Huffington Magazine Issue 87 | Page 29

Voices grew steadily, as did my list of prescription drugs. Popping cocktails of bright, multi-colored tablets became routine as I tried eliminating everything from gluten to caffeine, sugar, dairy and alcohol. I carried my disorder with me through three jobs, three apartments and three relationships. The side effects of the medications were vast and deep. Depression and a constant, free-floating sense of unease cloaked my clothing during the day and pushed up against me at night when I slept. It ran down my legs and into the drain like soap when I showered. Trying to determine what drug was causing what reaction or what circumstance was causing what emotion became an endless maze — a nauseating brain teaser that I longed to quit but also needed to solve. Consequently, maintaining sanity was my biggest concern going into a five-day silent meditation retreat at the Esalen Institute in Big Sur, Calif. It was the end of 2013 and I found myself exhausted, burnt out and looking for peace. Having never meditated before (I don’t count the hourlong class while studying abroad in England at age 21 where I instantly fell asleep to the sound SASHA BRONNER HUFFINGTON 02.09.14 of a train passing by), I worried about what repeated meditation and prolonged silence would stir up within my psyche. A month before going, I told an ex that I was most scared of my own intensity, and he told me that that was exactly why I should go. Revealing to people that I was going to be silent for five days inspired all sorts of responses. They were even more baffled when I clar- What started as a small rash of hives at age 22 slowly blossomed into a dark and prickly garden of endless referrals, specialists, misdiagnoses, pills, needles, IVs, fullbody scans and more questions than answers.” ified that I would do so alone, over New Year’s Eve and my birthday. The decision to go came almost out of a fever dream. I don’t remember when the idea came to me and I don’t remember deciding to do it. It’s like I always meant to go, forgot about it and then suddenly remembered. A minor case of curable amnesia.