Ayahuasca and the Angel in the Mirror
I’m no Pollyanna — the world is full of darkness and pain — but inside most of us is a love that heals all
Not the greatest childhood.
Emotional neglect. Sexual abuse. Physical abuse. Left in the care of an undiagnosed but clearly mentally ill grandmother. Young, single mom who liked to date and party instead of spending time with me. Nonexistent dad. Poor and unwashed. Bullied at school. Shame. Fundamentalist Christianity. A perpetual guilty conscience. Total self-hatred.
I took what escape methods I could find. First, it was books, education, and music. I would spend hours reading books meant for adults or teaching myself complicated classical pieces on a crappy old student flute. I excelled in school. When we relocated to Georgia, the educational system was so terrible that I grew bored and directionless. I took a crooked route, skipping school, smoking, running away. Raves. Drugs.
Somehow, I cleaned up my act enough to get into college, but without any sort of guidance, without any practical life skills or discipline, I soon failed out. Six months later, I moved back home and took an office job. Despite the partying, I excelled at it and was eventually offered a job in New York. I took it and ran.
