About six years ago, the accumulating evidence had become too overwhelming to ignore any longer. I abandoned my struggles, raised a white flag, and surrendered. But initiating peace with myself became, in many ways, more of a trial than the long-standing war.
My first effort to shed light upon the shadows of my history was to sit at a word processor and begin to write down what I remembered of my life’s strange experiences. My fears — whether warranted or irrational — had never been so heightened, nor so evident, as in those first few hours of writing. My hands shook almost uncontrollably. I imagined that my pounding heart was disturbing the peace blocks away. The typing was an unmitigated mess, but I managed to write down the first few pages in a manic burst of confessional release. Then, drained, I cried like a baby for the rest of the evening.
In the weeks and months that followed, I produced scores of documents detailing, as best I could recall, the unusual, enigmatic, and scientifically unaccountable events I had been experiencing for decades. And as I continued to write, the irrational fears that once gripped me so tightly began to loosen.
Surprisingly, I discovered that my anomalous experiences were, perhaps, not quite so anomalous after all. When I reviewed them as a grouping of incidents spanning many years, I began to see patterns defined by consecutive events and repeating motifs. If unable to grasp their cause, at least I could now see their effects.
These were small beginnings upon a road to personal realization. I had always feared such a transpersonal journey, but once it was embarked upon, I began to understand what had previously mystified me, and the more I understood, the less I had to fear.
Over a two-year period, I learned a great deal about myself and about the unusual events that had so shaken my perception of daily life. I also learned how to discern matters of fact from fantasy. I noticed, for instance, that my powerfully imaging mind would occasionally contribute non-factual details to my memory, leading me astray in my search through its shrouded halls. But once I had realized and understood this inherent tendency, it took only minimal cerebral skill to install a virtual warning system, so to speak, in my mind. This alerted me to any cross-talk from my professional or personal fantasy generator that might intrude into the analytical regions of my brain.