CATALYST: A Memoir
In the winter of 2012, standing at the edge of an unexpected threshold, I looked around and realized I was utterly lost. I didn't know how I arrived where I was, nor even who I was.
​This story represents the year it took for me to recognize the opportunity that lay before me ~ to embark on the incredible journey of regathering, realigning, and embodying myself.
​I invite readers to walk with me as I share an unfiltered glimpse of the turbulence and insights I discovered on my way to turning inward.
Excerpt from Catalyst
The path looks strange,
Here,
In the middle of the night.
I frantically search for a familiar mark,
And,
As I slowly gain focus on myself,
I, too, look strange.
Not at all who I thought I was,
Nor,
I think,
Who I tried to be.
This is not the path I envisioned.
Yet, without meaning to, patterns emerge,
And habits.
And then, not wanting a thing to happen,
Not wanting to lay heavy in a hospital bed for the second time in as many months, on the coattails of nine months of testing and false diagnoses...stomach churning and an undercurrent of guilt lurking in the back of my mind...
Not wanting this to be the path I am on,
Without meaning to,
I led myself here.
​
It is late in the night or early morning. Hushed conversations rustle through the softly lit corridor; bustling daytime noise long since passed. From a deep sleep I am stirred awake by the sudden absence of sound in my room. The swishing blood circulation pumps wrapped around my legs have stopped again. I call to my nurse.
​
"This is the fourth time tonight that we’ve had to replace these pumps.” Nurse Donovan towers over me with a gentle smile. “Are you trying to break all the equipment in the hospital?”
​
Muddied thoughts obscure my mind and I cannot remember the other three times. With a rapidly drifting focus I smile weakly and shift my head an inch.
​
"I’ve gotta go hunt around the rest of the hospital for one. You’ve gone through all the ones on this floor.” He taps the bed railing and smiles before turning to leave.
​
As Nurse Donovan straps the new pump on my legs, I open my eyes groggily. The single image of a candle flame flickers and fades in my mind – opiates.
​
“Okay, hopefully this will last until morning. Once you can stand and walk again, we won’t need to force the circulation with these. See if you can get some rest.”
​
“Can you turn up the heat? I’m so cold.” The words ride out on an exhale.
​
“Sure.” And he does before returning to his station in the hallway.