On Turning 30: The Age I Didn’t Think I’d Make
A non-linear spiritual awakening through future, past, and present.
The fluorescent light of my mind’s eye flickers as foresight fades. A buzzing oscillation, an electric pang, a plunge into darkness. My future disappears. I am alone, suspended in time, reaching out for something concrete to hold, to escape temporal isolation.
All I find is empty space.
Is the future just a vision? A mirage of the imagination in the desert of the unknown? Is it a sense, a feeling? Or is it a prophetic window outside of the mind, a transcendent glimpse into the nature of time?
Whatever the future is, mine often disappears. It’s as intriguing as it is inconvenient. What’s the purpose? Is this the winter of growth? A respite before a new beginning? The darkness before the dawn?
Since I was young, mental illness has warped my sense of time. Depression hid the future and buried happy memories. Anxiety gave me future projections of catastrophe. Psychosis fractured linearity, memories presented like patchwork.
A life story isn’t a history book.
Thanks to this house of mirrors, I believed I wouldn’t make it to old age. Not only grey-haired, wrinkly skin…
