This piece is a spiral, a prose and wrapped up package in the form of a short story to describe the past several years of my life. I refrain from to much depth shared, too much detail known. Broken hearted and down trodden I make my way along highways. I make my way along the depths of my soul. I drive and drive. I drive through the Crow Reservation during the Crow Native Days in the summer of 2006. I see the proud Crow people marching on a dirt road near the I-90 and I cry. Tears on my glasses. A catastrophic soul collecting and collaborating with other souls. My broken soul. My disjointed soul, torn from across time, trauma and pain. I wipe the tears off my face and focus on the road. I gaze out at Big Sky country and in my rear view mirror I see the Crow marching proud. I was invited to go to Crow Native days but drive on for fear of being seen because of my intense social phobia and eating disorder that had a grip on me at that time in my life. This is just the beginning. I need gas so I stop at a gas station in a small town in Wyoming. The land stretches on infinitely and is desolate. As the gas tank fills I gaze at the homes near the gas station and wonder who lives there. The couple I had been following along the highway since about Billings, Montana stops to get gas too. I share with the couple my story and my deep connection to helping the Natives on Turtle Island heal. I share with them how I was so touched to the point of tears seeing all the proud Crow people march. Simply the Colorado couple listened and honored my soul and words. Roadside wisdom delivered that day. The man said to me, "you must write from your experience and your voice." So we say our goodbyes, I get back in the car and they get back on their motorcycle.
Video: Driving through the Crow Reservation in Montana.
Pebbles spit from under my car as I take a two-track road to Lake Michigan. I remember the words of that man. Maybe it was a dream but it was good encouragement to speak and use my voice. I jump out of the car and throw my sandals in the back of my car. I don't need sandals as I make my way down to the shore.
My feet engage with the Earth beneath. She comforts my heart. As I run like a child to the water. Enthusiastically rock collecting and watching the seagulls fly about. I leave reasoning and analytical thought in my car. I open my heart and soul to the one of the greatest counselors in the world. A vision flashes and I see a time long ago. As if the shore was another space and time. Chiefs, medicine men, medicine women and other ancestors. I almost see their faces as I kneel down to cup the water from the waves in my hands. I look at the freighter far out there in the lake and the sailboats going by. I feel at home knowing while on the shore I am with my ancestors. My heart heals more and I know they are with me. This reconnection of the heart to a place is one of the most sacred things for me. The heart and soul to the land, the waters and this place, I find myself at home agaming.
11 voices speak:
You write beautifully, and conjure such vivid imagery! That sounds like a truly beautiful experience.
Idzie - Thanks, I try to deliver what I am trying to say in a very unique form. It has been pretty interesting these past few years.
your words brought me there with you. i didn't know you had social phobia along with your eating disorder. How is it now? If it's changed, what changed it?
Sloth Womyn - Yeah well my social phobia and my eating disorder went hand in hand. My eating disorder would make my social phobia worse and then my social phobia perpetuated my eating disorder. I would not be eating well or very much and there for my anxiety would turn way up. If I had intense social phobia then my self hate would be worse and therefore it would just feed my eating disorder.
It is changed now because I love my body. I mean I truly love my body now! I really had to love myself to heal my eating disorder. Therefore, things such as social phobia and anxiety became less and less because I was healthy. Just reconnecting with my roots, honoring myself as a Native woman and healing deep wounds also cleared the space for more self love and less anxiety about existing and living my life.
Thank you for asking these sorts of questions!
thank you for sharing your healing process!
Wow, you have such a talent for writing! I love the way when you describe everything I end up right there with you. There's such an emotional intensity to your voice. That video was pretty fun for me to watch too. Reminds me of when the corn was high when my family visited Frankenmuth. That's just silly though. I love your stories!!!
Dolly - Thanks! I have been a consistent writer for twenty years. I am in on 22nd journal. If you stack my journals all 22 of them are about 2 feet tall!
I love to deliver the intensity of my experience. The video is cool and I am glad that you enjoyed it!
Thank you for sharing this beautiful story of your journey...
When I did my graduate thesis I wrote about "the wounded healer," a term several writers use. I find it a useful term; it acknowledges the challenges of the past, the drive to continue on with nobility, and the inherent healer within. I think you embody this term and really inspire others in this way.
Julie - Yeah it was recommended to read this book, "The Wounded Healer: Ministry in Contemporary Society by Henri Nouwen." It seems like this book has a Christian focus. But, it also mentions serving the community and not just the church. I have not read this book but a professor of mine in graduate school read and suggested I read it as well.
I do embody the wounded healer. Our wounded self, trauma and pain is a way to connect with others to help them heal.
The "wounded" healer references I had weren't Christian..I'll look them up...
Julie - Cool, thanks!
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