May 22, 2022·edited May 22, 2022Liked by Suleika Jaouad, Carmen Radley
I'll never forget Quintin as I met him through your book and your fight for his life. Your posts help me so much. I have a lot of health anxiety, and the last couple of years, with the pandemic, politics, and other things, more anxiety in general. I sometimes imagine my brain tumor coming back (for the third time) or losing my husband (who had a massive heart attack in 2006), I think those same thoughts..."I couldn't handle that...not physically, not emotionally, not spiritually." Your words reminded me of what I have survived...during which I've even thrived...and how I would find the strength again if needed. Thank you again.
May 22, 2022Liked by Suleika Jaouad, Carmen Radley
Suleika, you rise and face what is on your plate. No one wants suffering, but I have a quote for you-see, my project is coming in handy and shareable!
“Many of us spend our lives running from feeling with the mistaken belief that you cannot bear the pain. But you have already borne the pain. What you have not done is feel all you are beyond that pain.” Khalil Gibran
It’s still universally hope that keeps us all moving onward and upward.
May 22, 2022Liked by Suleika Jaouad, Carmen Radley
Suleika. So anymore us are aware of Quintin Jones because of you - thank you. He reminds us that we are never really isolated. Even in a cell seemingly alone. You remind us of him. And the power of love to reach into prisons and from inside prisons out. Quentin is here right now. I hear his voice. And I hear yours. Interconnected love helps us survive. And love does not ever die .
May 22, 2022Liked by Suleika Jaouad, Carmen Radley
Hi Suleika - Your post on Instagram brought back a flood of memories of Qiuntin and the effort you put into saving his life. I remember this beautiful community joining you in writing letters, making phone calls and in prayer. Quintin is a part of the community, like your friend, Melissa and others who have passed on. And this is a part of your magic of bringing people together, and bringing the two kingdoms together. It is truly remarkable and I am grateful to witness your love in action. Thank you!❤️
I haven’t given my own inner strength much thought for a while now. But I know it is there. My husband has been sober for many years, but I remember, clear as day, the times he was passed out on the couch mid-afternoon. Or when he didn’t answer his phone for hours and I rushed home from work, thinking he must be dead. Or the half-empty bottles of vodka I found in the oddest places. My own strength showed in the way I was able to pick up the kids, with a smile on my face (when he was supposed to do it, but didn’t). It showed when I made sure they were fed and when I got them to their soccer games on time. My inner strength peeked through when I drove home from parties by myself because I couldn’t find him, even though we arrived together earlier in the evening. I managed through those years, staying strong, as he started attending AA meetings and eventually, thankfully, climbed out of his very dark spiraling space. I am proud of my husband for his strength in sobriety and now that I think about it, I am proud of my own strength, too.
Suleika, both your words and Quintin’s sit with me daily. Thank you for all that you continue to share with us. Sending wishes of healing, love, and peace.
I’m noticing my inner strength this week more than ever a year into my leukemia diagnosis, my sister is embarking on her own journey with triple negative breast cancer tomorrow, starting 12 weekly infusions of a brutal concoction of chemotherapy. My inner strength doesn’t look the way I thought it would, it’s not all peace and gratitude, and calm, it’s grit and a deepened sense of commitment to my boundaries, what I can and cannot do balancing the needs of my one diagnosis with the desperate needs of anothers. I’m tired, so tired and tomorrow I drive her to chemo on my own way to work, and I’ll notice the sheer beauty of it all.
Suleika, I guess I am a collector of survival skills. A big part of being in the Isolation Journals community is learning from others and their example. You are a catalyst for this. You introduced me, all of us, to Quintin and his remarkable outlook on his life and the practices that sustain him in conditions that I think would have broken me long ago.
Part of of the practice is perseverance, part of it is hope, gratitude and definitely humour. You bring this practice to us consistently. And like Quintin you do it with honesty, laughter and as Kurt Vonnegut says " bargaining in good faith with destiny". You show us how to cope with the uncopeable conditions that we are presented with and to make something out of them . You paint, you dance you write and and bare your soul to us. All the while inviting us to do the same.
This is a lot like the recovery process I am involved in. Growing up with alcoholism in my family and getting the disease myself was a challenging, frightening and chaotic experience. I didn't see a way out of drinking and blaming others for my problems. My world got smaller and smaller and I couldn't even look at myself in the mirror. Circumstances and desperation enabled me to face myself and my disease fully. I met people living happy, meaningful lives without alcohol. I didn't know this was possible.
Since those early days in recovery I have learned a lot of survival skills. Most of them have to do with self imposed limitations. I went to Graduate School in Counselling Psychology and got an MA degree. I would never have believed that possible and people around me kept encouraging me and I began to believe in myself more. Then I needed to become licensed as as Psychologist in my state and this required passing a national exam that was four hours long and quite grueling. It was designed for PhD's. It required a great deal of preparation, which was not my long suit. I finally passed this exam after three attempts! I've never accomplished anything more monumental in my professional life.
The point is, I needed a community, like this one, and people like you who share your abilities, your skill, your wisdom, your experience, strength and hope to keep me going day in and day out no matter what adversity I may face.
When you are in the depths, when you are out of energy, when you don't think you can go on, and you still do. This Suleika is a priceless, amazing and selfless gift! I will never forget it. And, as you can see from all these other posts your community is following your example. Many thanks.
May 22, 2022Liked by Suleika Jaouad, Carmen Radley
Thank you Suleika for sharing your personal struggles from the depth of your heart and how finding that inner strength…tapping into our empowered soul carries us thru life’s hardships and pain. Quinton’s story is so touching 💖🙏. We are all so connected and the love is palpable. Love & Light 🌈🌈🌈
Honoring your friend Quintin Jones as well. Years ago on my 21st Birthday I took myself to a dollar steak house to celebrate. I was alone, without family to celebrate a milestone. For many years this felt sad- what was not-recently I knew differently. The act of going-opens doors as they have in my life to adventures and risks. We cannot change somethings and their might not be balloons-but gosh one's Cappadocia awaits-fresh air-survival skills.
At my high school's 50th reunion, I desperately wanted to find a "Home Ec Friend". I did find her best friend and was told she did NOT want to come. How I wish I had had the courage and conviction in 1967 that I do now. Life was very different in the south and the way we were raised was to respect but never get involved with those who were different. I always had a heart for special needs children and adults and even used to be sad every time we drove by a nursing home for "the colored". It makes me sick now to think of how it was in a small town in
Florida in the 1960's. My family life did NOT allow any association with anyone that was different. One classmates mother was Japanese (father American GI) and my father was never kind talking about he and his sisters. My "Home Ec Friend" and I were honest about our differences. She first asked if she could touch our hair and we asked if we could touch hers. The difference was only in the color of our skin and the texture of our hair physically. I never realized the heartache she must have experience as one of the few children who had the courage to step into a southern high school as the only six students with a different color of skin. I thought I was being kind because in side the walls of that classroom we were equal. Years later I realized it SHOULD have been the entire school and the entire town. There was such bigotry at the school but I did not even know the word. Yes! I would have made different choices and included her in my life. My father would not have allowed her to visit (another post) but I would have met her outside of school and included her in my life. I went on with my life and changed that horrid attitude first becoming a teacher and then a nurse always standing up for others who were treated and outright ignored. I was sad she did not return to the reunion and could not get her email or phone number from her friend. I remember her as a brave soul and pray for her.
I feel so deeply saddened thinking about what Quintin endured. Moreover, I feel incredibly heartbroken thinking about the fact that there is such cruelty in the world. I regularly feel deep pain knowing that there are people who enjoy punishing others, who have no compassion, who refuse to forgive and refuse to allow for redemption. I can’t understand how people are turning on each other, how greed is consuming so many in our country and the world, to the point that tragedy is here in the form of people’s rights (even rights we fought for and “won” previously) being denied in our country and another senseless war is being fought, this time in Ukraine. I read Quin’s words and am so moved by his resilience. It inspires me not to take so much for granted in my own life. And to remember to be grateful, and smile, even if only on the inside, as he so beautifully and sweetly wrote. I think about Quin often, never having known him. I do know people in prison and stay in touch. Quin endured worse than many. I am thankful beyond measure that he found you, Suleika, and that you found him and shared his story. He deserves to have his story told. I wish the outcome had been different. But I cherish the lessons he taught me. Thank you. May 22, 2022
May 22, 2022·edited May 22, 2022Liked by Suleika Jaouad, Carmen Radley
Dearest Suleika. First, my heartfelt condolences on this first anniversary of Quintin's execution, an execution which i know you and Jon fought so tirelessly against!!!!!
And now, to also send you so much love as i think about all that you have so valiantly endured, and which you continue to endure, with such a grace and dignity, despite all the inherent challenges of enduring so much so valiantly and with such grace and dignity! You are such an inspiration for all of us, and i just wanted to take a moment to send you so very very much love and gratitude.
I hope to write, at another moment, in response to the specific prompt offered by Quintin, (a prompt offered today through your own voice; You, who so magnificently ensures that Quintin's voice and legacy continue to remain alive and inspire through time!)
yes i read about Quintin in your book and was saddened for him i was in a sort of a prison for 22 years married to a man that would not and maybe could not touch me and later learning he molested my son , a son he adopted but now 25 years later , he being deceased we have survived and are making a new life. thank you for all of your inspirations . stay well Suleika you have a great life ahead of you
Good Morning! The sun just rose. To quote an oft made remark on days like this one, “It’s going to be a hot one.” What will this day hold for you? What will the sun and water make possible?
For me, the day will occasion my best friend’s departure for a “new” life in another, fairly far away, state. He has retired from professorial duties and opportunities, and is seeking a simpler life, in a manner of speaking. I love this man. I wish him and his daughter well. May he find “the stuff” which will allow him to realize his intentions. May the universe keep his son and daughter. May he be loved.
Be well, all. May we all keep surviving, if not thriving in some kind of way, the road rising up to greet us.
Today, Monday, May 30 is my birthday. At about 5:10 am, 77 years ago, I took my first breath on Planet Earth. And, to celebrate this palindrome year on Saturday, I became extraordinarily ill with the return of an undiagnosed digestive disease that I’d had since 2017, one that had cleared up completely this April. And yet, it was back again, after my belief that it was gone.
At first I blamed foods I’d eaten, “You evil yogurt! You horrible Whole Earth fake sugar!” I yelled at the innocent food. But noticing the look on my husband’s face, and feeling the imbalance in my body, I stopped yelling. I knew this was not the food. It was “something else.” The “something else” that I found in April when this longtime undiagnosed illness cleared up and stopped ruining my life.
Saturday it arose like a virulent flu-like sickness, and began to stab its fat, sticky fingers deep into my heart and soul. Fear and dread arose. But I dropped back like a quarterback searching the space looking for a receiver. What I saw and felt was a lot of fear – dark, ghoulish shadow matter. And I realized these were shadow states from my childhood and infancy. This is the inner work I’ve been doing for the past few years, early childhood sexual abuse and complex trauma.
Seventy-seven years ago, when I took my first breath here on planet Earth, the incredible suffering of this life began. Yes, the joy too. But joy was always held aloft, like a prize, like the most important, primary, essential thing to celebrate. While the suffering, sadness, and aloneness was stuffed down inside me to die in the darkness by itself, to be ignored for as long as humanly possible. The darkness was not honored by me or by those close to me.
But Saturday, the darkness I’ve been ignoring and avoiding my entire life, asked to be acknowledged, asked to finally be seen. And this injured child part, who has been hiding in fear and self-hate her whole life, allowed me to experience her suffering.
As I climbed into bed that night, the fear and self-hate chorus was screaming in my mind. “We’re baaaack! You’re very sick! You have no control over us!” But I’ve been sitting Zen for a while, practicing, and as their voices became louder, I knew I had to sit and listen to them. I’d been ignoring them my whole life and it had taken them this long to feel safe enough to come out. So I just sat with them. Allowed them their space, their presence, their wisdom to join me. They could finally feel safe enough to be seen.
I welcomed them. One by one, I saw these tiny infant fears, so crooked and crusty, with a mist of filth and grime. They are so old – dare I call them friends at last? I felt every ache and pain in my body, and I loved them all. I loved the frightened newborn part that didn’t know where it was, I loved the terrified child part, my heart embraced it. I loved the sad part, the left-out part, the one that had no hope at all. And one by one, they were met as sensation in the body, and the heart simply opened and they climbed into a light-filled place, in fact, a place where they have always been. I was just unable to experience it until then.
It felt like a true birth, a homecoming. I felt an overwhelming love for this human form, this human body that has been thru a tortuous hell in this life, as we all have been or will be. I felt a quiet joy and humility at being found at last by my own being.
Acceptance, joy and peace all hidden underneath this sad darkness – darkness that I did not give any credit to, darkness that I resisted and pushed away and hated my whole life. Darkness that was harsh and put off so many friends and relatives, including myself, until now. Meeting and being OK with my darkness is the best birthday gift I could ever have received.
I'll never forget Quintin as I met him through your book and your fight for his life. Your posts help me so much. I have a lot of health anxiety, and the last couple of years, with the pandemic, politics, and other things, more anxiety in general. I sometimes imagine my brain tumor coming back (for the third time) or losing my husband (who had a massive heart attack in 2006), I think those same thoughts..."I couldn't handle that...not physically, not emotionally, not spiritually." Your words reminded me of what I have survived...during which I've even thrived...and how I would find the strength again if needed. Thank you again.
Suleika, you rise and face what is on your plate. No one wants suffering, but I have a quote for you-see, my project is coming in handy and shareable!
“Many of us spend our lives running from feeling with the mistaken belief that you cannot bear the pain. But you have already borne the pain. What you have not done is feel all you are beyond that pain.” Khalil Gibran
It’s still universally hope that keeps us all moving onward and upward.
Suleika. So anymore us are aware of Quintin Jones because of you - thank you. He reminds us that we are never really isolated. Even in a cell seemingly alone. You remind us of him. And the power of love to reach into prisons and from inside prisons out. Quentin is here right now. I hear his voice. And I hear yours. Interconnected love helps us survive. And love does not ever die .
Hi Suleika - Your post on Instagram brought back a flood of memories of Qiuntin and the effort you put into saving his life. I remember this beautiful community joining you in writing letters, making phone calls and in prayer. Quintin is a part of the community, like your friend, Melissa and others who have passed on. And this is a part of your magic of bringing people together, and bringing the two kingdoms together. It is truly remarkable and I am grateful to witness your love in action. Thank you!❤️
I haven’t given my own inner strength much thought for a while now. But I know it is there. My husband has been sober for many years, but I remember, clear as day, the times he was passed out on the couch mid-afternoon. Or when he didn’t answer his phone for hours and I rushed home from work, thinking he must be dead. Or the half-empty bottles of vodka I found in the oddest places. My own strength showed in the way I was able to pick up the kids, with a smile on my face (when he was supposed to do it, but didn’t). It showed when I made sure they were fed and when I got them to their soccer games on time. My inner strength peeked through when I drove home from parties by myself because I couldn’t find him, even though we arrived together earlier in the evening. I managed through those years, staying strong, as he started attending AA meetings and eventually, thankfully, climbed out of his very dark spiraling space. I am proud of my husband for his strength in sobriety and now that I think about it, I am proud of my own strength, too.
Suleika, both your words and Quintin’s sit with me daily. Thank you for all that you continue to share with us. Sending wishes of healing, love, and peace.
I’m noticing my inner strength this week more than ever a year into my leukemia diagnosis, my sister is embarking on her own journey with triple negative breast cancer tomorrow, starting 12 weekly infusions of a brutal concoction of chemotherapy. My inner strength doesn’t look the way I thought it would, it’s not all peace and gratitude, and calm, it’s grit and a deepened sense of commitment to my boundaries, what I can and cannot do balancing the needs of my one diagnosis with the desperate needs of anothers. I’m tired, so tired and tomorrow I drive her to chemo on my own way to work, and I’ll notice the sheer beauty of it all.
Suleika, I guess I am a collector of survival skills. A big part of being in the Isolation Journals community is learning from others and their example. You are a catalyst for this. You introduced me, all of us, to Quintin and his remarkable outlook on his life and the practices that sustain him in conditions that I think would have broken me long ago.
Part of of the practice is perseverance, part of it is hope, gratitude and definitely humour. You bring this practice to us consistently. And like Quintin you do it with honesty, laughter and as Kurt Vonnegut says " bargaining in good faith with destiny". You show us how to cope with the uncopeable conditions that we are presented with and to make something out of them . You paint, you dance you write and and bare your soul to us. All the while inviting us to do the same.
This is a lot like the recovery process I am involved in. Growing up with alcoholism in my family and getting the disease myself was a challenging, frightening and chaotic experience. I didn't see a way out of drinking and blaming others for my problems. My world got smaller and smaller and I couldn't even look at myself in the mirror. Circumstances and desperation enabled me to face myself and my disease fully. I met people living happy, meaningful lives without alcohol. I didn't know this was possible.
Since those early days in recovery I have learned a lot of survival skills. Most of them have to do with self imposed limitations. I went to Graduate School in Counselling Psychology and got an MA degree. I would never have believed that possible and people around me kept encouraging me and I began to believe in myself more. Then I needed to become licensed as as Psychologist in my state and this required passing a national exam that was four hours long and quite grueling. It was designed for PhD's. It required a great deal of preparation, which was not my long suit. I finally passed this exam after three attempts! I've never accomplished anything more monumental in my professional life.
The point is, I needed a community, like this one, and people like you who share your abilities, your skill, your wisdom, your experience, strength and hope to keep me going day in and day out no matter what adversity I may face.
When you are in the depths, when you are out of energy, when you don't think you can go on, and you still do. This Suleika is a priceless, amazing and selfless gift! I will never forget it. And, as you can see from all these other posts your community is following your example. Many thanks.
You have taught me how to grow the most beautiful moments out of the shittiest of circumstances, like flowers blooming from mulch. Bless you Susu xo
Thank you Suleika for sharing your personal struggles from the depth of your heart and how finding that inner strength…tapping into our empowered soul carries us thru life’s hardships and pain. Quinton’s story is so touching 💖🙏. We are all so connected and the love is palpable. Love & Light 🌈🌈🌈
Honoring your friend Quintin Jones as well. Years ago on my 21st Birthday I took myself to a dollar steak house to celebrate. I was alone, without family to celebrate a milestone. For many years this felt sad- what was not-recently I knew differently. The act of going-opens doors as they have in my life to adventures and risks. We cannot change somethings and their might not be balloons-but gosh one's Cappadocia awaits-fresh air-survival skills.
At my high school's 50th reunion, I desperately wanted to find a "Home Ec Friend". I did find her best friend and was told she did NOT want to come. How I wish I had had the courage and conviction in 1967 that I do now. Life was very different in the south and the way we were raised was to respect but never get involved with those who were different. I always had a heart for special needs children and adults and even used to be sad every time we drove by a nursing home for "the colored". It makes me sick now to think of how it was in a small town in
Florida in the 1960's. My family life did NOT allow any association with anyone that was different. One classmates mother was Japanese (father American GI) and my father was never kind talking about he and his sisters. My "Home Ec Friend" and I were honest about our differences. She first asked if she could touch our hair and we asked if we could touch hers. The difference was only in the color of our skin and the texture of our hair physically. I never realized the heartache she must have experience as one of the few children who had the courage to step into a southern high school as the only six students with a different color of skin. I thought I was being kind because in side the walls of that classroom we were equal. Years later I realized it SHOULD have been the entire school and the entire town. There was such bigotry at the school but I did not even know the word. Yes! I would have made different choices and included her in my life. My father would not have allowed her to visit (another post) but I would have met her outside of school and included her in my life. I went on with my life and changed that horrid attitude first becoming a teacher and then a nurse always standing up for others who were treated and outright ignored. I was sad she did not return to the reunion and could not get her email or phone number from her friend. I remember her as a brave soul and pray for her.
I feel so deeply saddened thinking about what Quintin endured. Moreover, I feel incredibly heartbroken thinking about the fact that there is such cruelty in the world. I regularly feel deep pain knowing that there are people who enjoy punishing others, who have no compassion, who refuse to forgive and refuse to allow for redemption. I can’t understand how people are turning on each other, how greed is consuming so many in our country and the world, to the point that tragedy is here in the form of people’s rights (even rights we fought for and “won” previously) being denied in our country and another senseless war is being fought, this time in Ukraine. I read Quin’s words and am so moved by his resilience. It inspires me not to take so much for granted in my own life. And to remember to be grateful, and smile, even if only on the inside, as he so beautifully and sweetly wrote. I think about Quin often, never having known him. I do know people in prison and stay in touch. Quin endured worse than many. I am thankful beyond measure that he found you, Suleika, and that you found him and shared his story. He deserves to have his story told. I wish the outcome had been different. But I cherish the lessons he taught me. Thank you. May 22, 2022
Dearest Suleika. First, my heartfelt condolences on this first anniversary of Quintin's execution, an execution which i know you and Jon fought so tirelessly against!!!!!
And now, to also send you so much love as i think about all that you have so valiantly endured, and which you continue to endure, with such a grace and dignity, despite all the inherent challenges of enduring so much so valiantly and with such grace and dignity! You are such an inspiration for all of us, and i just wanted to take a moment to send you so very very much love and gratitude.
I hope to write, at another moment, in response to the specific prompt offered by Quintin, (a prompt offered today through your own voice; You, who so magnificently ensures that Quintin's voice and legacy continue to remain alive and inspire through time!)
with much gratitude and love
janet
yes i read about Quintin in your book and was saddened for him i was in a sort of a prison for 22 years married to a man that would not and maybe could not touch me and later learning he molested my son , a son he adopted but now 25 years later , he being deceased we have survived and are making a new life. thank you for all of your inspirations . stay well Suleika you have a great life ahead of you
Good Morning! The sun just rose. To quote an oft made remark on days like this one, “It’s going to be a hot one.” What will this day hold for you? What will the sun and water make possible?
For me, the day will occasion my best friend’s departure for a “new” life in another, fairly far away, state. He has retired from professorial duties and opportunities, and is seeking a simpler life, in a manner of speaking. I love this man. I wish him and his daughter well. May he find “the stuff” which will allow him to realize his intentions. May the universe keep his son and daughter. May he be loved.
Be well, all. May we all keep surviving, if not thriving in some kind of way, the road rising up to greet us.
Today, Monday, May 30 is my birthday. At about 5:10 am, 77 years ago, I took my first breath on Planet Earth. And, to celebrate this palindrome year on Saturday, I became extraordinarily ill with the return of an undiagnosed digestive disease that I’d had since 2017, one that had cleared up completely this April. And yet, it was back again, after my belief that it was gone.
At first I blamed foods I’d eaten, “You evil yogurt! You horrible Whole Earth fake sugar!” I yelled at the innocent food. But noticing the look on my husband’s face, and feeling the imbalance in my body, I stopped yelling. I knew this was not the food. It was “something else.” The “something else” that I found in April when this longtime undiagnosed illness cleared up and stopped ruining my life.
Saturday it arose like a virulent flu-like sickness, and began to stab its fat, sticky fingers deep into my heart and soul. Fear and dread arose. But I dropped back like a quarterback searching the space looking for a receiver. What I saw and felt was a lot of fear – dark, ghoulish shadow matter. And I realized these were shadow states from my childhood and infancy. This is the inner work I’ve been doing for the past few years, early childhood sexual abuse and complex trauma.
Seventy-seven years ago, when I took my first breath here on planet Earth, the incredible suffering of this life began. Yes, the joy too. But joy was always held aloft, like a prize, like the most important, primary, essential thing to celebrate. While the suffering, sadness, and aloneness was stuffed down inside me to die in the darkness by itself, to be ignored for as long as humanly possible. The darkness was not honored by me or by those close to me.
But Saturday, the darkness I’ve been ignoring and avoiding my entire life, asked to be acknowledged, asked to finally be seen. And this injured child part, who has been hiding in fear and self-hate her whole life, allowed me to experience her suffering.
As I climbed into bed that night, the fear and self-hate chorus was screaming in my mind. “We’re baaaack! You’re very sick! You have no control over us!” But I’ve been sitting Zen for a while, practicing, and as their voices became louder, I knew I had to sit and listen to them. I’d been ignoring them my whole life and it had taken them this long to feel safe enough to come out. So I just sat with them. Allowed them their space, their presence, their wisdom to join me. They could finally feel safe enough to be seen.
I welcomed them. One by one, I saw these tiny infant fears, so crooked and crusty, with a mist of filth and grime. They are so old – dare I call them friends at last? I felt every ache and pain in my body, and I loved them all. I loved the frightened newborn part that didn’t know where it was, I loved the terrified child part, my heart embraced it. I loved the sad part, the left-out part, the one that had no hope at all. And one by one, they were met as sensation in the body, and the heart simply opened and they climbed into a light-filled place, in fact, a place where they have always been. I was just unable to experience it until then.
It felt like a true birth, a homecoming. I felt an overwhelming love for this human form, this human body that has been thru a tortuous hell in this life, as we all have been or will be. I felt a quiet joy and humility at being found at last by my own being.
Acceptance, joy and peace all hidden underneath this sad darkness – darkness that I did not give any credit to, darkness that I resisted and pushed away and hated my whole life. Darkness that was harsh and put off so many friends and relatives, including myself, until now. Meeting and being OK with my darkness is the best birthday gift I could ever have received.
I am so grateful for this courageous heart.