As my parents and The Boy left my room the night of my de-cyborging operation, I felt a twinge of sadness and a bleak and stark loneliness pierced my heart. It is always this way when the day becomes night and it becomes time for my visitors to leave. I’m usually fine after I’ve settled into my nightly routine but that first moment when the door shuts leaving me alone is like a Band-Aid being ripped off and the sense of being alone is always fresh and raw.
My ketamine visions had never been this beautiful. Visions of flowers, of muted light and picnics and fields at dusk. Of flying and floral head wreaths. The sort of aesthetic that wouldn’t look out of place in a Lana Del Rey film clip.
I lay still but in my mind I was dancing. Dressed in lace and cream I smiled at the man in front of me. I felt a surge of love as he held me close and looked into my eyes. Flowers littered the dancefloor and my hair. The light was soft and muted, yellowing in the afternoon. A Lana Del Rey film-clip starring me and my someday wedding. Bliss swirled and soared within me as the movie played out. Happy smiles, longing looks, sitting in a hotel room drinking tea and hugging, laughing with what looked like Europe out the window. A honey moon in Paris perhaps?
Despite lying a in hospital bed I felt really at peace. Full of love, at one with the universe, close to God. It felt like a supremely spiritual experience. In that moment, despite everything, I felt completely and utterly happy.
Peace flowed through my veins and the sadness and grief of the past few weeks fell away. I felt renewed, reawakened with a strength and positivity I hadn’t felt before. A determination and resolve to be a warrior not a victim and I felt ready to tackle this next hurdle.
I felt a strong calling, a voice, telling me I am on this planet to inspire people. For the previous few weeks I had felt so fragile, so weak, so uninspiring. All I had wanted to do was hide away but now I felt strong, ready to be brave and face this challenge with hope and optimism and inspire people.
I saw myself writing my book and getting it published. Doing motivational talks about resilience. And I felt happy, grateful even, for this experience. For the lessons it was and would teach me and for the opportunity and time to write my story that I might not have otherwise had.
I felt that spark of myself returning. That fire. That determination. I felt ready to be triumphant again. I thought about rehab the first time around and how good those small gains felt. How much growth I did and how I emerged triumphant and proud and I felt grateful for the chance to experience that all over again.
I lay there with a smile on my face, a fire in my heart and a hell of a lot of ketamine in my veins.