Burn It All Down
Last May, at approximately 5:15 in the morning, I experienced what I can only describe as a profound rupture in my relationship with reality. I was half asleep and felt something on my pillow near my (excessively) curly hair. I assumed it was a leaf or a piece of grass because apparently my brain’s first instinct is always whimsical forest maiden instead of “venomous desert creature.” I flicked it onto the floor, realized something felt off, and turned on the light. It was a scorpion. Now, before we continue, I would like to point out that I live in Texas, where people say things like, “Oh, they’re usually harmless,” in the same tone one might discuss seasonal allergies. I would also like to point out that I am both a trauma therapist and a person with a highly enthusiastic nervous system. These two facts are important. I said words unbecoming to both a Buddhist and a Southerner. That incident altered me at a cellular level. For the past year, every single time I’ve gotten up ...
