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and some thought: I never dreamt my life would turn out this way. Growing up I wanted to be an archeologist, then a designer, a mother (of four)… I even dreamt of achieving the hardest thing- a happy life. But somewhere along the way things took a turn for the worse (hi I’m Paola and if you’re new here I was held captive)(and my life, my perspective, undoubtedly changed).
I would spend the next decade of my life in search of healing, both physically and mentally. And that’s how I would wind up one sunny afternoon, over a year ago, four grams deep in a psilocybin ceremony (to say thank you).
All the ingredients of my life were laid before me: every decision, action, success and failure. All lined up together, and much like today’s recipe, they came together to form something that should’ve been impossible: a beautiful, happy life.
For as much as I didn’t get to bake my cake with any of the ingredients I had initial wanted… it had somehow still turned out exceedingly fluffy and sweet. As the saltiness and bitterness that had once dominated the palate were barely perceivable. In fact, the saltiness had made all the sweetness stand out even more (as it usually does).
But still. I’d had to cut out a big chunk of my cake that had gotten burnt by the death eaters- and that part was you, this newsletter and all. For you see, a little over two years ago, while undergoing my health crisis, it also became clear that I was being stalked by someone from my past (and my videos and newsletter being used to taunt me)(in a way, I was still on the edge of captivity).
And as I sat there today I couldn’t help but be furious at myself for how I handled everything, at the people pleaser I had become to survive. For I seemingly failed by ghosting you all and just walking away… but I was able to see now that I actually failed you by keeping things going for too long. By putting you and this newsletter first, instead of me.
For it’s not a pleasant thing to fall ill the way I did. At first, and as I shared with you at the time, I believed that I was simply going through a tough autistic non verbal phase (stress ‘n all). But as my speech began to actually slur and my balance to fail, medical advice had been to undergo a series of testing for degenerative neurological diseases (hearing early onset dementia in my thirties nearly sent me to an even earlier grave).
But I would never find out what was actually wrong with me. For as I shared with you two years ago, I found myself for the second time in my life in the magical place that psilocybin can offer at times: healing. And a year after it all went down I found myself not just angry, but furious that my choice was to apologize to all of you and try to keep things going (say, sending sourdough starters to you all when I should’ve been at the hospital)(or running away for my safety, tbch). I had become a people pleaser to survive while being held captive, and years later I was still putting everything and everyone ahead of me.
(honestly? as much as it hurts to admit, a little like Theon Greyjoy in Game of Thrones losing his identity and being broken into the servile creature named Reek)(being held captive ain’t for the weak, my dear peeps).
Still. I was no longer that Paola today and it didn’t take an ego death dose of magic mushrooms to tell me that I failed you all. But I got to sit that day and grieve deeply this part of my cake that I was seemingly being forced to let go for my own safety. And it hurt me more than I can ever describe, as showing up here to create beautiful food for you all had become a key ingredient in my life (and the death eaters undoubtedly knew that).
Still, still. Life has a way of throwing the biggest curve balls, and a few months later my perspective would change completely with the deaths of three of my five little honey bunnies. For we would come to lose in rapid succession my two dogs, Dedal and Tito, and Mr Barry White, one of our faithful cats.
So while I would’ve described earlier these years as some of the hardest of my life, now I see them as the happiest as I got to spend them soaking up the time with my precious little ones as a family of six. For death is a tragically funny thing in my experience, as it has a way of lighting the spotlight for the most precious ingredient of them all: time- the one limited resource which makes life on this Earth so precious (and magical).
And that’s perhaps the most important lesson that I’ve learned throughout this journey- that without death there is no life. The ultimate tradeoff, one can say.
For there really is always a trade off, and as we venture into the vortex that is plant medicine healing, it’s important to see it under the correct light- a tool to enhance our lives and make them more precious, for seeking healing for the sake of immortality sounds like something only a death eater would do. As once death is off the table, you will undoubtedly cease to be truly alive.
Xo! Paola
p.s. thank you, truly, to everyone who is still reading our little newsletter. Thank you for giving me a little of your most precious resource - your time.
p.ps. circumstances in my life changed drastically this year and I’m once again able to show up freely (and give you, in turn, my time). An opportunity which frankly feels surreal, as I really thought I would have to be gone for good. I’m feeling thankful (but, honestly, a little raw too)(so thank you for all your messages, reading you all again has been quite the treat)(and I’m incredibly thankful for the second chance I’ve been given, as I’ve lived long enough to know that you rarely get a chance to bake the same cake twice).
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