This one is for you.

[ estimated reading time: 4 minutes 27 seconds ] © a rainbow at night
Dear reader,

As you may have discerned by now if you’ve been witness to the longest unintentional hiatus this blog has ever undergone, my creative expression has been paralyzed lately. Not only due to the sheer mass of change, but the rate at which it’s taken place. That’s not the only reason by a long-shot, but it’s the quickest explanation I can give.

For the past several years, my posts have mostly read as a chronological account of everything I’ve experienced and how I’ve felt about it, generally accounted for as it happened. Up until recently, I didn’t realize the latter was actually a luxury, and one I could lose. Again, I’m circumventing a lot, but after a certain point that way of writing became impossible, because to write anything new first required procuring necessary back story; that itself became impossible, because I’ve been coping with unprecedented difficulties concerning processing and integration. How could I summarize for others what I was unable to decipher for myself?

There was also guilt involved. One post in particular I made last year was about finally experiencing an extended period of emotional stability after killing off the bartonella (infections). Yet fast forward and what came next were some of the most daunting and powerful months I’ve ever experienced, and they were anything but serene, anything but peaceful, with no stability, save for that quiet place inside my soul. I didn’t know how to magically jump from what I wrote before, to that, without any explanation in between. It was inconceivable. I was afraid my inability to appropriately narrate the explanation would make it seem like I’d just been avoiding my emotions until I could no longer keep up the denial and hit a brick wall. Which was not/is not true at all.

Anyone who’s been on the spiritual path knows that those calm periods are such a reprieve and that they do not last; I didn’t expect mine would, which added to my enjoyment of it while it existed. When I made that post about how amazingly content I felt, I really meant it, and I’ve actually circled back and am at a similar place again, now. (Likewise, I wish I could properly elaborate on what a miracle that is.)

It was just extremely important that I not portray myself as something I was not. I’ve prided myself on authenticity–before it was a buzzword–and on facing everything as it arises, having spent countless posts, tweets, and conversations advocating this. So if it meant feeling guilt over not writing because cognitive disability got in the way of me accurately explaining that I wasn’t actually a hypocrite, then so be it.

And trauma… Trauma is a peculiar thing, inside our skulls. Our brains sometimes set it aside into a recess, then as with all things in nature, “when conditions are sufficient, things manifest.” And so, that bout of extended peace, true quiet, the first long stretch of stability I experienced in probably seven years was a signal to my brain that everything it’d been protecting me from all these years could finally traipse its way to the forefront. All those memories and neural pathways and pain said, Okay, it seems conditions are finally safe; we’re coming out now for you to take care of us. Even if that safety was short-lived.

So while I hadn’t been deliberately pushing anything away, there was still much that wasn’t yet available to me. My brain wouldn’t let it be available to me, consciously, presumably because it would have been too much. You can’t acknowledge something if you’re not even aware it exists, yet–a startling unfolding, to realize your own brain and body harbor awareness of things to which your memory hasn’t yet been given access.

Another part of this has been that for the past several months, something in me shuts down whenever I go to write, even if just writing for myself. Brains that are living in survival mode have no idea what to do with creativity except calculate its risk to our life, so my fears constantly ask me, “How is this going to help you survive?” I’m still struggling with this, now, but have persevered through it enough to procure this piece.

Krishna Das says one of the ways to get better at this is to notice when you’re protecting yourself, or when your body is trying to protect itself, and to not judge yourself for this natural phenomenon. Because it’s part of the human experience, it’s what we do, it’s how we survive, especially if survival is all you’ve known for a very, very long time.*

Everything has been such a critical, life or death situation for so long, and it feels like I don’t know how to turn that back off, most of the time. But posting this is a huge, huge step.

I am discovering some new talents and depths to my being and character, no doubt, but there are also things I used to be quite good at that now demand extravagant effort to accomplish. Please be patient with me.

I have no idea what this site will evolve into, but I remain inspired by so many of the brave, truly courageous, lion-hearted people who have helped me to get through this past year simply by way of manifesting and releasing their own stories. I have nothing but gratitude for the people who have accompanied me throughout this previous leg of my journey, and I hope you will all understand it took every last one of you for me to get here.

— Kit

a rainbow at night


* This was written in my notes from months ago, so that I no longer remember if it was a paraphrased quote from Krishna Das or something I wrote. No plagiarism intended!
** Oh, as an aside, my site has been completely redone, so check out the tags and categories and the new top menu, and the new layout on a desktop or desktop mode, if you haven’t: I managed to make things look more like a magazine.
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