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I feel so incredibly proud of this post, and the work it has taken to write all 35,425 words of my first draft so far.

I was forced to revisit the feelings of this experience and the physical sensations in my body during the process of writing every chapter, but especially this one.

It was honestly confusing at first.

“Why am I feeling this way” I asked myself, as I felt a tightness in my chest, and a sense of despair I hadn’t felt in years.

“Use it” the voice responded, as if I was only feeling these things now so that I could write about them, releasing them from nervous system purgatory.

My creative process required allowing these feelings to be felt, so that they could be transmuted from something that was still secretly lodged within my body to a form of written self expression.

It makes me proud to read who I’ve become in spite of and because of this experience, and even in rereading it today, these pages provide a powerful reminder and example that you can begin anew at any moment.. you’re never past the point of reprieve, and you can always redeem any perceived losses.

For years, working on this book has been one of my biggest dreams, and I’ll admit, as I start to near the close, it’s brought up all kinds of emotions.

My ego’s favorite defense is that selling the book will be too hard, so there’s no point in finishing it.

But as I recounted the experience to a stranger at run club this week, I realized that writing a book wasn’t a goal, but a starting point, and it wasn’t until nearing its completion that my real goal emerged.

I had a spiritual awakening and was forced to become an entirely new person, and if you’ve ever experienced this sort of thing or know someone who has, they’ll tell you that while there were moments of immense beauty, the experience was also incredibly painful, and my prediction is that as people’s consciousness continues to rise, so will the instances of this happening.

I share the intimacies of the pain and eventual triumph after experiencing a bipolar misdiagnosis from a weed induced manic episode because it’s so incredibly important.

I don’t share this as a cautionary tale, but proof that you can come back from it and create a life that is far better than any perceived losses.

I write this so that instead of a diagnosis feeling like a death sentence, people will have an example, and maybe even a blueprint.

During this experience, I felt so incredibly isolated and alone, and I don’t want anyone else to feel that way.

Life began for me after this experience, and I hope my words help anyone who has struggled with something similar.

Early in the writing process, I used to imagine a girl reading my book on the subway, an imagine getting a message from her on how this book saved her life.

There were moments during this story where darkness was all I knew, and I didn’t how things could possibly ever get better.

Even reading it today provided a reprieve; you can come back from anything.

It’s experiences like this that make me Thank God for making me a writer.

As my favorite masseuse once said to me…

“pen that pain.”

and so it is.

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