PHOTOS BY BRANDON HOLLINSHEAD
To grapple with the shortcomings of my mental health without the use of prescription drugs was is at once an intellectual, spiritual, and energetic process. Logicking myself out of depression and anxiety has been helpful, but only to the extent that my ego feels unthreatened. Sometimes it feels like I’m trying to outsmart an evil genius that lives inside my head and screens every original thought I have. It’s worth noting, the bitch has my mother’s shrill voice.
I was not always the person you see before you now, tempering my dark side with a silly streak, child-like optimism, drawing energy from higher planes and breathing it into my anxiety. Setting boundaries, sticking to my guns, eating kale and all that shit. I’m not stupid. I’m not naive. I’m not your inferior. And I’m not giving up.
Like a car with the steering out of alignment, I’ll veer off the road without constant adjustment. As a result, I am reminded daily of how fallible I am – I certainly don’t need to hear it from my so-called friends and lovers.
Flawed, oh yes. But fragile?
Think again. Sure, I taste tears from time to time, but I don’t break the way I once did. I used to shatter, because I was rigid. Because that’s how I saw other people living, and it looked a lot like strength and integrity to my unlearned mind. Now, like the buildings in Southern California, I’ve clarified my core values and reconstructed my thoughts with a flexible skeleton. In the aftermath of an earthquake, worse heartbreak, the bones of my identity will stay standing, ready to support the new and improved version of I.
Examining the self beneath the conditioned mind has always been and probably will always be a grueling and unpleasant chore, but it’s the only way to change your life. Sorry kid, there’s no pill or powder, no magic number, no missing puzzle piece that’s gonna fix you right up. And fix is really the wrong word anyway. People are not problems to be solved. It’s just that if you crave something more, something deeper, you must take action to will it into being. It requires a lifestyle change, a paradigm-shift, and daily practice.
I for one refuse to repeat the same mistakes over and over. I just won’t do it anymore. No more sleeping it off, no more drinking to forget, no more smoking to oblivion, no more losing myself in another person. If this precludes me from the soul-shaking romance that I so crave, then so fucking be it. As the cliché goes: If it’s meant to be, it will be. (And it is already done. Time is a construct.)
Body and mind, it’s always been us against the world. But it’s about time we show some respect for the tenacious spirit beneath the skin, beside the ego: the little light inside. The ghost in the machine, after all, is the real me.
I have grown to take heed of my feelings, those little alarm systems that go off to let me know when I’m on the right path, when I’m with the right people. More importantly, I’m mindful of the knot in my gut, the pressure in my jaw, and the shallowness in my breathing that indicates when I’m not.
As I grow, it’s easy to look longingly at the past, at how long I spent comfortably numb, muddled in fear and survivalist thinking. But no time has been wasted, no experience lost on me. The beauty of reformed narcissism (if we can call it beauty, if we can call this reformation) is that all that negative energy can be transmuted into manifesting higher pleasures. You can move mountains with good health and a carefully structured incentive program.
Letting myself see the pattern is half the battle. And once I spot the pattern, I can most certainly disrupt it. I’ve never had any problem taking bold and decisive action. I used to fear this softening, that it would make me weak, but I’ve been pleased to find that the savage warrior is still alive and well in me.
The difference is she works for me now. As someone recently reflected on my character, “You’re generally pretty chill, as long as nobody crosses you.” Guilty as charged… If you need a doormat, you can always find one at Target.
