Start here: When you can’t un-see the things
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Before I begin, I think you’ll want me to explain this bit first. Because it does seem quite random that a (now) 40-year-old woman was a roommate of a (now) mid-twenties guy who became a viral American folk hero. Albeit one sitting in the MDC (Metropolitan Detention Center). But that’s not where I’m going with this.
Telling you about my friendship with Luigi Magnione is telling you all about starting over. And the curious ways that people who are searching for *something* find each other along the way. If you’re searching, perhaps you’ll find something in this story.
Unrecognizable grief
The pandemic times were heavy for all of us. I turned inward to try to cope with *everything.* I was dedicated to my personal meditation practice and working through teacher training certifications so I could continue teaching chronic illness patients.
Sidebar: Over my +10 years of living with debilitating chronic pain, mindfulness and meditation were the most impactful things to help me manage my symptoms (more on this later, promise)
Unfortunately, one critical thing that no one really warns about when you’re doing intense introspection is that you’ll start to see shit you don’t want to. And that the path to feeling better often involves side quests of feeling really, really “not ok.”
For example, during one silent meditation retreat, I began to see and feel things about my life (and the people in it) that I could no longer ignore.
The pressure and grief built up to the point where I blew my life the fuck up. Like pulling the pin on a grenade.
Even though the aftermath included a deep, dark depression where I could barely recognize my face in the mirror, it would lead to the most loving gift I could ever give myself.
Because I learned that grief comes in all shapes and sizes, with wildly different depths and durations. And when you’re soul-searching, perhaps even galavanting around the world while doing so, what you’re probably seeking is coming to terms with some sort of grief. Breakups, divorces, illness, death, job loss…whatever you’re facing, please know that it’s ok if things get worse before they start to get better. This I know to be true.
Your soul knows what you need. But are you listening?
On a brisk Canadian winter day, I up and left everything familiar to move halfway across the world to Oahu. I didn’t know anyone there beforehand. I kinda just showed up.
As a single, introverted woman with moderate social anxiety, you can probably imagine how big a stretch out of my comfort zone this was. Although I had solo-traveled in the past, spending months and months away was radically out of character for me. My sister was concerned I was vulnerable in my grief and might be joining some sort of surfer cult. Or Love Island.
But this sabbatical was not about beaches and palm trees. It was about experiencing a life that could never have been before. But now, with newfound independence and courage, I could answer the call of the 'āina that I had felt my entire life.
Even though I was living in a flat full of roommates with plenty of adventures to be had, I chose to quietly focus on what my body and soul needed during this chapter.
So, I slept – A LOT. I sat on the beach and wrote pen to paper. I walked the shoreline and thought of not much at all. It felt like something inside me was intensely processing, processing, processing.
As I got to know some of my roommates better, like Luigi, I realized that many of us were going through similar states of processing.
Searching. Redefining. Re-inventing. Healing. And sometimes distracting (no judgment there).
Finding each other along the way
And so, I embraced my role “in the villa” as the steady, quiet older sister energy of the household, listening and holding space where I could. It’s how Luigi and I bonded over our shared experience of chronic pain and the distress of losing a sense of identity because of it. A grief that, fortunately or unfortunately, most people don’t know or experience.
I candidly shared my experiences with endometriosis, depression, Lyme Disease, long COVID, herniated and fractured discs in my spine, etc. And it was pretty remarkable when someone had a lightbulb moment from what I shared and could take something away for themself or a loved one – asking for a second opinion, demanding more testing, going for a scan. The things we, as patients, don’t necessarily know about (or feel entitled to ask for).
Let’s continue to talk and share our experiences because there might just be a glimmer of something that could help someone right when they need it most. 💌 Stay in touch.
