So back in 2022, I had just moved back to Denver for the third time. I was on a high, feeling like I had the world at my fingertips. I had been on this Denver kick for so long now, I didn't even know what it was. I told myself, maybe it's because my mom kicked me out of the state when I wasn't ready to. So maybe it was closure that I needed or something. But there was always this damn pull for me to be there, even when I didn't truly know why, it was just a feeling that I absolutely had to be there. I know, it was fucking stupid. Denver was like a black hole that I just couldn't fucking escape.
2022 was another "try-harder" in Denver. I left Tahoe at the beginning of June. Hastily and impulsively moved into an apartment with a roommate, whom I knew from my previous apartment. And the first day of our arrival, I sat out on the 5th floor balcony staring out at the city and the mountains behind it, everything just shining and glowing and sparkling. My stomach full of butterflies. I couldn't keep a smile off my face. I should have known then that this was a manic episode. How I started smoking again about 2 weeks before my move. My impulsivity, my lack of appetite, my inability to sleep normally, how everything around me looked golden and glowy and rose-colored, and how I felt invincible. But I didn't take it for what it was. To me, these were all signs that I was meant to be here. That this time, I was going to be okay. This time, it felt right and like everything had aligned. I even had written a manifestation journal a couple months before that ended up matching the description of where we now lived...for the most part. And so that was huge confirmation that this was absolutely it. I can only shake my head in disappointment now.
Let me tell you the events that unfolded at the beginning of this episode. About 2-3 weeks into the "New and Improved" living situation, I started seeing an ex fling of mine. Like I said, impulsivity. He was in a relationship with someone else. Inside, I told myself, "Well, I was first so..." The logic wasn't there. Remember, with Mania, logic leaves the room. It's all pure emotion and feeling. And 100% delusion while simultaneously being convinced that you are right in these matters, and nothing and no one can talk you out of any of it.
While applying for a million jobs every day, I was also reached out to by someone from my past; once considered an old friend of mine. Though, one who ended up not treating me well when I was 16-17. In fact, he took advantage of me; something I wasn't aware that he truly knew that he did. But in fact, while in communication with him during this time, he apologized to me. And though an apology may not have been enough from someone who raped me, it still meant something to me to hear that he was sorry. That he was taking accountability. Because I was a lost soul as a traumatized teenager. And it's really shitty when people see that and prey on you for it. But out of all the people I had wished would take accountability for the fucked up shit they did, this man who had taken advantage of me, came forward and did so. And I appreciated that. I know, my logic was not in the building!
We got into deep conversations for the most part. About our lives. About our kids. What had been happening over the years since we last saw each other. Queue another sign that this was still mania: It felt good talking to this man. The way this man hurt me, I should have never wanted to see or speak to him ever again. And yet, it felt good to talk to him. Where in the world did that make sense? But I am me and I give the wrong people too many opportunities. Throw in the mania and now I'm just asking for it. I explained it to myself that it was because he'd grown up and matured and was no longer a cruel person. Now, that's not to say that an apology isn't welcome from people who are giving them! And also, people can change. But...damn.
I told him how I had been wanting to become a birth doula for the past couple of years and open up my own business. Being a business owner himself, he told me he would help me get there as a sort of business mentor. He gave me all kinds of tips and advice on how to get a business going. Pointed me in all the right directions. Answered any of my questions, and even paid for my Doula School registration. He said anything I needed for the business, send it his way and he'd take care of it. I was so grateful to him. And I thought maybe this could be a rekindling of a good friendship? (eye-roll) Now, mind you, he was engaged to be married at this time. And he was struggling through a lot. Mainly, his happiness in life. I got the sense that there was a lot of pressure on him to be a certain and specific kind of person. And that he wasn't sure he could be said person. I wanted him to follow his heart and his happiness. Because it was his life after all.
We would talk almost every night on the phone. And not too long into it, I got a further sense that he was looking for an out. And worse yet, I was this close to inviting him to do so. And oh, what a disaster that would have been! His impending marriage was coming quickly. His anxieties were increasing. Secrets and pains from the past were starting to come up for him all at once and I was sure that he was going to back out of the marriage due to overwhelm. Just the day before his wedding, he told me he wasn't sure if he was going to marry her or not. He was afraid of letting her parents down and looking like a fool and a coward to his fiance. I told him to consider himself too.
Some of this was selfish in my part. Part of me wanted him to not go through with it. And not even because I loved the dude or wanted a relationship. But because he gave me good feelings and I was searching for a friendship, even if he had betrayed my trust in the past. But, the genuine part of me also just wanted him to be honest with himself (underlying my hope that he would choose to be my friend instead of getting married). I figured, no matter which path he chose, there would be some form of regret there. And still, I hoped he would not say I Do at the altar. Come to visit me in Denver so we could have dinner and go dancing as he said he wanted to do. The next day, he got married. And I saw all the photos on his Facebook. He looked happy in his smile. I saw something else in his eyes. But maybe that is just me.
After this day, he never spoke to me again. Understandably so. And it was bittersweet. I knew he was doing what he thought was right. And even though I was a bit disappointed, there was also an edge of relief for avoiding a new chapter of drama. I hope he is well and that life finds him happy and in love.
Through all of this with him, I was still finding my way back into my ex-fling's life, for some god awful reason. It didn't take long. And he was very quick to drop whatever it was that he was doing to see me...even though he was in a relationship. The High in me at the time did not care. And this was another red flag that I would stitch together.
Shortly, and still in my High, I found myself intertwined in a new chapter of misguided "Hope, Renewal, and Transformation." Having impulsively jumped back into a "relationship" with my ex-fling, which as we know, is always a bad idea, especially when the reasons why you broke up with him were serious and accurate in heart. I saw it as an opportunity to delve in deep and to let go of my past, once and for all. Doula school was starting up soon, and the summer was going to be amazing.
Ex-fling and I went on a camping trip, meant to bring us together in ritual or something. And all he wanted to do was drink and sleep. I just wanted to do was meditate and do the LBRP in the forest! Red Flag collected! I found a job at a stupid sushi restaurant. And 6 days into the job, I left it. A common theme in my job world. But, I had a reason this time that was not surrounding the state of my mental health. One, was that I was 6 days into my training when they told me they had to cut back on my pay (by $4) and my hours (by 20) because they hired too many people, AND asked me to train the new kid...while I was still training. And I was very newly pregnant and had a threatened miscarriage. Which is my pregnant body's way of telling me to, "SLOW THE FUCK DOWN, WOMAN!" So I quit while in the hospital.
I had only been back in town for 2 months. I had only had 1 moon cycle. I bled for 5 days. And then wouldn't bleed again for 313 days.
Now, I won't get into any of the pregnancy stuff and everything that happened afterwards in this post. Though you can read the very beginning of that story here. I wanted to talk about the only thing great that I was doing during the months of my pregnancy; Doula School. I had this "Calling from God" to be a doula. It was fueling me through a time of uncertainty and abandonment. A time of grieving and anger and hurt. It was the only thing at the time giving me sense of purpose. And I finally felt like I was on the right path. If you didn't get it already, I had fallen from My High, down into the depths of My Low. About a week into finding out I was pregnant, I had crashed and crashed hard. I was impaled with every single thought, action, reaction, and inaction that I had made up until that point. It was like waking up from a nightmare, only to realize that you're still in it.
I left my home and the love of my life to come back to a place of trauma and alone-ness and struggle and unnecessary suffering. And for what? Why? Because I did DMT in April that triggered a 3.5 month long manic episode and decided it was in Denver that I needed to be? That Denver, for some damn reason AGAIN, had all the answers. Denver was my siren call. And I fell for it again. Leaving our stability and safety and support system behind for the third damn time. Except now, I had conceived a baby with a person of addiction. Someone I didn't know very well, but the things I did know about him should have kept me very far away. But this is the gift of Mania. Sabotage, destruction, chaos, except you feel it as an "Essential Breakdown and Transformation" in order to welcome in your newly aligned life. It feels good to do so (another eye-roll). Then when you wake up, you see the reality of what you did. And internally panicking, you try to convince yourself that everything is okay and that all of this was meant to happen because God doesn't give you something in life that you can't handle.
So I sat there in my car, trying to convince myself that this gift of a baby was going to be the solution. That this baby had something to teach me. And that this baby would somehow change this man. That maybe this baby was exactly what he needed to grow up and let go of all his addictions. And I had every faith in him. If only he had the same thoughts and feelings and emotions.
I stayed. I took responsibility and accountability for what I had brought into my life. And I loved this new soul growing inside my body. Even if he didn't. Because for every ounce of fear that he felt, was an extra ounce of love, desire, and protection that I felt for this little baby. Even in the months-long major depressive episode I was in.
I had to find reason and purpose for my being there, now carrying this baby, and starting Doula School. It was a time of creation. It was a time of shedding my past. At least, that was I told myself. If I was to be in this new chapter of life, I needed to let go of M in order to be fully present for the new guy. Even though I genuinely did not want to. I did a lot of shadow work. A lot of internal work. It was the roughest time I'd been through at this point. Because I was doing it all and I was doing it alone in hopes that at some point that New Guy would see me and finally want to be there with me. That he'd finally choose us over the booze and the drugs and the women and the toxic work environment. But I sat there like a pathetic dog, whining at the front door waiting for him to come home, and he never did.
So I put everything into becoming a doula. Everything into preparing my body and mind for this birth. I made a new best friend through Doula School which was a godsend. I don't know what I would have done without her.
For a long while, I felt a sense of purpose, even if I was going to be alone through it. Being a doula was my passion. I had many, many plans with what I was going to do as a doula. Me and my best friend were even going to be business partners. It was set in stone. And it felt good. Not Mania good! But healthy good! I was still in the depths of My Low, but at least I had things to look forward to when I got back to baseline.
Unfortunately, it only got worse from there. And my best friend and I had to put our doula business (as partners) on hold. Because my kids and I had to leave back home. To be safe again. To be stable. To have support. And since this move back home, I have lost all desire and passion to be a doula. I made a glorious website for my business. Came up with some decent business cards. Tried to get into death doula stuff. Tried to make my way into the communities here in the area. Share my business and that I was open to clients. Hesitantly so. Because I wasn't even convinced I wanted a client.
This confused me because how had I gone from feeling like this was God's push or guidance to my life's purpose to being 110% uninterested in being a doula at all! Yes, birth trauma had something to do with it. But that was only a sliver of my Why. I thought to myself, "Maybe God gave me this Doula thing as a way to DO SOMETHING during the time of My Tower Moment. Something to do that he knew would interest me, hold my interest, at least for the time that I needed it most." Like he knew exactly what was awaiting me and this is how that old friend of mine had reached out to me to apologize. And how that old friend gave me the gift of Doula School and paying for my business costs. And how he sent the best friend of my dreams to keep my interest and give me some type of support during this chaotic time. At least, this is what I tell myself.
I also tell myself that the underlying reason (the reason unseen for many years) as to what the hell kept calling me back to Denver, time and time again, was because I needed to bring this baby from the cosmos into this world with me here on earth. And because I needed to meet this amazing woman from Brazil to make her my best friend. And to learn the Greatest Lesson of all: Self-Love.
Through all of the pain and sorrow and heartbreak, the trauma and disappointment and fear, the try and try and try again. Was rewarded with this beautiful baby boy, a best friend, and a genuine love for who the fuck I am.
So now I've been faced with that unnerving question: What is my life's path and purpose if I am not to be a doula? How do I truly serve God. Because as a doula, whether I was going to be a birth or death doula (or both as I had envisioned), was to be in the presence of God. Because when are you closest to God if not when you are bringing a baby earth-side or sending off a soul into the next life?
I am thinking of the movie, Soul. When Joe is so set in life that he is meant to be a jazz musician and that his ultimate achievement is to perform with Dorothea Williams. But when he enters the death realm, he's faced with all new perspectives on life and what people's purposes on life are. Yet, he stays rigid in his idea and plan as a musician and his obsession to perform with Dorothea. It's not until he spends time stuck in the body of a cat mentoring a soul named 22 that he starts to see himself from a new perspective. He does finally get the opportunity to perform with Dorothea, but finds himself not feeling fulfilled by this experience. Shortly after, Joe sits there, remembering the simple things that brought so much joy and appreciation to 22. Her spark. And it was like he was seeing the simple things in life for the first time; like through the eyes of a child who is struck with wonderment. Everything is beautiful. Everything is amazing. Nothing is taken for granted. Joe discovers that 22 became a Lost Soul because she became obsessed with the idea that she had no purpose. He chases her down to show her the sycamore seed that had brought her spark to her in the first place, hoping to restore that spark that once filled her heart. He was successful. It was realized that Your Spark is not your life's purpose, but rather the simple desire to live. To just...be.
So maybe, in this same sense, I shouldn't be obsessed with finding my "true path." And feeling down on myself when I can't seem to get there. When I am feeling like I have no purpose or that I am letting God, society, and myself down. Maybe the point in life isn't to DO anything specific. Maybe the point of life is to just fucking LIVE IT. Feel it. Experience it through the eyes of a child. Who is fully present in each moment of Life. They don't worry about a life's purpose. They don't care what they look like. They don't worry about upsetting other people. They are just here and they are present and they are in awe of everything around them. Every blade of grass, every leaf on a tree, every ray of sunshine or snowflake, every breeze they feel, or food they taste, or the person who's arms they are in....it's just everything to them. Maybe this is the way of life.
Even when we are busy with the bullshit. Because as adults we get caught up in it. Sometimes we need to remind ourselves that this life is ours and that sometimes we shouldn't take it so damn seriously. And I think God would be very pleased if he saw how much you enjoyed the small things and how you tried to be present in it as much as you could. So very newly, I have begun this journey. And it is hard! Being present and appreciative and grateful is not an easy task to fulfill every single second of the day, especially when you're going through the wringer. But be proud of yourself when you are able to. Know in your heart that this is the true path! The one underlying whatever else it is that you might be doing for society. This one is for you. Because you matter, even if your life feels meaningless, purposeless, or useless. FYI: It's not.
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