I’m marooned on my couch, thick with sweaters and weighed down by blankets, so cold I can’t stop shaking. An invisible band is pressing into my head like a slowly tightening crown. My heart is a jackhammer. Something is terribly wrong with me.
Take one step back and this is me a few weeks after a bad mushroom trip. Take a few more steps back and this is me one year after realizing my mother is dying, abandoning my own life, and taking over hers.
I first met Sam while living in Chandigarh, India. He was the founder of the alternative learning space I worked for, a school that taught young children how to express their emotions. I was impressed by a man so invested in emotional intelligence. He was 40. I was 24.Continue Reading