A destination traveler is someone who keeps their eyes on the destination. What’s the shortest, most efficient way to get there? How quickly can we get there? How few times can we stop to get there faster? Where is the gas station closest to the exit, so we don’t have to get too far off track?

A journey traveler is someone who sees the journey as part of the vacation. Look at the sky, the changing landscape, that weird statue. Are there any overlooks we can stop and take pictures? That billboard said “World’s Best…” anything; we should stop. There is a loose plan and destination, but it’s not just about the destination.

My dad was a destination traveler, for the most part. He had his destination, and he wanted to get there as quickly as possible. He treated his work and life goals the same way; what was the quickest and most efficient way to learn or do the thing? I think the only exception to this was with my mom; he didn’t seem to mind slowing down or enjoying the view for her.

I am a journey traveler. When it comes to my goals, I sometimes like to think I can be a destination traveler, but I have proven to myself that I am not, and I am okay with that.

Does it take me longer to accomplish things?

Yes.

And yes, the road has probably been bumpier than it needed to be.

However, I have learned things about myself, others, and life that I wouldn’t have known to try to learn if I had been solely focused on the destination. I have had life experiences, relationships, and opportunities that I never would have considered if I were working solely from a detailed plan or agenda. I am happier and more successful now than I realized was even possible before.

Does that mean I am always happy or satisfied with life?

No.

I’m not trying to be a guru. I don’t have it all figured out. I’m actually quite overwhelmed at the moment.

I’ve just accepted that I wouldn’t want it any other way. I’ve accepted that my overall happiness and satisfaction in life require living in full color and feeling all of the things.

So how is my inner child journey going? It’s going as expected, considering I’m here for the journey, rather than the destination.

A few weeks ago, I wrote about publishing my first book and doing it for the 6-year-old version of me, who deeply believed she would be a published author one day.

I’ve been MIA from Substack for the last few weeks because I’ve been traveling with my kids. I went on a cross-country road trip with two of my older kids; it has been on my bucket list for as long as I can remember. One of our stops was Cadillac Ranch in Texas; it was another accomplishment for the 6-year-old version of me.

I distinctly remember being in first grade and looking through a coffee table book of different stops along Route 66. I was looking at pictures of Cadillac Ranch when I realized there are a lot of really cool things out there that I want to see. I truly believe my lifelong love of travel started then.

So there I was, with my kids, at Cadillac Ranch, spray painting my initials on every car, feeling as giddy as can be. In that moment, I had the thought, maybe this is the next journey. I’m supposed to be doing the things for her; my six-year-old self, who had a lot of big ideas and crazy dreams. The version of me that existed before the fear, loneliness, and self-doubt took over.

Sounds fun, right?

I was quickly reminded that every journey has its ups and downs.

My mom got sick. It started before I left, but things seemed to take a turn while I was gone. We came back a couple of days early because I felt the need to come home. We didn’t know what was wrong with her. The doctors are figuring it out, and we have a plan now, but things got scary. Things are still scary, but in a different way now.

Just a week and a half after painting my initials and embracing an inner child journey, I found myself kneeling on the floor in front of my mom, holding her hands, and reassuring her that everything was okay. She had woken up during the night, scared and confused about where she was. I was doing everything I could to stay calm while freaking out on the inside.

When she finally lay back down, she kept apologizing. I told her she didn’t need to apologize for anything. I kissed her head and told her I loved her. I felt like that six-year-old little girl, but this time it wasn’t with giddy excitement or over-the-top pride; it was with confusion and fear, not knowing what was going on, but wanting to be near my mom.

There are large chunks of my childhood I don’t remember, but one chunk I do remember, with great detail, was the year before I started kindergarten. I was apparently really smart from a young age, and my mom tried to get me in school a year early. After going through all of the testing and passing everything with flying colors, the district representative called my mom and told her that while I was ready academically, the district did not believe early entry was in the best interest of the children. Something about me being younger than all of my classmates once I reached high school.

This was a resentment my mom held onto for a long time because she wanted me to be challenged in school, and she felt their reason was stupid. I, however, couldn’t be happier because that year became a bonus year with my mom. Thinking I was going to start school and then not starting school translated to a bonus year in my mind. I got a whole extra year at home with my mom without the distractions of my dad or older siblings, who were all off at work or school.

We visited my grandma several times a week at the nursing home and ran errands. We spent a lot of time at the library, and we’d go to the park to eat lunch. We read a lot and played card games. She taught me how to cross stitch. My mom went to a couple of different support group meetings during the day, so I got to go with her. The other people there gave me snacks and told me how good I was during the meetings. She’d let me dust off the top of her dresser, and I’d look through her jewelry boxes and smell the perfumes while I did it.

My mom had a way of making the everyday tasks a learning game. When we went grocery shopping, she’d give me one item at a time to go find, but she’d also give me a couple of coupons, and I had to figure out which brand was the best price considering sales and coupons. Keep in mind, I was 5 years old at the time, so I could pick out 2 maybe 3 items in the time it took her to do everything else. As a parent now, I’m sure it helped her get her shopping done, with me spending 15 minutes trying to subtract the coupons off the price of spaghetti sauce or dog food to figure out the best price. But it also gave me a sense of independence and confidence. She never went back to double-check; whatever I determined was the best price, she trusted.

Every day, she’d let me walk down to the corner and wait for my brother to get off the bus, which he hated, and he would run past me every day yelling at me to stop waiting at the bus stop for him. That was the start of the busy, chaotic evenings… Dad would get home; there was cooking, setting and clearing the table, doing the dishes, going to meetings, helping my brother with homework, baths, and watching the news. Then nighttime prayers and off to bed.

But from 8 am to 3 pm, it was just me and her.

I don’t know what all of this means, or where the journey is heading, but I’m here for it.

I’ve been there before…dozens of times. I am blessed to live in a town that offers beach yoga five days a week all summer. I am blessed to have a job where I can mostly control my own schedule, so I can work in things like beach yoga.

This morning was different.

I wasn’t planning to go this morning. I had several client calls rescheduled, so I was going to use my newly freed-up morning to catch up on writing projects and client communication that I’ve fallen behind on. My career(s) have taken off tremendously over the past six months, and I’ve been feeling a bit overwhelmed trying to keep up with everything.

There are only so many hours in the day, and sacrifices need to be made. Unfortunately, the sacrifice made was my personal time. You would think, given my history, I would have known better. However, this wasn’t about sacrificing myself for people-pleasing, a lack of boundaries, or my other adult-child traits… this was sacrificing me for me. This was giving up my personal time to actively pursue the business side of life that I have wanted for years. This was finally feeling financially secure and feeling like I could actually start thinking about financial goals bigger than making sure I can pay my mortgage for the next three months.

Unfortunately, or fortunately, depending on how we’re going to look at it today, I have to find balance. I enjoy life way too much to not live it. This past month, I started feeling like all I do is work, and why am I doing all of this if I don’t have time to enjoy it?

I appreciate the fact that it wasn’t actually the case, but it was starting to feel like it. I was starting to look forward to weekend trips because they gave me a chance to get away. I NEVER want to feel like I need to get away from my life again. I already spent over a decade living a life I wanted to get away from.

This morning, my person called to say his job for the day was canceled and that he was going to beach yoga if I wanted to join. My first thought was no because I had so much to do, but I said yes.

Did I say yes for me or because I wanted to see him?

Great question… no clue. I do miss him pretty consistently, and he’s been doing really well with his treatment program and stuff, which makes it even harder because it’s weird…he’s acting like my person again, but he also relapsed like 3 months ago, so there’s fear, distrust, etc.

ANYWAY, the point is, I went to beach yoga.

Now, if you’ve gone to multiple different yoga classes with different instructors, you know that every instructor has their own feel and vibe for the class. Some are more yoga for exercise, and some are more yoga for personal/spiritual connection.

This wonderful woman was definitely on the yoga-for-personal/spiritual-connection side of the spectrum. She incorporated small walking meditations and poems, and ended with a short sound bath. She had an amazingly calm and reassuring voice. She focused on everyone moving with their own breath rather than moving in unison.

About halfway through the 1-hour class, I felt my body completely relax, and my mind slow down. Instead of reviewing what I needed to get done after the class, all my attention went to my breath and the sensations of the air, sunlight, and sand on my body. I felt myself coming into alignment for the first time in a hot minute. I wasn’t just going through the motions; I was feeling them.

So, why am I sharing this?

Because I feel amazing. I still have 3 days’ worth of work to get done in 1 day. My phone is still going off constantly with text and email notifications. My house is still messier than I am comfortable with. I still have errands to run later, and I still need to eat at some point.

But none of it feels overwhelming today.

Today, it feels like I created this beautiful life that I am immensely proud of.

Mindset is EVERYTHING. It is literally everything. That is a hill I will die on. Keeping a mindset that sees the joy in everything I do depends heavily on getting enough sleep and taking care of myself, which includes things like beach yoga, laughing, and eating sushi.

I keep talking about my book and starting a publishing company, and all of the fears and dreams and pieces of my soul that have gone into that. I’ve been managing that while also going through the emotional and physical upheaval of separating from my partner, while he focuses on his health and healing with the desire that we are able to come back together.

Add to that the things I don’t talk about as much or possibly at all on this platform…

• I am an ADHD coach with 25 clients on my roster,

• I run my own business helping individuals launch non-profits (everything from the state and IRS paperwork to grant writing and tracking),

• I still do ghostwriting and content editing (although I’ve moved that under the umbrella of our publishing company),

• I have my own non-profit, which I use to help fund community projects I’m passionate about (we are currently building a free food shed for a community garden).

• Last but most importantly, I am the mother to 5 children and the head of my household, as well as a daughter, sister, and friend to people I love spending time with.

Why do I do all of this?

That is a great question…

I love everything I do.

I am determined not to be dependent on an employer for my livelihood.

I am also an adult child, so I am still addicted to chaos, and it sneaks in from time to time when I take on new projects without knowing exactly how or when I will be able to accomplish them… yet I do it with complete confidence.

I’m not telling you all of this to garner any kind of emotion. I’m telling you this to demonstrate that I am constantly in motion, and I mean constantly. I do my best to practice mindfulness, stay present, and explore my emotions when they come up, but I’m doing it while in motion.

Last weekend was my book launch. Over 40 people showed up to our book launch party. I stood up on a small stage, talked about what inspired my book, and then read a few letters. I didn’t get through even one letter without tearing up… on stage in front of over 40 people. I didn’t cry out of happiness or sadness; it was just an overwhelm of every emotion… all of the emotions… all at once.

It started with seeing my son. It was my turn to speak. I stood up, looked across the room, and locked eyes with my 18-year-old son, who was red-faced with tears in his eyes. My throat immediately tightened, making it hard to start speaking. I got through it with many long pauses and deep breaths.

That night, I went into his room to talk about the day. Laughing, I told him it was because of seeing him that I couldn’t keep it together. I asked him why he was already crying when I hadn’t even read anything yet. He responded that his entire life, he had only heard me talk about ever wanting two things: to be a mother and to be a published author. He continued, saying that when I stood up there, he was overwhelmingly proud of me because I did it; I was a great mother and now a published author.

I did not expect that response.

The overwhelm of all the emotions came back immediately.

I went to my bedroom and lay on my bed. I stayed there motionless. The never-fully-finished to-do list on my desk, the not-yet-completed work projects on my computer, the laundry needing to be switched… all the things I should or could have been doing, accomplishing, finishing sat untouched while I lay motionless on my bed, feeling what he said.

I remembered this photo, which I’ve spent the last week trying to find (with no luck). It was a photo of me at around 6 years old, sitting at the dining room table, typing away on my mom’s old typewriter. It was metal with green plastic keys and white engraved letters. It stayed in a big, hard, brown case that had a broken latch, and it was really heavy. I needed help getting it to the table when I used the typewriter.

I typed stories, letters, news articles, and random thoughts. I learned how to unstick the keys without getting ink all over my hands. I learned to line up the paper with the keys after pulling it out to use the whiteout… I used a lot of whiteout because I wasn’t that great at spelling yet. I typed everything confidently, knowing I would be a published author one day. I would stand in the middle of the living room reading my latest written masterpiece to my mom.

I use this platform to talk a lot about ACA, inner-child work, and healing… this is it. I lay on my bed feeling what I accomplished for her. This wasn’t my accomplishment. This was my 6-year-old inner child typing away on her mom’s old typewriter and confidently showing everyone what she had done.

I still have the typewriter. It stopped working somewhere around high school. I’ve moved it from house to house with me for the last 20-plus years with the intent of getting it fixed and giving it a home in my home. I thought I would do it when my kids were young, so they could grow up typing away on it as I did, but then life happened, I didn’t do it, and then I felt bad about not doing it, and so on… There was no limit to the “not getting it done” cycle.

I spent most of last week motionless, reflecting on and feeling what I accomplished. What do you do after you accomplish the one thing you wanted to do your entire life?

Maybe I’ll start with figuring out where to go to fix an old typewriter.

He could have been a total quack… I’ve heard him say many nonsensical things in other meetings. That, however, has stuck with me. Every time I venture into the unknown and start feeling all sorts of feels, I ask myself whether I’m feeling anxious or excited.

This time, the answer is both!

I started writing little thank-you notes in my journal three years ago. I wasn’t planning on actually sharing them with anyone. I just kept doing it. Separate from that, about two years ago, my writer-bestie and I started a writer’s group together. Even though I helped start it, I didn’t have much to share. I was mostly writing for other people.

One day, at the meeting, after several months of not actually sharing anything, I figured I’d share a couple of these letters I had written. The letters were to random people I had met who said or did something that had a lasting impact on me. Some were family or friends, some were coworkers, some were people who attended the same meetings I did, and some were just people I had a chance encounter with.

The response I got from the group that day was a bit overwhelming. Everyone loved them. One woman, whom I had never met before that night, came up to me afterward, teary-eyed, and told me how much she related to the personal situation I wrote about in the letter. Another person told me that I made them realize how much they had to be grateful for in their life. Afterward, my writer-bestie told me I was onto something, and I should really think about how the letters could be organized in a book.

My book is a collection of thank-you letters to people who have helped me along my healing journey. It starts with the year I was 37 because that was when my healing journey began. I tell my story through the lens of gratitude for the people around me and the experiences we shared, both good and bad.

It follows my journey through depression, divorce, and physical health problems. My progression through Adult Children of Alcoholic/Dysfunctional Families, integrating meditation into my life, learning who I was, and falling in love with myself. Finding multiple communities of support and the impact that they had on later struggles. It follows me as I fall in love again, after believing that I was simply not the kind of girl someone could deeply love. My story takes some dramatic twists towards the end, but (not to spoil the ending) I turn out pretty okay, loving who I am and the life I’m living.

So, here I am, three years later, with six cases of books on my bedroom floor and a launch party planned for June 20th. I’m excited to have my book published and sell copies, but also anxious about people reading it. I’m not sure how to ask people to go ahead and buy it, but promise to never read it. That might be a little much.

Since I can’t do that, here is my ask.

I know I’ve shared several letters on here over the last year or so. If you feel you’ve read enough to feel comfortable offering a rating or review on Goodreads, here is the link HERE.

You can pre-order my book on Amazon HERE

AND if you live anywhere within driving distance of Cleveland, Ohio, and want to come to my launch party, it will be Saturday, June 20, at Worts and Wands, 2525 Market Street. Cleveland, Ohio, from noon to 2 pm EST.

When we think of the word “victim,” we might think of personal attacks by others. However, being in victimhood includes the all-encompassing “poor me” mindset. While I did believe there were people against me, I also believed there were people who just didn’t understand how horrible everything was, and not understanding was just as bad because it perpetuated my eternal aloneness.

If you are reading this and thinking, “yeah, but…” You’re probably living in a bit of victimhood at the moment.

When I lived in victimhood, I genuinely thought things just kept happening to me. Everything was outside my control. I was constantly under attack and warding off the world. I was constantly struggling just to keep my head above water. EVERYTHING was ALWAYS happening TO me.

Every red light, every missed call, every stuffy nose, every day school was canceled, every job application that resulted in nothing, every everything was confirmation that the universe was conspiring against me.

It wasn’t conscious. I was so deeply in denial about everything happening in my life that I genuinely believed I had no control. I was just floating there, getting constantly slammed by the waves, and failing to realize that if I just stood up, I could walk out of the water.

I’m going to tell you all about how I came out of denial and finally stood up, but that will be another article. For now, I want to share some of the reasons people stay in denial. There ARE benefits to victimhood that most don’t realize they are reaping while in the mix.

First of all, how does it start? How do we end up there in the first place?

When we are in dysfunctional and chaotic settings as young children, we witness and learn a wide range of survival traits that often include victimhood and learned helplessness.

Maybe we learned that victimhood could lead a normally cold, distant, or harsh parent to side with us, comfort us, or even defend us.

Maybe we learned to get attention by constantly needing help.

Maybe we learned to get others to do things for us by combining a little of both.

Maybe we learned that constantly having to struggle or being constantly busy leads others to provide validation.

I know one young person who has grown up watching her mother act helpless and constantly play the victim to get men to do things for her…give her rides, money, and places to stay. She has learned to “play dumb” to avoid having to do things for herself.

I know another woman who grew up feeling like nothing she did was ever good enough due to her harsh mother. After having children of her own, she would consistently post sob-stories on social media about how little her children appreciated her, and she’d get dozens of people commenting about what an amazing mother she was.

I know another woman (me) who grew up feeling the constant pressure of perfectionism, and when things went sideways in my life, I had to blame outside forces because looking at myself meant I was a failure.

BENEFITS OF VICTIMHOOD

1. Help - Whether we are unable to ask for help because we’ve learned to be rigidly self-sufficient or because we want to manipulate people into doing things for us, because we can, victimhood has a way of getting us the things we need or want. If we cry to enough people, we’ll find the fixers, the people-pleasers, the white knights, the Captain Save-A-Hoes.

2. Validation - We get validation from others that we are good people, good parents, good workers… We are reassured that things will get better because we deserve better, and it’s just been a string of bad luck, or near misses, or something else.

3. Freedom from Responsibility - If everything is beyond my control, then I am not responsible for it, and therefore, there is nothing I can do to fix or change it. Once I acknowledge that I am in charge of my life and what happens in it, I have no one to blame. I have to admit that I am choosing the life I am living, even if it seems intolerable.

While living in victimhood, I did benefit from that freedom from responsibility. However, I suffered because my life was a freaking mess, and I was miserable. That’s where the denial came in. First, I had to realize what I was doing, the benefit I was getting from it, and make the decision that I was done. Second, I had to stick to it. When bad things happened, I couldn’t jump back into victimhood. Someone once said, “Just because you wake up, doesn’t mean you can’t fall back to sleep.”

Many years ago, I was married to an active alcoholic. He caused a lot of chaos. I stayed for a long time. I enabled his drinking for a long time. I allowed it to tear our lives apart. I lived in the victimhood of that for years. As long as he was the villain, I could be the victim.

I was negatively impacted by my own victimhood mentally, emotionally, spiritually, financially, lifely…friends, family, hobbies…you name it, I was suffering. I kept suffering because I wasn’t able to stand up and walk out of the water… yet. When I finally did, it was like entering a whole new world I didn’t even know existed. (My internal dialogue just started singing “A Whole New World” from Aladdin).

Last year, my partner relapsed on drugs. I was knocked down for a hot minute… I fell into victimhood. How could he do this to me? to us? It had a grip on me…for a couple of months (not years). Then I stood back up.

I chose to stay.

He relapsed again this year…although looking back, I don’t believe he ever regained his footing in sobriety after last year, so was it a relapse or an inevitable continuation? That’s a topic for another day.

This time, while I definitely had some “poor me” moments, I don’t believe I fell back into victimhood. I know my role, and I take responsibility for that. I made my choices, and I stand by them. My life has changed, and there has been a lot of sadness and anger on my part, but my life is not suffering. My career, my family, my friends, and my mental, emotional, and spiritual well-being are still on point.

I take responsibility for my life…whatever it looks like.

It hit me, and I could tell it hit others in the meeting. I immediately wrote it down, so I could remember it afterward. It seemed so simple, but also deeply profound.

If you’re early in your healing journey and haven’t had the opportunity to experience that yet, it might sound like bullshit. After all, nothing can change the past, right? Nothing can change past decisions, past traumas, past conflicts.

Which is true… we can’t change what happened. However, we can change our experience.

We assign meaning and, consequently, emotions to everything we experience. A while back, I wrote an article on meaning-making, which addressed this. Here’s what meaning-making can look like… or at least, it can in my life.

The thing that happened: My partner relapsed on drugs

Possible Meaning #1: He doesn’t love me… because if he did, he wouldn’t have jeopardized our entire relationship. He wouldn’t have lied. He wouldn’t have snuck around. If he loved me, he would not have done that, so he must not love me. He probably never did love me.

Possible Meaning #2: I’m just not good enough. If I were good enough for him, he would have valued our relationship more and not relapsed on drugs. My first partner also struggled with addiction. I wasn’t good enough for him either. I have to be better, so my partners stop turning to drugs or alcohol.

Possible Meaning #3: He clearly has many issues he has not fully addressed yet, because when things got serious, he chose to escape rather than face them. It really sucks, and I’m devastated by his actions because I love him and I believe he loves me too, but he has to focus on healing his own wounds. I can’t do it for him. I have to focus on taking care of myself.

You can imagine the different emotions I would be/could be assigning to each of those meanings. For a long time, the first two meanings were my go-tos. I believed everything was my fault, and I was intrinsically unlovable. I was the cause of everything bad in my life, and possibly the entire world. I existed in a victim mindset.

Today, the third possible meaning is my go-to. I’ve been focused on maintaining my emotional sobriety for some time now, and I’ve gotten myself to a place where it doesn’t take too much effort to choose the meanings that don’t tear me down. I can take responsibility for my role in a relationship while also acknowledging others’ roles. It isn’t an all-or-nothing thing.

How does this improve our childhoods?

Valid Question.

The longer we are emotionally sober, the better equipped we are to assign proper meaning to past situations and accurately assess our responsibilities. When talking specifically about childhood trauma, “our responsibilities” are most often:

• learning to take care of ourselves in the now,

• fully understanding and accepting that we didn’t cause it and we couldn’t cure it,

• Stepping out of the victim mindset,

• Focusing on our recovery, instead of living in the problem.

The people who caused our trauma as children were lost in their own traumas, issues, and dysfunction. This is NOT to excuse or justify their behavior; it is to say that dysfunction is generational; it is passed on from generation to generation without conscious thought until someone (probably you, if you’re reading this) decides they are going to put all of their efforts into healing the traumas, so it doesn’t have to continue down the line.

As you progress in your healing journey, you learn that you don’t need to define yourself by what happened to you. You don’t need to obsess over what happened to you, letting it control your every thought and reaction. You don’t need to stay in victimhood, constantly blaming the predators of your childhood for your adult interactions. You aren’t responsible for what happened to you, but you are responsible for your healing.

You can assign the proper meaning to your childhood, which is that you were exposed to highly dysfunctional people who took their dysfunction out on you, and none of it was a reflection on your looks, your intelligence, your behavior, your grades, your actions, your value, your worthiness, or your lovability.

You can rewrite the story.

I wished we could hold onto that moment. I wished that all the stars would align and that he would have the courage and strength to face his demons head-on this time. He would use the resources available to him. He would turn to the people who loved him. He would harness the awareness he already had to make the needed changes.

~~~

Eight years ago, I worked for a local newspaper. It was during the height of the opioid epidemic, and I went to a town hall-type event to write an article on it for the newspaper. It was held at a local church, with several speakers. One was a lady who would later become my boss when I took the job at the Recovery Community. One was a man whom I later worked with through the Recovery Community when he joined the board.

Then there was a younger guy, who stood up and spoke passionately about his years of addiction and the life he had now thanks to his recovery. The way he spoke was empowering. He had a light that shone through as he spoke. I looked around the room, and I could tell people weren’t just listening; they were hearing him.

Later that year, I took the job at the Recovery Community, and a few months after starting, I met that guy again. He participated in recovery community events with his young children, and he started attending the ACA meeting I attended. We got to know each other through meetings and interactions before and after them. We became friends.

After a few years, he became a friend whom I could rely on. He was someone who always showed up. He always had something to say. He was always open to new ideas. He was always up for coffee. He always encouraged me to push myself. He loved his kids and spent all the time he could with them.

I knew he had his demons, but didn’t we all?

Then I fell in love. I fell in love with the man I knew he was. The man I knew would push through and face his demons because he was a fighter. One of the promises in our program is: We learn to expect the best and get it. That was the attitude he carried around every day.

When we started dating, he expected the best from me for me. He pushed me to follow my dreams, overcome my fears, take risks, and try new things. I was already on this trajectory in my life, but too often I got comfortable with where I was at. He was just always there, asking about the writing I got done that day, if I made it to the gym, when I was jumping in the ice bath. He asked questions that made me think. He encouraged me to run with my ideas.

He pushed me to face my past wounds and work through the traumas, which I guess is ironic now because he failed to face his…so far. I still believe in him.

I’ve written a lot about his relapse last year and how it impacted me. I thought after that, he was solid. I thought things were good. We were working on rebuilding our relationship, and he was working on strengthening his recovery, I thought.

Yet, here we are again.

After last year, I thought I had clear black-and-white boundaries. I believed that if he ever used again, it would be a simple decision to walk away. After all, I do solidly know that I deserve better. I deserve to be wildly loved. I deserve to be with someone who is willing to put in the hard work to make themselves the best, healthiest version of themselves.

As it turns out, it was not a simple decision. It was a complete and utterly painful soul rupture.

Why?

Because I love him. It’s simple and genuine. My having to walk away is no reflection on the love I feel for him.

This is usually where I go into my lesson for myself: the insight I gained from this situation. I do have some, but I don’t want to jump the gun. I’m still in the thick of it, and I have no doubt there is a lot more to learn. The ACA Laundry List Traits are certainly hitting me in the face as I step back to look at my role and my actions.

What I can say is that I have found myself surrounded by people who wildly love me… including the currently sad-looking girl in the mirror.

I want to take a minute to recognize all of you who have poured your heart and soul into books. I’ve been a ghostwriter for many years, and I have walked many people through the process of finding their voice and putting words to paper. I’ve researched, written, and published nonfiction, how-to books for different publishers. I am no stranger to the writing and publishing process.

This, however, is the first time I’ve bared my soul on paper with the intention of letting other people read it. This project started 2.5 years ago, when I started journaling letters to people I met. I had no intention of sharing what I was doing with anyone, but then it kept growing, and I told a couple of friends what I was working on.

Then my writer bestie and I started a writer’s group, and I shared some of my journal entries with a small group of fellow writers. The reaction I got from others was surprising, heartfelt, and emotional. People connected with what I had written in a way I had never experienced before, so I kept going.

Now, here I am with a written, edited, and formatted manuscript almost ready for publication. The anticipation, anxiousness, and fear are insanely high. It’s like when I was pregnant for the first time, about to become the mother to a tiny human that would depend on me for everything, and I felt completely and utterly unqualified for the position.

To further the anticipation, excitement, frenzy, and fear, my writer bestie and I decided a little over a year ago to start our own hybrid publishing company. We are launching our new company with the publication of our first two books. My letters book, launching the non-fiction side of our company, and her insanely amazing fantasy novel, launching the fiction side of our company.

We’ve named our company Moon & Moss Creations. We’re offering a full range of writing and publishing services, as well as programming, to spark creativity and help people find their voice.

I write a lot about grieving the life I thought I was going to have, and the pain of letting go. The pain of letting everything fall apart…of watching my life burn around me. I spent years of my life trying to hold everything together… to maintain the appearance of perfection. I spent countless nights begging God for help… begging him to fix the things falling apart and save the life I was clinging to.

I’ve said this before, but it’s so worth saying again. I am living a life I never would have dreamed of before. Yes, I always wanted to write my own book, but I thought of topics that were more of personal interests that I could write about in-depth. I never imagined I would write a book so incredibly personal about my life, dysfunction, healing, thoughts, and emotions. I never imagined being this vulnerable on such a large stage.

AND I never imagined going into business with a fellow writer and all-around amazing, beautiful human being, and creating a company that would allow me to read, write, and work with other writers. I always said I wanted to be able to support myself with writing. I had always limited myself in those thoughts without even realizing it. I love helping other people. I love helping others feel heard and empowered.

I am starting this new adventure, doing all the things I love. It’s kind of crazy to think about.

IMPORTANT: With all of that said, please check out our website and join our mailing list. We’ll use the email list for book and program announcements, and we'll also take volunteers for upcoming launch teams (people who get free gifts and book previews in exchange for honest reviews).

Click here ==» Moon & Moss Creations

Thank you!

While listening to the converation, I asked this person if they ever stopped to consider what they were grateful for having that person in their life. I didn’t say it to be reprimandy or condescending… I meant it genuinely. Through my letter writing project, I’ve come to learn and fully accept that people who have come into my life have been teachers for me whether the lesson was a positive one or a negative one. It’s up to me to be open to the lesson.

Leo Buscaglia wrote, “Don’t avoid people who create negative states in you. We have a tendency to turn around and walk away, but they are going to require you to reevaluate yourself and see yourself in a new light” (p.108).

This thought may seem contrary to having boundaries and protecting your peaace, which are important. However, we want to be mindful not to create boundaries that are so thick and protective that they block us from growing and learning.

I have a personal conflict with “trigger warnings” while I appreciate not wanting to blindside someone with startling information, I do not believe triggers should be avoided. Being triggered mentally and emotionally allows us to feel and better understand the wounds we still carry and gain insight on how to heal them. I believe a trigger warning is meerly an opportiunity for me to take a deep breath, center myself, and then move forward. Too often I see people using trigger warnings as a means of avoiding things that may be hurtful or difficult.

For a long time, I used boundaries as a means of shutting people out. Exclaiming that I was protecting my peace with my actions made it all justified and the people around me supported my decisions…because who doesn’t want to protect personal peace, right?

I’ve slowly (VERY slowly) learned that if I heal those wounds constantly being triggered, I can be around people who trigger them while still maintaininng my peace. There are people I chose not to interact with or to limit my interaction with. However, if I do run into them or have a situation that requires me to interact with them, I can maintain my peace. I might get a flustered or anxious, but I’m not losing my shit, which used to be pretty common.

There is one such person, who is in the perifial of my circle. This person is related to people I am extremely close to, and given life circumstances, cutting them out completely is not a viable option. I was extremely hurt by this person, and it would have been easy to exclude them from my letter writing project. However, that would not have been true to the spirit and intent of the project for me.

Here is an excerpt of my letter to them.

Dear Instrument of Existence,

Thank you for helping me see how truly amazing my family is, and for giving me a new perspective on the value of coming from a “circle the wagons” family.

As I write this, I’m still feeling the confusion and anger of your actions. You were malicious for no reason. You were manipulative and two-faced. You weaponized any scrap of information you could get your hands on to hurt me and those I love. I sat down to write this letter and couldn’t figure out what to write because the sting of what you did is still vibrating under my skin. Then thoughts of my family started flooding my mind, and the contrast became vivid.

~~~

What am I trying to say?

I’m trying to say that your actions have shown me, in greater detail and with overwhelming emotions, how much I love and appreciate my family. They have been a foundation of support since the beginning of this healing journey, and I can’t express in words how much they mean to me.

P.S.

Since first writing this letter, I’ve come to accept that you sincerely fall under the “(unhealed) hurt people hurt people” category. What you did actually had nothing to do with me, even though I was the one you attacked. You were angry and lashing out, and I was an easy target at the time. I’m not excusing what you did; I’m just acknowledging the hurt, angry little kid I see when I look at you. I’ve learned to stop living in the pain you caused, so I suppose that’s in the ballpark of forgiveness.

I finally figured it out. It was when I stopped reading this book.

In my freshman year of high school, my brother was a junior. All juniors were required to read the book Living, Loving & Learning by Leo Buscaglia. Now, my brother and I had an arrangement, so I actually read the book for him and highlighted the important passages. In the process, I fell in love with the book.

I read it again in my sophomore year for fun. I read it in my junior year as my required reading. In my junior year, I also made this phenomenal art project involving themed collages and quotes from the book. It was magnificent, and I’m sad I don’t still have it, but that’s another story. I read it again during my senior year.

When I left for college, I took it with me and would frequently flip through, reading the passages I had highlighted and the notes I had written in the margins. Then, in my sophomore year of college, I loaned it to someone I had met, who I thought would really enjoy it, and never got it back.

That’s where it all went wrong!

I stopped reading it. I stopped meditating on the passages. I stopped contemplating how to live my life in this way. I eventually stopped repeating the messages I could remember from the book. I stopped telling people about the book and why they should read it. I stopped actively creating my life and fell into this role and routine of expectations and fear of judgment.

“You make the decision, you take your paintbrush, you choose your colors, you paint your paradise, and then you live in it. Or paint hell if you want to, but don’t blame me for it….life isn’t an isolated phenomenon, but it is part of the general experience, constantly influencing and being influenced by every new moment. You don’t like where you are? Then change it! BE someone else. Do your thing for a change, and learn from what happens” (108).

When I finally let everything fall apart in order to start over, I started hanging out with a new group of people I met through meetings. They would regularly talk about the law of attraction and creating our own realities, and I rejected it all. Obviously, I did NOT create this reality. Why would I? I was miserable.

As time went on, my thoughts shifted. I started reading about it, and while I didn’t buy into everything, a lot of it made sense. The only thing I have control over is myself… how I react and respond to the world around me. I control how I choose to perceive life and all of its pieces and parts. I can stop allowing my perception of what others may or may not be thinking of me to control me.

I can actively create my own reality.

When I first listened to my friends talk about it, I took it to mean I could control everything about my reality, including others, but that’s not how it works.

I can’t make my kids happy, but I can love them and enjoy the time I spend with them.

I can’t make my boyfriend stay sober, but I can take care of myself through the painful parts and know that his choices are not a reflection of me.

I can’t fix all the problems for the people I love, but I can be there. I can love and support them through whatever they are going through.

I can’t force my way into a job with a huge salary and all of the benefits while still getting to do whatever I want and prioritize my family, but I can pursue my own passions and allow that to build the wealth I need to be comfortable.

I can’t stop others from judging or being critical, but I can stop giving a fuck and live as loudly or as quietly as I want to.

I can dress up, wear big earrings, and still get lost in the woods. I can love people with all of my heart without losing myself in the process. I can do what I believe is right for me, even if others disapprove.

I can choose to put myself first, to always make my self-care a priority, and to actively do the things that make me feel joyful.

None of this was new! It was what I was learning in the 12 steps.

It was what I read, over and over again, highlighted, underlined, and made notes about in that book.

About two months ago, I found a copy of Living, Loving & Learning at a book sale. I got super excited, telling my boyfriend how much I loved this book when I was younger. I bought it, and that night, I read to him from the book while he painted my toenails.

Things have gotten complicated, and I was feeling the familiar strain of this can’t be my life right now. Last night, I picked up the book, flipped open to a random page, and read the passage I added above. That’s when I realized where it all went wrong. I stopped believing that I was the one holding the paintbrush.

When you are an alcoholic, you can mark the day and time of your last drink. Your AA anniversary is based on when you quit drinking, not when you started going to meetings. Although those two days may be the same, it’s not a given. My dad was in and out of AA for like three years before he actually got sober.

However, you can also be sober for years without ever achieving emotional sobriety. You can be an asshole alcoholic, get sober, and discover you’re still an asshole. You may even just switch addictions without even realizing it. You stop drinking and start gambling, or eating your emotions, or sleeping around, or scrolling endlessly on your phone.

So many addictions allow you to mark the exact day your recovery journey began because it included abstinence from the substance or activity you are addicted to.

How do you mark your journey in recovery when your addiction is to your emotions, your internal chemicals, your attachment needs, or your core beliefs? I started going to ACA in 2018. Yet, I still struggle with co-dependency. So, when do I declare my anniversary in recovery?

Recovery is such a weird thing because it really can mean a lot of different things to different people. I can be in recovery from the addictions that I believe have ruined my life, but maintain the addictions that I don’t really have a problem with. It’s really up to me, isn’t it?

AA talks about total abstinence of mood or mind-altering substances… except, of course, for nicotine, caffeine, and sugar. I don’t think I’ve ever gone to an AA meeting that didn’t have coffee, sweets, and a group of people outside smoking. I’m NOT knocking AA. I have a deep love and respect for that fellowship, and most of my friends are members.

I’m just saying, you can’t really argue that nicotine, caffeine, and sweets aren’t mood or mind-altering. I once went from drinking 2-3 POTS of coffee a day to none, and I thought I was going to die. I got so sick. Not to mention, my brain was so foggy that I could barely put sentences together coherently. Spend 20 minutes with a smoker who’s out of cigarettes, and you’ll see what mood-altering can look like.

What am I rambling on about? Seriously.

I had to utilize the index of the Big Red Book (the primary ACA literature) to find a definition for emotional sobriety. It is referenced many times throughout the book without being explained, which I found interesting. I like clear definitions. Anyway, here is the closest to what I would call a definition:

“Emotional Sobriety is measured by the freedom we gain by abstaining from acting out on the laundry list traits” (pg. 347 BRB). The laundry list traits are the traits or survival skills we adopted as children.

According to the Cleveland Clinic, “Emotional sobriety is the ability to manage emotions, stress, and life’s challenges in a healthy, balanced way without relying on substances or unhealthy coping mechanisms. It goes beyond physical sobriety (not using substances) to cultivate internal peace, maturity, and genuine self-worth. It involves processing, rather than numbing, emotions.”

According to Bill W. (co-founder of AA), “[Emotional Sobriety is] freeing oneself from dependency on people or circumstances for happiness and self-worth, developing genuine maturity, humility, and inner peace.”

Emotional sobriety is everything. It is the existence I need to thrive.

My life took a turn this month that has rocked my emotional sobriety… or did it?

I started writing this article because I feel like a hot mess… not the fun kind either. I felt like everything I’ve been working on for the past few years had been reversed. I’m angry, sad, scared, confused… the list goes on. My house is a mess. I’ve missed my eye doctor’s appointment twice because I keep forgetting, and I’m past due on work deadlines because my brain feels like mush.

But then I looked up those definitions of emotional sobriety, and I’ve been sitting here reading them on repeat. I actually think I’m doing okay. I am feeling all of the feelings right now, and it is exhausting, but they’re also all valid.

I’m not trying to escape them. I’m not trying to numb them. I’m talking to people. I’m going to meetings. I’m praying. I’m doing the things…maybe not all of the things, but I’m doing most of the things I’m supposed to be doing.

I did schedule a tattoo appointment, but in all fairness, I don’t have health insurance right now, and if I’m going to pay out-of-pocket for therapy, it might as well come with the ecstatic pain of a million needle pricks.

I keep listening to this song You’re Gonne Be Okay by Ashh Blackwood…

It is loud in my mind today

I’m jumbled up, I cannot think straight

No matter how many steps I take

Everything feels so far away

…

So I puff out my chest

Take a deep breath

I’m gonna be okay

Is it loud in my mind

I’ll take my time

I’m gonna be okay

SO, I guess I am as emotionally sober as it gets for today, and my mom keeps telling me I just need to worry about today.

I was in the middle. I couldn’t get back up from where I was, but getting all the way down safely felt impossible in that moment. My mind was telling me this was a bad idea, but it was too late to change my mind.

I took a deep breath and, less than lovingly, told my boyfriend I needed him to stop telling me what to do. I looked down between the log I was clinging to and the next log I was going to need to lunge for, and my glasses slipped off, splashing into the water below.

So that was cool. I kept staring at the next log and the rocks, a little fuzzier now, trying to properly gauge the distance and convince my mind that my legs were long enough to make the transition.

In a moment of “fuck it,” I lunged forward. I caught the rock with my foot just as my arms wrapped around the fallen tree. My body stopped right where I wanted it to. I wasn’t falling the rest of the way down the waterfall onto the rocks covered by freezing cold water. My boyfriend exclaimed something I can’t remember, but it felt excited and supportive.

I used the log as my third point of contact, making the rest of the way down one wet rock at a time. I was so excited as I got towards the bottom, I wrapped my legs around the next fallen tree and let my body hang down, so I could reach into the water and feel around for my glasses.

It was one of those exhilarating moments I get to experience only when I do something I did not in any way, shape, or form think I could do before actually doing it.

You might be wondering, if I didn’t think I could do it, how did I end up halfway down a waterfall? Great question. I have this man in my life with these piercing blue eyes and boyish smile that just make me want to follow him anywhere, and he is not afraid to climb down waterfalls.

Buy me a waterfall

I started writing this article because I was inspired by today’s ACA* Daily Meditation reading, which focused on the importance of our physical health to our emotional health. Challenging ourselves physically without pushing ourselves to the point of injury. It was a good reading. The problem is, as I was writing this, my mind went in a different direction.

I often feel like I’m in the middle, trying to decide if I can get to the next safe spot without falling. I know I can’t go back. I can’t unknow the things I know. We joke about that in our ACA meetings. Once I learn something about myself… once I identify a pattern… once I see my behavior for what it really is… I can’t unsee it.

I can do my best to ignore it, but from that point on, every time the pattern or behavior repeats, I feel the sting of knowing I can do better. I know better. My emotional sobriety is not on point. I wish simply knowing that was enough to propel me forward. Sometimes it is.

But often, I stay there in the middle. Feeling the weight of limbo until I’m ready to lunge forward. Until I trust that I can safely make the transition. One of the arguably sucky things about healing is learning that there is comfort in dysfunction.

My nervous system is so used to dysfunction that it feels safer than the unknown. My mind will keep me in cycles. I can argue that I do not enjoy or choose to, yet I keep doing it because it feels safer than jumping forward without knowing what will happen.

I have to remember the exhilaration of landing perfectly at that second log and confidently climbing down the rest of the waterfall. I have to remember all those little moments when I was confident I would not survive what I was about to do, only to discover a life that felt better than I could have imagined.

I have to continue surrounding myself with people who will push me and challenge me to go into unknown territory and make those leaps. The people I follow (somewhat blindly) are those I trust completely. Because they are the people I can let my guard down with and believe have my best interests at heart.

I have to stay close to the people who take me down waterfalls, ask me to start a business, invite me over for breakfast when my voice sounds too shaky on the phone, and cry with me in coffee shops because that’s where we were when the tears decided to start falling. They are the ones who make it easier for me to leap.

* In case you’re new here, ACA stands for Adult Children of Alcoholic/Dysfunctional Families. It’s a 12-step fellowship that became the foundation of my healing journey.

THIS SHIT IS GETTING REAL.

Soooo…I’m going to go ahead and share some more letters/excerpts in upcoming articles. The business/author-savvy version of me says it is to create interest, so maybe some of you will buy it.

However, if I’m being honest, I’m putting out bits and pieces to see reactions and feedback because I am terrified of publishing this book. Contemplating why I started writing it in the first place. Maybe I don’t really need to publish it… It can just be a ME project. It should have stayed in my private little journal where it started.

EVERYONE is going to secretly judge me, tell me it was wonderful, and then talk behind my back about what a train wreck I am.

These are just the thoughts that go through my head.

Enjoy.

Buy Me a Coffee

Dear Substack,

Thank you for giving me a new community and something to focus on when I needed to focus on anything except what was going on in my life.

Thank you for giving me an outlet to start exploring this past year.

I started my Substack, Forever Becoming, right before everything blew up. I didn’t know at the time that My Love was heading for a relapse. I had been on Substack for a little bit and decided it would be the perfect platform to start writing on. I was becoming disillusioned with other social media platforms.

I was super excited and spent a lot of time and effort setting up my page, intro material, and creating an outline of everything I wanted to cover. It was going to sound really professional and researched, but also personal. This seemed like the next logical step toward getting people to read my writing and see me as someone who has done the work and can share it with others.

It was a struggle. The articles sounded sterile, and I wasn’t getting any traction. Then he relapsed and overdosed, and all of my triggers erupted, and new wounds were created, and CPS, and all of the things started happening, and I stopped writing articles.

Then, at some point over the summer, I decided no one was reading my Substack anyway, so why not start writing about what really goes on in my mind and with my emotions? It started small and gradually, but I started writing personal narratives and essays about the emotions that popped up randomly, after reading, after a deep conversation, or a random interaction.

Then a crazy thing started happening. People started reading my stuff, and even crazier, they started commenting on things I posted. They started thanking me for sharing and responding with their own life situations that felt relatable.

I started having real interactions with people online. I met people who wrote similar content, and we started supporting each other. I met people who wrote content absolutely nothing like mine, and we started supporting each other.

I stumbled into this community of writers who all just enjoyed writing, reading, and supporting other writers. This group of people, whom I’ve never met in real life, became a lifeline and a sounding board. They became cheerleaders and supporters.

I suppose this isn’t so much a thank-you letter to the platform as to the community of writers and readers I have met there, but I appreciate the space created for us all to gather.

Love you,

Me

I’m referring to these as Woo Woo Healing Communities because even though it might not be the most accurate description, or some people might feel it gives a negative connotation, I think most people will also know what I am referring to. I refer to my community as a spiritual healing community, but I’m not even sure if everyone within the group would call it that. Not liking to be labeled is one of the many attributes.

I stumbled into this healing community about three years ago, and I’ve been an active member since. We have discussion meetings, healing events such as sound baths and yoga retreats, seasonal celebrations, and all sorts of activities focused on spiritual, mental, and emotional healing.

My perception of the community and what I have seen in other healing communities has changed drastically over the last three years, and I thought I would share.

Why?

Because it’s an interesting subculture with a lot of benefits, but also drawbacks that can be startling if you aren’t expecting them. Every group is different, but there are also massive commonalities within this subculture.

When I was in my undergrad, I extensively studied subcultures within American society from a Sociological perspective, so I find this type of stuff particularly interesting, not just because I’m personally involved.

When I first joined, the whole setting and culture were completely new to me. I spent most of my life in a very traditional religion. I was new to all of the lingo, law of attraction, astrology, energy, sound healing, etc. At first, I found it overwhelming. Everyone seemed so confident in everything they were saying, and it was so different from what I knew at the time. When I would share my perspective from a psychological or childhood trauma perspective, I was often told I was wrong by certain individuals, but most everyone was also really nice, and I found the whole thing fascinating, so I decided to listen. I primarily just listened for the first year.

Over time, I learned a great deal that made sense to me. I also identified the thought processes and ideas that did not make sense to me. I saw the people who were living the things they talked about and those who were not. There were many times when I became disillusioned with the whole thing because I saw hypocrisy between how people spoke and how they acted. Some of those people were leaders in the group, which added to my disillusionment.

I had to step back and remind myself that these were just people. Just because someone declares themselves to be a spiritual healer does not mean they are one. I can declare myself a prima ballerina, but if you put me on a stage, you’re going to see that I’m full of shit. I still have to emphasize how fascinating it has been for me. My psychological brain keeps me studying people, trying to determine whether they really believed what they said or if it was part of their act.

On a side note, I’m actively working with someone to write a book about her experience in a cult, and I got transfixed with the same thoughts. Did the leader of her “church” believe the things he said? Did he really believe he was an apostolic prophet, or did he just massively manipulate people? I don’t think there is a sweeping answer to this… You have to look at the individuals.

Anyway….my mind is an interesting place.

Buy me some ice cream

THE GOOD

Today, it is a group of people I have had a lot of amazing experiences with. Some I consider close friends, others are friendly acquaintances, and still others I choose not to interact with. Many of these people have been a primary source of support for me over the last two years. I’ve had the chance to experience a wide range of activities I’d never tried before, like sound baths, ecstatic dance, drumming circles, and more.

This group has provided me with people whom I can talk about the details of my healing experience without feeling judged. There are people I can turn to for advice, insight, and reflection on my thoughts, experiences, and revelations. There are some of the most open, compassionate, and encouraging people I have ever met.

These are the people who didn’t always fit in, or who pretended to be someone they weren’t to fit in, but they’ve grown comfortable with their weirdness and want to be around other people who aren’t afraid to be weird either.

I can suggest almost anything and find at least 3 other people in this group who would do it with me.

Wanna go hike the Appalachian Trail? Hell Yeah

Wanna volunteer to build homes for the homeless? What time?

Wanna take psychedelics and stare at the stars with me? I’m already there

Wanna build a bonfire, weave foraging baskets, and howl at the moon? I’m free this weekend

Wanna start a publishing company? I was just thinking the same thing!

Buy me a coffee

THE BAD

I’ve read a lot of people’s reflections on why they left healing communities, red flags of healing communities, etc. The things I have read aren’t incorrect, but I feel they only reflect one side.

One of the major red flags or risks of healing communities is (much like religion/churches) that the people who seek them out tend to be those looking for healing, understanding, or something deeply personal/spiritual. Many people come to these communities vulnerable, traumatized, and confused. They are the perfect targets for predators, who also like to hang around these communities because they know they can find future victims.

We can have this same conversation about churches and organized religion. We can also have the same conversation about recovery groups. 12-step recovery groups have the term “13^th stepper” to describe someone with time in the program, who targets the newly sober/the highly vulnerable/convincing/persuadable for sexual and/or romantic/controlling relationships. It is common enough to have a term for it.

Another risk is that some people have very clear ideas about what is healing and what is not, and will push their ideas regardless of the impact they may have. When you combine that with people already in a vulnerable state, bad or, at the very least, neglectful things can happen.

Related but not related… I am an advocate for psychedelics as part of the healing process. My advocacy is based on years of research and a solid understanding of different psychedelics, how they impact the brain, safety measures, and how to integrate what happens during a journey. Yet, I have heard people within the healing community advocate that everyone should be doing or at least trying psychedelics. Every trauma, every ailment, every question about life, they argue, should be responded to with psychedelics. They treat it like a party drug, which, if that’s what you’re looking for, there is no judgment from me. However, pushing a deeply traumatized person to take psychedelics with no mental or emotional preparation and no plan for aftercare or integration based on your great experience at a festival last summer is gross.

While we’re on the topic, if you are part of or joining a healing community event/activity that involves psychedelic journeying and does not start with a group conversation about boundaries, “rules,” expectations, and an overview of how the journey will go, do NOT participate. This is not an educated or safe group to be doing a psychedelic journey with, even if they are established.

I have seen it happen where it was an established group, so everyone knew how it went and what to expect, but then a new person joined in, and was told something to the effect of, “We all know what we’re doing. You’ll be fine. Trust me.”

Pretty much, anytime someone says “trust me” instead of providing open and accurate information, I suggest doing the opposite.

(Okay…stepping off my soapbox)

If you hang around a healing community for any length of time, you are going to meet:

The super guru dude/dudette who is going to soulfully tell you exactly how you feel and why while looking down on you from their pedestal in the 84th dimension. Then, if you disagree with them, they’ll tell you that you can’t possibly understand them because you are still stuck in your 3-D reality.

You’ll meet the guy who will invade your personal space, crossing boundaries while telling you he could feel you calling to him through your vibrational frequency because you clearly have a cosmic connection. If he’s really into you, he’ll tell you that you two were lovers in a previous life, and he has transcended time and space to be with you again.

The one who has a very traumatic background, but insists none of it impacts them because they have transcended to a higher level of consciousness, while also displaying highly dysfunctional behaviors, typical of someone with past trauma.

The one who uses “healing” as the justification to be high LITERALLY all of the time.

The wannabe cult leader, who is so impressed with his own intelligence that it seems obvious to him that everyone should immediately hush when he begins speaking, in order to fully bask in the gloriousness of his words.

The dueling healers, who turn every conversation into a debate over who is more enlightened, more aware, more in touch with cosmic forces beyond anything you can imagine, who gets less sleep because they are too busy fighting galactic battles in the ether, and who has more inner knowledge given to them directly by a cosmic being, who is way higher up and more enlightened than any cosmic beings the other one has encountered.

The certificate collector. The one who is certified in anything you can possibly imagine or bring up in casual conversation. Yoga, Reiki, drumming, sound healing, fire walking, dancing, tapping, talking, walking on water…you name it, they have the certification for it.

You’re also highly likely to encounter gossip, drama, egos, in-fighting, and hypocrisy…just like you might in any other group of humans. I guess healing communities are a little different in that they tend to think they are above those things. Much like organized religions… although they would likely be offended by the comparison.

But truly, it is nothing more than a group of people with a common interest. Much like the marching band when I was in high school, the Christian sorority I joined in college, the mom groups I joined when my kids were younger, the professional organizations I have joined, and the volunteer groups I’ve been part of. Each was a group of people who spent time together to explore a common interest.

Let me also add, despite fitting into some of the descriptions I provided, you might still really like them. Or at the very least, be entertained by their presence.

Buy me some woo woo

THE WOOOOOO

I have had some amazing, in-depth conversations exploring my thoughts and beliefs on the afterlife.

I’ve had practical strangers genuinely ask me questions about my healing journey, simply to understand me better as a person.

I have grown stronger, learning and understanding the principles of creating my own reality. (Is it true? Do we create our realities? It doesn’t actually matter. Believing it has helped me on my journey.)

I have people who don’t accept the surface-level answers or problems; they want to dig deep and help me heal the core traumas that keep me repeating cycles in my life.

I have had meditation experiences that were so real, I could have argued I was on psychedelics.

I have attended sound baths that brought me to tears.

I’ve felt internal walls breaking down during group healing activities.

I have worked through things I wasn’t able to before, even after years of counseling.

I participated in a yoga retreat once that I’m pretty sure reset my entire nervous system.

I have gathered for simple gatherings and celebrations that made me forget the outside world entirely. Just cut right through the noise and made me completely present.

I have had experiences with some of these people that have made them a permanent part of my family.

I have met some of the most amazing people, sensitive people, compassionate people, creative people, intelligent people… you name it, and they are there people.

NOW WHAT?

So, if you’re ready to be wooooed, where do you go from here? How do you avoid the bad and channel the good about these communities?

My advice is to look for the listeners. Look for those who ask questions, then listen to hear and understand the answer. Look for the ones who are present in the conversation. Look for the ones with a genuine smile and a contagious laugh. Look for the ones who display emotions, not just talk about them. Look for the ones whose actions support their words.

The attention-seekers will make themselves known; you won’t need to look for them. Those who have all the answers will also make themselves known.

If you get a bad gut feeling about anyone for any reason, trust it. Don’t let your mind or anyone else convince you that feeling is wrong.

If you struggle with maintaining personal boundaries, try the buddy system. Predators are less likely to target you if you are never alone. Only share contact info with people you’re comfortable with. Just because someone asks for your number does not mean you have to give it to them.

If you voice a concern about possible predatory behavior and the group as a whole does not take action to address it, LEAVE. That is not a safe community. The safety of the individuals within the community should always take precedence over everything else, including the community as an entity.

What does that mean?

Protecting the reputation, name, or leadership should NEVER be more important than protecting the individual members.

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