For most people, the new chapter in life doesn’t begin like a Julia Roberts fairy tale ending. On the contrary, the journey to healing doesn’t come with ease because the first step you take is actually a fall. At first it feels like you’re slowly drifting in space, no gravity, just drifting through endless blackness. It’s cold. You’re numb and you feel alone. 

This is what I felt like six months ago. There’s an occasional pull from some distant planetary body; other times it can feel like a quantum singularity, a black hole, that just sucks you in. Eventually, the free fall starts to speed up. You realize that you’re actually in the rabbit hole falling endlessly until you get your bearings. Most people start to slow their descent and start to float again slowly; others keep falling aimlessly. Eventually, you hit the bottom of that hole and discover the path to Wonderland.

This is where it gets interesting. You become the proverbial Alice and start to navigate into that first room. You notice the potion and the cookie: Drink Me or Eat Me. More choices for you to take. What the hell do you do? You’re in no mood to eat or drink.

Yet your survival instincts kick in. You do one or the other or both and open the door into Wonderland.

My White Rabbit was/is my therapist. Fuck it. I wasn’t going to take this journey alone. I needed a fucking guide. This Alice was lost and I was at least functional enough to know that I needed help. The irony of it all is that I had trained myself in the arts of human behavioral sciences (a.k.a. Clinical Psychology). I knew all the techniques. I knew all the methodology. But have you ever seen a heart surgeon perform bypass surgery on himself?!

For all the strength and energy I had left – I moved on. I moved forward and I wasn’t going to falter. Some friends tell me I have such incredible willpower and determination that they have faith that I can succeed in whatever I put my mind to. Others can interpret this as stubbornness.

I’d like to attribute it to Hope.