Espíritu Santo

Many people seek a relationship with the divine through religion, whether that is Catholicism, Christianity, Islam, Buddhism, and etc.

For many, the relationship with the divine allows them to find meaning and purpose in life, have honor and moral guidance. This relationship can also increase community, livelihood and overall well being.

Growing up in a Latin household, my relationship with the divine, also known as God, was mandatory. I grew up Catholic, which was mostly influenced by my grandmother’s and the elder women in my community. I would be in church frequently on Sundays, praying, singing, and following the word of God. The 10 Commandments were hung in my house so that every day one could notice them. My grandmother, before church & school, would bless us. ‘En el nombre del Padre, del Hijo del Espíritu Santo, Amén.’

I found my relationship with God getting stronger, and would find myself praying to him in private to change my life. Praying to God outside of church was magical to me. The fact that I could have a relationship with something, so powerful and trust in its confidentiality, allowed me to form an intimate and personal bond with the divine.

As I grew up, and was seperated from my family, I found myself further from anything I had ever known. The new household I lived in, wasn’t centered around religion. I lost my connection to the divine because I was so focused on my social life, dance and school. I craved a sacred link, yet struggled going back to church and Catholicism because it reminded me of the family I had lost and my life before. The farther I got from God, the more I yearned for a transcendent connection.

When I was 14 years old, I decided to seek a new relationship. I set up an alter, grabbed a meditation pillow, and turned on a two-hour guided meditation on YouTube in a basement.

This was my first time meditating.

For the first 45 minutes of the meditation, you are asked to allow your thoughts to pass and pay them no attention. The deeper I went, the more tranquil my body became. I transcended. I remember feeling hypnotized, as I began my earliest out of body experience. I could feel my spirit separate from my physical body. The deeper into the meditation, the quieter my mind and the more clearly I could feel divine presence. As I sat there, I remember asking my spirit guide and my higher self to reveal themselves, expecting a great divine intervention.

The intervention was not as great as I’d expected. I sat in serenity, and remember a faint, luminous blue orb suddenly making its way into my mind. That’s gotta be it, I thought to myself. The orb didn’t stick around too long. It was brief, and it was fleeting. But I knew that it was not something I had created. I slowly began gaining sense of my body again and felt satisfied with the brief encounter.

From then, my curiosity with the divine and connecting to it directly through meditation grew. I dove deep and read many articles. I thought if I could have an intimate relationship with the spirit world, I could find peace with my childhood, my past, and find purpose in life.

For years, I was enamored with divine connection and wanted to communicate with the realm beyond the physical one. I read articles of prophets, mediums, yogis, psychedelic researchers and even psychics. Many of the articles I read described their first encounters similar to my own. Some, even enhancing their communication with psychedelics.

I, an adult at this point in time, wanted to further explore the spiritual realm. After years of curiosity & research, I learned about psychedelics and psychedelic therapy. Psychedelic therapy can be used to rewire neurological pathways and allows rapid neuroplasticity to repair damaged neural circuits. This type of therapy can be used to, not only, treat health conditions such as PTSD (or in my case, CPTSD), but also foster emotional and spiritual breakthroughs.

Luckily, for me, I didn’t have to seek too far to find the remedy, it had come to me. Divine intervention.

My roommate at the time had brought over tabs of LSD, and invited me to trip with him and his friends. My trip was life-changing, lasting 12 hours. Some parts of my trip were light and playful, other parts of my trip were dark, meaningful and spiritual. I had experienced myself and awakened my consciousness to the highest degree.

During my trip, I took a journey into deep corners of my mind, my past, experienced ego death and existential free fall. I had my great awakening/nirvana. I learned that the human experience is brief, and consciousness is eternal, connected to the flow of universe. We are the vessel for the universe to experience itself. Energy is neither created, nor destroyed. Therefore, everything that ever was and will be, is. I realized that death is transformation, and not a final destination. And God, as I knew him, wasn’t above me or out of touch, but lived in me and lived in everyone and everything natural.

Ecstatic from my discoveries, I resurrected my faith. Before psychedelics, I had transcended into a realm beyond the natural one. Now with an enhanced experience, I came to the conclusion that the spirit realm, where the divine resides, wasn’t a place away, above and beyond, but all around and within. I found that the human soul sits between the natural world and the spirit world; reality and spirituality.

Reality & spirituality are both subjective, therefore our experience of the world is shaped by individual perceptions, beliefs, emotions, and personal histories rather than a single, universal truth.

My whole life I had felt lost and like a burden. By retraining my brain, allowing new neural pathways to form, reviving my faith and reconnecting with a greater power, I have been able to heal, and contribute to something beyond myself. Thus, allowing me to move forward in life consciously, valiantly & serenely.

Information Extracted from Harvard School of Arts and Sciences

Paul Massari, 'A Long, Strange Trip" 7/28/2021

https://gsas.harvard.edu/news/long-strange-trip

Information Extracted from National Library of Medicine

The Spirituality of Human Conciousness- A Catholic evaluation of current Nuero-Scientific interpretations

https://pubmed.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/22895637/

Information Extracted from Cameron LP, Olson DE (2022) The evolution of the psychedelic revolution.

https://pmc.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/articles/PMC9665925/

Information Extracted from NPR- Psychedelics Expanding Conciousness

https://www.npr.org/sections/13.7/2014/10/02/352924426/can-psychedelics-expand-our-consciousness

Information Extracte from U.S Department of Veteran Affairs; Psychedelic-Assisted Therapy for PTSD

https://www.ptsd.va.gov/professional/treat/txessentials/psychedelics_assisted_therapy.asp

Information Extracted from Center for the Neuroscience of Psychedelics

https://www.massgeneral.org/psychiatry/treatments-and-services/center-for-the-neuroscience-of-psychedelics

¡Viva Mexico!

Somewhere in Chihuahua, Mexico, on a ranch in the desert, my seven siblings and I grew up picking cotton in the morning before school. I remember living in a house that didn't have a roof, & when it would rain, the house and all our belongings would often flood.

Above: This neighborhood is similar to one we lived in, from what I can remember. Once, I remember riding in the back of a wagon being pulled down the unpaved street by a donkey with my siblings. I loved the burros. Getty Images.

My siblings, my pregnant mother, abusive step father and I lived in abandoned homes, friends' rooms and all sorts of different places. I don't recall ever having a stable home. My home was the love I shared with my siblings. My siblings were my entire heart and soul.

Above: Abandoned Home in Juarez, Mexico. This was similar to the ones we stayed in. There were entire neighborhoods where every other house down the block was abandoned. Image by Merissa Lyttle.

The sounds of roosters crowing at the break of dawn would wake my siblings and I up as the pick-up truck engine revved, and the smell of gasoline made its way into our little kitchen. Our first job was going to the fields just outside our ranch to pick cotton.

I was about six years old. The fluffy white fields would glisten in orange hues as the sun rose. We would work until it was time to go to school.

Above: This image depicts my memory of cotton picking as a young child. Getty images.

I loved school in Mexico. We learned a lot about la cultura mexicana and nuestros raizes (mexican culture and our roots).

Every week, the whole school would gather in the courtyard for five minutes and sing El Himno Nacional Mexicano, then we would receive the weeks' announcements from the year five students. Everyone stood in lines looking at the flag while chanting the Mexican national anthem. Sometimes, parents would stick around just to hear and sing it with their kids.

Above: This is a great representation of what it was like cantando a la bandera (singing to the flag).

Singing the Mexican national anthem was the most unifying experience I had ever had. I felt a of part something bigger than myself. I was a member of this beautiful, powerful nation. ¡VIVA MEXICO!

I was accepted by my peers, even though I was visibly different from everyone. I was La Negrita de America, (The black girl from America). I soon began to make friends. The other students would include me in their games of canicas (marbles), and would braid my hair during recess. At school, I was safe. I felt comfortable in class, and I could just be a kid.

Although I found comfort day dreaming at school, my life outside was a nightmare.

What had brought us to Mexico was the same reason we ended up fleeing.

The most vile and disgusting human being, a pedophile and predator who raped us of our innocence and would threaten our lives, was the father of my siblings and our own personal demon.

The father of my siblings was deported from New York back to Mexico. All because of me. He slammed my face on a plate onto a table, which then broke and sliced open my face.  I screamed as blood gushed down my forehead into my mouth. My mom called the cops. They fought. The police found his criminal background & immediately deported him back to Mexico. I was five years old.

For some reason my mother decided to chase this monster, with all her kids, from New York to Mexico. I had always felt guilty for it. I felt like I messed up everyones life. I thought if I didn't spill crumbs on his jacket, then he wouldn't have smashed my face on a plate, which wouldn't have gotten him deported and my siblings and I wouldn't've ended up with a whole childhood of severe trauma and depression. But, life is life and everything happens as an expirience. I eventually had to learn to forgive myself. It was extremely hard, but for my peace of mind, I had to.

After chasing him down, it was there, in Chihuahua, Mexico, where we settled and lived with his family. His family, unlike him, were kind and nurturing people. I always thought because of the things he did to us, he must've been severely mentally disturbed and really f*cked up. His family was not like him at all, they were warm, loving and vibrant. He was cold, dark & evil.

There aren't enough words to describe the monstrosity this man was.

I am still working on finding forgiveness in my heart, but only for my sake and sanity.

The word hate is an evil, awful word that can only be used toward the most vile, heartless creatures that have ever entered this universe to destroy the souls of those who are completely innocent and helpless. That was him. I shutter at the fact that he is considered a man, because what he did was far from anything manly. I would call him Satan, but even that is too generous. This creature was a demon on earth who tried to destroy many innocent lives, including mine.

From beating my mom and her children until we screeched and begged for forgiveness while the belt buckle left bruises, welts, cuts and scratches, to taking advantage of our childhood innocence, raping & sexually exploiting us, he covered pretty much every form of abuse one could think of.

Every single day, a nightmare. I would often think about how alone I felt, and if this was the life I was given, I wanted to end it.

I was 8 years old and I wanted to die. I did't want to see my brothers and sisters suffer anymore. This life was not a "gift" or "miracle" as a lot of people like to say it is. It was a burden. I began to shut down. Nothing mattered to me anymore. I was just there. I had no will to be. My spark and fire was killed. I felt like nothing. I felt nothing.

What I didn't realize was that simultaneously, as my young life played out, I was experiencing something completely and utterly beautiful that would save me and my heart.

A couple decades past, I moved and grew up, and still to this day, I express my deepest love for Mexico. People often ask how I am able to absolutely adore a place where I expirienced such pain and sorrow. Most people struggle returning or associating themselves with places that have caused them life-long trauma.

Honestly, if I had lived anywhere else in the world, I would have not survived.

Mexico is a place were people love and nurture one another, and teach you to speak and act as if everyday is your last. Celebrations, culture and the vivid life that I was surrounded in saved my young soul. My memories of trauma were coated with chocolate and the kisses and hugs from the sweet old ladies in our neighborhood. People constantly played music and danced despite the weight of poverty and gang violence. The rebelious act of participating in vibrant and positive activities, despite everything around, made you feel alive. The late night elote carts surrounded by laughter and music lifted any sadness one carried.

The love I felt was more than enough to keep me going. As happy as I was to leave the nightmare behind, I was deeply saddened to have abandoned the culture and people at the Juarez/El Paso border. Those people were the ones who taught me love. They taught me that only with love, one can heal. They taught me that love in its purest form is the eldest medicine that cures the incurable.

Above: El Paso Juarez Border

The healing process is not a journey with an end. It is a never-ending experience that one has each day, and is based off of the choices one makes. Despite my trials and tribulations, I am still healing and chose love. I have come so far because of the people and culture that made their way into my life. My love for Mexico is infinite.

'¡VIVA MEXICO! ' does not only mean 'Long Live Mexico!'. It is an exclamation of camaraderie, culture, life, connection and most of all, the ultimate healing power of true love, and love for all that is Mexico.

I hope that everyone gets to experience a culture to the depths that I did, because truly, it saved my life and changed the trajectory of my story.

I return the love I recieved in Mexico proudly. Today, tomorrow and forever ¡VIVA MEXICO!

C-PTSD AND ME

Complex Post Traumatic Stress Disorder develops after repeated and continuous chronic traumatic events. Those diagnosed with C-PTSD include war veterans, those who live in places were war frequents, and those who have been trafficked and/or kidnapped. C-PTSD can also be found within the early childhood due to chronic-long term abuse as the brain itself is developing at rapid speeds. The effects of C-PTSD can start to be seen directly after a prolonged traumatic event and becomes harder and harder to treat after the trauma survivor is above the age of seven.

Some of the effects of C-PTSD include severe lasting distress, intrusive and vivid flashbacks, hyper vigilance, bed wetting, forgetting speech, and living in a never ending state of fear, anxiety and survival.

I was diagnosed with C-PTSD about three and a half years ago after being misdiagnosed and treated for ADHD from the ages of seven to fifteen, taking intense prescribed medicine daily to treat my misdiagnosed “ADHD”, which ended up damaging a few of my neurological pathways. ADHD is one of the most misdiagnosed mental health disorders in our time, and doctors often misdiagnose children and prescribe heavy amphetamines and sedatives such as Adderall and Risperidone.

I participated in an in-depth five month psychological evaluation which led me to my diagnosis and interest in researching C-PTSD.

From first hand experience, I can say that almost every article I read about complex trauma describes it perfectly. They describe situations and emotions that I have been unable to put into words, which is an amazing thing. I know (to a degree) what is going on in my brain. As I dove deeper into the subject, I learned more about myself and the way my brain functions, and have been able to use some of the positive coping methods to help me in my everyday life.

My mind is constantly running at a hundred miles per hour, while trying to keep a lookout for danger, while having vivid flashbacks and memories every single day which are triggered by the most random, simplest situations and items. It is hard for one to get out of their head, especially when the chemicals in your brain won't allow you to focus on anything but what it chooses. You feel powerless, overwhelmed and afraid most of the time. Doing research and having evaluations available has helped me gain information, resources and coping methods (I would otherwise not have known) to use to go about my life peacefully, change my perspective about C-PTSD, and feel empowered.

If you or anyone you love can relate to any of these symptoms, I highly recommend doing research, and getting the support you need. Wether that is medication, therapy, or a support group. C-PTSD is a serious mental health condition that can lead those affected down very dark and lonely paths, often connected to self-harm and s*icide. You are never alone and your mental health matters. Reach out, stay informed and stay connected and if you feel the pull, share your story, you never know who you can impact and save.

Take care & learn to nurture your mind, body and soul. We only get this one life, the more you chose to heal and live fully, the more life will pour from you.

The National Child Traumatic Stress Network. "What Is Complex Trauma: A Resource Guide for Youth and Those Who Care About Them" https://www.nctsn.org/resources/what-complex-trauma-resource-guide-youth-and-those-who-care-about-them* Extracted: Feb 27, 2021

Donaldson, Rebecca. "The Email My Therapist Never Sent." https://cptsdfoundation.org/2021/01/14/the-email-my-ex-therapist-never-sent/* Extracted: March 2, 2021

Davis, Shirley. "Let’s Define C-PTSD" https://501c3.buzz/shirley-davis/?gclid=Cj0KCQjwi7yCBhDJARIsAMWFScOWvLY1K7irNzWTqW-N2Vp4O_8ehcSmJd2iUOy6rPBEVZQiBnNGC9MaAv5pEALw_wcB* Extracted: March 2, 2021

My older sister and I.

New York circa 2004 ish.