Page 8 - 2019 EMERGING WRITERS FELLOWSHIP ANTHOLOGY1

I’ve been obsessively writing my whole life, but over the past year, I’ve unleashed Mayhem

onto the world, and I was flooded with support from everyone who heard me read. They
call me Mayhem because I can’t stop the manic chaos. I can’t control myself. It’s all a force

bigger than me, something else coursing through my veins, making my voice louder, and
giving me the words to say. It’s amazing how I can live my life propulsed by self will, and

filling my life with everything except what I actually want to be doing. The mouse spirit
was with me because I was trying too hard to make my old life work; molding myself to

be sane, productive, or whatever it was to make everyone happy, to achieve goals that no
longer had meaning to me. I was totally consumed with tasks, but no purpose. I was firmly

disillusioned about how human services are supposed to help people. I needed a more
meaningful project, and after Esalen, I knew that my purpose in life was now to write.

Esalen was, in many ways, a dream come true. I submitted an application to something I
never had done before, nor did I believe I had any chance in obtaining. I don’t believe in

divine intervention necessarily, but this was definitely a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity
for someone like me. I did feel some challenges relating to people who were not also

fellowship winners, but my bond with the other contributing writers to this anthology is
priceless. I could not have experienced this beautiful moment without them. I felt so

empowered to share myself with all the rest of the attendees, and it was a bolder power

move to float in the springs, unapologetically naked as a trans person. I have accepted to
scorn my own skin forever, but at Esalen, I felt my own power. I let myself shine, and was

showered with so much love. I never thought it was possible for me to be plucked out of
my small city, placed in this environment, and appreciated in the way that I was. I will

never forget that feeling.

Upon my return home, I felt inspired, now confidently knowing that I was meant to wholly

give myself to writing. Although resolutely convinced, I landed in Syracuse the night that
was to be my last night in my house. I spent the next few weeks trying to move, bouncing

between my parents’ house, and my partner’s parents’ home. We finally moved in the first
week in July. Work was more torment and torture, now knowing that I was still stuck. As

the sole income of my household, I knew I couldn’t give this up. I continued to give the
remnants of my heart to this job.

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