This was how I fell into my first major depression and anxiety.
(If I knew then what I know now, I would understand that I was being bombarded by my Saturn Return. Today, I recommend any person in their late 20s seek professional help during this potentially very turbulent time period.)
For months, I cried copious tears as I drove in circles on the highway because I didn’t know what to do with myself.
I ran, back and forth, forth and back, along a grass straightaway at Mission Bay, where I used embodiment practices as a means with which to still my panicked mind. (They barely worked.)
Long walks at the beach, popping seaweed underfoot, only had a minimal effect at helping me to be present, ground in and feel at home in my body, once more.
I couldn’t eat, for weeks. I lost 30 pounds and looked like a pre-pubescent teenaged girl once more.
Like Picasso, I had entered my very own “blue period.”
At that time, my new partner and I were spending a weekend each month running away to the local mountains where we would camp out of his Volkswagen Van.
Back in Cuyamaca, I found a resonant scene – of charred remains & a desolate terrain – that seemingly mirrored my own internal landscape.
And this is how I discovered metaphor as a healing tool for my life.
When a fire ravaged countryside begins to grow again what constitutes its rebirth?
The first seed planted?
The strongest root that takes hold?
A singular bulb pushing its way up through the forest floor?
Or, the initial blossom of a sweet spring’s arrival?
You may feel ravaged now.
But, as time shows, you will grow again.