Chaos and Calm

I recently watched a documentary that invigorated me. It gave me chills and made me think. It forced me to come to terms with some deeper issues in my own life while also examining the lives of others. I Am examines the idea of interconnectedness. That every action, thought and emotion affects those around us. It affects people, plants, water, and even planetary motion. Mind. Blown. So what am I giving to the world? What have I given in the past?

My life has been a constant evolution. I changed families before I was a month old and was a much-anticipated arrival for my mother who's only curse was wanting children and not being able to produce them. The energy on that day (I'm told) was celebratory. My brother was the first to hold me and, as far as I know, he didn't even attempt to drop me. A success story from the beginning!

This was only the first of many drastic changes I would experience in the coming years. We all change every day. Change is natural. Change is good. It makes us stronger, and it makes us grow. How boring would life be without it? But I would be remiss if I were to say that change comes without consequence, and a certain amount of chaos.

Shortly after my adoption, my chaos manifested in Febrile Seizures, a kind of electrical storm in the brain. My poor parents had chosen a blue newborn with a frothy mouth. Well... I always did like being the center of attention. After the hospital came the calm. I was prescribed Phenobarbital, a long-acting barbiturate, and for the next five years could be found sleeping under tables at school and at home. The side-effects caused drowsiness, depression, and a strange disconnectedness. As if I was always on a low-flying cloud. Recent research has shown that the drug may have been more harmful than helpful as it reduces brain activity in children and can even affect nerve stimulation. But I turned out all right. I adapted.

My family moved four times in a four-year span starting when I was seven. I made friends quickly and wrote in my diary or painted whenever I felt lonely. My father worked out-of-state from the time I was fourteen until well after I graduated college, and my mother essentially raised us on her own. I was all right. I adapted. My brother had a harder time.

When the moves started, I was seven, but my brother was fourteen. He'd also moved when he was 7 (I was a baby) and he was also adopted as a child. These moves had more of an impact as he was older and social dynamics were more important and less easy to find in new situations. He started his teenage rebellion with more fire than most, and soon he took my chaos medal for his own.

Drugs, petty theft, and teenage pregnancy became much more exciting than my "but I just want to fit in" problems. My brother stole my mom's jewelry (she got it back), some alcohol, and my chaos. My precious, precious treasure. That thing that made me special. I vowed to get it back.

My brother's deep rebellion leveled out around the time I went to college and for a while... we were both calm. His family bonded as they overcame struggles uncommon for most teenagers. They fell in love raising their child, went back to school, and became role models. I became proud of who they'd become.

But chaos was gnawing at me like a bad addiction. Its electricity brings drama, passion, and excitement. It draws people in and makes them listen, but it doesn't make them stay.

I moved to New York City after college, leaving my first love with the house he was building for us. I broke up the dogs, said goodbye to the family, and moved to a roach-infested 2-bedroom on St. Marks and 2nd Avenue. The next couple years were just the excitement I had been craving. They were filled with danger, stupidity, and they were completely necessary. My beloved friends shared my turbulent struggle and somehow, I think we made it out alive. Perhaps even stronger.

At times it seemed like the storm was receding. It lay dormant and let me play out a "normal" life for a couple weeks; I had days that were filled with routine and structure. But that never lasted long.

My move to Colombia was the most extreme decision I'd made thus far. The news rippled through my family and friends like a Febrile Seizure. They were rocked. I moved with nothing; no job, no friends, minimal clothing and even less money. I had no expectations, just a blind hope that this would finally be the right decision.

The culture was strange to me, the language still difficult, and everything felt different. What shocked me, however, wasn't the turmoil I'd come to expect.

It was the calm.

For the first time in my life I actually took things in stride. I appreciated the incredible nature around me and I felt sincerely gracious for the life I'd been given. I felt so gracious, I wanted to give back to whoever would take it. I felt so loved, I wanted to love. I was so content, I wanted to stay.

So now, there is no longer a need for the chaos I've struggled to claim for so many years. It has no place here in Manizales, Colombia.

Let the light I've been given radiate through everything around me. Let me share my smile with someone who needs it more. Let me live in tandem with the plants that share my breath. Let me love. Let me love you. 

I am so happy that my chaos led me to the calm I now have. I embrace them both in a delicate balance. Thank you for your love.