the first day of spring
MY AYAHUASCA EXPERIENCE
history and background
the shipibo are one of the most well-known tribes for their relationship with ayahuasca and are some of the most highly respected healers in the amazon rainforest.
shipibo shamanism (“curanderismo”) is not a religion, it is regarded as a healing practice. It is centered upon universal spiritual wisdom and rooted in nature- a method for making a spiritual connection with sacred realms. each person becomes their own guru, receiving revelations from within themselves and higher transpersonal sources. (beyond the usual limits of ego and personality)
plant shamanism has been referred to as “spirit assisted healthcare”; illness is viewed as disharmony in a person's life on energetic and spiritual levels. this disharmony leads to mental, emotional, and physical illness if left unresolved.
when people talk about ayahuasca, they are typically referring to the drink that you consume in ceremony. this finished product, the reddish-brown thick substance, is “brewed” with a combination of two plants- the ayahuasca vine and the leaf of the chacruna plant. both plants are collected from the jungle to create a potent mixture that offers access to the realm of spirits and the energetic world that we are typically unable to perceive in our ordinary state of consciousness.
to be scientific, the chacruna plant is what contains the psychoactive dimethyltryptamine (DMT), which by itself is not orally active because it is metabolized by a stomach enzyme (MAO). However, certain chemicals in the ayahuasca vine contain MAO inhibitors. The mixture circulates through the bloodstream into the brain, where it triggers powerful visionary experiences.
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this is a unique form of healing that takes place in a co-creative relationship between the healer, the plant spirits and ayahuasca, and the participant. personal accountability and conviction in your decision to embark on this journey is of utmost importance.
the medicine will open windows for the participant to uncover universal and personal truths, push you to experience and take responsibility for issues that have been hidden in your unconscious and resulted in energetic blockages- often the root cause of dis-ease, or emotional/psycho-spiritual imbalance.
you don’t really have control of where the medicine takes you. you are prompted to ask questions and set intentions, but the medicine will answer, guide, and heal in whatever way it sees fit. partaking of this is the opposite of avoidance and there is nothing that can be done to dilute the experience- if we really want to have our questions answered, to grow, to become better, and to heal, we have to face the root causes of these problems and disease head-on. ayahuasca and these sacred ceremonies give you the opportunity to take a more active part in your healing process– which is powerful but can be very painful.
—
I made an initial claim on my instagram that I wouldn't recommend this experience for most people and I do stand by that– it’s a deeply personal decision that I wouldn’t be comfortable pushing anyone to participate in –but I don't regret the trip in the same way I earlier implied.
the more I reflected, the more I was able to find the good in it
(which is the case for most things in this life)
the experience
It is advised that for about two weeks leading up to (and prior to) the ceremonies, you do not partake of any red meats, sugar/processed foods, alcohol, and sex.
I had done well at following maybe half of those guidelines.
—
after a long travel day, we arrived at the retreat center in the evening and had dinner waiting for us– I wish I had taken more photos of this to share with you (and document for myself to recreate), but it was genuinely great food. sweet potatoes, turmeric rice, very simple grilled chicken, fresh local fruit, and cooked veggies were primary staples through the entirety of our stay.
they made each meal for us daily- on ceremony days it was 2 (breakfast and lunch, fasting after 5pm) and 3 meals on the days we did not have ceremony.
everything was, as mentioned, incredibly fresh and really well made.
I never felt grossly full, always felt satisfied after meals, and was only bloated on the day we did vomitivos…
which is exactly what it sounds like.
day 1
the next morning started with a 6:30am alarm and meeting down at the maloca (the sacred gathering space where we would later also have the ayahuasca ceremonies)
we stood gathered on the grass, 12 of us (partaking) and 4 healers (facilitating)
they told us we would be drinking this concoction of lemongrass tea (at room temperature) until we were able to vomit. we had to do three substantial purges.
I assumed there was probably something in the tea that our bodies had an aversion to– that our stomach or digestive system would instantly push it out because it posed some minor kind of “threat”, but that wasn’t the case.
we had to drink- or more accurately chug -cup after cup as fast as possible (I think I ended up drinking 5? big cups).
it was the same effect if you drank five cups of anything extremely fast without stopping to breathe. your stomach fills up– too full –and you vomit.
since it was first thing in the morning, there was no food in our stomachs, we were simply projectile vomiting the straight rose-tinted liquid.
this is a necessary, mandatory, and unavoidable part of the process as it is a literal and symbolic cleansing of the body.
from here forth, we were not allowed to eat anything besides the food that was made for us (we had to turn in any snacks or drinks we may have brought along)
there were 4 stations (one led by each facilitator) so 4 people at a time went up and drank the tea till they puked (again, three ‘purges’ had to happen so this ranged from 5-15 minutes depending on the person)
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we had a couple hours of free time afterwards and then gathered in the common area for breakfast
we served ourselves large plates of fresh fruit, gluten free oats, cooked plantains, a couple hard boiled eggs and various fresh-made juices.
there was an informational meeting after this and we briefly introduced ourselves and spoke about our intentions.
my answer was verbally simple but carried a lot of meaning for me emotionally–
“clarity,” I told, “is the word that keeps coming up for me. clarity in a lot of aspects.”
—
lunch rolled around a bit later (1pm, and it was our last meal of the day)
water cut off was 5pm
6:30pm a group yoga and sound bath session was held in the maloca
to set the scene in there a bit– the maloca is a large, circular room.
there were 12 mats evenly spaced along the outer edge, pillows at the top by the wall, feet towards the middle. they were each specifically assigned and each couple was separated– this is a deeply individual journey and experience.
the mats were essentially foam pads with a soft cotton cover. each person had two or three pillows and a blanket (it was 90+ degrees the entire time so I don’t think those got used much)
after yoga, we laid in silence (this was mandatory in the maloca leading up to, during, and prior to ceremony) for some time before the two facilitators (both female) that were going to be present for the ceremonies came in, followed by the maestros (these are the shamans- one female and one male)
they said nothing but began preparing their station in the middle of the room, soft whistling from the male maestro while the others smoked mapachos– which is pure tobacco.
tobacco in this tradition is seen as the ultimate purifier. the facilitators were blowing the smoke throughout the area, over themselves, whisking it over their head and blowing it (from pretty far away- nothing “gross’ if you're sensitive to this stuff) towards each of us.
during the ceremony we are each also given mapachos to utilize if we choose to do so.
this is another plant resource we can use and it cleanses the bad energies that may be around, come out, or come up during this sacred ceremony.
when someone would purge is another example of when one of the healers would begin smoking a mapacho, not directly in the person's face but in that general direction. this is because purging is seen as the bad energies coming out and releasing, so they want to help cleanse not only the collective space but also that person specifically.
it is also asked that your purge bucket (puke bucket) is placed at the foot of your mat so when you throw up, you are purging (pushing the bad energies) toward the center of the room where the healers and maestros are so they can cleanse and handle it, rather than puking in the direction of your neighbor and sending the vibes that way.
—
one by one, we were brought up to the little altar they created in the center with pillows for seats, two lit candles, the big bottle of medicine (ayahuasca), the female maestro, and the two healers/facilitators.
they ask how much you’d like to take (the typical is about 1 shot-sized glass).
the drink is “blessed” before and during the portions being taken, the maestro is whistling/singing the sacred songs.
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the first night, I took half of a glass.
the other people in the group took amounts ranging from one half of a glass to two glasses
disclaimer:
I did not have any kind of visual or spiritual experience that first night.
I was so tired I actually ended up falling asleep.
—
once everyone has taken their portions and after the male maestro spends a substantial amount of time singing and whistling in the middle of the room, the two maestros start on opposite sides of the room and begin to sing individual ikaros* to each person.
the female maestro began with me, and worked counterclockwise around the room. the male maestro worked clockwise.
once everyone had received their ikaros (*this is the name for the special sacred songs), a bit of time passed, and the ceremony was concluded. It lasted a couple hours in total.
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I did not have any kind of psychedelic or spiritual experience that evening, but my boyfriend had a really cool visual experience where he was able to see spirits/auras.
one of the other women attending the retreat had an incredibly special experience that first night which also became a divine experience she shared with her partner– I don’t even know how to begin to describe and it also isn’t my story to tell :) but it was beautiful and so so special.
—
day two was breakfast, followed by a big chunk of free time which we spent wandering around the property and down at the beach.
lunch at 1pm, and a group gathering to speak more deeply about our intentions. it was more of a heart to heart than the brief initial introductions.
we went around the circle, stating our purpose and desire for being there. people shared their wishes to become a better friend, lover, leader, and human, some talked about wanting to connect with their authenticity or better realize their potential, others mentioned hoping to tap into the magic they’ve had glimpses of already.
you could feel the glimmers of hope and light and love and curiosity in the room as everyone shared, opening up little doors to their hearts.
I felt a surge of love for these people who were mostly strangers
the maloca suddenly became more sacred to me– this kind of vulnerability is rare.
it was my turn–
*deep breath*
“I have gone through a lot of really gnarly stuff,” I said. “I’ve gone through a lot and I used to not handle it well. I really let these things affect me. It was kind of blow after blow, so after a while I figured out a way to make a trade– I could go through something so heartbreaking and horrible and the next morning I could pretend it never happened. I don’t really know how I did this, what the turning point was, but I do know that the exchange for doing this was pieces of my soul. Each time, it was walking through a veil that clouded my perception of myself and of other people and of the world. It’s made me more detached and at first I labeled it as independence but it’s lonely. I’m an incredibly dis-trusting person.” I choked on tears and felt some eyes watching me, others gazing to the floor. “I don’t trust anyone.”
silence
“that’s all,” I finished.
—
when we wrapped up, I was outside putting my shoes on when one of the other participants came up to me.
we had all come here together, but my only solid connection to the group was my boyfriend.
the rest of the people I had only talked to a handful of times, if at all.
the man who came and spoke to me was one of the people who I don’t think I had ever had a conversation with prior. he was the father of one of the other participants and known for being a bit intimidating and definitely not a big emotions guy from what I had seen/heard up to that point.
in the meeting though, he had shared some incredibly vulnerable words and I later found out that the things he opened up about there were things that people close to him had not even known prior to that.
“so you don’t trust anyone, huh?” he says.
I laughed, nervous for what he would say next (he is a very blunt person) “I try to,” I said with a smile.
he looked at me and began to share sentiments about vulnerability and trust– opened up about a past experience he had where he felt betrayed and related it to the way many people go about their lives.
at the end, “no 95 percent bullshit” was mentioned, followed by “give it a hundred percent,” and that if people betray trust you give them, that’s on them. it is reflective of their character, not mine.
“naked, spread eagle,” he said, “you gotta just lay it all out on the table.”
if you stay in the shallow end of the pool you’ll never feel how freeing it can be to dive deep.
I didn’t have a lot of heart-to-hearts with my father growing up.
this was a moment of paternal love that felt really special, especially considering who it was coming from.
—
meeting at the maloca at 7:30pm
ceremony 2
this night I decided to begin with a bit over three-fourths of a glass.
we have the ability to ask for “seconds' if about an hour or so into the ceremony we are not feeling the medicine as strongly as we would like to be. they close off the opportunity for seconds after a period of time, but while the window was open I did end up partaking–
I could feel the edge of the precipice I was standing upon and feeling brave enough to take the leap.
twenty seconds of courage. all you need is twenty seconds of courage-
I signaled the facilitator over the way we were told to, with the dim red flashlight pointed to my chest.
she served me an additional (generous) three fourths of a glass.
I closed my eyes—
I started tapping my face, tracing my hands over my collarbone, down to my hip bones and knee caps, wiggling each of my toes. observing the gentle-ness of my hands that I usually don’t pay much mind to.
I felt strangely artificial.
the visions began in the ocean, the bottom of it.
currents were moving me through and through and through.
was a mermaid, not the disney princess kind, but some sort of siren that was well versed in the ways of the water.
I was feeling uneasy and peaceful both at once, like someone trying to wriggle out of a hug when they secretly do crave the support.
I was completely submerged but not drowning.
it slipped away, but not slowly. it was gone quickly, like a final drink of water up a straw.
I let out one singular gasp for air.
I wept.
cried like I have never cried before.
was I ripped from the ocean or did I choose to stop being there? it was gone. I was back sitting in the room, still numb in my skin, still tapping all over my body. my hands shook uncontrollably and my limbs began to twitch and flinch dramatically.
I cried and cried and cried and the maestro sang to me and I cried and the ceremony ended and I cried more.
after most of the people had trickled out, I tried standing up and collapsed, so I stayed a little while longer.
some time passed and I finally felt stable enough to find my footing, but I felt like a barbie doll, legs stiff and it all felt so unnatural. I walked out of the maloca, up the hill to my room.
my boyfriend was there waiting.
—
back in the room, I reached for a water bottle. (never do this.)
most of the effects had worn off. I felt a little loopy but happy and okay.
gulp. gulp. gulp.
the amount of water in the bottle decreased significantly. my boyfriend looked at me with wide eyes– we were told to “be slow” with drinking water after the ceremony. the facilitators had made that point multiple times. I pointed out that hours had passed since I had taken the medicine and I was feeling mostly normal.
we laid in bed and it was barely ten minutes before my chest got tight and my head got cloudy.
or maybe it wasn’t cloudy.
it was crystal clear– too clear, I could see it all.
all these truths and all these things I didn't really want to know.
there were islands.
I was back in the ocean.
I was the ocean.
they were islands of my pain, of heartbreak and trauma. each one represented something different, had its own significance. each had its own weight that would press on my chest as I came closer.
it was indescribably heavy.
from where I was, there were a good four or five of these islands in my direct line of sight. it was stormy. a drizzle of rain covered all of them, scattered bolts of lightning and a low rumble of thunder. as I looked farther back, the clouds got darker, the rain was heavier. more islands were outlined in the fog.
miles and miles back I could see even more, I remember very clearly seeing an island with the pain I endured in my previous relationship, and on another island I was catching glimpses of things from childhood I had long forgotten about or had absolutely no recollection of.
if I squinted, I could make some of it out. a moment of this deciphering and I knew I was not ready to go there.
I didn’t want to go deeper.
I visited this island of grief I had for the dreams I have let die throughout the years.
I found myself on an island that was entirely representative of my relationship with my mother. this island was dark and tangled and messy, it was hard to make anything out, but the feeling of yearning was palpable in the air. you could feel the painful love tainted with jealousy and resentment and alcohol.
I write about this experience like it was quick teleportations my mind visited while my body quietly laid there-
this is not the case.
I was convulsing, aggressively, my body wrapping into a ball, every muscle tense, then suddenly my back was arching, fingernails digging into my thighs and screaming the most painful and primal screams. It was not cute crying- I was sobbing (loudly).
I was begging and bargaining, screaming that I did not want to continue, saying “I can see it, you showed me, I know it’s there, I can’t do it right now.”
I remember gripping my throat, feeling like all the times I had silenced myself for the sake of someone else's comfort or my own, was rising to the surface.
the years of pain I had traded for ignorance was now excruciatingly present and demanding my immediate attention.
these visions warped into things that are harder to articulate- root systems underground, I could feel the way trees grow and flowers bloom though my veins and though it wasn’t my past being brought to light, it was still weirdly difficult to navigate and I felt like I was choking.
“please,” weeping, trying to crawl out of my skin. I was screaming that I wanted to die, in some gentle way like laying in the dirt and being absorbed into a tree.
—
I have had some really intense psychedelic experiences in the past that resulted in periods of depression and depersonalization and this was definitely something I was concerned about when going into this.
that night was very difficult and dark and the visions continued through the morning. I was genuinely afraid that things would not return to “normal”, that I was stuck in this weird limbo forever.
—
I have always said my boyfriend is one of the most patient people (probably the most patient person) I have ever met. we balance each other out always, but that night especially I was so grateful to have him there.
I can’t even imagine anyone else trying to provide support (or god forbid me being alone in some of those moments when things got very dark)- he was reminding me to breathe, counting breaths with me, reassuring me, holding me, doing everything he could to support me all while being so calm. I’m screaming that I want to die and he’s rubbing my back telling me he loves me.
a big aspect of my distrust comes from the lack of stability I’ve experienced from any and all relationships in my life- romantic or otherwise. this night together was brutal but I also walked away with this new level of confidence and security in the relationship and in his love for me, and for that I am grateful.
–
I got maybe an hour of sleep and woke up in the morning feeling mostly normal– a raging headache (a side effect of the screaming most likely) but existed in this realm and was no longer floating in a spiritual ocean.
I barely spoke the entire morning, I was still processing and kind of terrified.
as the day went on, the headache got worse, and with the combination of the blazing dry heat I was feeling incredibly ill and was beginning to experience the onset of a migraine.
I blacked out multiple times on the way back to the room from breakfast and found myself in tears again, in bed with all the lights off and covers pulled up.
It persisted for hours and one of the facilitators felt so bad, she finally gave me some advil, which helped ease the pain enough for me to fall asleep for a nap, and upon waking I felt significantly better.
I touched on purging earlier– but it is a very normal part of these ceremonies. It is the “bad” energies leaving the body. we typically think of purging as puking, but it can also manifest as shaking, headaches/migraines, diarrhea, etc.
–
since I ended up taking the advil, I was unable to drink ayahuasca at the ceremony that evening. (advil is one of the things that is against the “diet” for ayahuasca)
I still attended the ceremony and received the ikaros (sacred songs)- this was the final ceremony for the retreat and the purpose was to close the “portal” that had been opened between the real world and the spiritual one and protect each of us, so the healers said it was important for me to be in attendance.
–
this is a fairly detailed account of my experiences but definitely not an exhaustive one.
there were so many special moments and connections scattered between what was told here and I’m really grateful for all of it.
I didn’t want to share too many details involving other people or their names for the sake of privacy after such a sacred experience, but I’ll also mention–
seeing glimpses of your own soul in others, people who have gone through trials and traumas parallel to yours and have continued to reach for the light and age into beautiful human beings with radiant spirits is inspiring and comforting and I had the honor of meeting a handful of people like that during my time on this retreat.
one of the women who came to the retreat is someone I have quietly admired since I met her. when my boyfriend and I first started dating, multiple people in the group told him I remind them a lot of her (which is the biggest compliment in the world, I hope I’m half the woman she is one day) it was rad to be able to connect with her more– she has a beautiful spirit and is someone I hope to stay in touch with for forever.
I formed individual connections and relationships with each of the facilitators as well and I’m grateful for their kindness; their honest testimonials and vulnerability in sharing their journeys made participating in something so foreign and scary so much more comfortable.
they entertained my fascination with bugs and plants the entire week and made me feel seen, heard, and cared about in a large group where I was the “odd one out” (everyone else went into this already having known each other for years and years).
–
“love” feels different in my heart and soul after this– lighter, untethered to conditions or expectations.
I asked for clarity, I admitted my lack of trust and secretly hoped that the medicine would rewire something in my brain and maybe I would “come to” with a blank slate, forget about all of the things in the past that have bred doubt and insecurity in me and I’d feel like a whole new person.
everything would be “perfect”, I would be reborn with the mind of a child- pure and naive and blissfully ignorant -able to take leaps of faith with no fear and love with no reservations.
it was not that simple and it could never be. (I knew this, I just hoped maybe I would be proven wrong)
what I was reminded of is that the things in this life are not made to be perfect. “perfect” is an undefinable and incredibly subjective standard.
so instead of spending time, energy, and prayers on wishing things were “perfect”, trying to affirm yourself into clear thinking and cloudless skies, you could spend time, energy, and prayers on strength to get you through the (inevitable) tougher times; to find comfort, confidence, and ease in your body and your life, and finding people who will love you unconditionally and without unreasonable expectation. (and then love them that same way in return)
just existing is reason enough to give love and to receive it with open arms.
I am responsible for how I carry myself though the world, why not just choose to love recklessly and give abundantly?
this universe operates on balance, it’ll all come back around.
stop guarding your heart and your voice and your dreams. all of those things are valid and worthy and deserving.
this experience changed the way I think about love and the way I understand it–
and then filled my cup up to the brim with it.
—
the day of our departure we gathered to say goodbyes- the man who I had the conversation about trust with outside of the maloca came to me and hugged me (not a bullshit obligation hug either, it was a good one) looked at me, and said:
“hey, go ahead and trust. it’s your choice.”
<3
papa
hey papa.
you always said you didn’t want people to tell lies at your funeral, so I’m not going to do that.
truthfully,
you are the best story teller I know. You only read me a handful of your short stories you’d written but I remember always being captivated by the way you wrote. It inspired me. Hopefully I’m half as good as you are.
Even better were your stories you’d recite verbally from memory (even though grandma would usually beg to differ on the details you shared) you always made funny faces and had expressive mannerisms and your laugh is one of the best I’ve heard (I can hear it right now).
Logically, “enjoying roadtrips” is not genetic, though our shared passion for it makes me wonder if it might be.
I’m sorry I didn’t go to Yellowstone with you more. I’m sorry I didn’t go to South Dakota with you and grandma that one time.
I would do anything to have one more chance at a road trip with you.
I’ll beg God and if he agrees, we’ll go across the whole country.
thank you for teaching me the delight of a peach cobbler (not only how to make it, but also how to serve it— with lots of milk and cinnamon) and underbaked chocolate chip cookies. (matter of fact, I think you underbaked everything. but it’s okay because I like it that way too.)
I’m recalling memories of us together and giggling (through tears) over you “hating” cats (with a passion) for years, but how you finally fell victim to Bug and Frankie’s love (and would always call them over whenever they were in sight).
I would always smile when I came downstairs to see one of them curled up in your lap, how you mixed up their names occasionally and sometimes forgot them entirely, referring to them as “kitty cats” or “puppies”.
I’m sorry for all the things you went through that I know nothing about. I know there are trials (and probably horrors) that you went through throughout your life and your young years and you were always too damn stubborn to talk about it (it’s okay, I am too sometimes).
I really sincerely hope you find peace.
I don’t know what comes after this life (and I know you’d get mad at me and say “Heaven, of course”) but I hope whatever or whoever it is has you wrapped in a big, big hug. The kind that moms give.
I hope you know I love you, and I always have, even though we’d argue from time to time. I know you still loved me regardless too.
I don’t know how to end this letter, but I’m sure we’ll talk more. Now I have a constituent (is that the right word?) on the “other side”, feel free to send me guidance or advice at any time you’d like. I don’t know what the hell I’m doing most of the time.
talk soon,
alyx (sometimes “alisa, marin, damnit”)
her
I think about “her” a lot–
She is sad, and lonely, and has looked for love in places where she knows it is no good but tries anyways.
She has sacrificed her comfort and her peace dozens of times for the sake of others.
She cries often.
She is somehow simultaneously too trusting and has no trust at all.
She's made herself a doormat and a housewife more times than she'd like to admit.
She lives inside of me, and she still comes out from time to time. Insecurity creeps in when I’m reminded of the things I “lack”.
“you don’t know how much violence it took for me to be this gentle”
And now, (I have fought tooth and nail for this) my life is about love, about comfort and light, about satiety and understanding and compassion. I am less concerned with these unrealistic expectations that people who were never going to truly love me created and that I continued to hold on to.
I say “less” concerned because some days are still a fight.
At the end of the day, I'm all alone (we all are) whether it happens to be literally or metaphorically.
I cannot expect anyone to carry my burdens for me and no one else is responsible for my trauma, my reactions, my sadness.
I choose how I handle those things. I choose how I move forward.
It is a conscious effort to be strong, to follow my dreams, to choose people and places and things that fill me up and love me as fiercely as I love them. It is a conscious daily effort to resist instant gratification with my bigger goals in mind.
“sacrifice today to live in paradise tomorrow”
I am by no means perfect, but I’m a hell of a lot better than I used to be, and that’s gotta count for something.
xx alyx jane
and suddenly, I am out with lanterns looking for myself—
this is what I wrote for chapter three of the book I’m writing with my father— the topic we chose was “write about this season of your life”
—
“Right” is a word more easily defined as a direction than a decision. “Am I doing the right thing?” Who’s to say? My inner monologue tears me apart from time to time, hollering that I’m not going about my life in the “right” way. (this year I’ve learned a lot about giving myself grace and I speak much more kindly to myself nowadays)
I didn’t go to college, didn’t even give it a shot.
I barely graduated high school, after a few weeks long hiatus I was asked when or if I planned on returning and I simply did not reply. After some thought I decided a highschool diploma might be a good thing to have under my belt, the bare minimum, so I went back and finished it. School is one thing that everybody has always felt entitled to give an opinion on.
There have been brief periods where I’ve wondered, “did I make the right decision?” I finished high school in a blur, a semester early, and moved to Hawaii.
Not much about my life has been traditional, and the majority of each year I am completely content with the way things are. However, there are usually a handful of days, maybe two weeks altogether, that I spend in a somewhat depressive state, reeling over “could’ve would’ve should've” scenarios.
This season of life is an odd one. Not odd in a bad way, everything is “good”. (but it usually is as long as you choose to see it that way)
This season is a season of stillness. Uncomfortable stillness sometimes, I’m not used to staying in the same place for more than a couple months at a time. Sometimes I lay awake at night and my body squirms, itchy, restless over thoughts of what other versions of Me are doing right now. Am I living the best possible life I could be? Am I doing this “right”?
I’m ultimately the one that gets to make the decision of what falls into categories of “right” and “wrong” in my life, I don’t want to, nor do I expect anyone to do it for me. Usually you have that gut feeling, instincts, that guide you. I’ve always been pretty in tune with mine, and am becoming more so as I continue to grow and expand my spiritual journey.
But still, doubt creeps in from time to time, and I joke that I have a bad habit of gaslighting myself.
Anyways, I’m supposed to be writing about this season of life. This chapter has taken me ages (six months) to write, and I’m not sure why (that’s a lie, I do know why)
—
Everything has an opposite. Every action has a reaction, the yin to its yang. This world creates balance in all things, and without one we cannot know the other. We wouldn’t feel warm in 60 degrees if we hadn’t felt cold in 30 the week before.
Similarly, you don’t realize you haven’t been feeling like “yourself” until suddenly you do again. You don’t know what good, genuine, honest love feels like until you've experienced the opposite and then suddenly the universe hands you the sweetest, kindest, purest people you’ve ever had the pleasure of knowing and loving. (in my case most of these people have been right in front of my face the whole time)
It’s a bittersweet awakening when you spend time in an environment that allows you to be so totally your authentic self and you realize that is not how you’ve been living for the past (?) little while.
I used to write. A lot, actually. My main “thing”, the main title I gave myself, was “writer”. Now I’m realizing it’s not even in my instagram bio list of “things” (granted my identity is more complex than a list of adjectives in a social media bio), I haven't touched my perfect brown notebook I was sooo excited to buy months ago, and I’m typing this at a significantly slower pace and with significantly more errors than I would have a year ago.
What happened?
—
One day in January, I looked in the mirror and was taken aback. It’s not that I hadn’t looked in a mirror recently, I guess I just hadn’t really seen myself in a second. I wasn’t sure if I recognized the girl looking back at me. —
Once, a couple years ago, a woman (let's call her a gypsy– I went to her for rocks, tarot reading, and energy healing) told me the third time we met up that my eyes were like a mood ring and she noticed a difference each time we talked that directly correlated with emotions I had been feeling at the time. “They’re not sparkling today,” she told me.
— back to that day in January, looking in the mirror, I couldn’t remember the last time I felt like my eyes had sparkled.
Who am I? Beyond the adjectives. serial hobbyist, tree hugger, seamstress, designer, health nut, lover of sunsets and people and strawberry shakes… writer.
I got sad. Which I know how to handle– I’ve spent my fair share of late nights turned into early mornings screaming at the sky, asking why why why. I’ve screamed at God on top of mountains, I’ve curled up on bathroom floors and clenched my jaw and cried, and I’ve clawed into the skin on my arm so much that I got a tattoo just to cover up all the half moon scars.
I started to look back at old pictures and videos, expecting to feel anger, “why did you let things get bad again”, “look at how happy you were, this was only a few months ago, what happened, why do you do this'' but I felt feelings more similar to what I would expect to experience when my future daughter comes home to my arms after her first heartbreak.
“You deserve so much better” I’d tell her, and that’s what I was telling myself in that moment.
I sat there on the ground of my then-boyfriend's room, glancing between the girl in the mirror and the girl on my screen, she was skipping around smiling in a cowboy hat under the grand tetons. I did not feel like her.
I’d forgotten about myself, spent seven months in a relationship caring for someone else while completely abandoning and disregarding what I need and what I want. “Well, I want them to be happy, because I love them, so I’ll do what they want” and if you’ve already got a bad habit of being like that, and the ‘them’ is someone eager to take advantage of that? seven months of that will make your eyes stop sparkling.
—
The duality of man, of this human experience, is incredible.
Going through this “loss of self” while in a pretty gnarly relationship, (followed by a pretty gnarly breakup), while also meeting my biological father (especially considering I didn’t know there was any ‘meeting’ to be done-- now we hang out on a weekly basis), launching my clothing brand, and sewing my first wedding dress for a content day I hosted with my best friend, while also being homeless and without a car.
The breakdown precedes the breakthrough.
I’ve hit some low lows (who knew rock bottom had a basement) but I’ve also experienced some incredible highs.
Once you get through the initial “shit, this is hard'' feeling when you’re going through something, there's this overwhelming hope. Like, you know it’ll be hard, know it’ll be painful, but you can see the hypothetical end of the tunnel, the summit of your mountain, you can visualize the come up and now you just have to actualize it.
For me, that looked like ending a relationship that my friends had been begging me to for months. Being honest with myself about what wasn’t working– what wasn’t leading me towards my dreams and goals and the best possible life I can live.
I’ve dedicated a lot more time and energy to my clothing brand, following through on creative projects and promises I make myself, completing my yoga certification, getting back on a training schedule for running (because a marathon has been on my list of side quests for three years now).
And I’m baking again. Every week. And take it to neighbors and friends and the boy I have a crush on. It is one of my most favorite little rituals I have.
If you didn’t already know this about me, I’m a big fan of.. everything haha. I’ve managed to find a pretty good balance in it all, I’m sure as certain things grow I’ll need to re-discover that balance again and again but I’m not too worried, the whole point of this human experience is to grow. And experience.
There's a lot out there and I want to do it all.
“You look happier” friends have told me these past few months.
Everyone says I seem like “myself” again. And I feel like it. I feel happy– the best I’ve ever been, actually.
I try not to dwell on hardships, I don’t want to fall into any sort of victim complex or dig myself into a little hole of depression, but I do want to touch on the whole “toxic relationship” thing (and ruts of depression in general) for anyone who might need to hear it.
Love is somewhat of an obscure concept for me. If you know me or have followed me for a while, you know it is the thing I write the most about. I had “lover of life and everything in it” plastered on every bio of mine for years and have the word tattooed on my arm.
It’s an identifying characteristic for me– I love to love.
I am fascinated by the idea of it, the way it feels. The way humans go about loving and being loved by each other.
There’s the baseline love, the way I feel about simple things, the way I feel about any passing stranger on the street that I haven’t yet had an opportunity to pick their brain to hear about where they grew up and the way they see the world.
And then there's the crazy love. The undeniable, passionate, “in love”. The butterflies in your stomach and the “I can’t wait for tomorrow so I can experience this again” and we find that in places, things, and of course, people.
but I hope you know that the whole point of all of this (life) is not just a boyfriend, girlfriend, partner, spouse.
It is about love (and who the hell knows what that really is) but not just the romantic kind. You shouldn’t spend your life obsessing over dating, or who you want to marry, or at what age you want to have kids. We spend hours and hours getting to know other people, asking them what their favorite color is and where they want to travel. But how much intentional time do we spend getting to know ourselves?
I don’t like Thai food, I’m not a morning person (no matter how hard I’ve tried to be), I hate public gyms. I spend more time with myself than anyone else (matter of fact, that goes for everyone so make sure you are being intentional about it)– you're the only person you’ve got to deal with for your whooooole life.
Romantic love can be fun, it should be fun. Dating should be fun. But it should not be your whole focus. You are not searching for your “other half”. Sometimes when people say that I imagine god (or whatever that entity looks like to you) literally screaming “you are not HALF of anything!!!!!! you are whole as you are!!!!!!”
and If you think you deserve better, you probably do.
“Love is hard”, “people fight” I was (randomly) seeing a lot of tik toks saying not to give up on a relationship because of a rough patch, that “people give up to easily nowadays, fight for the person you want”
The person you want, above everyone and everything else, should be yourself.
And the person you choose to love, in a romantic setting, should just enhance your true self. Make things better than you ever could believe.
Love isn’t supposed to be hard, it just isn’t.
Yes, disagreements are inevitable, but I think with someone you truly deeply love and have actual potential to spend forever with, not seeing eye to eye isn’t something to scream about or get physical over.
(sometimes when I talk about these things, it feels like I’m saying things that sound like common sense. My best friend and I have had some conversations about specific situations and arguments that happened in my last relationship and saying some of the things out loud makes me sick. I can’t believe I allowed those things to happen, stuck with it for so long. Love really does make you kind of blind??)
I don’t know. I don’t know why we do the things we do, I don’t totally understand what love even is most of the time. I don’t know how to describe it. I could talk about my bare feet on warm grass, beach naps, and my good friends. Happy days, special moments, smiling ear to ear, sore ribs from belly laughs. I could talk about someone brushing my hair for me after I shower because I’m too tired and it’s too long and I never want to do it myself. But I don’t know. I don’t know why some of us are pulled toward broken, hurting humans like a magnet and want to “fix” them in any capacity possible, even when it is destroying ourselves.
So if you’re getting out of something (or need to) and beating yourself up for letting it go on so long, here is me telling you it’s okay. I don’t know why we do it but it does happen. You have a big heart.
I don’t know where the line is between a normal amount of disagreement, tension because of individuality and tension because of incompatibility.
I don’t know why some people fit like puzzle pieces (and some don't).
I do know that you’ll meet people who things just make sense with. You won’t know why- I don’t. But things will just work.
“You look happier” friends have told me these past few months. Everyone says I seem like “myself” again. And I feel like it. I feel happy– the best I’ve ever been, actually. (That doesn’t mean I don’t still have hard days, those are normal so don’t get down on yourself for struggling on occasion.)
There is no “right time”, only time and what you do with it.
I’ve spent a lot of time and energy trying to decide when the right time to do something is, where the right place to be is, whatever. But I’ve slowly learned how to just let things flow. Let beautiful relationships happen organically (romantic and platonic). A couple weeks ago, I was with a friend, we were talking and I don’t remember what about, but he looked at me and said “your eyes are like.. sparkling” (he had no idea about the gypsy lady or the comment she had made) and I cried.
He was right–
I think I saw my eyes sparkle today.
coming from the girl who, at multiple points in her life, could have never imagined it– things really do get better.
i love you (forever) + i am rooting for you (always)
xx, alyx jane