I once worked with a psychiatrist who, after doing my initial intake, told me I was “very interesting.” I laughed and said, “yea, I know,” leaning towards the paper he held with my diagnoses on it. He went on to say the way my mind worked, beyond the paper, was curious- the way I ramble, talking in circles, and somehow sound semi-coherent. I tried to shrug it off, as if I didn’t know what he was saying, but it’s something I’ve been told often and am still now beginning to get a grasp on. It’s taken me quite some time to understand on a conceptual level that not everyone notices and feels things the way I do. I have an intense, curious mind.
In many ways this has made the everyday challenges most people encounter, hinder my path. I’ve felt the typical on an extreme level and it has impacted me negatively. However, the same is true for the reverse. As quickly and as destructively as I can fall, I have a similarly passionate sensitivity to fly.
Leaving Boston College’s campus last Friday for the beginning of my Thanksgiving break, I had been feeling the former effects. I was starting to get wrapped up in the whirlwind of stimuli that come with real life, and my sensitivity was causing an internal disconnect to occur in order to survive. I’ve felt it before – that natural reaction to the panic within. When I start to magnify my surroundings, it all seems like too much, which leads to a switch in the opposite direction and I shut down. I was sensing that and I was trying my best to slow it all, reaching out to my supports and pushing myself to remember all I’ve learned.
Heading to St. Martin with my family gave me a chance to experience the latter. Getting good sleep, reading great books, feeling the heat of the sun, enjoying the beach, the food, the laughter, the scenery, and exploring with my family all reminded me of the fortune that comes with living fully. Each moment reconnected me to the desires of my soul and the bliss that comes with fueling that internal wisdom. I remembered what I’d begun to lose sight of – the feelings of content and unattached happiness.
Today, on Thanksgiving, I get to be so filled with gratitude for this knowledge that I’ve developed this past year and all of those – of you – who have stood by me and often taken over in building this foundation. The guidance, patience, and hope I’ve been offered have made all the difference. Last year at this time, I found peace being safe again in residential. I was so thankful to be given a break from the onslaught of pain that came with fighting through life on my own. This year, I fill with a different sort of pain at how much I have and how much I have grown. I couldn’t be more lucky to have had that support then, and to know now that I can have that in my own life, as well.
For all of you out there, so much can happen in just a year, but it starts with the utilization of today and all of the smallest things for which you can be grateful.