There was a moment in time, during my recovery, where it felt like the whole world had expanded. Where I was learning new and wondrous things about what it meant to be alive. I felt like a baby discovering my feet for the first time. Colours seemed brighter, the world shimmered with light and perspective, freedom came in crashing waves, and I existed in a perpetual state of angst and awe. It was nothing short of magical. I keep referring to this time as early recovery but I’m not sure that explains it well because it doesn’t always happen in the early days when we are struggling through the discomfort of re/learning how to meet our basic needs. I think this is more of a tipping point, where (as one of my clever therapists once said) going back is now impossible. We know too much. I’m not sure if everyone finds this place. Some of us stumble upon it after months/years/decades of the hardest work, but for others, it’s obscured. Clouded in the normalcy of their day-to-day.
Lately, I’ve been feeling like something is missing from my life. It began as a subtle ache situated in the centre of my body that gradually inched around my ribs, constricting. Making it exceedingly more difficult to ignore as time passed. I realize now that this ache is for the magic. The euphoria I experienced in those early days.
There’s been fleeting moments where I’ve experienced it, particularly awe-inspiring sunrises or sunsets, playing with my nieces and nephews, or simply a realization that what I was doing in any given moment would have seemed nearly impossible just a few short years ago; but it’s been just that, fleeting. I was speaking to my friend and writing coach Yoda Olynik about this and she mentioned the term for this in AA circles is the Pink Cloud and I think it captures the experience perfectly. Existing in a realm of wonder and rainbows.
The struggle I’ve been having is how far away I feel from that place now and how much I long to return to it. I keep hoping the right book, the tiniest nugget of wisdom will transport me back into the haze but it has yet to happen; and I’m not sure it ever will. I think chasing both the novelty and comfort of this stage happens on occasion. You see it in folks who go from places of addiction, to extreme athleticism. Chasing the physical highs that come with it, and you can see it in more intellectual and spiritual places too. Where those of us who are more heart or head search endlessly for hits of knowledge and slivers of understanding.
While I would love to say that chasing these feelings is a common and natural part of recovery, I’m actually not certain of that. To me it actually feels like a warning sign, or perhaps maybe just a gentle nudge to pay more attention. Why is it that I want to return back to this place so badly? Could it be possible that am I running away from a feeling/experience/discomfort? Am I searching for more novelty? Or in need of more dopamine inducing experiences? Would a night of dancing with my friends or a vacation to a new destination offer what I’m searching for? Or do I simply need to learn how to stop, slow down and pay attention to the world around me? To lean into the wonder and awe that can be found in the everyday. Much has been written on this topic. In fact, I suggest reading Katherine May’s book Enchantment if you’re hoping to infuse more of these experiences into your life. Or giving Giselle La Pompe Moore’s Substack a follow.
For now, I’m going to take some time to reflect on my questions and remind myself that there is nothing wrong with wanting to feel a particular way. Perhaps longing for certain experiences or emotions in our lives simply offers us a window into our soul’s deepest desires. What am I missing? Why now? And how can I unearth more of it in a deeply nourishing way? Then, when we are able to really pay attention to our yearnings, when we can honour them with the respect they deserve, we can move forward into discovery with the utmost intention rather than aimlessly meandering an unmarked path to euphoria.
Hi! My name is Catherine and I love exploring the vast landscape of human feeling and the small every day moments of mental health recovery. I also write poetry and prose about my own personal journey of healing.
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so beautiful! Thank you for the shout out <3 and for writing the way that you do. I feel so seen after reading this <3