‘Let go!’ Revelations while channeling Sisyphus


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It’s been almost a year since I last wrote a blog post.

I’ve been sitting here for hours, writing and deleting dozens of opening paragraphs in which I attempt to introduce the next chapter of my blogging life in some gentle, clever and uplifting guise. No introduction seems quite right, so I will be frank: I’m here to explore the topic of death, and more specifically, choosing to die.

Death has been an ongoing and overwhelming theme in my life that I have yet felt able to talk about freely (in public). I am ready to confront the presumption/fear that people aren’t ready to hear about or discuss this subject, and I’m going to do it anyway. I will preface with this: All of my internal explorations (and decisions) are ultimately filtered through a lens of love and compassion, and while I have no control over how this will be received or what it might bring up for others, it is my wish that this inspires the same.

I want to clarify that this is not a blog about desperation, loss of hope, or the injustices of being chronically ill, nor is it a stance on being pro or anti suicide; this is an experiment in being radically honest, with the hope that by sharing my personal truth’s, questions, and insights I will be opening up and creating a safe space for people to talk about and explore a subject that has been so demonized in our culture (and in most of our personal lives). This is my personal journey of delving into and discussing topics around death, suicide, survival, choice, suffering, chronic illness, self love, trauma, beliefs, social/cultural/familial conditioning and personal responsibility. I intend to spread this out over many posts because this is a blog, not a book.

Suicide has been a big part of my life since I was a child and for the majority of that time it was inextricably connected with fear, loneliness, self-hatred, and an overwhelming sense of guilt and being trapped. Over the past 2 ½ years, my relationship with myself and suffering has dramatically transformed, which in turn has allowed me to explore the idea of suicide from a place of curiosity, radical self love, and freedom.

One year ago, in the midst of a full-blown PTSD episode (flashbacks, sweating, uncontrollable sobbing, panic, terror, etc.) brought on by a sudden and unexpected threat of homelessness (due to illness relating things), it dawned on me that the source of my suffering was coming from the belief that I have no choice but to keep surviving NO MATTER WHAT. My life at this point had been almost entirely about survival and enduring what felt like unbearable and overwhelming suffering and sickness for over two years straight (if you want to know more about my life situation, feel free to read my past blogs, or ask me questions directly). Out of nowhere, something miraculous happened: my sobbing ceased, a rush of calm came over my mind, the flashbacks dissolved and my body breathed. For the first time since I can remember (and maybe ever), I gave myself permission to STOP. I let go of this idea that I had to survive no matter how sick I was or what the circumstances may be. I hugged myself so sweetly and in the gentlest voice said out loud ‘I love you, you have done everything you possibly can to make your life livable, this is not your fault, and you NEVER have to endure the kind of suffering that you have gone through over the past few years ever again’. These words effortlessly fell from my mouth as though I was channeling something or someone else. It felt like what I imagine people are describing when they talk about ‘God love’. Right then and there I gave myself permission to die from a place of love if I so choose, and in that moment I felt completely free (which ironically made me WANT to live). The pressure and desperate attachment to surviving and ‘fixing’ my situation and health (especially while being homeless and sick) has caused me nothing but overwhelming stress and trauma. Just allowing the idea that ‘living is a CHOICE’ to sink in, relieved me in a way I that have never experienced. From that moment on I knew that no matter what happens, as long as I am making choices from a place of love (not acute desperation), everything in my life (and death) will be OK. Not easy, not free of suffering, but somehow OK.

I don’t know of one chronically ill person who has not thought about, considered, or currently is considering death as an option. And while suicide can be a tricky subject to talk about (for many reasons in which I will get into later), I see a glaring need for a safe space to talk about what might be the weightiest (yet least talked about) subject in some of our lives. Why should something so natural as thinking about or preparing for death in the midst of ongoing, unbearable physical/mental/emotional suffering (with no foreseeable end) be so taboo to talk about or explore?

Here’s part of the reason:  A lot of you reading this know that my ex girlfriend (who was chronically ill) killed herself two years ago. Everything leading up to and including her death was incredibly painful and traumatic. Her choice to end her life was coming from a place of extreme despair, unresolved trauma, lack of resources and isolation. While I completely understand and honor the choice she made to end her life, it’s not the kind of circumstances that I would personally support someone making that decision under (which leads to many other topics!). Unfortunately, her story is the typical association that comes to mind when people hear the word ‘suicide’. Unless someone is on their deathbed, in excruciating ‘physical’ pain, with a doctor declared ‘incurable’ illness, there is not a lot of validation, support or options for people wanting to end their own life, nor is there a place to discuss such things. I don’t know all of the components that need to be in place (personally or societally) to declare suicide legally or morally ‘okay’, but my hope is that we can start dismantling the negative associations we have around the concept of suicide.

Over the course of human history, I don’t believe people have ever experienced the kind of suffering that now exists while living with these invisible, complex and chronic illnesses. The physical and mental agony that accompanies living in this state is unlike any type of suffering I have heard of or seen before (until it happened to me). A friend (who has been bedridden for almost a decade) summed it up quite well while posting a fundraiser on behalf of a friend “I know of no other illness where people lose their functioning, social lives, the ability to care for themselves + their homes for years or decades, without the luxury of death”. That is just barely touching the surface of how these illnesses can and do affect people’s lives. And while all of our journeys, circumstances and manifestations of illness (and how we relate to it) are unique, there are many common threads, one of which I question every single day: HOW AND THE HELL ARE WE ALL SURVIVING THIS, AND WHAT IS KEEPING US GOING???

Part of the reason I have not written in almost a year is because I personally do not know how to answer that question, nor can I honestly say that I still want to be here. Don’t get me wrong, I have MANY wonderful blessings in my life. I still experience profound love and connection on a daily basis and I feel incredibly loved, seen and supported by all the people in my life (and myself) in a big way. I’m still moved to tears by beautiful things, take walks at dusk, and laugh so hard I double over…There is a big part of me that is still very much alive, but the reality is that the majority of my days are spent trying to make meaning of, surrender to, distract/rewire away from or fix what feels like unrelenting and unbearable suffering. What is becoming more and more apparent to me (which is a hard truth to swallow) is that the very thing that has kept me alive for so long (my super-human will power) has become a major source of my suffering. After doing nothing but incessantly willing myself in every possible way to ‘heal’, I am finally coming to accept that I have very little, if any control over my life situation and suffering. I understand that we all have a ‘choice’ (relatively) in how we respond to our circumstances, but there are some situations that are torturous, no matter what way you try to spin it. The one thing I do have a choice about is whether or not I decide to keep going, and while I still have not made a decision in one direction or the other, I have made several commitments:

  1. I will never make a rash decision while in a place of desperation.
  2. I am dedicated to healing any unaddressed trauma, body shame, and self destructive habits that are still lurking in the shadows (or foreground) to ensure my decision is coming from a place of love.
  3. I will continue to exhaust any and all options (that will not cause further trauma or stress) to improve my quality of life, and the way I experience my suffering.
  4. If I do choose to transition on to whatever is next, I will only do so from a place of love. I will do it as responsibly and compassionately as possible in regards to myself and everyone else in my life
  5. I will leave behind something beautiful (and tangible).
  6. There will be an abundance of gluten, sugar, and cheese, a piano, a DJ, appropriate mind/body altering substances, paint, dancing, and cuddles galore.

On that note, I will end this post. I hope that my sharing has provided comfort, struck a chord, or been inspiring in any way. If you have any comments, feedback, or prompts for future posts please do not hesitate to speak up!

Much love to you all,


*Embodying the paradox* (the gift, and the antidote)


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In honor of the paradox (which I so love, and hate), I will speak to all that is within the world of Kelly.

Starting with this:                                                                                                   I truly believe that in some bigger picture, those of us dealing with invisible chronic illness are here to take the human race to the next level of evolution (if we are going to ascribe meaning to something, we might as well choose wisely). The epidemic of these particular struggles is forcing us as individuals, and as a collective to look at and heal all the deepest wounds within ourselves and the trauma that has been passed on for generations. This is not a fun job, nor is it something that anyone would consciously choose; It is a radical opportunity to bring light to, and love, all of the darkest places that most people don’t have access to.  I bow down in reverence to all of us on this journey.

A brief *uplifting* update:                                                                                    For a month now (pretty consistently) I have felt more at home in myself, and more at ease as a conscious-breathing being that inhabits this planet then I have in decades, or possibly in the entirety of my life. Sometimes the ‘when it rains it pours’ happens during a drought; a 30 day extension on my living situation+some reprieve in physical and mental symptoms (mainly from eliminating almost all treatments and supplements that cause ANY detox, and adding in a few crucial allies)+incredible support and abundant love =enough stability to hone in on the deepest parts of my being/experience that need attention and healing. With the aid of consistent brain retraining (taken from many modalities, and creating some of my own) my world has opened up in ways I wasn’t sure would be possible. I am playing music again, sleeping with blankets, dating, eating like a queen (with other humans!), wearing new clothes, going inside *a few* places, hugging the shit out of people, making art and processing physical and emotional triggers that would normally take me days or weeks to move through within a matter of minutes or hours. I have (quite suddenly) gained access to my intuitive ability to heal my trauma/wounds/lifelong patterns going all the way back to infancy… all the while reaching a level of self love, acceptance and compassion that feels- RADICAL.

I believe that taking this time for myself (away from the usual mad-scientist-guinea-pig approach to treatment) will eventually lead me to make the right decisions about what treatments to pursue. The desperate choices I have made from fear, obsessive research, and intellectualization have yet to yield many positive results, so it only seems logical to shift my paradigm around how to navigate this. And while I do not have all the answers of how to get well physically or how to be untouched by the extreme emotional tolls chronic illness takes, I have found a potent antidote to almost any opportunity/challenge that comes my way: Literally and genuinely— loving myself the way I would my own child, best friend, or lover.


I have become hesitant to speak of any progress made in regards to my health because of this ‘yet to be broken’ pattern of crashing (to varying degrees) the moment I believe my suffering from illness is OVER. Yet, every time I see improvements that last longer then a few days, it feels near impossible to suppress the blinding optimism in my core that miraculously (or not) has not been crushed by my life experiences. So many times I have called my family and friends telling them (or rather, yelling into the phone): I am getting well! It’s finally happening! I think I have suffered enough and it’s now my time to be well in this world!

Immediately I start devising a plan of how I can go back to work, support myself and dedicate my life to helping others who are traversing the land of chronic illness. I buy surfing gear, running shoes, a gym membership, drop my long-standing disability case and buy foods I will probably never eat. The possibility of my fullest potential expressing itself as an able-minded/able-bodied person is more than I can bear. I want to devour the world and all its offerings. I want to give back and give back and give back all the gifts I so treacherously mined. Then, one week passes….I am back, pain-stricken and on the floor, hopeless, unable to move, with a mountain of defeat (and now shame, debt, and food I will never eat) pinning me down. This scenario feels akin to my years of futile attempts at sobriety; getting a week or two under my belt, announcing to the world my reclaimed life, only to relapse the day after.

Side note- I DID end up getting sober, amongst surviving/breaking out of seemingly hopeless situations and patterns. This blinding optimism and relentless perseverance might yield a miracle. ***cautiously optimistic***

This particular pattern has played out more times than I can count, and it does not show up solely in the realm of physical health, or sobriety, it shows up everywhere within everything. This pattern brings up the very essence of what it means (for me) to be human… this clinging… this grasping to any clarity, to any glimpse of health… this inability to live in the mystery… this desperate search for ground. THIS is what seems to be the ultimate dance of holding on to hope while simultaneously being schooled in the world of surrender. And after years of not understanding the question that was begging to be asked (or lived) I have finally been lead to:

How can I open up fully to any and every situation without getting attached to an outcome? How can I use every opportunity and challenge as a way to deepen my love for myself, for the people around me, and for the world I live in without a conditional clause?                                                                          

As many of you know, it’s quite a skill to navigate moving forward in life using opposing strategies simultaneously (but what other choice do we have?):

  • surrender/action
  • faith/will
  • acceptance/hope
  • gratitude/grief

[Braaavooo my evolutionary team]

What I see happening for those of us with chronic illness is just different flavors of the same theme playing out. It seems as though we are all here to master this art of embodying the paradox. I am not sure it is something that one ever truly masters, but it is something we are all forced to (whether we like it or not) get better and better at navigating.

*The golden lining*                                                                                               A mind/body that is physiologically out of balance, (or a life filled with emotionally devastating obstacles completely out of ones control) takes a hell of a lot more depth to evolve, which in my opinion makes it all the more potent. It’s only logical in the grand scheme of things that such ‘out of balance’ physiology or life circumstances forces one to learn the mastery of adaptation, which so beautifully (and painfully) leads us directly to our own personal genius. Up until recently I could not justify or make meaning of what I consider to be ‘experiencing the fullest expression of my own personal hell’. Then it hit me:

While eating dinner in someone’s apartment (for the first time in years) I had a moment of awakening to a gratitude so profound that I believe my soul has been branded permanently, like a fossil. Something as ‘mundane’ as eating dinner inside with another human being felt like the most precious intimate moment of my life. I stopped, closed my eyes and imprinted this awareness into my core, and since then, I access this awareness many times throughout all my days. At any moment, I can contrast my life now to my life a year ago and fully embody the ABSOLUTE FUCKING MIRACLE that my life is. Every little convenience, every intimate encounter, every moment that I am not fighting for my survival in isolation is a gift and a love beyond what words could ever express.

And now, the biggest motivation in my life is to be well enough to help other people. What’s the point of a gift that can’t be given away?

Love to you all!!


The untold teachings: Even the drunk Buddha ‘desires’

457435_10150736870277975_471420933_oI was hoping this long overdue blog post would be sparked by an overflow of creative energy, but I suppose there is nothing wrong with appropriate frustration being a catalyst, so long as it’s channeled in an effective way. And while it is impossible for anyone to understand the challenges that one faces while living with chronic illness, I think it is important to bring attention to the repercussions from some of the unconscious/semiconscious societal beliefs (especially within ‘new-age spirituality’) that are backhandedly implicating that people with chronic illness are in some way, shape or form sick because they are ‘choosing’ to be. I too would like to take some responsibility for falling in and out of this pattern.

So often I have found myself thinking….

‘If only I was more in alignment with the universe (or my path.. whatever the fuck that is), if only I resolved ALL of my trauma… if I had a better attitude, tried harder, committed to brain retraining, understood my bodies signals, ate better, changed my energetic frequency, moved somewhere cleaner, devoted myself to helping others... on and on and on the list goes. This constant feeling of not living up to my ‘potential’, depending on others financially, and experiencing the darkest corners of what it is to be a human leaves me perpetually feeling like there is something deeply wrong with ‘me’ as a person. There is an ever-present unspoken suspicion that: THIS IS MY FAULT.

A brief story:

In April of this year I suddenly started to rapidly progress both physically and mentally over a period of a few months. I started surfing again, playing music, socializing and feeling joy (all HUGE milestones). Everyday things that had previously felt like moving a mountain were suddenly coming with ease. I was sobbing with gratitude on almost a daily basis while envisioning/seeing myself fully healed. I didn’t know if I was improving because of the protocol I was on, or simply because I was consciously choosing to focus my life around joy and connection. Regardless of why I was improving, I finally put down my guard and believed wholeheartedly ‘I am getting well’. And while I am ashamed to admit it, during this period of rapid transformation not only did my ego start taking a lot of credit, but I also started to view others who were still sick as being stuck (consciously or unconsciously) in some kind of negative energetic/emotional vortex that was keeping them from getting well. I thought to myself “If only they could see that they are in a self perpetuating cycle of illness…. If only they could see that their attitudes, choices and thoughts are keeping them sick… if only they could step out of fear mode…retrain their brain…get on the ‘right’ protocol, if only… if only … if only”

[Oh how I must LOVE big humbling slaps in the face]

Over a period of weeks (without changing anything) I started to backslide hard and fast. I kept thinking of that story where the neuroscientist (Jill Bolte Taylor) had a stroke and watched her mind unravel from a first person perspective. On some level she knew exactly what was happening, yet had absolutely no control over the loss of many functions in her brain (especially those in which she excelled in). Not only did all of my physical symptoms come back, but I also felt like an incredibly sane, grounded observer trapped in a brain AND body experiencing a dissociative/depressive/psychotic break. There was no lack of trying, or tools left unused (EFT, Hypnosis, self soothing/loving, brain retraining, energy healing, connecting with people, praying(?), and any medical treatment I saw fit) and yet I continued to get sicker on every level. It became apparent that my constant attempt to ‘will myself’ out of this hole was not working, and in a moment of complete surrender and defeat, it hit me:

This experience has NOTHING to do with effort, intelligence, resources or will. This has nothing to do with self-love, empowerment or the choices I am making. THIS ILLNESS (AND SUFFERING) IS NOT MY FAULT.

Because people with these illnesses (lyme, mold, ME, MCS, etc) are desperate for answers (and cures), and because these illnesses are far from being legitimately recognized by the medical establishment, we have become the perfect target market for deeming ourselves and being deemed as ‘spiritually/energetically ill’. And while I personally choose to look through the lens of this being a spiritual journey I am letting go of the idea that spirituality (or frame of mind) is the cause, or the solution. And while I recognize that attitude, and points of focus are crucially important to my healing process, I am letting go of any guilt or shame I have placed on myself for all the times I have been unable to choose ‘light and love’ in the midst of profound hopelessness and fear.

With that said, I want to talk about some problems that may arise from people failing to recognize that their health (mental and physical) and ability to pursue certain spiritual beliefs/paths is a privilege:

I don’t think there is malicious or passive/aggressive intent when people make suggestions or talk about things like: the power of manifestation, repairing DNA with intention, or even the idea that suffering comes from attachment to the ego, and by meditating and not identifying with the ‘I AM’, my experience of suffering could or would profoundly change. I am all for hearing about different modalities of healing, belief systems, or any information about what has worked for others, but when you offer a path as absolute, you also imply that the path I am currently on is ‘wrong’. I want to get this message across: Unless you have had everything you care about stripped away from you without your permission (brain, body, identity, possessions, talents, family, social life, basic human needs) and kept away from you, please do not offer any unsolicited advice about healing illness or shifting perspective. And while it is comforting to relate to one another, the truth is that no one (including those who are sick, or who have been sick) can truly know anyone else’s experience or path out of suffering. The best thing we offer each other is validation for individual truth, and the trust that different paths can be headed in the same direction.

I will end this with some ponderings that might be useful for anyone pursuing a spiritual path:

  • How much room is there when it comes to making ‘choices’ or experiencing (and responding to) emotions when physiology is severely compromised in ways that mimic torturing a human (physically, emotionally, mentally, spiritually)? Is it possible to be experiencing all of this and not identify with or get caught up in the suffering?
  • If being sick has to do with being out of alignment energetically or ‘calling this into ones life’, than what does that mean about kids born with autism, or people born in poverty ridden areas where starvation and disease are the norm?
  • What lessons would Jesus and Buddha (or any ‘enlightened being’) be teaching had their bodies been riddled with infection, inflammation and neurotoxic substances? Would there be a different brand of ‘enlightenment’ had their basic needs been compromised, on top of experiencing an ongoing physiological shit storm comparable (and actually equivalent) to being perpetually drugged with mind/body altering substances?
  • How can we pursue a spiritual path (focused on the ‘self’ or ‘nonself’) while simultaneously addressing the profound systemic injustice happening in regards to privilege?

I’d love to hear your thoughts. Thanks for reading!

genius is…. (eyes adjusting in the dark)


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“There is no essential difference between what we call a genius, and everybody else except the so-called genius finds the correct method of using himself” Moshe Feldenkrais

for blog  Goooodbyyeee deserrrtt!!! (it hasn’t been fun)

I haven’t written a blog since September because I did not want to publicly share what I often experienced as ‘insanity’ in the midst of the insanity. I wanted to wait until I made it to the other side, or until some solid center emerged from this; Apparently that solid may never form, so I will continue to share my multidimensional fluid perspective as is. Since there is no ‘end point’ or ‘answer’ to finding peace (physically or emotionally) while living with chronic illness, I will keep on writing about my experience in the midst of my experience (that is all we (I) ever have anyway, right?). And though I feel twinges of regret, embarrassment, and the urge to ‘delete, delete, delete’ every time I publish a blog, I do know that what I am going through can not be for nothing. And for the sake of my own survival and for the sake of finding purpose in all of this, I have to make this ‘not nothing’.

When I was younger, I developed an affinity for the number line: -3 -2 -1 0 1 2 3….It made me think of the human experience, the capacity to hold, and how all of our ZEROS are relative. So many times in my life I have gotten to the point where I think ‘I’ve hit bottom. THERE IS ABSOLUTELY NO WAY ANYTHING COULD GET WORSE THAN THIS’, yet I have continued to hit different ‘bottoms’, and continued to reach and experience farther down that number line than I ever thought was humanly possible. Fortunately, some part of me has always suspected that the capacity to hold or ‘be’ does not just go in one direction and if that indeed is true, then the past year of my life must qualify me for some gargantuan ‘purpose’ here on earth- this lifetime. I am starting to understand that not only are our ZEROS relative, but there are an infinite number of number lines, there is no bottom, this ‘experience’ is certainly not a linear progression, and there are ways to get from -67 to 22 without passing all the numbers in between.

A quick view/explanation (from one perspective) if you do not know my situation:

I have been (mostly and literally) isolated for ten months, homeless, very ill, and living outside and in the middle of no where(s) for most of that time (due to health issues). I lost everything I have ever owned, my most recent ex committed suicide 6 months ago (also sick, without a home, limited resources, etc), I am working with very challenging chronic physical symptoms (from lyme, biotoxin illness, ankylosing spondylitis, connective tissue disease, MCS, etc-does it really even matter?) and I react to mold and chemical toxins to the point where it is near impossible for me to live inside (or outside for that matter), be around people, or acquire belongings such as clothes, a bed, blankets (etc) without having severe reactions to ‘the stuff’ that’s on them. There seems to be no escape. I have driven all over the country looking for safe places to sleep, replaced all my possessions (which is not much) several times due to contamination, seen many practitioners, tried a gazzilion treatments, and have done everything I possibly can to find some kind of relief from the ongoing chronic symptoms and the constant reactions to things in my environment. The reactions I have are NOT AN ALLERGY, they are systemic, neurological and excruciating (hence my extreme attempt to get away from things causing this). I currently sleep with tin foil blankets (or none at all), I wear a respirator in the house I am temporarily staying in, do not own a towel, wash my hair with a hose, am getting very good at being cold (and very innovative to solve the weirdest problems!), and every night I choose where to sleep based on what symptoms I prefer to have over others (which usually involves me on the floor curled up by a space heater).

On another note: I am seeking ways to heal/live with/create a different response to my environmental sensitivities by re-wiring my brain and body (with a slew of modalities based on the concept of neuroplasticity) instead of making my life solely about controlling my environment. It became clear to me that isolation, fear and stress were not getting me the life I want (or well physically), so I changed courses. THIS HAS NOT BEEN EASY. I just recently chose to come back into society to be around friends and family three weeks ago. I hangout outside with people, go for walks, write, dance for small periods, am determined to get a wetsuit and get into the ocean and I practice Feldenkrais (my new love and passion). Otherwise put: Alongside the difficult challenges I am facing physically and with finding a safe (enough) place to live, I am determined to find ways to bring joy and connection into my life anyway I can, because that is the one thing I am sure of that needs to be in place for me to heal or have any semblance of a life beyond survival.

Now onto the very shortened recap of the last ten months of mold avoidance:

I am going to be really honest here, because there are no benefit in my withholding, and there is no doubt in my mind that some of you reading this will benefit from my vulnerability. Without the details, here goes:

Under certain circumstances, especially involving basic needs compromised coupled with isolation and illness that very much resembles military torture tactics: Anyone and everyone (no matter how ‘grounded’ or ‘together’ you are) will become undone.

For those of you who know me, you know that before I got sick, my path had not been an easy one. I worked excruciatingly hard to transform my life by spending four years (age 25-29) in a one of kind women’s apprenticeship/recovery program doing intensive transformational growth and recovery work. This included healing trauma, codependency work, addiction recovery, shadow work, learning leadership skills, facilitating classes, living in community, STEPPING UP to confront the ‘ugliest’ parts of my being, and working through resistance on all levels, constantly. All of that to recover from a decade of drug addiction, eating disorders, trauma (of various sorts) and an overall lifelong pattern of despair, terror, self-hatred and destruction. Going through this program transformed my life and helped me build what apparently is an unbreakable foundation. I am ever grateful for doing ‘the work’ and learning to love myself, because without that in place, I know I would not still be here with the current situation at hand. Ironically, the house in which I ‘recovered’ from all of this in was filled with toxic mold and is where my health took a turn for the world of Sci-Fi meets Horror (which honestly, I am trying to turn into a heroine’s journey/documentary where I divide my time between giving TED talks, helping others with chronic illness, and making art/music). I was already sick before beginning this program, but the mold exposure created a tipping point that I have yet to come back from. The irony of this all continually astounds me, yet does not surprise me in the least.

I have spent the past 10 months navigating emotional and physical territory that I would have not thought was livable for more than a few days, or possibly a few weeks, at most. For one reason or another (karma? bad decision maker? crazyskilled manifestor? genetically impaired? cursed? None of the above?) my life and experiences over the past year have been something I continuously thought I was not going to make it out of. And while I do not like to consider myself a martyr, I have hung on many times from the sheer perspective that what I am going through might benefit humanity in some way or another.  I became quite innovative in ways to shift my perspective, but there still has reached a point every single day lasting minutes or hours (sometimes weeks) where I feel or say to myself with utmost certainty ‘I can not/will not do this anymore’ and I REALLY mean it.

My life has largely been an ongoing OCD/PTSD survival game (and what has felt much of the time like what I imagine a prison torture camp to be like). These past ten months have made my experiences with heroin addiction look like a privilege to be enduring (speaking of ZEROS being relative). This is not to say that every moment of this has been purely traumatic, nor am I saying that I am the only one going through this OR that this is the only way to experience these circumstances (there are thousands of people in similar situations, and we are all in our own way SERIOUS BAD-ASSES for waking up every morning and continuing on). This journey has facilitated immense growth and opened me up to receive incredible miracles, support and insight that in no other circumstance could have provided.

And after many months alone, with nothing to do but lay on a cot, and attempt to take care of basic survival needs while sick and alone, there is no doubt in my core that the patterns and habits I have created (over a lifetime) or that have evolved or come to be inside of myself (subconsciously or consciously, biologically and emotionally) are the reasons I am in this situation with this particular dis-ease. It is no coincidence that certain themes of life challenges keep popping up over and over and over again for me to look at, and in their final stage they have manifested themselves physically. All of what I am speaking to is much more complex than ‘chicken or egg’ ‘empowered vs. victim’ ‘manifestation vs. shit just happening’ concepts. I hesitate to even begin speaking about anything involving the words ‘victim’, ‘empowerment’ or ‘privilege’ (because that would be a book, not a blog). What I can do is solidly say: I am doing my damned best to take responsibility for all that I can. My personal ‘genius’ is constantly evolving (finding the most effective ways of using myself and the most effective paths for any given situation), and at my personal best I can take a step back and laugh at the cleverness of all that the universe and I have co-created for myself.

A big breakthrough for me:

If I turn the problem I am solving into “how can I get to a point in my life where I can help others?” instead of “how can I end my suffering?” than taking my own life does not solve ‘the problem’. An added bonus of changing motivation is that through reaching my goal of ‘getting to the point of helping others’, my ‘problem of suffering’ will most likely be solved (through the back door). 

When I quiet my fear and ‘desperation to find comfort in the excruciating’; When I am able to see beyond the incessant compulsion for relief from this dis-ease and all of its implications; When I grasp the importance of what any one/every one persons experience can be for the world, I can hear myself, in a loving and loud voice say: You my dear, are carving a very important path, and to give up now would be a detriment to the whole that all of us are connected to.’

(Making meaning out of nothing? Maybe. But honestly, If it keeps me going, who the hell cares whether I am right or not? )

Love to you all, thank you for reading, yours truly,