In 2019, I Bled All Over Your Screen
Yes, it hurt, but more importantly, it was cathartic.
I stepped into 2019 with intent. Unconsciously I knew following the disaster of 2017 and the resulting fall from grace in 2018 that I needed to stop running from myself.
With purpose, I started the process of excavating past trauma, unearthing the things long forgotten by time, and began a process of healing.
The catalyst that sparked my undoing happened on a bus from Rennes to Paris. Corpses from the depths and bowels of my psyche vomited on the beach of my life — it led me to seek refuge away from the place I loved.
I spent the first half of 2019 trying to do things the way I once did. I dived into witchy woo woo hoping to heal the broken parts of myself; what I was doing was putting a bandaid on a bullet wound.
In the past, I used it to heal, but I realized that it was more of a placebo/avoidant mechanism. True to my bullshit, I was still trying to slap a new paint job on a dilapidated building instead of rebuilding myself from the ground up.
Then a shift happened once summer gave way to fall, I began to open up in print. Writing about painful experiences in my life has been the panacea needed to start the mending process. I wrote about things I’d never been able…
