Writing last month’s blog was like pulling an infant tight to my chest and running through a minefield.
I did it.
What’s precious to me, miraculously, remained unscathed.
In fact, the outpouring of support and empathy infused the hidden parts of me with truth serum.
I began perceiving what life might be like if I weren’t split. One half, presentable. The other half unruly and desperate to see the light of day. I needed to tell the truth.
I could have a trunk show of the things I’ve lied about for fear of being powerful.
That’s what I learned as a girl—to keep embarrassing things a secret, keep my weirdness under wraps and give people the benefit of the doubt.
Here I am, living like a 40-year-old little girl and a lot is not right.
I think visionaries are those people who sense wholeness when something’s broken and let nothing break stride in actualizing it.
This is the face of a 40-year-old little girl becoming a visionary.
Let’s talk about vision.
I believe at the very root of mental illness is a break with perception. Unable to count on my mind to recognize love, care & compassion, instead I perceive fear, indifference & judgment in everything & everyone. I feel like a target in a world poised and ready to fire. When this state is prolonged, I want to end things.
It’s incredibly important to know that if you are feeling this way, please get help immediately. Emergency room staff are trained to make your safety a priority. Spending time in the hospital or an outpatient program can help to restore balance to your mind, body & spirit. Your life is precious. Ask for help.
In 2010 I had a hospitalization that saved my life. Withering away from anorexia nervosa and deluded by voices (auditory hallucinations) that told me food & people were dangerous, I hit my lowest bottom. My mom delivered a manifesto. “You were born at Saint Francis Hospital,” she said, “now Saint Francis Hospital is going to bring you back to life.”
That’s what happened.
In my lowest moment, I managed to do one thing: agree with my mom.
It was contagious.
I agreed to go to the ER. I agreed to go on an IV drip. I agreed to be admitted to the psych ward. I agreed to take psych meds. I agreed to tell the truth. I agreed to live even though I couldn’t perceive a future for myself.
Sometimes being a visionary requires a trek through the darkness.
After my weeks-long hospital stay, here’s what happened: I put on healthy weight. I smiled more. I began dating a friend who would later become my husband. I enrolled at Central Connecticut State University. My guitar and I recommenced our love affair. My friends, The Kelvins, got me to play my first public concert in years.
I still suffered from mental health issues like depression, hallucinations & PTSD. But they coexisted with my emerging visionary heart. As I reentered life, I quickly learned to be ashamed of the former. I hid these parts of me while mistaking accomplishments, growing income & marriage for wholeness.
I'm learning that the brick and mortar of a house is not a home without people inhabiting its rooms.
These are the perceptual gifts for which this visionary has been waiting.
I’d like to share this with you:
Music For A Loving World is the soundtrack to my visionary heart. It’s an album of ten songs that speak to wholeness in all its complexity. This 3-min video entertains and informs all about the crowdfunding campaign I’ve launched in support of this new music. #Standtogether with me and consider changing mental health stigma. Your contribution matters! Click below...
Music For A Loving World
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