It's been awhile since I've written in here,updating on things and not just poems.
Things are... different. Words carry more power and memories carry less weight.
I am still working with Mother Ayahuasca, not as much as I would like to, but definitely enough to work out some huuuuge realizations about myself and my life. It's a long road to self love, but the medicine has helped me get through some of the deepest shit I have ever had to deal with. I am learning how to become a better me because of it. I am starting to catch myself in bad habits as they're happening and not just in hindsight. And sometimes- SOMETIMES- I can catch myself in time to stop what I'm doing. And if you're anything like me, then you know that's huge. I have had three ceremonies, and I am absolutely planning on one more before I leave for the summer.
Because I am leaving for the summer.
I got a seasonal job in Hollywood from June through August. I will be crashing on a friend's couch. I will be living in Los Angeles, right down the street from my Charlie (Momma's home, boo. Momma's home). My beautiful nugget child will be spending three weeks with my family in Kentucky and also going to Disney World with her grandma. Then her dad and stepmom have agreed to pull full-time duty while I am finishing the summer up in Hollywood. A friend of mine is going to live in my apartment and pay utilities and watch my dog. I'll pay my rent from California and move back into my place once I'm done. My new(ish) restaurant job, the one that I love SO much, slows down in the summer, so they are letting me leave and then return once school starts and we get busy again. It's like a dream.
This is a big-time adventure.
I keep stepping back and watching how everything is lining up and everyone is pulling together to make this happen and I cry regularly out of gratitude. The plane tickets have been paid for. The reservations have been made. The paperwork is being filed.
After last summer and the low blows that the winter dealt me, this all is like a goddamned fairy tale. I tell myself I deserve it, and while I want to, I can't believe it. But I'm working at it and I know that deep down I should know that I deserve it. "It's all ceremony". Since I started researching Ayahuasca, I heard this phrase over and over by people who had worked with the medicine. And I had no idea how true and profound that statement would prove to be. The ups and downs and love and surrender and fear and purging. It's all symbolic for the stuff in our everyday lives. I don't know if I'm making any sense at all right now. But that's what it is. All of this figuring out who we are and what we do and what all of this is. Because that's all any of us are really doing, right?
Friday, April 8, 2016
Friday, February 19, 2016
for my dad
I built an alter for my father tonight
I prayed for mercy on his shattered soul
little pieces of him everywhere
still crying from the traumatic separation.
I lit an incense cone and inhaled the sweet smoke
and it reminded me of the time he took me to the Paisley Peacock
we bought sticks that smelled like sandalwood
and vinyl bumper stickers with political statements that I halfway understood
he was so proud of his liberal daughter
that he was so sure was a closet lesbian
I burned a candle for his tortured mind
that was just recently diagnosed with Post Traumatic Stress Disorder
and it reminded me of the Christmas program in first grade
The first time I ever sang a solo
I was nervous about carrying an open flame to the front of the church
so sure it would burn me, no matter how many times the preacher told me it was safe
until my father the firefighter promised that he would be there to help
I set some crystals under the full moon for him
I let them charge under the yellow light and remembered the time he picked me up from work
he took the long way home
he slowed the car down and pulled out a joint
and we smoked weed together for the first time, driving down dark country roads
yellow headlights bouncing between black trees
before I moved out of state
before I cut him out of my life completely
I knelt at the alter and sent out a prayer into the unknown
It reminded me of this past October
when I was recovering from a depression-ladled summer
when I wrote seven drafts of a letter
then gave the eighth to my grandmother, to give to my father
if she ever saw him again
if he was even still alive
I went back to my life
I was stretched thin and beginning to tear
it was the Christmas I was making minimum wage
struggling to find balance and healing in the desert
unsure of how I was going to feed my daughter after I paid the rent
when a card came in the mail, a response to the letter my grandmother had handed him
at the shelter where he was staying after spending years on the street
My father, who didn't even have his own home, bought us groceries that winter
I built an alter for myself that night
I set the intention to break the habits I had created from my relationship with my father
which carried over to every man I have ever held
I burned candles and incense and bathed my crystals in the moonlight
I acknowledged the same blood that runs through the two of us
I apologized
I forgave
and I thanked him for all he had passed on to me
I prayed for mercy on his shattered soul
little pieces of him everywhere
still crying from the traumatic separation.
I lit an incense cone and inhaled the sweet smoke
and it reminded me of the time he took me to the Paisley Peacock
we bought sticks that smelled like sandalwood
and vinyl bumper stickers with political statements that I halfway understood
he was so proud of his liberal daughter
that he was so sure was a closet lesbian
I burned a candle for his tortured mind
that was just recently diagnosed with Post Traumatic Stress Disorder
and it reminded me of the Christmas program in first grade
The first time I ever sang a solo
I was nervous about carrying an open flame to the front of the church
so sure it would burn me, no matter how many times the preacher told me it was safe
until my father the firefighter promised that he would be there to help
I set some crystals under the full moon for him
I let them charge under the yellow light and remembered the time he picked me up from work
he took the long way home
he slowed the car down and pulled out a joint
and we smoked weed together for the first time, driving down dark country roads
yellow headlights bouncing between black trees
before I moved out of state
before I cut him out of my life completely
I knelt at the alter and sent out a prayer into the unknown
It reminded me of this past October
when I was recovering from a depression-ladled summer
when I wrote seven drafts of a letter
then gave the eighth to my grandmother, to give to my father
if she ever saw him again
if he was even still alive
I went back to my life
I was stretched thin and beginning to tear
it was the Christmas I was making minimum wage
struggling to find balance and healing in the desert
unsure of how I was going to feed my daughter after I paid the rent
when a card came in the mail, a response to the letter my grandmother had handed him
at the shelter where he was staying after spending years on the street
My father, who didn't even have his own home, bought us groceries that winter
I built an alter for myself that night
I set the intention to break the habits I had created from my relationship with my father
which carried over to every man I have ever held
I burned candles and incense and bathed my crystals in the moonlight
I acknowledged the same blood that runs through the two of us
I apologized
I forgave
and I thanked him for all he had passed on to me
Wednesday, February 17, 2016
Mama Ayahuasca
Mama Ayahuasca shows me why I have so many stories. They're not all
happy or sad or funny or even interesting stories, but I have a lot of
them. She explains to me that I am not defined by them. That I have no
control over the bad things that I've seen or been through and to just
let these demons go to cast their shadows elsewhere.
She transmits to me what it feels like to be loved in the most pure sense and also to know that I am capable of sharing that feeling with others. She shows me where to find that love when I feel like I don't have enough of my own to give.
It's like having a conversation with myself, but faster and not in my own voice. As soon as I think of something to ask, the response is right there. The space between question and answer is tightened so closely that sometimes I'm not sure which happened first. These words aren't like they are in our world. They have mass and shape, they're tangible things. And this is how I speak to Mama Ayahuasca.
I feel truly alone under the medicine. It's just me and Her. Except I am her, at least for the time being, and it is hard to wrap my brain around that. I try and absorb as much of this world as I can. Remember this, I tell myself, you're gonna want to explain this on paper and work this out later. And then these words take over my brain, ingredients in this psychadelic soup that's moving through my body from my stomach to my head. It's all I can see.
Except I can't see. I'm blindfolded and still in my sleeping bag. There are no visuals for me, at least there haven't been yet. I ask Ayahuasca why I don't experience the beautiful fractals and lights that so many other people had described in their ceremonies. And she tells me why.
Everything is connected.
She pulls the ocean from my guts and throws me onto dry land where I discover that the gut blob of depression, anxiety, and shame is gone. I have to learn to live again without it. (I'm still learning. It is a process.) I have this empty void where the blob used to be and suddenly I feel very delicate. I am so happy and full of gratitude, but I worry that the gut blob will suddenly reappear at any second, that this was all just wishful thinking.
So Aya calls me back three weeks later, this time for Insight. She showed me in my first ceremony what my purpose on Earth is. Now she shows me my work. The hard part. The things I must suffer through in order to fulfill my potential. She pulls a writhing black ball of centipedes and spiders from my chest and clears a direct path to my heart, and from there she proceeds to break it. I want to think about something else, and She gently pulls my chin back to face the things that I will have to accept about my life. She tells me to look to Sagan. To look at the stars. I woke up from this ceremony not delicate at all. I feel stronger and more grounded.
* * * * * *
There are so many stories, so many things in my everyday life now, that I need to write out and process. Some of them, they are so bizarre, I couldn't make them up if I wanted to. I am finally down to working just one job, and I apologize if it seems like I've been blowing you off or avoiding you. It's not the case. I've been trying to find balance, and I am really hoping that I've created a little bit for now. I am returning to Ceremony next month, and I am already nervous and excited.
She transmits to me what it feels like to be loved in the most pure sense and also to know that I am capable of sharing that feeling with others. She shows me where to find that love when I feel like I don't have enough of my own to give.
It's like having a conversation with myself, but faster and not in my own voice. As soon as I think of something to ask, the response is right there. The space between question and answer is tightened so closely that sometimes I'm not sure which happened first. These words aren't like they are in our world. They have mass and shape, they're tangible things. And this is how I speak to Mama Ayahuasca.
I feel truly alone under the medicine. It's just me and Her. Except I am her, at least for the time being, and it is hard to wrap my brain around that. I try and absorb as much of this world as I can. Remember this, I tell myself, you're gonna want to explain this on paper and work this out later. And then these words take over my brain, ingredients in this psychadelic soup that's moving through my body from my stomach to my head. It's all I can see.
Except I can't see. I'm blindfolded and still in my sleeping bag. There are no visuals for me, at least there haven't been yet. I ask Ayahuasca why I don't experience the beautiful fractals and lights that so many other people had described in their ceremonies. And she tells me why.
Everything is connected.
She pulls the ocean from my guts and throws me onto dry land where I discover that the gut blob of depression, anxiety, and shame is gone. I have to learn to live again without it. (I'm still learning. It is a process.) I have this empty void where the blob used to be and suddenly I feel very delicate. I am so happy and full of gratitude, but I worry that the gut blob will suddenly reappear at any second, that this was all just wishful thinking.
So Aya calls me back three weeks later, this time for Insight. She showed me in my first ceremony what my purpose on Earth is. Now she shows me my work. The hard part. The things I must suffer through in order to fulfill my potential. She pulls a writhing black ball of centipedes and spiders from my chest and clears a direct path to my heart, and from there she proceeds to break it. I want to think about something else, and She gently pulls my chin back to face the things that I will have to accept about my life. She tells me to look to Sagan. To look at the stars. I woke up from this ceremony not delicate at all. I feel stronger and more grounded.
* * * * * *
There are so many stories, so many things in my everyday life now, that I need to write out and process. Some of them, they are so bizarre, I couldn't make them up if I wanted to. I am finally down to working just one job, and I apologize if it seems like I've been blowing you off or avoiding you. It's not the case. I've been trying to find balance, and I am really hoping that I've created a little bit for now. I am returning to Ceremony next month, and I am already nervous and excited.
Monday, January 18, 2016
Tuesday, January 12, 2016
Some Pre-Ayahuasca Feels
I found this poem that I wrote a few days before my first Ayahuasca Ceremony last October. I had no idea how much of an actual goodbye letter that this would turn out to be.
I know you're in there
slimy, bubbling, toxic thing
you're trying to be still and quiet
but I can feel you
you're getting nervous, aren't you?
I can tell
and you should be nervous
because in six days, you'll have a new home
deep, deep in the ground
and not in my gut
and I will no longer see you scurry
from the corners of my vision
and mistake you for the roaches in my kitchen
I know you're in there
slimy, bubbling, toxic thing
you're trying to be still and quiet
but I can feel you
you're getting nervous, aren't you?
I can tell
and you should be nervous
because in six days, you'll have a new home
deep, deep in the ground
and not in my gut
and I will no longer see you scurry
from the corners of my vision
and mistake you for the roaches in my kitchen
Saturday, December 26, 2015
The Time Alex and I Saw a Psychic
Juanita works at the 24-hour massage parlor. Everyone knows it's really a brothel. It's a yellow building with five-foot-tall pink flamingo on the sides in paint that was probably once very vibrant. Now, during the hundred degree summer nights, everything in Phoenix seems to be covered in a dusty film. July in the desert is seen through various filters of pastel depression. Alex is having a hard time tonight, too, and we figure now would be a good time to get really stoned and get a palm reading.
We want our psychic readings like we want our Taco Bell: cheap, cheesy, and open at eight o'clock on a Friday night.
And that's how we find Juanita.
Alex and I stand in front of the massage parlor's front door. Like the windows, it's covered with thick iron bars that are slathered in coats of the same faded yellow paint as the rest of the place. Funny enough, it is built right next to a Taco Bell. Alex presses the call button (also yellow) to let whomever is inside know that the two people who had called and made appointments for palm readings have arrived. We are a pair, standing in front of a brothel on a Friday night. Alex has a mohawk and he has started to let his beard grow out over the summer. I have been losing weight from stress so none of my clothes fit anymore, and my hair is neon pink. Oh, Juanita, have fun down there with those damned hipster kids.
She shows up with the keys to the front door in her hand. Juanita is both prettier and younger than I thought our psychic would be. She's short and round and has a genuine smile. She's surrounded by a very calm and welcoming energy, and as she pulls open the heavy metal gate over the door, I notice a pink canister of pepper spray and I wonder if she has ever been forced to use it.
Alex gets his reading first, and this means that I am being contained in the waiting room that serves both Juanita's clientele and the massage parlor's. Since I am the only person in the waiting room, I don't mind too much. The windows in the waiting room are made of stained glass, and every time a car drives by outside, the headlights made the room burst into fractals. The downside to this is that since cars are constantly driving by, the room is now very noisy and that means I can't eavesdrop on Alex's palm reading.
Ten minutes later, Alex opens the door, and it is my turn.
"So how do you two know each other?" Juanita asks me, referring to Alex.
"He came into the salon where I work, and we were just kind of instantly friends" I reply, sitting across the desk from her.
I put my hands up on the desk and press my fingers together, then I proceed to fold and then unfold my hands, because I have never had my palms read before; do I wait to be told to present my palms or do I just throw them on up there? These are things no one talks about and everyone needs to know.
"I am going to do a basic reading," Juanita tells me. "Very general, nothing too in-depth, okay? And good or bad, I'm just telling you what I see, no judgement, no hard feelings."
I nod, I stretch my open hands out towards her. Juanita looks at them one time and immediately begins talking.
"I see here you are a very strong person. You have been through a lot to become this strong. I see that you are also a very kind person, but you are not seeing the karmic payback for any of your kindness; you're just getting bad luck constantly and you are thinking this is not fair. Your life is like a roller coaster, okay? And you just need to try and get through this down time. You'll come back up eventually, but not right now. You started this year very off balance, with an emptiness in you, inside your body, some sort of trauma, okay? And you're trying to find balance with all the chaos around you."
I can't tell if my amazement is the result of me reading into Juanita's generalized observations in hopes of relief from the summer or if maybe she is the real deal, giving me an honest psychic experience.
"This year is a very bad year for you, and I'm sorry to say it's not going to get any easier until 2016. That's gonna be your year, okay? In the meantime, just try to keep your head down and get through this year. You have very good spirit guides, they take really good care of you, but you have a chakra that needs cleaning and it's creating this gateway, like a portal, to one of your past lives. You were a very evil woman in a past life...you were a witch."
When she says "witch" I pull my hands away. I tell Juanita that as a child, I used to have recurring nightmares about being burned alive as a witch. I know that I should try and play it cool and that this is just giving her more information than I should. I know that but I tell her anyway.
She goes on.
"I see paperwork, legal documents, a courtroom. Are you going through a divorce?"
I tell her yes, I am.
"It's not going to go as easily as it seems. It's going to take longer than you think. I also see a class? Something that you put off for yourself awhile back. Figure out what that is and get back to it."
Juanita tells me that I'm getting ready to go on a trip to see someone I love, in the next three weeks, to somewhere close. California?
"Yeah, I'm going in two weeks to see my best friend, Charlie, in Hollywood."
"It's going to be a good trip. Look forward to that, okay?"
I thank Juanita. She gives me a hug and tells me I can come back anytime for chakra cleaning. Alex and I pay her, twenty-five dollars apiece in cash, then we go to gay Denny's to discuss and compare our readings.
"Did she try to sell you chakra cleaning?" I ask him.
"No, it was super quick and super general. Just a few, 'this line means this and this line means this' and that was it. She did the reading so quickly, she felt bad for charging me full price so she let me ask her a question."
"So what did you ask her?"
Alex shrugs and says, "I asked her if I'd finish my book and she said that I will but that it will be a few years down the road. So she tried to sell you chakra cleaning? How did that happen?"
I tell him everything I can recall from my reading, so he can analyze it now and so I can remember it all later. The bits about the divorce, the past lives, the starting the year off with an internal emptiness and no karmic payoff...I'm pretty sure I don't leave anything out. Alex just listens.
"Dude," I say "Did you tell her I was getting divorced or started this year off with one kidney?"
"Nope," Alex says. "We didn't talk about you. I didn't talk at all, really. Maybe I should have said more, then maybe I would have gotten a better reading. I was too high to respond to anything she said."
I nod, take a drink of my hot coffee, and try to keep my head down for the rest of the summer.
We want our psychic readings like we want our Taco Bell: cheap, cheesy, and open at eight o'clock on a Friday night.
And that's how we find Juanita.
Alex and I stand in front of the massage parlor's front door. Like the windows, it's covered with thick iron bars that are slathered in coats of the same faded yellow paint as the rest of the place. Funny enough, it is built right next to a Taco Bell. Alex presses the call button (also yellow) to let whomever is inside know that the two people who had called and made appointments for palm readings have arrived. We are a pair, standing in front of a brothel on a Friday night. Alex has a mohawk and he has started to let his beard grow out over the summer. I have been losing weight from stress so none of my clothes fit anymore, and my hair is neon pink. Oh, Juanita, have fun down there with those damned hipster kids.
She shows up with the keys to the front door in her hand. Juanita is both prettier and younger than I thought our psychic would be. She's short and round and has a genuine smile. She's surrounded by a very calm and welcoming energy, and as she pulls open the heavy metal gate over the door, I notice a pink canister of pepper spray and I wonder if she has ever been forced to use it.
Alex gets his reading first, and this means that I am being contained in the waiting room that serves both Juanita's clientele and the massage parlor's. Since I am the only person in the waiting room, I don't mind too much. The windows in the waiting room are made of stained glass, and every time a car drives by outside, the headlights made the room burst into fractals. The downside to this is that since cars are constantly driving by, the room is now very noisy and that means I can't eavesdrop on Alex's palm reading.
Ten minutes later, Alex opens the door, and it is my turn.
"So how do you two know each other?" Juanita asks me, referring to Alex.
"He came into the salon where I work, and we were just kind of instantly friends" I reply, sitting across the desk from her.
I put my hands up on the desk and press my fingers together, then I proceed to fold and then unfold my hands, because I have never had my palms read before; do I wait to be told to present my palms or do I just throw them on up there? These are things no one talks about and everyone needs to know.
"I am going to do a basic reading," Juanita tells me. "Very general, nothing too in-depth, okay? And good or bad, I'm just telling you what I see, no judgement, no hard feelings."
I nod, I stretch my open hands out towards her. Juanita looks at them one time and immediately begins talking.
"I see here you are a very strong person. You have been through a lot to become this strong. I see that you are also a very kind person, but you are not seeing the karmic payback for any of your kindness; you're just getting bad luck constantly and you are thinking this is not fair. Your life is like a roller coaster, okay? And you just need to try and get through this down time. You'll come back up eventually, but not right now. You started this year very off balance, with an emptiness in you, inside your body, some sort of trauma, okay? And you're trying to find balance with all the chaos around you."
I can't tell if my amazement is the result of me reading into Juanita's generalized observations in hopes of relief from the summer or if maybe she is the real deal, giving me an honest psychic experience.
"This year is a very bad year for you, and I'm sorry to say it's not going to get any easier until 2016. That's gonna be your year, okay? In the meantime, just try to keep your head down and get through this year. You have very good spirit guides, they take really good care of you, but you have a chakra that needs cleaning and it's creating this gateway, like a portal, to one of your past lives. You were a very evil woman in a past life...you were a witch."
When she says "witch" I pull my hands away. I tell Juanita that as a child, I used to have recurring nightmares about being burned alive as a witch. I know that I should try and play it cool and that this is just giving her more information than I should. I know that but I tell her anyway.
She goes on.
"I see paperwork, legal documents, a courtroom. Are you going through a divorce?"
I tell her yes, I am.
"It's not going to go as easily as it seems. It's going to take longer than you think. I also see a class? Something that you put off for yourself awhile back. Figure out what that is and get back to it."
Juanita tells me that I'm getting ready to go on a trip to see someone I love, in the next three weeks, to somewhere close. California?
"Yeah, I'm going in two weeks to see my best friend, Charlie, in Hollywood."
"It's going to be a good trip. Look forward to that, okay?"
I thank Juanita. She gives me a hug and tells me I can come back anytime for chakra cleaning. Alex and I pay her, twenty-five dollars apiece in cash, then we go to gay Denny's to discuss and compare our readings.
"Did she try to sell you chakra cleaning?" I ask him.
"No, it was super quick and super general. Just a few, 'this line means this and this line means this' and that was it. She did the reading so quickly, she felt bad for charging me full price so she let me ask her a question."
"So what did you ask her?"
Alex shrugs and says, "I asked her if I'd finish my book and she said that I will but that it will be a few years down the road. So she tried to sell you chakra cleaning? How did that happen?"
I tell him everything I can recall from my reading, so he can analyze it now and so I can remember it all later. The bits about the divorce, the past lives, the starting the year off with an internal emptiness and no karmic payoff...I'm pretty sure I don't leave anything out. Alex just listens.
"Dude," I say "Did you tell her I was getting divorced or started this year off with one kidney?"
"Nope," Alex says. "We didn't talk about you. I didn't talk at all, really. Maybe I should have said more, then maybe I would have gotten a better reading. I was too high to respond to anything she said."
I nod, take a drink of my hot coffee, and try to keep my head down for the rest of the summer.
Tuesday, December 1, 2015
One year
Twelve months ago, everything changed.
Everything.
It's amazing to look back now and to see the effect that surgery would have on every other aspect of my life. I went into kidney donation thinking I was doing something to help change a stranger's life, and while I'm sure that I did accomplish that, I will admit that I was completely unprepared for the change it would bring about in my own life.
Nothing is the same.
NOTHING.
New home, new job, new car, new diet, new medicines, new freedom, new plans, new adventures, new friends, new stories, new priorities, new outlooks, new books, new life.
And I can trace it all back the one spirit journey, riding the Mission Beach roller coaster at midnight two summers ago during Comic Con. Things in my life were alright. I was married to a nice guy, we lived in a cute house in Phoenix, and I was out of hair school and working in a salon that I really liked. Everything was...fine? So why did I feel so lost and restless? I had everything I had told myself that I wanted. I didn't know what my next step should be, and it was starting to drive me crazy. So I rode the roller coaster at midnight. I sat by the ocean. And a few days later, while sitting at Dairy Queen with my daughter, it just hit me: I was going to donate a kidney. It was something that I was going to do. Simple as that.
Then it was a whirlwind of testing and obsessing before it actually happened on December 1st. Once those lines were cut, once I woke up in that hospital bed, I felt so... free. I saw my life for the gift it was. For what it still is. It's my life! It's mine to live and it's up to me to spend energy on the things that I love. It doesn't matter what I've been told is the right way to live. It doesn't matter what I think I'm supposed to be doing at my age. It doesn't matter that nothing is terrible and that everything is fine. It's not fine. I learned the hard way that if I don't stay true to myself, I will feel trapped and stagnant. I will spend my time wondering what's wrong with me, trying to figure out why I'm unhappy when everything should be great.
That's what happened when I donated the kidney. I saw through the bullshit that I had been feeding myself for years. I saw what I needed to do. I accepted that I didn't want the things that I once thought I wanted. I took a chance. Then I took more. It wasn't always easy. It's still not. But it is my life. And it's a beautiful, scary, fantastic life. And I am living it so much harder now with more adventure, more openness, more honesty, and with one kidney.
Everything.
It's amazing to look back now and to see the effect that surgery would have on every other aspect of my life. I went into kidney donation thinking I was doing something to help change a stranger's life, and while I'm sure that I did accomplish that, I will admit that I was completely unprepared for the change it would bring about in my own life.
Nothing is the same.
NOTHING.
New home, new job, new car, new diet, new medicines, new freedom, new plans, new adventures, new friends, new stories, new priorities, new outlooks, new books, new life.
And I can trace it all back the one spirit journey, riding the Mission Beach roller coaster at midnight two summers ago during Comic Con. Things in my life were alright. I was married to a nice guy, we lived in a cute house in Phoenix, and I was out of hair school and working in a salon that I really liked. Everything was...fine? So why did I feel so lost and restless? I had everything I had told myself that I wanted. I didn't know what my next step should be, and it was starting to drive me crazy. So I rode the roller coaster at midnight. I sat by the ocean. And a few days later, while sitting at Dairy Queen with my daughter, it just hit me: I was going to donate a kidney. It was something that I was going to do. Simple as that.
Then it was a whirlwind of testing and obsessing before it actually happened on December 1st. Once those lines were cut, once I woke up in that hospital bed, I felt so... free. I saw my life for the gift it was. For what it still is. It's my life! It's mine to live and it's up to me to spend energy on the things that I love. It doesn't matter what I've been told is the right way to live. It doesn't matter what I think I'm supposed to be doing at my age. It doesn't matter that nothing is terrible and that everything is fine. It's not fine. I learned the hard way that if I don't stay true to myself, I will feel trapped and stagnant. I will spend my time wondering what's wrong with me, trying to figure out why I'm unhappy when everything should be great.
BUT... if I follow the opportunities that make me feel love, I will be shown even more opportunities. And even if times get hard, even if I run out of money, even if I feel like I'm going crazy....I will not feel trapped. I will have an infinite amount of opportunities in front of me. I will be free.
That's what happened when I donated the kidney. I saw through the bullshit that I had been feeding myself for years. I saw what I needed to do. I accepted that I didn't want the things that I once thought I wanted. I took a chance. Then I took more. It wasn't always easy. It's still not. But it is my life. And it's a beautiful, scary, fantastic life. And I am living it so much harder now with more adventure, more openness, more honesty, and with one kidney.
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