to the surface and the time has come to heal. It is all coming down like tumbling bricks, the damn has erupted and broken free. There is no denying my truth any longer.

I will flow with this, I will allow this to be. I don’t know where I am going to be led. I know that I need space from my parents. I know that I want to help my sister raise a family. I know that I will continue to write, go for walks, do yoga and clean my house. But I will listen to myself. I will allow for healing energy at all times. I will roam braless and free to my next destination. I may make discoveries. I will bond and connect with new people. I will live organically and I will be myself.

I am not afraid any longer. I am not afraid or worried about money or my dependancies. I know that I will be okay. I have Steve. He is there for me, he will keep track of the money. Things will work out, I have faith in this. He is still healing but getting stronger every single day. We live a simple life and do not need much. I am grateful for this. Steve is an inspiration. He is supportive in me listening to myself. He is there for me. I am so grateful for this.

Where am I being led? I do not know. I just know it is no longer about what I am accomplishing, how I look, or who I am impressing. I want to stay as far away from this sort of energy as possible. I run from it. I am not okay with it any longer. This may sound extreme, but extreme times call for extreme measures. I have been learning this lesson slowly over the last year and a half and now I have the opportunity to implement what I know, what I have learned, and what I have observed about my energy and myself. It is time to be reborn. It is time to be myself, have compassion and love for myself in every passing moment, and to make some simple statements in how to do this. It feels like a breakthrough and I am going to flow with it.

I am on the mend now. But my mental health has taken a bit of a toll. For several days now I have felt symptomatic. I have discussed using other terms, but right now they seem appropriate. Tenderness is definitely a word I could use to describe what I am going through. But there is this sensation of feeling high like I am on drugs, or out of sorts. I am assured now it is good that I have chosen to take a little time off of work. It is nice to take every day as it comes and not have to prepare for something. Yesterday I did some yoga, went for a walk, and sat in nature a bit. It was good to get outside. I am also realizing how important friends are. If I want them to be there for me during times like this I need to be in their lives more regularly and I need to be there for them. Friends are the most important thing in the world. Family is good too, but I am seeing how it is good to have my own life and my own connections.

I know everything is okay. Steve assures this to me often. Classical music, Vangelis and Vivaldi, Enya and Shantala are soothing. Focusing on health feels good. I have been out of it for two weeks with a flu and I am looking forward to getting back to normal life. But I am not pushing myself right now. It is useful to watch my niece every now and then, do chores, and walk the dogs. I am doing things. I am writing, practicing yoga and tarot, and seeing friends when I can. My folks are still gone. This is good. Someday I will have to live without my mother, and it is better that I practice my independence now. For many reasons. In adult life it is good to know how to soothe oneself and solve your own problems. It can be scary at times to deal with these symptoms. I just don’t feel grounded in reality. Someday I may have a therapist again, they can be useful for sure. There are times when we need a significant person to walk us through difficult times. But I am prone to, and always have been prone to relying on friends. It is more rewarding and more natural. They take work, but we can just remind ourselves that in our difficult times they may be there for us, and this is significant. This is life changing, this is intimacy, true and involved intimacy. There are certain things our therapist will never be able to give us. We are paying for their services and they are not allowed to engage in true exchange. They can be life changing, but then they go away. We have our friends for life if we nurture the relationships. And this is what I want. Friends to stand by my side. I want to live my life fully and involved with people who love me, not just my mom, sister and partner. Friends are really my own creation and a work of art.

I am learning this right now. I have not been so good at maintaining my relationships lately. I got distracted by being successful, and I didn’t want the inconvenience of other peoples problems holding me back. But I was wrong. I fell down with the flu hard and started having symptoms emotionally, and I was left wondering where my friends were. Why weren’t they calling? I had taken too much space. I am not saying I need a lot of friends, but I need to take care of my friends that I call family. I need to not be critical of their weaknesses, but gently hold their hands through their troubles. I know this now. None of us are perfect. We strive for impeccability, but it is hard to achieve. There are things that we do that seem annoying or immature, there are issues we are too stubborn to surmount. Being there and loving and supportive through all of this is what being a friend is all about. I crave real true deep connection in this life. With more than just my partner. I need my women too.

Family can be there but they will always be family. One of the beautiful things about carving our very own family out of the masses, is that our friends strengthen our individuality and freedom. They see us for who we have invented ourselves to be beyond the walls and barriers of family. I want to see myself outside of these confines, almost tragically. At times I am too alike my mom and sister. I need to break away. I do this with my husband who is really my best friend, but as I said I need variety and I need women. As I approach menopause, I am feeling more and more like a woman all of the time. I relate to this mage that is inside of me. I may have had a hard time connecting to myself as a mother. I never had children of my own. In a way I feel I am graduating strait from maiden to mage. Though a friend assured me that I have mothered many and rocked the mother stage in life. I worked in childcare and helped many a friend. And being a mother will always be a part of being mage. Just as my maiden will always be inside of me as well as my little girl. We just add the layers as we grow. We are like a tree, with many rings and many lessons to show.

So as I break down. As I smash my hands against the cabinets and refrigerator in frustration, as I tear at my sweatshirt, as I cry and sob, as I shake and mutter manic affirmations to myself, I become unafraid to be myself in all of my radical colors. I am reminded who I am. Desperate, afraid, lonely. My friends are artists, they are creative and live freely and wildly. I will embrace this in myself and I will accept them fully. I am not afraid to be myself. I am not afraid to make mistakes and go braless. I am not afraid to have stains on my clothes and cry uncontrollably. What is most precious to me is that I have friends who accept me exactly as I am. I know my family loves me unconditionally, but having my own family, a family that is my very own, a family that I have nurtured with my blood and tears, is so important to me. I see this now. It is not a fine science or a fine art. It is often messy and yet it is exhilarating, wild and free. I raise a glass to my dear fiends. Sara, Tamara, Polly, the wild ones that are there to see my breakdowns. Bless you as well. I will always love you.

As the wind blows and October creeps by, I feel that the veil is thin. In my lucid moments I talk with spirits. Steve’s mom, friends who have died. They may be there, they may not, but the mysteries of this universe are vast. Often the perspective of a spirit is enlightening. Dorothy, Steve’s mother, who was my mother for over ten years, assured me recently that it was okay to take care of myself, to rest. She showed up and was with all of my dogs. I know she is in heaven, but because of the thin veil she was able to reach out to me. Often I am more sensitive to and aware of the spirits late at night or when I awake in the morning from my dreams. Sometimes, I can feel my friends too that are still on this plane, that are alive. They tell me things that are on their hearts that they may not have the courage to verbalize or talk about.

I believe in angels, and in spirit guides. Some believe in ferries or elves. There is magic to discover and it is endless. I do not get too lost in believing this stuff too potently or strictly, I do not lose reality these days, though because of being wrongly medicated in the past, I have lost reality, but I still believe in some truth or validity to the experiences I had while in psychosis. Psychosis is a harsh term. It is useful to acknowledge when one is working with a psychiatrist and these terms are necessary at times. But when I am traveling, and healing subtle energies in my being, it is good to be softer with the words I choose to use.

Tarot is a magical entity. There is so much to learn in this realm of knowledge and I do not doubt, that even if I commit a significant portion of my life to studying the tarot, my knowledge will ever be expanding and incomplete. There is numerology in tarot, and astrology. There is understanding the cabalistic tree of life and all the paths between the sephiroth. The sephiroth are the points on the tree of life that also correlate with numbers, colors and planets. It is beautiful. It is a spiritual science of sorts. And yet, even at the beginner level that I am at, I benefit greatly from the experience I have of reading my tarot cards. I do not believe this spiritual practice deviates from loving god or Jesus in any way. Rather, they compliment each other, and I often pray to Jesus before reading my cards. There are many words and understandings and levels to comprehending God and the mysteries of the universe. There is not one name for God. Some choose Jesus, Allah, Yahweh, some choose the name of many Gods like Ganesha, Shiva or Krishna, and some choose Grandfather Spirit or simply the Goddess. What I like about the Tarot is that many spiritualities and myths that have sifted to the surface throughout the centuries to our current reality are applicable and incorporated. This is another reason there is much to learn. I choose to read the Thoth Tarot. A book I follow is very colorful in finding alternate myths that often correlate with astrology or numerology to incorporate in the understanding of the cards. This is a great pastime and a chosen modality of study that I have stumbled upon at this point in life. It came to me powerfully during my great vision quest of 2016. I have much to learn. This feels good and exhilarating.

I feel a sense of value added to time when I practice the tarot as well as when I practice yoga or meditate in nature. I feel this when I write or spend time with my animals or friends. I feel this because these things are healthy pastimes for my spirit. I believe my emotions are allowed to swim freely throughout my consciousness when I am in tune with my being in said activities. Mostly, these activities do not require spending money. Food and internet, rent, phone and transportation are the expenses I endure. But I seem to be able to afford them without too much worry. When I get involved with calculating how much money I have or am spending, I am wasting a significant amount of energy. It does not seems necessary. Partly my husband and partly my innate nature takes care of not spending too much. I have learned that I do not want to waste energy worrying about money. If it is there, it is there to spend. If it is not there, we will get by without it, but rarely this is the case. When I graduated from high school, one of my graduation gifts was a full astrology reading, a great passion of mine at the time. My spirituality of sorts, I looked to astrology for greater meaning to the universe. One of the things that I remember from this reading was a strange comment about money. She said I would never have to worry about money, that it would always be there when I needed it. This has proven to be true. At times there is not much, but often there is more than I really need. I suppose this could be true for anyone of they had great trust in the universe and the ability for God to provide. Faith is key. I choose to rely on Faith rather than over calculating what I am spending money on every single day. Years ago I accepted that we live paycheck to paycheck and though we have never wanted, we don’t own property or have a savings beyond what little buffer is necessary. I am fine with this. Having too much money seems wasteful and the one time I had some money, which is gone now, I worried a great deal about it and was not happy. I choose to see myself as wealthy and I will help out those in need if they come to my door.

Life has become intense. My mind is wandering so much. Last night I had so much trouble not thinking terrible thoughts. Steve helped. Day after day I feel weak. I have entered a blur. I am still grounded, but not quite myself. Yesterday we went to Seattle and everything went perfectly. We decided to not meet friends and came back in time for me to take a nap in the ferry line before catching the 4:30pm. I am not drinking right now. It does not help. I need to be sober. And yet there is a freedom that is upon me. I am remembering so much about my life. I have had time to do the soul searching that I need to. But it is not fun to feel tortured.

A few days ago a woman committed suicide in our small community. I know her. Or did. It is still hard to imagine that she is gone. I still don’t know the details but last night I prayed for her soul. Last night I was thinking horrible thoughts about murder and rape and scary hauntings, I knew they were not real but I I could not shake the thoughts. Now this morning I am awaking to to truth that what has been in my head for days is all imaginary. All I have left is the Lord. It becomes a lonely place to be trapped in my mind. No one is truly there but me. So when I pray to God, he enters in and I am no longer alone. I know Steve is here and I am with him and talking with him, it has not gotten that bad, and last night I finally confessed most of what has been going through my mind. I said it out loud and he was able to tell me it wasn’t true. I myself will never commit suicide, perhaps that is because I have an amazing threshold for torture. It may feel like my brain is going to pop, but I have been through this before, and now I have Faith.

Faith is all I have right now, and Steve, and on the edges my loving family. But other things seem to just not make sense to me. I am incredibly sensitive to stimuli and people who are disturbed, hospitals, freeways, they are not good for me. I was overstimulated yesterday. Yes, It makes me mad that a simple trip to the city could be so hard for me, but at some point I have to accept this, this fate. Luckily, I am safe and happy in a beautiful place with loving people, but more and more I am aware how this illness is changing as I get older. How I am having to blend more and more with it, how I am this illness. Yes, I have been trying and trying to reframe the understanding of this illness and perceiving it as a gift, and perhaps it still is. But I am increasingly debilitated by it. I am so grateful I don’t have addiction besides cigarettes and that I do not drink too much or do drugs, or have any inclination towards suicide. I am too strong for that. I have too much Faith for that, too much belief.

I had a dream the other night where a little doll came to my door. She was about two feet tall with short hair and clean plastic skin. Steve sat down in the threshold and began to talk with her, I leaned over and asked the doll if her name was Lucy. She said it was and asked me how I knew. I said with confidence that I am psychic. She said she had known Steve for a long time and she had been hiding on the property for a while. It was very surreal. I have a lot of dreams. Dreams that feel out of control at times where I awaken with my heart pounding. Dreams where Steve is running from me, leaving me and at times comforting me. I have so many dreams. What does this mean? I find it interesting that I revealed to myself with such confidence in the dream to the doll, that I was psychic. I know this on some level and try to accept it. But my experience at the hospital and at the bar last night, confirmed that I sometimes just cant deal with all of the undercurrents of human existence that I experience on a very real level. And now, I am filled up. I have taken all I can handle. I am bursting at the seems and my mind is running away from me. I want to be connected with friends, but when they wont leave me alone psychically I believe it may be time to just pray, and to take some space. Why wont this reality I am in make sense? It ends up being another crazy dream in waking life and I just can’t cope.

I have Jesus. In times like this I have Jesus. I also find his followers very able to take on these painful psychic energies that are just swimming about the world. God is the only thing that makes sense. In this I have Steve. I still experience doubt from my family. They say things that seem insensitive and they know not how this affects me. About my weight, my illness, money. This all just gives me more things to doubt and wonder about. But I have a need right now to be clear. So God is it. Life is really sad and complicated. People are suffering behind their smiles. No one is speaking their truth. I can’t cope with this any longer. I just need to pray, for my existence, for my soul. For my love and my life.

I feel frozen, I feel alone. But I know I am not alone. I have Steve, I have my belief. I don’t want to get sad, and really I am not. I just keep seeing all the beauty in the world. I feel bad for those who are sad. Those that have so little. Yet I cannot take them on. I could not prevent this friend from committing suicide. I cannot heal all of the people in the hospital, or save all the souls on the freeway. At some point I need to trust in greater peace. I need to save myself. It is hard when you feel misunderstood. I rely on Steve’s faith and love for me so much. The darkness is so great. 

We are entering winter now, well on our way through Fall. It will not technically be winter until December, but November is here and soon Daylight Savings. We all just danced around like crazy fools for Halloween, but it is time to realize what we have and what is important. So I will pray for myself. How am I going to survive this illness that just seems to keep getting worse? How am I going to survive my life that has a downward spiral. How am I going to find hope and comfort and Faith even though I am not improving, cannot improve. I had a friend ask me this question last night. He explained that he has less and less hope for his life every year as he is dependent on his ability to provide physical labor and his body just seems to be degenerating as he gets older and the pain increases. I didn’t have an answer then, but I do today as I am faced with the same question. Hope, comes from gratitude and faith. Things may be constantly losing ground as they deconstruct towards chaos, but if we are grateful for what we have, if we can find the good in everything, and if we have faith, we may find hope for our situation despite the circumstances.

I am no expert at this but I am trying to practice this today as things seem to be on the precipice of falling apart. Right now I just feel inundated with negative black energy and it is trying to pull my psyche into oblivion. Have I exposed myself to too much, have I participated in wrong thoughts and wrong actions? I know there is a balance and after I took space from my work after contracting a flu, I ended up finding friends in other places. And I know it is not black and white. I have had many good experiences at the bar. But last night it just felt wild and untamed even though it appeared somewhat normal. It was me that was not normal. And I was picking up on too many energies that were not in alignment. So it is pretty simple. I am going to take some space from this reality. It felt good for a while, even really good to be seeking out people who are living a little more honest in their imperfections; people that are not afraid to face the darkness by embracing it. Too many people I know live secretly in their suffering that they do not share and then try to be good all of the time. I do not think this is the answer. There must be balance. We must reckon with our dark sides, at times even act them out. Otherwise we lose touch in a different way. We begin to feel like something is wrong but we have no language to express it. We go to therapy and make up stories about our childhood. Fuck that. Fuck therapy. I never found answers there, not real ones anyway. I found them by living life. But I have to make good choices for myself. 

Chapter Five

It is a beautiful day. The sun is shining and the earth is full of water crystals from the cold. My feet crunch on the hard ground as I walk on the frozen earth. I am at my father’s farm this morning, my sister’s goat dairy, and I am meeting one of the house residents to write for several hours, snuggled up in the farmhouse. My father lives in the farmhouse with two amazing female renters, a writing guru and teacher, Lorrie, and a good friend of mine who has also studied writing with Lorrie, Kristina. Last night we met for a farm dinner with all of the residents of the farm, my sister and her husband and their one and a half year old, a nice lady and her three children, Ellen, and Lorrie and Kristina. My sister cooked pasole with roasted root vegetables and green beans frozen from their summer harvest in the bountiful garden here on the farm.

I have been transitioning in life since May when I was emerging from my most recent psychotic break of 2016. It was a frightening time for myself, my husband and my family. Luckily I had the care of an amazing psychiatrist who walked me through adjustments in my medications as well as advice, and provided a steady place to land during all of the chaos. I had my family and I had my island community, who were all very understanding. I left my job of four years and returned to a life of journaling and rest. I did work at the Saturday Market for some of the summer selling tacos with my husband and I started volunteering at the Library for something to do. I was offered a job there which I had to turn down as I can only work so many hours and I have to monitor my stress with a fine toothed comb in order to maintain a balance in my mental health.

My parents are currently in India, spending a month or so at an Ashram there as well as time at the beach. I feel them more coherently over there this year. Every year when they go away, I go through a shock and a withdrawal of sorts. I go through a sort of mini breakdown as they travel to the other side of the globe. I did this even years ago when I wasn’t living or feeling particularly close to them. Now they are in my life every day and I miss them in a more immediate way. Yet what I am noticing is a more direct connection with them. It is as if in the past they had been cut off from me and left me to enter a different plane entirely when they traveled so far, but now I can imagine being with them. They in fact do not feel far away at all. It is nice to learn to savor the space that I have and that has come between us, as I strengthen my interdependence and learn to manage my life once again as an adult.

I am an adult. I have worked many jobs and gone through much schooling at the collegiate level even though I do not have a college degree. I mourned this for a long time. I so wished that I would make something of my life, that I would have a career and that I would graduate with honors and with a degree of some sort. I have a come a long way with letting these expectations of myself go. I have learned that there is a lot of value in my life without these specific accomplishments. I have survived with an illness since my late teens and learned to function as well as one would hope under these circumstances. I have lived with and loved the same man for almost twenty years, I live close to and have a good relationship with my entire nuclear family whom I adore, and I have found meaningful work through volunteering, creativity, working with children, and being with community and family. I have learned that success cannot be truly defined by a resume. I have discovered that I don't relate to this achievement way of thinking or way of life. I want to live as simply as possible and care for my psyche and my body the best I can. I want to achieve mental, spiritual, physical and emotional health.

Recently I discovered a book titled “You are Psychic” and this has opened a new door for me on my journey. For almost a year now, I have been journaling every morning for three longhand pages. I have been learning the tarot, meditating in nature and receiving various forms of therapy (Massage, Talk Therapy and Neurological Integration). I believe these words written on the cover of this book. I am psychic. I read others’ energies and I absorb their pain. I am learning that I can clear a lot of confusion and psychic weight from my body if I tap into my energy, my aura and my feelings. Energy is real and the exchange that happens between myself and other human beings is something to pay attention to. Mostly, I have come out believing that I can improve my situation if I do grounding meditations, pay attention to my aura and learn all that I can about leaving our bodies, pulling ourselves back in, and paying attention to the gentle subtleties of my psychic reality.

When I was in high school I suffered from an eating disorder. When I was about 16, after a couple of years of suffering from this, I had an experience that was an out of body sort of experience. Basically I experienced myself coming back into my body. I was bent over the toilet, relieving myself of my dinner, when all of a sudden I swooped back into my body, having been totally unaware that I had even left, and I saw myself and what I was doing in that moment. I was fully conscious and present all of a sudden. I was horrified. How could I be doing this to myself? I, at that moment, promised myself that I would fight this horrific ailment and I would find a way back into my body and to healing. It took me several years of mild relapses to fully quit the action of purging. My mother and father were completely in the dark that I was even struggling with such an illness and I kept it a secret as I was used to dealing with my private life alone and did not feel particularly close to my parents during my teens. I therefore received no professional help, at least not until I suffered from a severe depression my senior year coupled with panic attacks and anxiety. This on the other hand was impossible to hide and so my parents became involved with my treatment. I moved back into the bedroom right next door to them in the upstairs and I began to connect with my mother more as we explored entering woman hood and healing my depression together.

My mother is a retired flight attendant. She is very dear to me. We talk frequently and see each other often as I live on her land on Lopez Island. It is amazing to me what she was able to accomplish in life. She has two amazing daughters, is a master gardener, a weaver and designer of artisan clothing, she manages a beautiful property and has recently mastered the art of being grandmother extraordinaire to my sister’s new daughter, Ada LeClair. I haven’t always gotten along with my mother and my teen years were difficult. It took me many years to learn to reach out to her and trust her, but I have come such a long way. As I look back, there were many moments of kindness and trust, along with the anger and mistrust, but we built a foundation that has been helpful in nurturing the relationship that we have today. My mom goes to India and has for about six or seven consecutive years for a couple months in the winter. I miss her terribly when she goes, though I know space is healthy as well. There will always be strain and issues at times, but I value her presence so much in my life and I could not live without her… though I must someday and I am aware of this as well, all the more reason to cherish our life today as it is. She is my mother, I am her ilk, I learn so much about myself as I open and trust and bond with her. Mothers are a rare and precious thing. I am so lucky to know and get along so beautifully with mine.

I am a sensitive person. I just awoke in the middle of the night with pain in my legs. I believe I am absorbing some stress from my husband right now who is suffering with major spinal chord issues due to impingement of the chord by some vertebrae in his neck. His body is compromised. He is not in major pain at the moment, though he has an amazingly high tolerance for pain, so I am not sure this is entirely true. All I know is that his movement is compromised. There must be some stress in his cells and I am sure that my body, being the absorber that I am, is capable of soaking in the stress of his nervous system. Sometimes I wonder if I should sleep in another bed, but that would be sad, and I know it would be hard on Steve.

I believe I have many psychic talents, and I am sad to say that I know not what they all are at the late age of 37. I know I can absorb emotions and psychological ailments from people. Needy people are my nemesis as are folks or friends who have a deep unconscious unawareness of their psychological and spiritual issues. Often people are aware of their physical issues because this is the plane that most of our society lives on. What we are not aware of is that these issues stem from spiritual and psychological unhappiness and stress. I am sensitive to these stresses and I have a very low threshold for stress. This can make my life more complicated as I take on other’s burdens unknowingly by absorbing their stress and unhappiness. I have learned to have boundaries over the years, and to protect myself from needy folks or unconscious people, but it is still hard. There is this need in me to help others and I often take on what I shouldn’t. Also, I am just recently bringing awareness to these talents and I have many years of unconscious absorbing under my belt.

What are my other psychic talents? Well I am still learning this and I crave to know and understand myself on a deeper level. I strive for this everyday through journaling, meditation in nature, and tarot. I know I may have a talent that must have to do with thought and mind. This may be one of my most acute talents but possibly the most dangerous. I take antipsychotics and a mood stabilizer at this time in order to manage schizoaffective disorder, of which I have suffered for many years. The symptoms of this illness are psychotic thoughts and emotional disturbances. I have found over the years that many of the symptoms manifest physically as well. I have been known to “see” and hear things that are not of this world, that do not make sense. I believe I could be leaving my body and tapping into forces on our planet that are misunderstood and/or unpredictable. Sometimes the visions are beautiful during psychoses, and sometimes they are very disturbing. I have had visions of angels, ghosts and demons, spiders, aliens and more. I have had to acknowledge that these visions were psychotic but I also want to acknowledge that there may be some gift inside of them. I don't know what it is and I plan to take these medications as long as the western world survives and they are available to me.

My medications help me. So does the help I receive in the form of therapy and psychiatry. The most valuable thing I have received from professional help over the years is validation. When I am under the care of a thoughtful and wise practitioner, they have often helped me to see and understand my illness better and normalize it for me. I have learned to give myself the credit I deserve for putting up with the hardships that come from my illness, as well as feel seen in the darkness that can reside deep in my soul from all that I have been through. I believe now that I have mastered and accomplished much by living a balanced and healthy life while suffering with such a disability. It is still hard at times because we all wish to better ourselves. I believe it is a common theme in human beings to want to transcend their current situation. I have watched this work for some and I have seen some tumble and fall through the effort of changing. I believe it is a delicate balance of acceptance as well as the desire to change. I have found that the path for transcendence for me is the healing path which no one can stop me from, and that is fully within my capability. It also supplements my efforts to be balanced and live “normally” with such an illness. I have had to radically accept that I will not have a career or a college education, that I cannot work a job, have a family, and that I cannot travel extensively. The one that is most direct to my heart and the feeling of failing is the inability to work. This just shows that I have more work to do with acceptance. I must accept my illness fully and completely. It is only in doing this that I will find the room to transcend and the ability to heal.

There are walls of energy that keep us from wandering too far from our chosen path. We do have choices in this life but I also believe in fate and destiny. I believe in the powerful thought that I am meant to be exactly where I am and that angels and gods have guided me on my path to arrive where I am today. In this I have the vision that I am special and chosen. Our perceptions change daily, and if one has ever lived with an addiction or a mood disorder of any kind they understand this deeply. But what baffles me, and I have seen this clearly at very translucent times, is that miracles and blessings surround us and are interwoven with us on many levels. They are all around us every day. Sometimes we are awake enough to see them, sometimes our vision is clouded by sorrow, grief and pain. I believe the world is alive and we are watched and guided each along our individual paths. What might seem mundane or something you see or witness every day, could be a potent miracle and probably is.

In this I am on the search to be special. I am special and I strive to fully realize this. I suffer greatly with self worth. Sometimes life feels really difficult and I blame myself for this hardship. Why can’t I just be stronger or more resilient? The truth is that I am made as I am for a reason. A divine reason at that. I do have many talents and am very intelligent, and this often puts balance to my weakness, so many who know me know not that I suffer as I do. Sometimes I forget that I suffer as I do, so when it all comes back, I feel I have failed. I am working with this daily and weekly. I desperately want to believe all that I have written here which is why I am writing it down. I want to send a strong message to myself that I am blessed and that I am okay. There is a lot to unravel and there is a lot yet to discover as I unfold the layers of who I am and my gifts. My ailments are gifts, I believe, and I will discover one day how to use them with proper boundaries and awareness.

I have had observations of an interesting phenomena that occurs between siblings. I myself am a younger sister and I have an older sister. As we grow older I have always felt that my sister and I are fairly balanced in our natures. But there is a common theme among the older and younger sisters that I know. The older sister seems to be more successful, together, responsible, perhaps even rigid or well accomplished while the younger sisters know how to party, are more adventurous and may even be more in tune with themselves on some level as they have lived the life of many mistakes. Perhaps the younger sisters are not afraid to make mistakes because as they were being raised, their parents were more used to the daily reality of spills and messes. Also the older sister had a time when she was the only child and had to face being encroached upon by a younger sibling. Perhaps they spend their lives striving towards being the only one in the spotlight once again, and this results in what appears to be more successes.

Being a younger sister, I only have the perspective of what it is like to live in the shadow of an older sister. My sister has often complained about my messes taking away the spotlight from her time. My sister had a wedding and I did not. I did not feel like I needed a wedding and I do not relate to that kind of excessive attention. Recently one of my friends who is an only child had a wedding and I was amazed at the amount of attention she endured. I have to admit that I am definitely guilty of living a more wild and adventurous life than my sister. I can become ashamed of this but I also gather the grass is always greener on the other side of the fence. I have met older sisters that would never admit this consciously though. Some seem to be living up perfection as much as possible and would never admit that they really just want to be or make a mess like their younger siblings. There is strength in both aspects of sisterhood, and I want to remind the reader that I am making generalizations and these cannot always be true. I have no idea what it is like to have a middle sibling or to have a brother, and I know there are many flavors to sisterhood pie.

I just went for a walk with my sister and she is an amazing friend. I am so lucky and grateful to have her in my life. We went for a jaunt up the road with her daughter, Ada, who is one and a half years old. Ada ran alongside of us and held our hands as we lifted her into the air. She rode on the shoulders of my sister and I got to carry her for a little while as we explained to her that my sister’s back was sore so she willingly came into my arms, so sweet. We picked rose hips for her and she nibbled them off the end of the stems. She is innately intelligent to boost her immune system this time of year. As we returned to my car, she looked in the window and asked for Steve, my husband. I asked her if she would like me to say hi to Steve from Ada and she said yes. I kissed them both goodbye and headed back across the island the five mile drive home to my house.

I recently had a struggle with deciding to continue my therapy due to the cost and my sister was instrumental in me realizing how important my therapy is for my continued wellbeing. I have been seeing a therapist since last May when I began to recover from a psychotic episode. My therapist has been very good for me. I have learned to tell myself that I have done good by taking my medications and remaining as healthy as I am, which is a huge accomplishment for people who suffer with a disorder as I do. Many are in homes or the hospital, many refuse to take their medications and therefore struggle deeply and are rarely stable. I for the most part am very stable, considering. I went through a recent mood swing where I was up for a couple of days and then I sank. This was really hard and it is important to constantly remind myself that I need good sleep and to monitor my moods, so that when I am feeling high I don't over do it, and when I am feeling low that I know ‘this too shall pass’.

Moods are a funny thing. Sometimes when we are inside if them it is hard to bring awareness to what is going on. We tend to take for granted when we feel good and we tend to suffer even more when we are low because we think it will never end. Being in the moment helps, and being able to tell myself that it is all impermanent is key. There is a lot we can do to manage our moods, we can have regular blood sugar and avoid things like sugar, coffee and alcohol. We also can send ourselves positive messages about body image and who we are as beings. I have made huge strides with this these last couple of years. I love my body and I tell myself that I am grateful every day for what gifts I receive from its functioning. True, I have a bunk knee, a belly, and hair on my chin, but perspective is important, and I believe I am beautiful both inside and out.

As I have said, I suffered with an eating disorder when I was a teen. This carries over to my daily life in that it has been a life long struggle to manage such an addiction. There are days I look in the mirror and I like what I see, and there are times when I look in and what I see is extremely distorted and I can become unhappy. I have learned to tell myself that the image I am seeing is false when this happens and I pull away from the mirror then and tell myself that nothing really has changed from the day before. Practices like not shaving my legs and armpits, and having natural face products has helped me gain a pure perspective over the years, as well as focusing less on appearances in general. I understand that there is a warped perception that can happen inside my brain. What is going on happens in a very natural way for all human beings, for a person with an eating disorder, the self perception has just become way out of balance. No one knows what they look like to the outsider and no one looks the same to two different sets of eyes. This is why someone who is not a picture cut out of perfection can appear even more beautiful because their beauty is shining out from within. They have self confidence and a sense of self worth, that glows and radiates out into their aura. Energy and perception affect our beauty, and honestly what we look like does not really matter. There are so many more important things in the world. This is why, even though I have my doubts when I fly to Hawaii from the Pacific Northwest, I refrain from shaving my legs. It is a bold reminder, mostly to myself that beauty is natural, that I do not want to be superficial, and that I have the self confidence that I matter beyond what I look like.

Today I am feeling tender. I had a nice afternoon yesterday with a friend around a large bonfire in the woods of south Lopez Island. We talked and shared some wine. Today I spent time with my niece of one and a half years, and running around with her and playing on the trampoline reminded me that I am getting older. My body feels fragile. My knee is sore, I have developed a pinch in my shoulder blade, and my forearm and elbow are still tender from an old injury. Also, my disability, or heightened ability, or sensitivity makes me feel added sensation in my body. I have been going through some strife in the area of believing in myself. I suffer with issues of feeling successful or feeling like a failure, and I suffer with a wounded ego and sense of self esteem because I feel so much in my body and mind. My friend that I visited reminded me that I am sensitive. She refuses to believe in my illness or that I have a disability. The truth is that I do, but I can't tell you how much I value her perspective. It allows me to stretch my mind in that much needed direction. Could it be true on some plane or alternate reality that I have a gift of sensitivity and that there is really nothing wrong with me? The more I embrace this perspective the more I am able to allow myself to be myself and allow myself to embrace myself. 

I could grow into being a truly sensitive person, a psychic. I could shed the weight that I have put on physically to protect myself, and learn to metabolize all of the feelings of sorrow and grief that I experience. I then would not hold them in my body and they would not hold me back or make me feel sorry for myself. It is often through acceptance that we can turn things around and change for the better. When I spend time with my niece and I see her cry for her mother, I can relate. When I see how much sleep or food can affect her mood I am convinced that I can take care of myself better. But these feelings of need are real. Ada deserves to be treated with tenderness and so do I. When did I ever lose perspective and think that I didn't deserve loving forgiveness and care? The truth is that I don't really need forgiveness, I need understanding. This can come from myself. I could understand what I am feeling and allow myself the space I need to process my feelings. Perhaps I will never be able to work a forty hour week, perhaps I will always have days where I feel tender and defeated. But the more awareness I can bring to my sensitivity and the more I can see myself and my struggle in a positive light and as a gift, the more I will be able to embrace life and live it to the fullest.

My tender evening resulted in my leg acting up in pain. I feel that this is partly psychosomatic pain that comes from emotional grief and trauma being stored in my most recent injury. This is why at times when my body is injured it can feel much more difficult than simply physical pain which can be more easy to deal with. Our bodies are complicated beings, and physical ailments can also be caused by psychic and emotional distress, particularly chronic issues. My leg was talking to me. My main issue is in my knee, but the pain was moving around and had an emotional charge to it. As it moved from my foot up to my hip, I was aware that my body was speaking to me. I allowed it to talk, to emit its emotional energy and as I did this the discomfort subsided. I was aware that my distress was emotionally based as well as physical and it was time to bring compassionate awareness to my situation. I still need to ask, what was my body telling me? I write every day to learn more about my mental and emotional process, but there is also work that can be done on a deeper emotional level. I need to sit in nature and meditate in order to bring more awareness to my emotions and metabolize my emotional/physical pain.

I have been very hard on myself recently and issues have arisen around ego and self esteem. I wish I had a career and as we know, many of us define ourselves by what we do. I am being asked to stretch my understanding of my purpose beyond a job, and I have been working on this for many years. I have had jobs these last ten years, but recently I am not really working. I volunteer at the Library and am employed as a substitute which results in a minimal amount of work. In a larger life sense, I did not accomplish a degree and I do not have a career. I know I am intelligent, but I have very little to show for my skills. I have become increasingly creative over the years and I paint, play music and write. Somehow having the identity as an artist is understandable to the outsider as many artists are unemployed and searching. As I move to accept myself and my sensitivity or extra-ability as I am calling it, I become more comfortable with not fitting into society’s normal practice of role setting.

Recently, this last spring, I pieced together a manuscript that I felt was ready to be published. I became approved by some self publishing companies that cost money and I was offered the funds to pursue going through with it. As the offers had no expiration date, I decided to pursue approaching agents who would then aid me in approaching publishing companies that would not cost me money. As I entered this world I became painfully aware that people that work as agents, people that work for agents and publishers, and other writers that are pursuing publishing mostly have degrees or a history of being in a community with others who have schooling and professional training. I felt pain as I came up against this wall. Would anyone even notice me, and do I have even a thread of competitive nature as many of these authors probably do? The world is so large and where do I fit in? I felt it would be a total fluke for an agent to choose to represent me. I also felt that time and energy put to the monumental job of aspiring to be published in this way was taking away from my creative process.

Years ago, for about ten solid years, I was a painter. As a painter, I was acutely aware that my art was about process as I was essentially journaling my inner journey and it was appearing before me in color and subject matter on a two dimensional canvas. I pursued showing and selling my art and took professional art classes. My dream in my twenties was to some day be admitted to art school, specifically Cooper Union, a free college upon admittance for the especially talented. Over time as my journey with a mental illness continued, I discovered that I was not as interested in showing or selling my work as this influenced the kind of work that I was doing. The process was what was important, and healing myself from the torture that lay deep in my psyche. I began to paint naked female figures without heads which did not make a lot of sense, but was the subject matter that was pouring from my finger tips. Recently I read that this shows a split psyche, when one paints figures with body parts missing. I also look at my art from days gone by and I see the creative vision that ensues. I was painting dreams, I was processing what lay deep inside me, and this was essential to preserve in its essence. I have faith today that that if my work is meant to be known that will shine through. Perhaps I am not ready. Perhaps the world is not ready to see or read what I have shared. If I were not ready, I believe it would be in the sense that I must believe in myself exactly where I am and trust that people will gather what they need from said shared material. Art is about saying something, how people receive this is none of my business.

As you can see here, I have been writing. Writing has become a regular part of my day as I journal for three pages and have been doing this every day for months. It is a very sacred practice that has helped me process a lot. It helps me get out of my head and into my body. It is my body and my mind that can be dragged down by false stories. I have a story in my mind that I have failed at life because of my illness. This story can be linked with worrying about what people think of me and is a part of an old story about not performing to the utmost level. Because of this I have developed a radical acceptance of myself and at times resist achievement. But as I have said above, I like art for the process. I am focusing my life on just being and being present, healing and loving myself, rather than trying to become somebody or accomplish something. This is my spiritual journey, to accept myself for who I am, and develop strength of character as I heal these false stories within myself. It is false to believe that I have failed, and it is true that it is in the struggle where the learning and the healing happens.

My grief runs deep into my body. Meditation and writing have helped me heal this. In recent years I have had physical pain in my legs that I believe is grief manifested. I discovered this grief in my knees about ten or so years ago when a dear friend, an older hippie woman, explained that I could be storing grief in my knees. I found this to be true. I have sat in healing circles and discussed this phenomena. I in fact stored grief and sadness deep in my body in a physical way. The only solutions I have for this is massage and meditation, as well as bringing awareness to my grief story through writing. I still need to discover more about what this grief is about. I know that I am sad because I dropped out of college from my illness, and that I was not able to continue achieving because of my illness. I have done a lot of work to let this go, and I am happy about how my life turned out. I live close to my family and am able to be in all of their lives in a true and intimate way. I met my lover of 19 years and we have grown as a couple and our friendship is deep and powerful. I need to look at what I have done in this life, not what I didn't do.

I may not have met Stephen had I not come home from Mills college after being sent to the hospital in California. We have done many things on this journey together, and he has been with me through my entire adult life. I also would not have become who I am in spirit and strength had I not been overtaken with this disability. I have struggled a lot through psychotic breaks and mood swings, as well as the daily discomfort of living with symptoms, but this has strengthened my character and has made me who I am. I am not following the life path that I may have, but I was meant to follow this one. I may become a healer or a mage because I have seen so much. I see what is important and I continue to expose myself to people who I can learn from and who can expand my experience on this earth. They do not always, actually very rarely do they look like people who have accomplished careers and own nice houses. Often, the people that have true wisdom to share have seen amazing struggle. Property and achievement are not symbols of success anymore. Rather, having lived with mental illness, strife, or discomfort shows true stamina and achievement.

I also believe that the generations are evolving and changing what we expect of ourselves and the world. We are watching our forests disappear and our oceans become saturated with plastic. The dichotomy of moving forward and up the ladder vs truly finding oneself is becoming apparent as people realize that the world cannot withstand this type of thinking much longer. Younger generations have broadened awareness about what is truly important and western thinking is becoming less and less popular. I have a friend named Feather EagleRock, who is teaching me the difference between western thinking and native thinking. She told me a story of a man she knew who was a “two-spirit”. She explained that folks with this title have heightened awareness, gifts of healing and wisdom, and are special in some way. I asked her if these people also struggle and she said only with western thinking. This is what I truly would like to achieve, a way of thinking that does not go with the western world or western medicine. I have even considered visiting one of these Native American doctors to see what they would say about my condition. I can only imagine the bliss if I were to walk away in true realization that I had something to give and teach, that I had an increased connection or line to the creator. I may find out that this is an honor and a blessing, not a curse. I may be given some skills and thinking that would reinforce these discoveries. If only we honored people in this western culture that fell under this category. Instead we scoff that they cannot perform in a linear fashion, we put our gifted children and young adults on meds, and then we leave them in the dust.

Western thinking involves a sense of desperation it seems. Perhaps this is from centuries of oppression. The thinking of western society is oppressive in essence. In our long history we have oppressed African Americans in slavery, children in slavery, and women in slavery along with many other ethnicities and people. Today our world isn't much different, but I believe there is hope for a turning. People have been speaking out all through the 19th and 20th and 21st centuries. Probably even before that and for many thousands of years. We are all familiar with the characters Jesus, Moses, and Gandhi who spoke out for the little man. There are a lot of theories of why we have been so oppressive to certain peoples, and many offer that this comes down to our spiritual belief. We are striving for someone to save us, or praying to a god that resides without. In Native American tradition, the spirit lives in even the tiny hummingbird, grasshopper and mosquito. I value this alternative to western thinking because it does not put humans above nature. Still, there is a great spirit, but it is for everyone. Christianity, at least modern Christianity attempts to achieve this but their is still the condition where you have to apply yourself with a certain way of thinking that involves achieving salvation. I went to church for several years and I still pray to Jesus as well as Grandmother and Grandfather spirit, but I am learning to value the Native way of worshiping. To me, Nature is healing and has many answers. As long as we deny nature in a spiritual sense, we may continue to profit on its destruction. This destruction of nature stretches into our very spirits as we strangle our organic nature to fit into the western world. Most of all I believe that all religions are equal and there is no right God. I am simply on the search for a prayer that honors me in my essence as gifted and special, not as a disease.

I am still on a search to understand what is western within my being and what could be an alternative to western thinking. Achieving is definitely of western thought, but this does not mean that I cannot still achieve. Most simply, in order to shed this western thinking, I must take the importance out of achievement. This achieving nature runs deep in my conditioning and my subconscious, I have spoken on my grief around my illness and this is a result of my way of life and the outcome of my life contradicting this initial belief of wanting to fit in with this western sense of achievement. What truly needs to change is my value system on a deep level. I am learning to value family, spirituality, the creative process and the healing process. I believe I am on the right track. But it is a large undertaking to change our conditioning, also if the past conditioning has done harm to our being. I am excited that through changing my conditioning into a more positive and inclusive thought, that I will open a doorway to cleanse my spirit and my body of the grief and hardship that is essentially false.

But I am not false, all that I experience and all that goes on inside me is the truth. Even down to my psychosis. Could it not be true that the world is made of spiders? Could it not be true that I am an angel? We do not really know, and many things are essentially unprovable. But I tend to believe that all that is true is our inner truth. What is true for our emotional selves is all that we really know to be true. We must honor each other and take the time to listen to stories and allow these stories room to have life. It is in the thinking where we run into trouble as I have pointed out, and it is in changing our thinking that much healing can happen. I crave to truly believe on a core level that I am gifted, loved and holy. If believing in Christ, if believing that I am an angel or that the world is made out of spiders enhances this belief then so be it. All along I have believed in the imagination. Also, If we are truly psychic beings, if there is healing that can be done through energy work and if nature does have an innate intelligence, then the healing that I hope for can occur. I just have to believe.

When I spend time with children I try to look them in the eyes and get down to their level. It is in them realizing that their inner truth matters that the path to self love begins. Children spend a lot of time striving as they are learning to understand this world that does not always make sense and is full of many hard truths. What matters it that our feelings are recognized and honored. Taking the time to express this to a child is one of the most rewarding things I have ever done. During my time spent as an early childhood professional, I learned many modes of thinking and developmental facts. Even with this knowledge, the endless knowledge that one can learn about children and their development, I felt that the most important thing for a child was to learn about love. Honoring themselves takes self awareness, but it is really very simple. I chose in the end to kind of push all my training to the side and focus on this one simple fact. I believed that children needed to be seen. Acknowledging their feelings and making them feel like equals was the best message I could send. In truth this was very healing for me because as I acknowledged the truth of this small being, I was acknowledging the truth in myself, or rather they were. I saw them and they saw me. I am experiencing this now once again with my little niece. It is true, as I learn to bless her and her little life and truth, she blesses mine.

Chapter Six (Fin)

It snowed last night. The crystalline negative ions dress the ground and it feels soft, clear and good. The snow has definitely cleared the energy. All of my friends are in Bellingham and it feels good to be home. Steve is lighting a fire and my walk this morning with the dogs was fun. My body is a little weak, my legs fatigued, but I am getting as much exercise while I can. There is something to being mentally tortured that leads to exhaustion. I spent a couple of days on little sleep then was just hit with exhaustion on my trip to Seattle. But last night I slept a solid twelve hours and I am feeling rested and clear this morning. Well, it is almost one, and I am still drinking coffee, a current substitute for wine or beer. It seems I have temporarily become allergic to alcohol and it is a good thing. I know that it is best for me to avoid alcohol, but when I am doing good, I can forget. The last couple months it was busy summer and I was working, now I am recovering and resting, so that I don’t fall over the edge. The edge is so close but I am just having a great time walking across it, looking down and looking out.

The snow provides sort of a blank canvass to life. There is a scientific element with the negative ions and crystalline water that just seems to lighten and cleanse the energy. But I also feel hugged into my little house and I am cherishing every moment. I don’t feel like I have to do anything. All commitments have been suspended. This is my life. I am still keeping fantasies at bay and the other night I was completely plagued with torturous thoughts. I prayed yesterday and played Johnny Cash’s hymnals while in the tub. I cried during my tarot reading because everything is just too real right now. I suppose in this sensitive state I am just prone to reading energy on a scale that can be too much at times. I was in the hospital for Steve’s appointment and I could feel an immense amount of oppression around all of the sickness in the building. Yesterday, I could barely play cards because the competitiveness that ensues from a basic game of cards was just too much for me. 

I have a general plan for life. I plan to spend more time with my niece, but I do not know when I will return to work. I have really jumped the tracks, but out of necessity. Actually there are a lot of things that are benefitting from this compromised state. I feel like I am crystalizing in my intentions for life. 

What are these intentions? Mostly I plan to be true to myself. But first I have to figure out/ remember who I am. This may take some time. I am also faced with a degeneration of self that I am having trouble avoiding looking at at this point in time. After my break down in 2016, I attempted returning to work eventually. I had to decline an offer at the Library, but stayed on as a substitute. Then I took a break for about three months to be a care taker for Steve and then go through a medications change. Soon I returned to working a little bit most recently this summer. The transition into Fall effected me differently than it usually does. For decades the precarious time of year has been the transition into Spring. So, I am trying desperately to calculate what is happening on a diagram or a scale. I do this with my illness usually with some success, so that I can fit myself into my life and still attempt at achieving some semblance of goals. I have done this for a long time, perfecting the effort during this last decade on Lopez. I don’t deny there have been times when I wavered from my path of health these last ten years, but nothing like in 2016, and I believe we have discussed the elements that led to that psychotic break.

I am increasingly drawn to accepting, however, that I can no longer see myself as a scientific experiment. Somehow this curse seems like a blessing. I have been praying for years for my illness to manifest as a gift. This has taken endless delving into my psyche asking the question, what does this mean, what does this look like? What are my sensitivities? I soon learned that I was intentionally shutting them down and artificially controlling them by trying to achieve a picture of success of a healthy human being, one that works a job, is involved in the community, and working on her relationships with her mom and dad. The negative piece to working on my relationships with my mother and father, though there have been many positive aspects, is that I began to do their bidding. I began to make sense of the world through their eyes, I began to achieve their goals for me. 

I am a free spirit naturally. For years before moving to Lopez Island to be close to my parents, I painted, drank, took time off work, spent time in the mountains and with the rivers, made a family that still is in my heart to this day. It was a real and raw part of my life. I was still taking art classes, but as soon as I took a turn and tried to go to massage school to achieve a career, I ended up in the psych ward in 2007 during a greatly traumatic breakdown that extended the period of several months. But I remember this person I was in my mid-twenties, as living closer to my truth. I became worried once again that I was missing the boat on having an education, though often took courses at the community college in early childhood education, the job that dominated what I had of a resume. 

Right now I am remembering who I am. The search goes back to my teen years, and summoning the sorts of people I am now connected to on Facebook that still exist. Friendships that are long forgotten, but these people colored my identity as it was developing. And I have more work to do on being true to myself. So there are two things that are happening here. I am no longer able to train my sensitivities, ironically my gifts, into strait lines and objectives. It is getting messy, and it is getting real. I miss this side of myself and it is long overdue to let my dark side express itself.

At some point God takes over. At some point I am no longer able to avoid my destiny. At some point, I have to love and honor all that I am naturally. Maybe this is the key to getting better. Maybe this is the mystery that I have been trying to solve through journaling pages and pages for years and sitting silent in the woods. So even though I feel weaker, even though my body is giving out, even though I can barely control my emotions and my psychotic fantasies, I also have way too much experience to let it take me down. If I don’t let my demons express themselves, if I don’t let myself breathe and if I hold it all in, I will never make real progress. So in this way as I digress, I move toward the light.

Smoking a cigarette at 2am, I am checking my email which I haven’t seem to have done for at least a week. Recently I have returned to writing in my journal, sitting in the woods, talking to my mother. We will see how this trend proceeds, I have hopes to go to the gym three days a week and I am working at the Library once again on Saturdays. I am unsure if this is right, but I can no longer hold back entirely from life. I have to proceed as I am, special, gifted, mentally ill.

I have taken a new name. It is a spirit name. I will not share it on Facebook or social media, but my writings are sacred. I can share it here. I may have already. I am Moon. I am intuitive, large stone, stable and ever changing. I am Moon, I am alone, surrounded by so much space, I am omnipotent, everlasting, my soul lives on forever, or for millennium at least. Maybe some day my soul will die too. Everything that has a life has a beginning and an end, the Earth, this vast universe, they are not exempt. But time is so relative. We live by the day, the week. How small this is, or perhaps how large. Some insects only live for a day, rocks for thousands upon thousands of years.

But the moon is something I have looked to for solace throughout my life. I had a dream and am awake in the early hours. My dreams are so complex, but I feel like I am communicating with something. I cannot even describe where I was or what I was doing because it was so complicated. Much like a psychotic fantasy which I am learning to call a vision quest. I have been delving into Native American or First Nation spirituality. What I know of it. I have not done research really. Other than talking to people, a little reading. Mostly I sit in the woods and talk to the Great Spirit. In my bed I still pray to God, but when I am in nature it seems fit to talk and speak to the earth, my body, and pray to the great spirit. There is something there for me.

I am not supposed to be on the computer this time of night. I told myself I would avoid it and try to sleep. But I slept for six hours and my dream was startling. I was doing so many small and random things. I was in a grocery store, on a college campus, on a street with friends or acquaintances. But what seemed to be happening was rich and deep. Steve assures me they are just dreams and this is good to remember. But things are happening, things are changing, evolving in these dreams. I am traveling in someway. I believe it is through the subconscious of this human race. I often feel stuck or blocked by my generation, sometimes even the generation before. I feel like I can only resonate with a few. I have experienced this with my peers on many levels. People are not really seeing. And they want to reinforce their illusions. They do this by stalemating anyone who tries to shatter them. This is my job, as Moon, as a seer, as a schizoaffective on the fringe. 

I don't want to say that I chose this path, but I know I did. I know it came from lifetimes, soul-times of developing a path made of a million choices. I discussed this recently in a blog. I was blessed with a brain and a sensitive spirit. I cannot compete with the average ape. Mostly because they are bullies, operating on a frequency that they try to mask with college degrees and fancy houses. My “friends” are truly those in the psych ward, not my successful high school classmates. They are surviving in this incredibly flawed society, if you can do that you are not really paying attention. I respect the crazy man on the street because he has something to say. I have asked myself endlessly why I could not survive college. I ask myself today why I cannot compete in a simple job or a writing group. It seems I cannot belong no matter what I do. I have become a shape that does not fit in any hole, no matter how I search, no matter how I try.

So I continue, quietly like Enya. I find solace in being an Aunt, even though I smell like dogs and cigarettes, even though I am over weight. I make piece with my mother, I love my husband. I try to pick away at the issues and attempt therapist after therapist. I still find that only I can heal me. That only I can speak to the magic of the earth, alone. This is why I am Moon, I suppose. Moon Flicker to be exact. I have graduated from Nose Too Much, to Broken Skull, to Moon Flicker, Moon for short. At first I thought this name could not be true because it came to me in a conscious thought, not a dream or a vision. How could I give myself a name? What makes me that gifted? But it stuck around, and continues to. It is simple. Yes so deep and saturated with meaning. It is a mantra. I am Moon. I am intuitive, I am bright and big and beautiful in body and spirit. I am androgynous yet I embody female power and spirit.

Edith is playing on the speakers. I have been on some interesting journeys as of late. Mostly I am in the present, living day to day, adjusting to new medication. It is a medication that I have been on since June, and it is now December. I am still ironing out the kinks. I have been in and out of functionality, and I know I am blessed. There has been definite lack of progress on getting my first book out, but there also have been very many lessons in how to embrace the process. There may be an issue of timing, when do I expose the world to my musings? When am I ready to be exposed? And will anyone even see it? It is true, I have everything in unedited form on my blog, really this is just the tedious exercise of organizing writings that already exist, even on the internet in some way. As these sultry tunes play to me, I am reminded that I am just in a dance with myself. There may be design to my fate, and because of this, slowing down, to an almost painful pace, may prove beneficial to me in some way. 

Besides, I am still writing. I am here now, typing these words. I have an obligation of sorts to get this first book, Glass Slippers, to the public because I held a GoFundMe in my small community and accepted donations for the fee to the self publisher. But I could take care of it tomorrow if I wished, or at least I think I can. In these moments I trust my partner to reassure me. It is because of him the process was delayed a few months. I must now incorporate his edits, and send them to the publisher. 

Did I make the right choices? This is a good philosophical question. Our choices are our choices. They exist. In a way that makes them right. And yet we question them so. What if I had made a different choice? It does not matter. Sometimes I feel like I am not making choices in my life. The truth is that I am at every moment. It is just some choices seem so minimal that they seem unimportant. Well this may be true. And yet every choice creates a finite pattern of our existence in the universe. Could it be possible that our nature, who we are, has a signature. That our choices reflect this? God, the Universe, our DNA is in and shows through every choice. Does the world feel this? Does the world know us, recognize us? Could it be that our destiny is preplanned? Does this make our choices obsolete? No. It does not. But to fight the negative patterns of our existence, to learn the lessons we were sent here to learn, we must think, we must exist, we must settle and tap into deeper purpose. What does this look like?

For me right now this looks like trusting and turning my head from the goal. I have already abandoned the idea of a deadline for this book. At first there was anxiety over making this choice. I had said some things in public venues about the supposed emergent time that this book would hit the shelves. And yet we are not achieving this. This is good. Have I not said that I want to stop achieving. Achieving is not the answer. I have done enough. But now, as I sit at the precipice of birthing such a project, I suppose I am finding meaning in slowing the process. It is as if, I am stretching out this moment. I am turning my head and letting it pass. It is true, the jewels of the world that are the most valuable are lost little pieces, are the simple every day things, are diamonds in the rough. So as I struggle with my medication, as I work through anxiety, as I slowly watch my husband read through the book, I have surrendered to the process. I now am discovering that there is a divine timing to my book, and I don’t want to miss out on the bigger message or lesson.

The lesson being, I truly hold all of the cards. I can choose to do this either unconsciously or consciously. Consciousness is amazingly difficult to achieve. I am attempting to achieve ease, fluidity. It is not easy to let go. How can it be uneasy to be easy? This of course is a paradox; giving up our struggle. I suppose I am accepting and embracing my struggle as well. It is no little thing to give ourselves the credit we deserve. Am I a writer? Have I chosen this path? How do I accept that I am good, that I deserve this? With all of the struggle in the world, I also have to acknowledge my very own struggle. Feeling is what has gotten me here.

I love my husband. In a way our union is divine and genius. I have always known this. This does not mean that I am perfect. Sometimes we can blame ourselves and forget that there are two sides to everything. Like what about when we fight? I am usually pushed to do the stupid thing, break the bottle, beat on the fridge. And yet, even though I have less control over my anger, Steve knows exactly what buttons to push, even if he doesn’t admit it. There are two sides. There are not in all domestic disputes and this is a very sad thing. But in my marriage, we are very well balanced in our power.

In an earlier piece I wrote on a community blog, I admitted that I was the abusive one in the relationship. I now acknowledge that we are both abusive to each other. Abuse is a harsh word. But it is real. I am cruel to myself. The key to being kind to another is bringing kindness into the thoughts I have for myself. But we are a good match. We also love each other so very deeply. Not everybody has this. A truly passionate relationship. It takes innovation, creativity and acceptance. I would say that we rely greatly on our intelligence as well. I know on the deepest level that I could not live without him, no matter how I am tempted, no matter how I stray. We are forgiving of each other and we are forgiving of ourselves.

I keep moving forward. I do not deny this, no matter how slowly, no matter how obtusely. It feels interesting to slow down to this painful pace, but I know I am combatting something deep in my consciousness, in my society. I am a product of my society, we all are. No matter how much we are paying attention. How do I think outside this white privilege? How do I think out of this female body, this schizoaffective disorder? This is what I am. I truly am these things. And yet we are constantly changing, evolving. And yet I stay the same. Perhaps I want this book release to truly change me. Sometimes it is how we look at things that makes all of the difference.

Life is so good and also challenging. I have been learning to live on little money and I find it relieving to be managing a budget of $25 a day. It is more than enough. It is amazing how much we waste. But this does not only apply to our checkbooks. Energetically I am learning to conserve my energy as well. Sometimes space is a good investment. I have been fighting an inflated ego. This is just a reminder that I still have insecurities and that they regularly rule my life. I spend my existence worrying about the appearance of my house, the state of my laundry, the stretch marks on my belly from recent added poundage. But there must be balance. When I struggle with psychosis, all of a sudden I am saving the world. I am a hero, am a genius, am more than special. So what is the medium? How do I find solace in balancing both of these extremes?

I have fallen back in love with science lately. After years of studying religion and delving into yoga, christianity, and the tarot, spirituality became a way of life. Philosophically, I was satiated. I suppose political science and environmental science has pulled me back in the fold lately with all that is going on in the world. Also, I have needed to tap into pharmacology and psychology due to my illness and personal struggles. Science is the pursuit in finding what is real, what is the truth. There is a place for both spirituality and science in our world. Both are good, where one falls short the other fills in the blanks. This is obvious to me. And there are overlaps for sure. What is the science behind my creativity for example? How does my psychology affect my painting? How do my dreams affect the weather? What is the mystery behind "memory smells"? There are so many questions that touch on both subjects.

So in this space I am creating, I am able to not only find balance, but I am able to let my being explore these greater questions, as well as study and tap into all of the great science that is out there. But finding the truth, what is real is no easy task. Being schizoaffective, I feel like I am constantly on this journey, on the pursuit of the truth, and though I need faith to get through the hard times, it is often science that I find sobering and healing. Having a diagnosis, medication is the bottom line for me. It is good to have a ground of reality, of facts to stand on. I need this. We all need this. Trouble is that the truth is constantly changing as we learn more. As we check the facts again and again and we do more research. It just keeps getting better and better. We also need faith to get us through the painful process of getting there, of finding that truth. When I am in the midst of struggle, because my meds aren’t working, or we are just doing the best with what science we have, I need faith to pull me through. It fills in the gaps.

And yet this balance I am learning to achieve is probably the most important thing. Perspective is important when dealing with health both physical and mental. I can only do what I can in this moment. Not only is it overwhelming to try and understand the truth of my situation mentally or physically, I cannot hold or handle ultimate truths when it comes to trying to change. I have tried to do this with achieving normalcy within working a job. But when I realized this wasn’t my path, that my creativity is what works for me for work, it became easier and healthier to achieve. I was not wasting precious energy trying to be something or someone else. Similarly, absolutes in health never work. This is why the diet industry can’t decide on the ultimate super food, exercise or the truth about whether eggs or fat is good for you. We blame our government and economy or corporate business for changing the truths, pushing the truths in order to sell us something and this may be true. The problem is that we still don’t really know what causes cancer and it all becomes about fear. All of sudden I have lost perspective on what and who I am, what is healthy, I can’t do it all. Everything is dangerous, everything kills us. We eat too many carrots and we turn yellow, we become obsessive about excercise and all of a sudden we have sacrificed our mental health and traded it in for addictive behavior and an eating disorder. Extreme’s are not good. But what does balance truly look like? It looks different for everybody. We all have specific DNA to ourselves and the most important thing is to listen to ourselves; not just our bodies but our spirits.

Listening to my spirit, I barely made it through the longest night of the year. Today is Christmas Eve and mercury came out of retrograde yesterday. I am not sure what this means exactly, but the night of the super moon on December second, a full moon and the day we entered the retrograde, was a potent night for me. I have had three weeks to process and delve into the deep parts of myself. I can say for one, that life has not been the same since the Spring of 2016. It is now the cusp of 2017-2018, and I am realizing that I have been on an almost two year journey of fine tuning my new life.

Mostly this has looked like adjusting to new medications and learning once again that my illness is quite debilitating. I have been forced into searching the meaning to life, that I may have a gift, on a new level of necessity. How am I going to find purpose in this life if I spend every day debilitated by my mental illness? Where can I find meaning? How can I find work that will change the world? My life does not look like that of many I went to school with. I went to a couple of semi-prestigious high schools. Not all of us are the upper crust, but many are succeeding in life in a way I only can dream about. Now that my husband of twenty years is also disabled, collectively we must take on a new identity. Luckily, not only do we have family, my family, but we live in a place in this world where people are real and see and operate on deeper, more enlightened levels. Lopez is a special place. Many here do not subscribe to our society in typical ways and many also are retired, and looking for deeper meaning later in life.

I have realized this more recently while looking for and spreading the holiday spirit amongst my friends here on Lopez. It is much easier to reach out and touch the lives of my peers than it used to be living in a dense city. In the winter months on Lopez, we are a quiet town. We talk to each other, no matter what our economic standing, age or politics. There is this sense that we are all in it together. Perhaps this comes from the awareness that someday soon the climate will change the world in a way that we will be cut off from the main world via the ferry, and we will be stuck together looking for a way to survive. A goat or cow may mean true wealth, or the ability to garden. This would change who was truly rich on this island. But it is more than that. In a small community we slow down. There is no movie theater, there is really only a couple of coffee houses and restaurants to hang out at. There are only a couple fo main roads, and we all mingle and get to know each other in a way that does not happen in the city. Because of this I have felt that I have been able to touch people this holiday season, and reach into their hearts where I can see there is struggle and sadness. The darkest night of the year affects all of us greatly.

The other day I got my first pass edits for my book off to the publisher. This was a great accomplishment and I am one major step closer to seeing my book in print. I have to say that it is odd to put out writing that is a little dated, but it is a journey from that time in my life. It starts with a time when I am doing pretty well, and ends just after my first psychotic break in nine years. Life has been so different since that breakdown in 2016. I can almost blame the presidential election as it was a big one. Following it threw me into a state, but there were many other factors as well. I was overworked for my ability, I was suffering or had recently suffered from a major gut flora issue, possibly an Ecoli bloom of sorts, and being overworked I fell into a rebound of dabbling in drugs, alcohol, and sex to a point of, even though my partaking was so small, a plunging into a hole. I attempted to crawl out of this hole all that previous winter by taking long baths, meditating and doing restorative yoga. In the Fall I went to Hawaii, and I stayed up all night at a solstice celebration. The following Spring, a time of mania around my birthday, that I had all but eliminated from my life working towards stability over the last nine years, I found myself quickly digressing into a breakdown. It happened so fast. It is important to recognize all of the things that led up to this happening. What seemed like good health, working hard at my jobs and flourishing in a healthy social life, resulted in me falling off course.

I am meant to follow a gentle course, a course of large curvy lines and subtle changes that happen over a period of many years. I have to embrace spirituality in order to do this and I am constantly working toward this. Right now I hope to soon add meditation and a small amount of yoga to my routine which currently exists of journaling and walking. I also take vitamins and medications twice a day. I take these three things very seriously, and I am keeping my head down and humble in my pursuit of these goals. It seems really important that I think of things in the abstract. It seems crucial that I don’t try to make too much sense of the world, in order to maintain perspective, I suppose. Mysticism seems to fill a hole for me.

We are all just human beings trying to get through on this planet. What is the significance of my life really? It depends on how large the universe really is, and it is fucking huge. It is also so small that we lose track of what is magnanimous. I don’t know if it is Jesus that moves me, or meditating on my chakras, focusing on tarot, astrology, numerology, astronomy, meteorology or geology. All of these things have a place in my heart. Sometimes I like to look at art, and listen to music. Sometimes I create these things. It can be so complex and beautiful all at the same time.

It seems like a good day to wrap up this piece of writing. Thank you for listening to my thoughts about my life and I am grateful to you, the reader, who truly is a special specimen of the universe. We all are. Peace be with you on your journey.

By Emily LeClair Metcalf // MoonFlickerStone - MOON