/lit/ - Literature

>>14235439
(5/5)

I wailed. This voice I did not know I had, I wailed. It was as if to say to all the world, “I am still here, and you cannot defeat me.” This sound, this voice, this thing that I never knew I was capable of, it came out of me, a cathartic and holy thing. In that moment something deep inside my heart burst fourth, and described everything that I felt in the only articulation that did it justice, this guttural scream. In that time I felt everything. Sadness for myself, for my family, anger at the doctors who had done this to me, to all the know-betters, the councilors, the experts, the teachers, the specialists who told me that I was not okay as myself, that I needed drugs to be normal, and then after giving me drugs, told me that I was going to die. It was a cry of existence in defiance of them, it was a celebration, a war cry for the joy of life. It was a cry for all the world to know that I have a working body and mind. It was a cry of fundamental loneliness out there high atop the world in outer space.
I did not unfurl my tent that night, just a sleeping mat and an old woolen blanket, purchased for ten dollars at the Navajo flea market. The air was warm and comforting. I wrote in my journal, I ate trail mix, and I drank water. Mostly, I just sat in silence atop the holy protrusion of Flint Rock, which juts out into the open sky like some great floating ship. I saw the new moon, this great grey lump glowing in the sky burrow its way into the ground, as the pattering feet of commuting stars rang overhead. The wind up there carries no sand. It’s warm, and dry, and gentle, even at night. That evening, I slept in the way god intended for men to sleep, with no barrier between the crown of my head and the heavens above. The next morning, legs still sore, I made the journey down and returned to my work, a little more sure about the future, and what life can be.
In the sleepy little town of Mancos Colorado, Flint Rock sits as high as it can, ambivalent to the valley below. It is not a tall mountain, but it my friend.

It is a reminder that I am still here, and that I am free.

>>11976380
>be 8
>anxious kid with neurotic family
>turbo-boomer parents fill me with drugs and shove me off to class
>sister is severely mentally ill, suicidal, and abusive
>perpetually in and out of mild withdrawal throughout my entire adolescence
>constant symptoms
>sweating, freezing, shaking, mood swings, fatigue
>barely able to function and I'm just a zombie
>somehow make it through first semester of college
>body starts falling apart
>start going insane
>reach tolerance threshold for about 5 different types of drugs
>sue doctor for almost killing me
>take the money they would've spent on school and drop it on a 4 month wilderness therapy program instead
>live in the desert for 4 months hiking, backpacking, and learning to navigate
>get stronger
>once I finish school I want to live and work out in this region
>go home back east to finish degree
>still on 3 of the 8 drugs I was put on as a kid
>finally get a scholarship and can go back to school
>new great job, make a bunch of friends, and I'm doing well in school
>have a qt gf for the first time in my life
>this lasts about 6 months post-wilderness
>still on a couple of "anti-anxiety and depression" drugs
>body and mind begin to fall apart again
>every medical professional I see tells me I won't live through this
>I'm 19
>having trouble walking, breathing, thinking, and sleeping, everything is just falling apart
>have to quit my job
>have to drop out of school again
>have to say goodbye to my friends
>have to split with gf because I don't want to drag her through the process of watching me die
>move home
>spend the next three years in acute withdrawal
>lie in my bed shaking and burning, remembering the desert, my mountains out west, and the girl I left behind
>this goes on for three years but I survive somehow
>parents feel so guilty about their role in making me this way that they can barely look at me anymore
>relationship with family and home completely destroyed
>hearing is permanently damaged (I can no longer hear low frequencies)
>muscle spasms and contractions from withdrawal have curved my spine and collapsed my pelvic girdle
>slowly get stronger
>work a little and save up for a car
>drive back out to Utah where I work logistics and construction jobs here and there, just sort of a wandering vagrant living out if my car
>completely perscription drug free now
>feel clearer and freer than I ever have in my entire life
>read lots of naturalist writings like Sigurd Olson, Aldo Leopold, and Craig Childs.
>backpack, rock climb, and meditate in the desert while I'm not working, taking shelter in the quiet empty stillness of the desert, taking in the stars and the massive silent things around me
>currently work as a backpacking guide and outdoor educator as I slowly gather the skills / certifications I need to become a wilderness therapist

I don't talk to my family very much. I am old and tired.