Past Entries

I’MPACT

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I’m packed with fear. I’m packed with fear that I’m not good enough. I’m packed with fear of being misunderstood. I’m packed with fear that I’ll never find love, or it will find me, but I’ll be blinded by my own beliefs that sabotage the outcome of a happily ever after. I’m packed with fear I’ll never love my own body. Fear of my body, the vehicle to my soul that I run through the mud time and time again, and it still shows up to perform as best it can. I’m packed with fear that I’ll be eaten by a great white shark.. Okay, being eaten by a shark may be a bit irrational. That being said, isn’t all fear irrational? Fear: False Evidence Appearing Real. If all fear is false, what is real?

What’s real is that I’m packed with love for the eyes that reveal to me the miracles of the world. I’m packed with love for the color of them that mimic the ocean on a summer day. Love for the long lashes that surround my eyes that act like curtains to the window of my soul. I’m packed with love for the people and planet that are connected to me in more ways than I can explain. I’m packed with love for my emotions, even when I perceive myself as a little bitch for being so sensitive. I’m packed with love for the parts of me I still have difficulty accepting because I know I’m worthy of love in all ways. I’m packed with love for my ability to choose my responses. I’m packed with love for the knowledge I have about the world and who I am even though that voice in my head sometimes calls me a dumb ass. That voice isn’t real though. That voice is fear. False Evidence Appearing Real.
I’m packed with perfection, and you are too. Whether I’m aware of it or not, in every moment the true me is a different kind of FEAR.
Free, Eternal, Accepting and Real.
The question remains, what will I unpack today.

The Journey To Become More Zen As Fuck

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We made our way from Dolores Park to Haight Street, where I found myself surrounded by tie dye everything, bongs, crystals and stores specifically marketed for those who religiously go to Burning Man. Considering the copious amounts of substances digested and snorted by Adam the past 24 hours, and the grateful dead tunes I heard nearly the whole ride to San Fransisco, I knew why he chose to take me there. We walked past the entrance way to a shop and he paused. I stopped too. He leaned back to look in and said “Let’s go here. This place has good vibes”

A blend of sensational incenses flooded my senses as I marveled at the thousands of crystals in the large space that I was now encapsulated in. I felt right at home as I eyed a table displaying blueberries and pretzels that were offered to me right away.

“Do you want to go in the meditation room?” I asked Adam as I peaked in what looked like a giant blanket fort built for the gods.

“No, I don’t want to take my shoes off.”

Needless to say, shoes were not allowed, so I slipped my sandals off and headed towards the altars splayed across the back wall of the badass zen fort.

I admired all of the displays of crystals, statues of Hindu Gods, flowers, and offerings. I placed a penny on a Buddha Statue because I felt compelled to contribute, but am too cheap to give paper or anything silver. I took a seat on one of the colorful cushions and sat up nice and tall.

“I am ready” I declared.

“I don’t care what I have to go through, or what pain I have to endure to learn whatever I need in order to move forward. I am ready.”

“You know what is best for me. I want to transform and be the person I intended to be.”

“I open myself up, I surrender, I am here.”

I felt an energetic shift in my body and a tingling sensation in my shoulders. Immediately I noticed my mind say “Am I making this up? Did I really just feel something? I must be mistaken.” I became the observer of my thoughts and noticed the shenanigans I was trying to come up with. “Lets just go with it and be done with this internal dialogue.” I thought as I ducked out of the pimped out blanket fort.

“Adam, I swear something happened to me in there” I said as we made our way out of the store. From his response, he didn’t seem as convinced or intrigued as I was. It didn’t matter though. Something happened.

It was then that I started to notice this incessant voice in my head, like a record softly playing in the background, but loud enough to capture my attention. However the voice did not sound like Whitney Houston or Ariana Grande. This was more like the parrot from Aladdin that woke up on the wrong side of the bed and had a bad trip the night before. This obnoxious, judgmental, critical, worrisome voice, had become so persistent and consistent over the years, that I had mistaken it as a part of me. Though I’ve caught that voice in my head here and there before, it was from that moment in the meditation room, that it became the soundtrack of my life, rather than my life itself for the weeks to follow….And so the evolution of my spiritual journey continues…

 

ATtractive MAN

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Summer 2017

This week, the “OMwork” as they like to say, is to write about how and when I come in contact with my Atman. At first glance, one might think “Atman, what’s that? Is that short for attractive man? If so, where’s the man at?” Well, that’s not exactly what Atman is. In fact, it’s quite the opposite. Atman is neither male nor female, person nor thing, rather the energy and space between, it is the eternal witness. Atman translates to “ The divine spark within”, and I’m about to get deep (with a side of sarcasm) and talk about how I connect with the divine spark within me.
One way I come in contact with my Atman/ higher self, is when I do things that light me up, and bring me joy. Since the month prior to embarking on an extreme spiritual journey, I have noticed that the activities and people that made me feel like Squidward around Spongebob, have been leaving my experience, and have been replaced by that which sparks the divine within. I also connect with my Atman daily through physical experiences such as meditation, runs in nature, yoga, and so forth.
Though meditation can connect me with my Atman in a positive way at times, its been more of a sob fest or pity party lately. I’ve realized I’ve got to wipe the dirt off the diamond before I can put a ring on it. Connecting on the deepest level with my Atman, means it’s not going to be all rainbows, butterflies, and fairy dust. (Lets replace butterflies with unicorns or puppies because butterflies are kind of creepy looking up close.) Working through old resistance and detaching from the ego in a healthy way, will help me come in contact with my Atman on a deeper level, and enable my Atman to express itself through my physical body more fully.
On that note, it actually bothers me that I’m writing statements such as “…enable my Atman to express itself” I’m making it sound as though my Atman is something separate from me when that couldn’t be farther from the truth. I am Atman and everything else is an illusion of the mind. I’ll save this for another day because this is going to turn in to a novel if I don’t steer this ship around quick. Actually, I take that back, I’m not turning the ship around, we’re about to sail like Captain Jack Sparrow.
In yogi language, or as others say, Sanskrit, the word “maya” is the concept that the world in which we live is an illusion made up of individual and collective judgments. Identifying too much with maya hinders Atman’s ability to express itself fully through me. It’s like when I thought my happiness relied on that guy to like me, or to win a ton of money. (I’m not saying not having either of those things aren’t irking me slightly still) Identifying too much with maya, this illusion called reality, makes one believe that their happiness is in maya, meaning outside of their true self. When looking at maya for satisfaction instead of my Atman, resistance is built, building a thicker wall between me and my higher self, where true happiness and satisfaction is culminated.
All we are and ever will be is Atman. All the rest is temporary and illusive. My mind, thoughts, and body, are simply the vehicle my Atman uses to navigate through life. Getting caught up in maya is like forgetting to put enough gas in your vehicle, or oil in the engine, and leaving empty water bottles and gum wrappers in the back seat. Some people get so caught up in maya, that they slam on the gas peddle, frustrated they’re not going where they want to, all the while they’ve forgotten to start the car. If we don’t learn to tap in to and listen to our Atman, and do what we love, we’ll never be able to be guided to our desired destination.
When I write and my words begin to flow like an Eminem freestyle, when I get on stage and sing like a little white Whitney Houston, or when my friend and I laugh out loud at inappropriate times because of the hilarious memes we send to each other at work, or even simply appreciating the beauty of the Riviera from my window, nothing but that moment and the joy I feel is on my mind. That is my Atman experiencing life through this body and mind that I have identified as mine. That is lila.
No, lila is not related to the yellow Telly Tubby. Lila means “the divine play” which is to say maya is where we lila. I may not be phrasing that correctly because I know sanskrit as well as I know how to cook Indian Tikka Masala (For the record, I had to look up indian dishes on google because I’m the antithesis of Betty Crocker) Anyways, I am essentially the actor, director, and producer, of the show called my reality. If I connect to my higher self in a way my Atman shines through me, I can create a five star romantic comedy. If I do things or stay in situations that hinder my joy and ability to connect with my higher self because I identify so much with my ego mind and maya, I will produce a box office bomb, and I can’t blame the audience for a bad show.
Though I may have steered this ship a little off course, one can’t deny that it lead us to some treasures, or at the very least, this was an avenue for my Atman to lila through maya. Hopefully I kind of sort of answered the “omwork” appropriately. Though if anyone were to judge me, it probably wouldn’t be very yogi like anyways, right?

My Terrible Twos

chris-benson-411764Journal entry

6/4/17

   As my sister slept on a flimsy air mattress on the floor to my studio, which was probably like sleeping in a palace to her considering all of the festivals she’s been to, I walked over to my mother as she finished her morning coffee (because you know you have to wait for mothers to have their coffee before you get serious about anything) I pulled her over to my kitchen nook and asked her if she had a minute to talk. She looked confused and concerned as we sat down across from each other. I apologized to her for the years of suffering I had caused her through my addictions, foolish behavior, and disrespect in the past. Though I’ve apologized before, it was very vague, and I felt I owed her an apology that was more specific and sincere. My hopes and expectations were that she would be happy about my apology, accept it, hug it out, and move along our merry way, but it didn’t go quite like that…..

She titled her head down so her gaze peered over her glasses strait into my eyes. “I’m the one who’s sorry. I’m sorry that you were put in such a poor situation that you had no control over when you were a baby. I remember what you said yesterday about babies being like sponges, and it made me think about what you must have went through at that time. ” She went on to talk about how my dad went manic and was hospitalized when I was two (which I knew, but never really thought about what it must have been like for me). Things turned to shit as my mom tried to keep everything together as she panicked. My grandparents flew in from across the country freaking out, and I was there unable to understand and process why he was gone and why the energy was all over the place. Basically my sponge of a brain was soaking up madness, and confusion. My mother ended with “Things were never the same after that..”

A week later (today), as I sat on the front porch waiting for my therapist to see me, I saw her old Boston Terrier starring and me curiously through the glass door. Once again, the door opened and she stood there flawless with a smile. I sat down and immediately started to vent about my regression. Though I’m better than I was before I started all of this, my thoughts about food and my body checking have slightly increased since my last visit. I blabbed on about how I haven’t been feeling as good since my mother and sister visited a few days ago, even though I had a great time with them. One thing lead to another and I told her about my meditation this morning where I cried out of nowhere, like a soccer player who dramatically leaps and falls to the ground in agony after an opposing player brushes up against him. I Also mentioned later that I gave an apology to my mother while she was here, having no idea it could have everything to do why I’ve been feeling out of whack.

So, all of these emotions are coming up “randomly” now because I didn’t process them when I was two. The door opened when, for the first time, I entertained the thought of what life must have been like for me then. Can I just fast forward to me happy, in love, with a bangin’ body, an awesome career, and a ton of money? Is there a way to skip the whole feeling like shit part of processing old emotions?

You know that feeling when you’re playing mario kart, or some race car driving video game, and you drive off track and spend the next minute anxiously waiting, watching all of the other cars pass you by? Maybe you don’t know what I mean, but I can assure you, it isn’t a good feeling, and that’s how I’m feeling now. I definitely feel like I fell off track even though I’ve continued my meditation practice. It seems as though ever since my mother and sister visited last weekend, my “I’m transforming, life is beautiful” phase has turned into. “What the hell. Why am I not enlightened yet??” I realized it’s kind of like working out for a few weeks, and then getting pissed off that you didn’t win a body building competition.  

What it Feels Like to Be Me

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8/10/17 Journal entry

What it feels like to be me. It’s a mind full of chatter to distract me from the inevitable. It’s an outward smile and an incubation of accumulative stress. It’s putting on a show for myself and the world that I feel like I know who I am or what I’m doing. It’s feeling like I’m falling and I don’t know if a net or cement is underneath me. It’s my ego grasping on to me as I try to move forward. It’s hopefulness that I’m on my path, and fear that a tree will fall across it and I wont know how to get around. It’s a knowing the worlds got my back, but an angst that I won’t be able to accept the help.

12/24/17

I’m grateful that is not what it feels like to be me anymore. However, if there comes a day where that is a state that I’m in, and for the sake of my own healing I hope so, I’m not going to try to change. So often it feels as though changing is the best option. By change, I mean forcing oneself to fake it till we make it, or take some action or get validation, to improve our state of being. Though that is, in some instances, the path of least resistance and a good way to progress, I believe it is the most short lived.

I am going to wait until I accept where I am without judgment, and move forward from there. True acceptance in times of turmoil is change on a phycological level, not a physical or emotional level. That’s what I crave. It is more than progress, but rather a process. The process of healing.

12/26/17

In the midsts of my 9 hour drive yesterday, away from the baby blue skys and ancient red rocks of Sedona, I listened to “The physics of Healing” by Deepak Chopra. What he said about the physics of healing both fascinated and frustrated me. In it he said healing is biological creativity. It is a creative response rather than a cognitive response. That I agree with, along with what he followed up saying. However, it had me question my process. He followed up by explaining that healing is a jump from a certain pattern or behavior without an intervening transitional pattern.  Is that to say that incrementally making a positive progression with my habits around food and thoughts not a process towards healing? Must it only be a quantum jump? So long as I am setting an intention to improve my well being, I know I’m on the right path, but I can’t help but wonder if the work I am doing now is leading me to biological creativity or not. Time will tell, and the best has yet to come.

 

It Took Having to Leave Everything to Realize What I Had

 

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12/12/17

Air as thick as the minds who don’t believe in global warming. Ash falling from the sky like confetti on New Years Eve, covering the pavement like a carpet of snow. Everyone walking around with masks as if we were MD’s, and are about to save a life. That life however, is our own.

I tried to pack minimally, but my ego did most of the work. Within 30 minutes, I was sitting on top of my third massive suitcase trying to tuck in my lingerie that was way too expensive, and did not get nearly enough use, to leave behind. I heard the sound of a siren, put my mask on, and left my cottage. Clumsily dragging some of my suitcases behind me, I got to my car and opened the trunk. Ash rushed into my car. “Shit…”  I thought as I immediately began to hurl my belongings carelessly so I could close the door ASAP.

Not long after I got on the road, I saw the mountains surrounding me engulfed in flames. Tears began to fill my eyes. Truth be told, those tears rolled down my cheeks, and I cried. I’m used to shit happening, and me staying tough and moving on with life. This was different. This brought me back to September 11th. The stuff that stays ingrained in your mind for years to come.

Fast forward several days later, and here I am in LA at a Starbucks feeling somewhat guilty for using their wifi without buying a coffee. Ugh, fine, I guess I will.. Anyways, yesterday I did yoga at a park, bought some yummy food, took a bath, and did all of the generic self care crap. Today I miss Santa Barbara. I know it was amazing there, but I can’t believe how much I took my life for granted. Where I live, the city, my work, my friends, like why the fuck do I ever think my life is anything but extraordinary? … Minus the fact that I’m a little bitter about this guy still not texting me to see if I’m okay. He’s incompetent in the realm of communication. I’m over him. Next.

Moving right along… I just want to go back home. I feel so helpless. I want to help stop the fire, but all I know how to do is stop, drop, and roll, and I feel like that would be pretty counter productive for what they’re trying to accomplish. That being said, I’m alive and everything is working out.

I appreciate what this catastrophe has instilled in me. An immense amount of gratitude for the life I had, and will have again, and an appreciation for what I have now. I’m looking forward to continuing this adventure called life. This fire may have taken my breath away in the literal sense, but figuratively, my life does, and that’s the greatest gift I could ever give myself this Holiday season…. Now let’s see how long this lasts before I start bitching about how I’m not getting any younger or thinner.

The TRIP of a Lifetime – The Journey to Lucidity Part 2

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The day had finally arrived.  I jumped out of bed to shove some last minute essentials in my bag before heading to the festival, and felt a sense of pride to have been able to cram so much in one suitcase. After patiently waiting for Marissa to get up and ready, she made her way through the front door with a Bob Marley blanket draped over her shoulder. Looking cute in our festival attire, but in an “I woke up like this” kind of way, we crammed our bags in the trunk.

We arrived and I was happy to be there, but with the directions Darrin gave us to find his campsite, I was feeling like I was playing where’s Waldo, but was never told what Waldo was wearing. After walking back and forth under the blazing sun, we serendipitously came across a man who looked like a hybrid of a lumberjack and a backpacker. He introduced himself as Roman, and gave us both a big hug which would have been weird in the real world, but anything goes at festivals like these. After telling him our situation, he generously invited us to stay with him in his pimped out tent, and I accepted faster than I drive when I know I’m about to eat as soon as I get home. Before we headed out, he offered us some drugs. Having had no experience with them, and just publishing an article titled “Why I Go To Festivals Sober” I passed.

Though the fear of relapsing and the constant obsession over food was real, we had a great day full of music, laughter, dancing, exploring and naked photoshoots. The idea of doing shrooms danced around in my head, but I kept telling myself I wasn’t ready, which is what I had been telling myself for years. I realized there would never be a time where I felt ready. New experiences often come with uncertainty, and the time was now. I mentioned that to the girl next to me as we put our clothes back on after our naked photoshoot.

Next thing you know I’m back at her campsite, with Marissa, holding a warm cup of mushroom tea between my two hands. “Heal me, heal me, heal me.” I replayed that mantra in my mind and set that intention as I lifted the cup to meet my lips.

Having felt nothing after about 30 minutes, we decided to get up and walk around. Not long after, I felt like a hopeless romantic who is single on Valentines day. With fists clenched, and heavy steps, I felt like punching just about everyone in the face who was within arms reach. I glanced over at Marissa and her smile was as big as the hand that I wanted to smack her with. With wide eyes and a pep in her step, she requested to head over to a band and dance. I took a deep breath and told her I felt this energy in my chest and felt like it was about to explode. I said I was going back to the tent to cry, and she could meet me there in 20 minutes. Holding back my tears, I raced to the tent like I just heard someone yell “Free food!” which is too say I looked like a professional power walker.

I bolted inside the tent, lied down, and continued to feel the expansion of this energy in my chest grow. As it grew, so did the distain towards myself. “I can’t believe I’ve never been in love. Do I like not have a heart or something? I’m broken. I just don’t work like other people. Ugh, I’m so annoying. How do people stand me? I talk way too much. I’m so fat. Why can’t I eat like a normal person. I still don’t have my shit figured out. I can’t do anything on my own. I’m so stupid.” When I say I bawled my eyes out, thats an understatement. Well, I guess not considering my eyes didn’t actually come out, but you get the point.

Those 10 minutes felt like an eternity. Suddenly, I brought my awareness back to my body. I took a deep breath and began to say “This is okay, this is okay, I am okay.” I acknowledged that those were my thoughts, not me, and there was this larger part of me that wanted me to accept me and my thoughts as they are. It’s not like that was new news to me, but I was, for the first time, given such a profound opportunity to heal.

You see, there is this misconception that by focusing on the positive, and looking on the bright side, everything with get better. Though there is some truth to that, those results are short lived. Life gets better when your perception gets better, but you don’t heal unprocessed limiting beliefs that way. By truly feeling, acknowledging, and accepting my biggest limiting beliefs, the process of healing can begin.

I didn’t leave Lucidity feeling like a new person. In fact, I was pissed that I didn’t feel the “one love” or whatever the hell they say, but that’s not what I asked for. I wanted to heal, and that’s what I got. For those following this blog/my story, it should be no surprise that the following month I met Allie, and also signed up for Yoga Training. I believe that incident allowed me to let go of enough resistance for me to be more receptive to what is in my best interest. Now, I’m not saying go and do shrooms, but I am saying don’t be afraid to feel the pain, for it’s through the pain where you can find your way to peace.

The Journey to Lucidity

calvin-chou-189026Walking past giant stone mansions covered in ivy, that looked like they came straight out of a fairy tale, I thought to myself, “If we turned around and got back in the car before getting to the bonfire, this night would still feel complete to me.” My friends and I got to a huge iron gate, and I was the first to hurl myself over, so they would stop talking like the Scooby Doo crew about how we could get through or around it. Using our flashlight apps on our phones, we made our way down a sandy path to the beach. A bonfire was made, and flamethrowers started to put on a show with the twinkling night sky and ocean waves as their backdrop.

I sat by the fire next to a guy named Darrin who seemed as straight as a rainbow, and we talked for hours about philosophy and life. Thrilled to have a new gay bff, I was excited when he started talking about hanging out in the future. He asked me if I would be going to Lucidity, a festival near Santa Barbara. When I said I wanted to, but didn’t have plans to go, he wasn’t having any of it. He insisted I go and stay with him at his campsite which took away a lot of the stress of having to get, and lug, all of that camping shit around, and put a campsite together. Though I still didn’t know if I’d pull the trigger and buy the ticket, the seed was planted.

The next day, I convinced my neighbor Marissa, who also happened to be my best friend In Santa Barbara, to come along with me. I was shocked when she enthusiastically agreed considering she probably had only a few hundred dollars more than the homeless man, or as I prefer to say, street dweller, that walks up and down State Street talking to himself. Not long after we bought the tickets, an indecent occurred which made me question how the festival experience would go.

I received a text from Darrin saying he’d like to take me to the movies or see a concert. Regina Spector, a singer whose work I admire, was performing in town that weekend and he got us tickets. The jew in me was thrilled to attend without having to pay, and excited to join. A few days later, I go outside of my little yellow cottage to meet him, where he was finishing up painting his last few fingernails hot pink. In no time, his arm was around me, and from the sounds of what he was saying to me, I could tell my gaydar had been way off.

After a great show, he walked me back home and I felt like a fortune teller because I could sense what was coming next. He put his hands on my face, leaned in, and kissed me. I gave him my best attempt in letting him know I was not interested, but he grabbed my hands and responded with “Let’s just go with the flow” as he continued to hold my hands and sway his arms back and forth. He left and I immediately called Marissa to freak out and fill her in  as I tried to get his hot pink nail polish out of my hair. Thinking that I was about to be sharing a tent with this guy that I had as much interest in dating as an old man who loves talking about politics, sports, and beer, I still decided to go with the flow in terms of going to Lucidity. Thank goodness I did because what happened next I will never forget…

 

Stay tuned to see what happens!

 

hOMe sweet hOMe

 Folding my 1,000th towel, like I had been in the housekeeping industry for decades, I questioned why I was staying at this job that didn’t fulfill me in the slightest. Is this out of love or fear? I asked myself as I heard the sound of men grunting and slamming weights on the ground like they had serious daddy issues. The fact that even came to mind was enough of an indication to know this was the latter. Still, my mind refused to make a decision easily.

That week, I weighed the pros and cons about as many times as I thought about food, which is to say those were basically the only things I thought about that week. Some of the cons were, I don’t like any of the things I have to do at the gym, one of the girls treats me like shit for legitimately no reason and acts like mother Teresa to everyone else, a lot of the people there I don’t feel comfortable around, when I’m not at work I think about how I don’t want to go, and when I’m there I count down the minutes until I’m out. Pros were money and free gym membership. Though I made the decision a million times harder than it needed to be, and was still nervous about money and what I would do next, I put in my two weeks notice and felt relieved to have finally done it.

I was aware of the gym’s policy that after quitting, I was not allowed back in the facility for three months, even if I wanted a membership. Totally a logical rule because my five foot nothing stature was surly intimidating, and they must have needed a break from feeling inferior I suppose. I thought I’d spend the next three months using all of the free gym trials around town because free is basically my middle name, and hope that by the time they’re all up, three months will have gone by so I can go back to my old routine of HITT classes and BodyPump. The longest trial around town was at a nearby yoga studio, so I chose to start there even though yoga for me at that time was like a soap opera. Long, boring, and overrated. I figured I had nothing to lose considering they had really nice studios and showers, and yoga sculpt, which was basically a HIIT class disguised as yoga.    

After my first class, I turned to the girl to my left who was sweating like she just took the ice bucket challenge, and said “I’ve never hated to love something so much in my life.” The rest was history. I began a work exchange program there, where I mopped up sweaty floors and yoga mats for an hour and a half a week, in exchange for a $20 a month unlimited membership. Not only did I meet Allie a few months later, but the beginning of another significant event happened then as well. 

  Fast forward a few months later, and my eyes widened like a Californian yogi just discovered they ate something with gluten in it. $2,500 was the number staring back at me. Immediately my decision to get my yoga teaching certification began to waver. I noticed in that moment that my excuses that were firing out about money and time were all fear based, and this all happened too serendipitously for me not to see what would happen if I followed through. As I handed over my credit card, I gritted my teeth like I was watching one of those videos that show up on my Facebook newsfeed of people making poor choices, and I know they’re about to hurt themselves. Once the transaction was made, I felt a sense of relief that I had made the decision. The relief made me know by making this choice, I was following my heart and not my head.

It made me aware that most of my anxiety comes from not making a decision, and once I actually do, I feel a million times better. It’s like when I went on a bungee swing in New Zealand. Suspended hundreds of feet in the air, dangling like a piece of bait, I looked down full of fear, nerves, and excitement. Once I made the choice to pull the cord and drop, only the excitement remained, which turned to pure joy as I swung and stared at the magnificent cliffs, luscious green trees, and lake that surrounded me. It’s the prolonging of making a choice that so often causes the anxiety and confusion. When I follow my heart and stay in my truth, pure joy is inevitable.

Though I had no idea what to expect, and didn’t even intend on becoming a teacher, I knew only good could come of it. If anything, I thought it would give me something to write about, and that it did and so much more. Slowly I began to notice people perceiving me as the type of person who would go out to eat with a rolled up yoga mat, wanting to order a BLT with gluten free bread, and no meat. To be fair, that’s not too far fetched.

 

 

 

A Food Junkies Journey

IMG_2428 (1)Life from my perspective was a complete tragedy. The only things keeping me from taking my own life at that time, was that it would cause my family so much pain, and this deep sense of knowing that I was going to somehow get out of this shit hole, and create an amazing life for myself.

I was lying on the floor in someone else’s house, crying as though I was a child who had just discovered Santa wasn’t real. Lost, lonely, relapsed, stranded, broken, broke, and confused, were just a few words to describe my state of being at that time. All I could wonder was why I chose to move to California because at that point it felt like the world was trying to tell me my time was up.

At that time, I had just crashed my car, and my plan to travel up north and find a place to live in the Bay area abruptly came to a halt. My destructive thoughts were running rampant, like someone trying to find their phone when they know their crush is waiting for a response. It was hard for me to do anything but pity myself and my circumstances, but I knew I had to keep going. Not in a persevering or heroic way, but because I literally needed to find another place to sleep.

After a copious amount of confusion and angst, I booked my stay at a retreat. Esalen is a retreat on the cliff of Big Sur, with hot springs full of naked people, food for days, and workshops mostly consisting of people who you would picture walking around barefoot with flower crowns, putting sage all over everything, and practicing kundalini yoga before sunrise. I went for a writers workshop in hopes to get out of the writers block I was in. With my insecurities bigger than my belly after a binge, I figured I’d keep my clothes on in the hot springs, get as much out of the food buffet as humanly possible, get out of my writers block, and have a place to sleep for a few more nights as well.

Next thing I know, I’m sitting there on a bench overlooking the ocean, but unable to appreciate its beauty. The sky was as blue as the cloth I would imagine a stork carrying to deliver a baby boy. The water washing up on the rocky shore below me, was crystal clear, like the tears that were rolling down my cheeks. With no home, no car, and resurfaced addictive thoughts and behaviors, I questioned what I had gotten myself into, and how much longer I had left to live if I kept this up. This leap of faith seemed to be turning into a leap of failure.

I felt a pain in my chest so deep and full of sorrow that it couldn’t be ignored. Sitting on the bench, I lifted my gaze and starred out at the magnificent cliffs of Big Sur, and the glistening water of the pacific ocean. With an aching heart, I thought to myself “My heart needs this.” I brought my awareness to the pain and acknowledged its presents without judgement. “Hello pain.” I thought to myself “I need to feel this contrast and pain to evolve and move forward, but I’ve felt you long enough, and you can go.”
The pain instantly vanished. I had caught my brain feeding me these lies that life was awful. It was as if my awareness made my ego flee in disappointment and embarrassment of it’s discovery.

Profound insights and circumstances were taking place, and it was only just the beginning. That night I took out my notepad and wrote “HELP” in bold letters, and closed my eyes as I prayed to the air and fell into slumber. Not soon after opening my eyes the next morning, help is what I got, but not in a way I was expecting.

Shortly after my fourth round of breakfast the next morning, I wasn’t sure if I’d be able to survive another episode. I was legitimately scared for my life, and was under the impression that I would surly be rushed to the ER if I tried again. I was hoping that when I asked for help, a mentor would have miraculously come into my life, or I would have mustered the courage and strength to stop because I had enough. I asked for help, and that is what I received in the form of scaring the living daylights out of me, and causing my body to start falling apart.

After that, I stopped my addictive behaviors with my newfound determination. I’m sure the fact that I thought I would be dead soon otherwise contributed to the change as well. Wasn’t really the way I wanted to go out. I knew I came out to California to find more of what my heart needs to evolve and become a better version of myself, not to have my heart stop entirely. That being said, the destructive thoughts and behaviors didn’t end there. This was only the beginning of a very long journey of recovery.

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