Living in oblivion

 "Why did you name it 'healing through learning'?"

A woman standing a couple of feet away from me raised a straightforward question point-blankly as she scrutinzed the words printed on my business card. 

The silver-framed, oval-shaped spectacled woman's directness elevated my mood instantly. I took it as a positive feedback--she was showing interest or at least a bit curious about what matters to me.

That night, I was out late in NYC, except it wasn't just an ordinary night out in the city for me.  As the blue moon watched over from high above, I went out in front of a 50-plus audience to play a supportive role for what the crowd of people came to see, Terada Honke from Japan.     

The meaning behind "healing through learning" is profoundly personal. I wanted to include "healing" as part of who I am because it tells a story about how I got here.

Three-plus years ago, my body and mind shut down on me.    

As I look back, it slowly crept up on me. But I didn't see it coming. I made the choice not to notice it. I pretended not to know. I used to think I was invincible. I never even imagined that I would fall and not get up. I was the type who refused to take any meds unless absolutely necessary.  

All these signs were showing up right in front of me, but I turned a blind eye on them. I just kept moving, not paying attention to any of the writings on the wall. It wasn't that I didn't care. I did care in my own way. 

I cared. For others. Doing for others was my top priority. Putting other people's needs before mine was a second nature to me. An empty glass was what I had become. I kept giving and giving until I had nothing more to give. At the end, I shattered into pieces. 

Somewhere along the way, I lost myself in oblivion. I didn't even know when or how I got lost. All I knew was that I wasn't the same "me" anymore.