Do you like Phoenix?
Not the city, the bird.
I feel like one sometimes, just with an added bit of drama and emotional baggage. At first I hated it, but now I’ve grown to see the beauty in it.
Again— the bird analogy, not the city.
You’ll hear more about my journey as I continue publishing my work, but you’re probably already aware that its defining characteristic has been survival.
There’s plenty of things under that umbrella:
abuse
trauma
loss
heartbreak
addiction
instability
From a young age, I was so wrapped up in the need to survive that I didn’t realize I was lost, self-destructing by upholding an image of myself that I formed out of necessity. I was who I was, I did the things I did, because I felt I had to. Nothing ever felt truly safe— one slip up and it could all come crashing down.
It was like a perpetual adrenaline rush. A fever dream.
The funny thing about our trauma responses, though, is that while you may start out in “fight” mode, you can’t keep it up forever. It eventually becomes flight. You stay in that mode because you have control over it.
For years, that was me.
And I only woke up from it just recently— or should I say, was reborn.
The reason I say I feel like a Phoenix is because I imagine that when everything burns to ashes, rising from it can really feel like being born again.
I’ve had to re-learn everything, including a lot of things about myself.
I’ve had to come to terms with some dark things about that image I created.
I’ve had to learn how to heal, to trust, and feel safe— to give up control.
Moreover, I’ve had to reimage not just myself, but my relationship with the things that have defined much of my adult life: alcohol, health and fitness, women, sex, self-improvement, my worldview, and even the concept of survival itself. None of those things are inherently bad, but to me, they were addictions. I had unhealthy relationships and attachments to them— and breaking that has been quite the process.
That will be the subject of a future email.
As a result of all that, I feel like I’ve just recently figured out how to actually live and that all the years before that was just a long, slow, arduous learning process to get me here. I see new beauty in life and new beauty in myself.
And I’m fucking overjoyed about it.
That, in a nutshell, is why I write. To heal and to share my healing, both the dark and the light of it.
If you’ve read any of my work so far, you’ll notice it has a darker, almost psychological feel to it. There’s lots of drama, conflict, and emotion— lots of insight into the characters’ psyche.
That’s because it’s all part of my journey and how I’m processing my rebirth.
Ultimately, as you’ll see with my newsletter, everything I write follows the pattern of the human experience that we’re all familiar with. Pain and suffering, to various degrees, are just as much a part of the meaning of life as love, happiness, and wholeness. They all have value. They all lead us along the path towards ascension.
Our souls would be incomplete without their polarity.
Our opportunity for rebirth, transformation, or even evolution in any way, would never materialize.
Our capability for gratitude and mindfulness would never strengthen.
I’m thankful for the journey and all the wonderful people who are a part of it— especially you.
I’d do it all over again just to get here.
Because after all the lonely, painful tears I’ve cried…I’m crying tears of joy and belonging now that I’ve accepted my role as a Phoenix.
The bird. Not the city.
If you’d like to check out any of my work, check out this link to find my Patreon, Inkitt, and Medium. Please like, follow, subscribe, comment, and share.
Hope you have the best week ever!
Love,
Hunter