flower that blooms in the dark
one year of writing | a reflection
part one
I’m reposting a deleted reflection from a year ago, when I experienced a mental breakdown. When I decided that instead of talk therapy, writing would be my healing modality. Along with rebuilding my spiritual faith.
Shortly after, I created this substack to urge myself to continue writing and have the courage to share my journey with no expectations. I’d simply keep trying.
part two
One year update on my current feelings + reflections.
part one: returning from rock bottom
written 10/29/2022 - shortly after my mental breakdown
I’m still confused by how my life so abruptly went completely downhill in a matter of weeks. I felt as if I had been shaken to my core and the ground pulled out from under me, free falling to rock bottom. There was no padding to cushion my fall. Just jagged rocks that tore deep into my flesh. Ripping open all my emotional wounds, my trauma gushed out from me like a stream of blood. I was bleeding out from deep depths within me.
Just before my plummet, I would wake up everyday and say to myself, “It feels as if part of my soul is slowly dying — a sort of atrophy.” I’ve been in this deep state of inertia. Frustratingly following the same routine daily: wake up, brush teeth, chug water, study outside until sunset, shower, eat, doom scroll, watch tv, sleep.
I had reached this stage where I was out of ideas, sick of trying to come up with ways to better my life. I’ve remained optimistic and relentless for over a decade now. It was time to admit that I am exhausted. I am hurt. I am sick. I am grieving. I am angry. I am so many things except who I want to be. “Why did my life have to end up like this?” I ask myself over and over. Ruminating across my lifetime as if there was some grand misdeed I had forgotten about committing. Some misdeed that would warrant the misery I felt, the pain and heartache I have endured.
I have made the mistake of being a very unpleasant person. Who hasn’t? Perhaps the guilt still haunts me because I can never apologize to all the strangers I was rude to when I was entirely self-absorbed and lacking of awareness. I’m sure my presence and antics rubbed many the wrong way. All I can do now, is forgive this part of me and offer her the love that she yearned for. She was acting out from all of the pain, neglect and abuse that had eaten away at her her entire life. She allowed these things to morph her into a cold and vindictive person who was incapable of expressing love. Her heart sat in her chest like a hardened gem.
I want to experience love. I want to know what unconditional love feels like. I want to feel my heart soften and fill with warmth. I want to hug people with a delicate intensity that says, “I see your fragility and pain. I also see your potential and offer you love.”
I’ve spent so much time dwelling on all the ways I felt God had abandoned me that I overlooked all the ways God protected me. I overlooked the sacrifices that my elders have made for me to not experience some of the same traumas they endured.
For so many of us trauma is a byproduct of existing here on Earth. I’m not sure it is possible to live a full life without experiencing some form of trauma. And in all the ways we may question how come there was no higher power present to protect us we are unaware of the hundreds of other close calls with death or trauma that we may have been shielded from. God is just like a parent who tries their very best, but they cannot protect us from all the evils we cross paths with in the world.
I often judge and resent my younger self for being so blindly optimistic. Younger me had this fantasy that somehow my life would eventually fall into order. There’d be this profound moment when I would finally make it. I’d somehow come into some large sum of money or land a decent job and I’d have exactly what I needed to set my life on a different path. I could start over in life and be exactly who I wanted to be. For years I was motivated by some sort of blind faith. But at some point that faith fizzled out and reality became too real. I was overcome with feeling like I was a failure. I racked my brain trying to come up with ideas of how to make money. How to somehow change the course of my life the way others have.
Why don’t I have a thing? Like some people just know what they want to make of themselves. They effortlessly devote themselves to their thing and build something they feel proud of. I could never find my thing. No matter how hard I tried. Maybe everyone isn’t meant to. Maybe that is an illusion that only works for some. An illusion I need to let go of. It’s possible I’d feel less disappointment if, I lived my life trusting + surrendering control to a higher power I had a relationship with. Maybe that is what was missing all along. Blind faith without devotion (to the Creator) was leading me nowhere.
I honestly have this same conversation with myself every few months. For some reason it doesn’t stick. I fall back into the illusion. I fall back into the hole of disappointment. And then I frustratedly climb my way out of the pit of despair and doubt—again. This time though, I have the will to stop falling. This time I’d like to fill the pit. Perhaps fill it with things like trust, faith, love, and devotion; so that it instead becomes a solid foundation for a new beginning.
part two: planting roots in the darkness
10/28/2023 - one year after my mental breakdown
I’ve stuck with writing for a year now! I question if I’m any good at it? Those feelings of self-doubt and failure still encroach at times. I feel self-conscious scrolling through this substack app. I’m thirty-something and still don’t have my life together. At least not in the way I see other’s lives. I must sound like a babbling baby. I question if I’m childish?
There are moments when interacting with my elders I become angered and filled with thoughts that they never truly matured into their womanhood. I lack reference of what to expect at this stage of womanhood.
So, I scroll for countless hours everyday creating references of femininity: how a grown woman does her makeup, styles her hair, manicures her nails, arches her eyebrows, creates a timeless wardrobe, including a collection of lingerie, how she engages in conversations, how a mother is loving, nurturing and attentive, a sophisticated woman has proper posture, a skincare and hygiene routine, signature fragrance.
I want to embrace the femininity that the feminists mock as futile. Said feminists once included me. Somehow I thought I needed to make my identity political by refusing to embrace conventional beauty standards, refusing to buy into consumerism. I thought being spiritual meant I shouldn’t care about beauty. But I don’t feel sexy or confident existing as a genderless blob. I’ve learned how to love my natural form and accept the fluidity of my gender expression. But, I’m ready for my glow up!
I feel empowered by taking the initiative of maturing into someone who embodies and values her lunar and venusian qualities with confidence. The gworls who get it, get it. 💅🏾✨ I want to honor the beauty of my physical form, because it is a manifestation of the Divine. This realm of the feminine is the realm I want to nest in so that I may flourish as the artist I know I am capable of becoming; the realm of the erotic is where the roots of creativity are nourished.
My only tattoo is a Lady Gaga quote, “Live for what you create, and die protecting it.” It deeply resonated with me during a time when I struggled to see purpose in life. I wear it as a reminder that my purpose is to create. When nothing in my life seems to make sense, I find the strength to live by pouring all of my being into my creations. Perhaps something in you must die in your willingness to remain devoted to your artistry. My ego, pride, perfectionism, that intrusive voice of doubt. Writing has created space for me to become familiar with the vulnerability of being an artist, to develop the ability to share my feelings with confidence and find my voice.
the aftermath
What do I do with all these embedded fragments of my shattered self after I imploded? A year later I still feel emotionally vulnerable. I’m exhausted but grateful to be alive. Some parts of me have healed, but many parts are still split open and exposed. I still long for the emotional intimacy of loving healthy relationships. I’m still defining what family + community means to me. I struggle with the grief of no longer wanting certain people in my life.
My heart is still heavy from the aftermath of my mental breakdown but not hardened. I’m adjusting to the sensitivity of living with an open heart. I find myself becoming more compassionate, more aware of other’s emotional pain, I see the wholeness of others. I’ve become more patient and less judgmental as I see a reflection of self in others. Somedays I retreat from the world because feeling feels a bit too painful.
In the darkness of night, alone in my room, I cry and I sing. I’ve been learning how to sing with confidence and discovering what my real voice sounds like. Beyond writing, I’d like to use my voice to continue alchemizing my pain. There are so many somatic aspects to singing. The intricacy of breath control, using your entire vessel as an instrument, feeling the frequency of each note in your body, altering the tone of words with your emotions. I believe the sound waves created by one’s own voice are very healing. Like etheric medicine delivered from the soul to clear away the pain.
I seek to detach from defining success by the standards of the external world. Society exhausts me. It isn’t where one runs to find healing. I wish to continue on in the realm of remembrance, learning to embrace the darkness of being in the womb of the Great Mother. Trusting + surrendering to being guided by God.
My year of writing isn’t marked by an astounding subscriber count, it is marked by the foundation of inner peace and healing I have achieved. If I can make this much inner progress within a year, I question how much I can change my outer reality within a year but I remain respectful of my need for rest and the fluidity of life.
thank you 💖
thank you to everyone who has subscribed over the past year. I haven’t made this a very interactive space. however, please know that I am appreciative of those who are receptive of my words in whatever capacity you may find inspiration or validation in witnessing our shared humanity.
so much love to you!!! super grateful to witness a d connect 💚 proud of you!