Get in, we're going on a bear hunt.
on magic toast and circumventing loss
In the late Spring of 2022, my best friend put me in the car and booked us as fast as she could up the mountains to a cabin in the woods. There we slept for one night only. As the sun set we toasted bread on the open fire, decorating our individual slices with a savory paste of seasoned tomatoes, and what would be my first-ever dose of magic mushrooms. I looked up at the sky, took the biggest breath I’d taken all day, and a massive bite out of the toast I’d fully banked on healing a freshly broken heart. Searching for the kind of closure one can only hope for in the wake of an abrupt breakup, I waited for over an hour for answers to magically appear before me. I was on the hunt for a shortcut.
The revelations I encountered on my trip were life-changing and when I came down the mountain I was eager to update my friends about what I had discovered. I had cracked the code! I was back in my body and determined to have a kick-ass Summer against all odds. I saw everything for what it was and felt my newfound wisdom would not only be enough to sustain me in my pain but help me circumvent my grief altogether. Shortcut found—mission accomplished.
I am here to report nearly a year later, that the shortcut I found was NOT a shortcut after all, at least not enough of one to protect me from the season of depression that soon followed. Within a few days, my transformative trip had somehow shrunken down to the size of a small marble. With my rational mind now back online, I took the lessons learned and shoved them in a box with the rest of my growing stack of post-breakup coping mechanisms.
Recently I made a begrudging return to this heart-in-repair toolbox to bust open its rusty padlock and re-examine past revelations. As I sit on the edge of a different love portal that has run its course, I recall one cold harsh (albeit not revolutionary) truth I uncovered via the toast: despite all efforts ever made on my part, recovering from heartbreak will always always always take the time it needs to take—and not a moment less.
My night in the woods mainly taught me that nothing can save me from the pain of loss, not even 5 hours spent swimming in a pool of empathy for the person that hurts me. No amount of self-compassion and insight can shield me from my own disappointments. I may be able to prevent the second arrow, but the arrival and fallout from the first are seldom within my control.
In a perfect world, the mind, heart, and soul work in a harmonious balance to the extent that when someone breaks my heart I don’t want to throw up at the sight of food for the next week. I get amazing sleep, I drink enough water, I forgive myself of my trespasses and forgive those who trespass against me, and I quickly move on. Because I see the truth for what it is, and my body and nervous system follow suit.
But as they say, that ain’t how the cookie crumbles, so instead,
I’ve got to go on a bear hunt.