To be honest, I’m lost

I always have been

I always will be

Trying to find my place

In a world that seems so…

Distant; so far away

I’m different

I can’t relate

I isolate


I’m dis


And it hurts

If I’m not alone

Why do I feel so lonely?

If I’m not alone

Will you come find me?

I’m searching for connection

Lost; just waiting to be found…


“Somebody Help Me”

It was a Sunday night. I had gotten together with a few friends. We were out on the porch – talking, laughing and sharing stories of our day-to-day lives.

It was a good night. I had a good time.

But, that “good feeling” quickly left my body minutes after my friends leaving, when I heard the loud, piercing screams of a lady, yelling, “SOMEBODY HELP ME! HELP! HE’S…”, over and over again.

Feelings of fear, anxiety and panic ran through my body – outside and within. I was scared and frightened; so petrified, I nearly froze – but I couldn’t. Something was wrong; terribly wrong. I mean, I know I can be paranoid, but these screams were the sound of someone fighting for their safety and life.

Shaking from head to toe, I dialled the number for the police. I had my phone in my hand, ready to press “call”, as I tried to figure out where exactly the screams were coming from.

They were coming from across the water, and I had no way of intervening. I called the police to let them know and have them check out the area.

I don’t know who you are, but I hear you. I don’t know where you are, but I hear you. I hear your screams, your pleas and your cries for help. I don’t see you, but I hear you. I’m across the water; you’re on the other side – somewhere over there, but I don’t know where.

Then, suddenly, the screams faded and stopped, and all I heard was silence.

What the fuck just happened?

Disturbing images went through my mind. Disturbing flashbacks and memories of my own trauma went through my mind.

I’m still shaking.

I know I did what I could, but I wish I could have done more.

I can still hear your screams in my head. It’s all I can hear and I can’t sleep. When I sleep, in my dreams, you appear.

I pray to God that you are – or will be – okay. I pray to God that you’re safe.

Lost and Confused




       r              o

    e                   r

        v           e

                                                                   t l s o


   o   n   f                                                       

c              u



The Dilemma

Conferences. Workshops. Trainings. Events. Anything to do with CYC. I love them. I ab-so-lute-ly love them. I mean, this is my field – my joy, my love, my passion, my calling. And these are my people – my heroes, my inspirations, my friends, my family. I mean, in a world full of over seven billion people, these are the people I feel a sense of connection and belonging to. I mean, out of all the places in the world, this place feels like home.

But there’s one issue: as much as I love all of this, I fear all of it, too. The people. The strangers. The groups. The crowds. The socializing. The conversations. The questions. The looks. The lights. The noise. The environment. The stimuli. The triggers. The memories. The flashbacks. The emotions. The tears. The fears. The doubts. The comparisons. The anxiety. The frustration. The overwhelmingness.

And – despite feeling a sense of connection and belonging – a part of me cannot help but feel different than those around me, and I often feel lonely and isolated in social settings because of it.

Sometimes it’s all just too much, and I want and need to get away. Cry. Breathe. Meditate. Pray. Spend time with nature and the outdoors. Listen to music. Walk. Sit. Hang out with the Universe in silence.

There’s nothing wrong with that, right?

Sometimes I feel weak because of it, but I remind myself that there is nothing wrong with needing space.

But I often wonder in social moments like these: Do I shy away from experiences to create felt-safety and risk missing opportunities to connect? Or do I gather the strength and courage to face my fears by taking risks and stepping out of my comfort zone? And when do I take a step forward? When do I take a step back? When do I remain still? And how do I find a balance? How much is too much space?

And lastly, as I reflect back on my experience, I ask: Did growth and change occur?

That, I don’t know…