Siouxland Magazine - Volume 2 Issue 2

along: I wasn’t a good person. He was a good person, a
“good dude.” He told me that all the time. But this was also
the first time I had stood up for myself.
That night I went home and apologized.
Many of my days on the East Coast were spent lying on
the couch. Lifeless. Staring at the TV, either not eating, or
binging on chips and ice cream. There was nothing left in
me. No feeling.
One day, when I needed some kind of attention, a hint of
validation, maybe a little nourishment, I did my hair and
makeup and put on a black lace bra and underwear.
I stood in our bedroom doorway, looking at him in the
kitchen. I asked, “What do you think?” He analyzed my body,
looking me up and down, then said, “We can improve.” He
made sure to remind me of his offer to buy me fake boobs.
I walked back into the bedroom and shut the door. Shame
filled my being. How could I be so stupid? I balled up and
cried on the floor.
Within a week, I was sitting at my dining room table, staring
at the computer screen, desperately searching for answers. I
knew I couldn’t stay here any longer, but where would I go?
I googled “wilderness therapy,” and seriously pondered
a move to Utah or Idaho. I even applied to a homestead
program in Vermont. I didn’t know what to do. Tears
trickled down my face. That’s when I heard a loud voice
that seemed to come from outside of myself, saying, “Go
home.”
I packed my bags and left South Carolina. I took a small
detour down to Florida to see my grandparents for
Valentine’s Day and then headed home—back to my
parents’ house, where I was loved, supported and safe.
I left my old stories behind when I left that East Coast
As I write this story, the grief of things that
happened to me tries to hold on, and then I
breathe. Breathe through the grief and the
pain, touch into it, but don’t lose myself in it.
town. The stories that said I wasn’t good enough. Wasn’t
interesting enough. Wasn’t pretty enough. Wasn’t skinny
or toned enough. Wasn’t strong enough. That I was a
depressed person. A sick person. Someone who needed
serious help.
I was someone who had experienced trauma. The moment
I moved home was the moment I decided to move through
that trauma and live the life I was meant to live. Happy. At
home in my body.
I followed my intuition and pursued my passions, things
that helped me to feel like myself again. To feel alive again.
I started working as a stagehand at Hard Rock and as a
resident monitor at a halfway house. I worked harder than
I had ever worked in my
life, sometimes clocking 18-
hour days. I was tired, but
I was so proud of myself.
Being a stagehand required
a lot of physical strength
and endurance. Moving
my body was essential to
healing.
I started running through
the woods. I’d leave my hair
down so I could feel the
wind blow through it. I took
deep breaths at the top of
the hill, as I reconnected
with Mother Earth.
Graduation Day
Sometimes I would lie down in the grass, looking up at the
blue sky and admiring the sunlit leaves as they waved hello
to me. Mother Earth held me.
I got a dog, Eloise. She taught me what it means to love
unconditionally. I started playing music again. I bought a
drum set and joined a band. Happiness and excitement
overwhelmed my being. I started doing yoga and
reconnecting with my body.
I started taking care of me. Learning what it
meant to listen to my body, what it wanted,
what it needed. Tuning in instead of out.
I enrolled in graduate school, something I had wanted to
do since 2013, the year I had graduated from Morningside
College and visited Naropa University’s campus, in Boulder,
Colorado, with him. While we were there, he said that the
school was too weird, too many hippies. He told me this
school wasn’t for me and that I needed to find a different
place to go. But I felt at home the second I stepped foot on
Naropa’s campus. I finally found a place I belonged.
Last May, I graduated from Naropa with a master’s in
clinical mental health counseling with a concentration in
mindfulness-based transpersonal counseling. I met the
most incredible people of my life and learned so much
from them. I call them my family.
Founded by award-winning journalist Ally Karsyn, Beacon
Story Lab creates more courageous, compassionate
and connected communities through the healing art of
storytelling.
The next live storytelling event is 7 p.m. Friday,
May 1 at The Marquee, 1225 Fourth St. The theme
is Bloom. More details at www.beaconstorylab.
com or by finding Beacon Story Lab on Facebook.
Find updates on the Facebook page for Beacon Story Lab
or at beaconstorylab.com.
Siouxland Magazine | Converse / 17