Remembering the past.  Rehab-ish stuff.  Transcending life's inevitable pain.  Reality is Freedom.

About Me
If you want to know the truth, you’ll have to read it in order, start with Post Number One. Even when it’s boring and lengthy and doesn’t seem to make sense. You see, my name used to be Rachel Lynn Curry, but now I’m just “Rachel.” I want to change it to Rachel Lyon Hart, occasionally, but I think doing so might be a little too silly. A little too impulsive. I’m not totally sure yet.

I’ve blocked out my brothers’ names to protect them. Because I’m protective. I used to expose people’s secrets, but now I only expose mine.

I used to be afraid to take my husband’s last name, but I think I’m finally ready…after 6 years. I used to want tattoos and not allow myself to enjoy in them, but now I have a collection of beautiful, animal-inspired artwork to draw all over my body. I used to have PTSD disguised as fibromyalgia…and agoraphobia…and hypochondria…and self-sabotage…and scrupulosity…and intimacy problems…and addiction run amok. But now I celebrate my existence.

I used to think my upbringing was reasonably normal. But my memoir will tell you the truth. I used to forget. But now I remember. I used to be a dumb bitch, but I got smart…

…And I’ve never been happier. #neverforget.

Other Stuff
My previous blog can be accessed here. It’s a compilation of posts I wrote while actively engaging in EMDR. If you observe the content, you’ll see how my mind starts off sharp and then gets muddy….metaphoric and triggered and lost…until August 2018, when I “find myself” again. What you just read may not make sense to a mathmatically-minded-box-checking-machine type person. But for those who have completed trauma work - for those who have walked through the hell (again) to get to the heaven (finally) - my posts will look completely prototypical.

My brain starts out strong and functionally maladapted with humorous narratives and heavy intellectualization. I was refusing the reptilian cravings to feel or give in to feelings because my feelings notoriously betrayed me. In the beginning you can see how I cling to my prefrontal-cortextual wisdom. #imakeupwords. I was doing the responsible thing I knew how to do to: fake it ‘till you make it…act as if…maybe for the rest of your life. But eventually, the posted content gets emotional and messy and metaphoric. I started binging on donuts and “relapsing” to cope with horrendous somatic awareness…it was a sensation for which I had no words. Remnants of religion and dogma were deconstructing. I stopped writing for a while because it seemed I couldn’t “find my voice” in the thicket of it. The thicket of the pain and transference. Thank God for friends.

Eventually, however, my physical PTSD symptoms began to subside. I started believing in myself again. I was hiking and painting and feeling integrated. I start having what I like to call “EMDR Mountain Moments,” where oceans of unconscious information fill my consciousness with tidal waves of memories. This is when I “took an extended vacation” from life, started a new blog series, and faced the reality my brain had preservedly refused to remember. #preservedlyisastretch.