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“Jesus Christ knew he was God. So wake up and find out eventually who you really are. In our culture, of course, they’ll say you’re crazy and you’re blasphemous, and they’ll either put you in jail or in a nut house (which is pretty much the same thing). However if you wake up in India and tell your friends and relations, ‘My goodness, I’ve just discovered that I’m God,’ they’ll laugh and say, ‘Oh, congratulations, at last you found out.’” ~ Alan Watts
They said I was crazy.
I admit, I was a maniac. I spent a relatively short spurt of time in the nuthouse. There are things I remember and large swaths of time when I blacked out.
Sixteen and a half years later, I’m still reckoning with that episode of my life. Fireworks! All the colors and lights. Tripping on brain chemistry. A psychotic break.
Long story short: fell briefly in love with a fundamentalist Christian whilst simultaneously discovering Buddhism, the breakup, the heartbreak, my life shifting from dreamland in California back to resentment at home in Texas, textbook manic symptoms culminated in 10 days at the Austin State Hospital, two blocks from my yoga studio. (Dharma.) Tranquilizers. The funny farm.
I was committed, and a week and a half later, I was released. A month after that, I turned 25.
I’ve lived what feels like many different lifetimes since then. The frustrated communications specialist in a boring office. The overwhelmed alternatively certified bilingual third-grade teacher. Fresh-faced ex-pat in Guatemala City working at a posh private school. Retreat coordinator. Blogger. Yoga teacher. Mother, partner, writer, editor, translator. Interpreter of Mayan fire ceremonies. A 41-year-old woman who lives in the woods and off the grid but on the internet.
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