Bottle of Water – A Story of Forgotten Trauma

They ask me, “When can you start?”

The recruiter is on the phone with me. They just offered me a new job with twice the pay, doing more specific things within my niche. After chasing the quintessential Silicon Valley dream for over three years, this opportunity surpassed multiple expectations and metrics I’d set for myself. Though I’d been in the Bay Area for a year, this new job was the realization of what I’d always sought—a job replete with perks, pay, and growth potential.

My journey in the Bay Area started with a challenge. My initial days were consumed in the quest for that first foot-in-the-door job, which, while not ideal and far from my Silicon Valley aspiration, still gave me a foothold in this competitive terrain. But now, with this new offer, I was truly stepping into the world I’d dreamt of.

Intoxicated by the high of a new job, In the corner of my mind, sat something else important.

My first year in the Bay Area was a constant struggle. Between trying to earn enough money, while also enriching my skills, time dissolved quickly. Having to make myself marketable in one of the most competitive industries, in a pool of the most talented professionals in the world. It proved to be as stressful as it was challenging.

I would experience dozens of interviews and many rejections within that first year. Constantly swallowing what was left of my pride. I would push further to develop myself into someone who could survive this place.

Eventually, late in that first year in San Francisco, a job offer would come in at the last minute. With only about two months left of runway to live off, my savings had dried up months ago. The money I was earning driving for Lyft(Uber) was not enough to compete with the expenses. I was living off debt. A few credit cards were maxed out, while a few others I would be forced to default on in a few weeks, if I couldn’t find more income.

With that first job, I was able to earn enough. I took out a loan to consolidate the credit cards. I was able to maintain a reasonable lifestyle while making monthly payments. Albeit,  slowly.

I would respond to the recruiter, “I want to start Nov 13th.”

This would be roughly three weeks after I put in my notice. Accounting for a two weeks notice, in addition to 1 other week with no responsibility. This extra week is leveraged to invest in my mental health. I plan to attend a 5 day meditation retreat.

While working I never wanted my ‘vacation’ time to compete with the idea of a meditation retreat. Yet, there’s an unique energy in quitting a job. Something different to be gained in the time I’m spending. Perhaps there are new revelations in my life that extend beyond just enjoying a nice beach cocktail.

After exploring many options in the bay area, I’d book a weekend retreat at a community called Ananda in Nevada City, California. There they would guide me through a three day weekend. It would include vegetarian meals, a place to stay, with an option to extend extra days. I choose to stay through Tuesday which would give me a great opportunity to apply what I’d learn on my own time.

Nevada City is situated slightly into the foothills of the Sierra Nevada mountains. For mid November, I’d need a few items for the trip. I had little to no provisions for camping with the cold nights. Despite knowing it would be a while before I’d see much money come in from the new job, I’d go shopping.

Buying new things which I could barely afford, adding to the debt pile. Regardless my multiple years of discipline, I found myself compromising for the opportunity. I had now this collection of items; projected with an inflated sense of value.

Of the items I bought, most where essentials that I could get long term use out off for a variety of camping trips. Rationalizing the purchases as things that would see a lot of mileage and be taken care of. A few of these items included, long warm socks, insulated underwear, backpack, knife, and also a fancy water bottle.

The retreat would prove to be an incredible opportunity. By the end of the 3 day guided portion, I was glad I had two more days. Meditating for 1 to 2 hours every few hours and eating vegetarian food really put my body, mind, and soul into an unfamiliar state of peace. By Sunday I wanted to hug trees. I felt so happy and free, like I was getting closer and closer to true bliss.  Something was very different in me.

At the end of the weekend, a community elder would approach me late that evening, asking how I liked the program. I’d express feeling the wholeness of life. My desire to hug trees and considering eating plants everyday. A weight in my being had started to lift, however I knew I was only scratching the surface.

This man would smile, nodding to my details. He’d wait for me to full explain myself then adding a bit that has stuck with me ever since.

He tells me that our minds tend to be like a glass of pond water. Over time the silt will settle to the bottom of the glass. What appears to be a clean glass of water is dirty at the bottom. If we shake the glass a bit the silt will cloud the water, making it both apparent and easier to remove the filth. However, overtime as it settles back, we forget how much junk is still laying on the bottom.

This really resonated so deeply with me. I could see myself before this trip. My perspective was very clear and clean, but I had not begun to accept the impact of what work was needed to be done.

The tiny room I stayed in had a tiny shelf with a small collection of spiritual books. One of these books was disproportionately larger than the rest.  It was Autobiography of a Yogi by Paramhansa Yogananda. I had been reading this book during the week. But after sitting idol flipping pages, I downloaded the audio version so I could walk, listen and hike.

The compound of Ananda had many miles of trials in all directions, which ran through the hills of the Sierra Nevadas. The mid November weather was brisk but not freezing. The sun would provide adequate warmth when trails broke through the trees.

My last afternoon at this location would be spent by myself hiking and listening to the Autobiography. I’d explore some 5 to 6 miles of trails. A distance that took me almost 3 hours one way. After reaching a certain duration I felt it best to turn around. Wanting to make it back in time for dinner. I’d sit down to meditate, drink water, eat a snack, and then begin my trek back to the compound.

With only a few thousand feet left from the compound entrance, I hear the dinner bell in the distance. I was tired, hot, and sweaty despite the cool autumn mountain air. Thirsty, I would reach to the side of my pack for my water bottle, but would discover it missing. I turn around to look behind me. Nothing. I dig through my backpack hoping I forgot where I stored it. But I already knew. It was missing, and I didn’t know where I’d lost it.

I could feel an anger begin to swell inside me. A responsibility to the new expenses I could already barely afford now weighed heavy within my in ability to keep my shit together. I knew I had lost this item at some point on the trail behind me. But did I lose it 2 hours ago or 2 minutes ago. I had no idea. Perhaps someone will find it and return it, but also I knew it probably wouldn’t be found until days after I left.

I decided to do the thing I wanted the least. I turned around. I decided to walk back out of the compound in hopes I could find my gear. Turning around I disappear back into the head of the trail I started earlier that day.

As the sound of the dinner bell fades away the further I went into the woods, a frustration in my mind grew louder. I’d feel a bit blame, watered with the bitter taste of overextending my finances. Not being accountable enough to hold the few things I’d invested in the future of my adventures.

The anger and resentment took a shape and weight of its own. To the point where I felt a deep sadness creep in. An inability to hold the boundaries of these thoughts. I found myself beginning to cry.

Quickly followed by more guilt, more anger, now all directed to this vulnerability. Thinking to myself, I call myself out for wanting to cry over losing a water bottle.

I’d come so far this week with the frequent meditation. Discovering a calmness I’d only dreamed possible. Yet now this small set back has me feeling more emotional than what felt mature for my time in life.

Mentally, I’d juggle between forcing gratitude for what I had and where i was. For a moment, it worked. I’d feel a natural peace, but It wouldn’t last long. Moments later I’d feel the deep urge to cry again, and once again it would be pushed down. Locked away to be ignored in a manor that years of conditioning created to deal with ‘weak’ emotions.

Then a new awareness was brought to the forefront. I observed not the physical emotion I was hiding from, but the amount of energy I was consuming to suppress it.

Something changed in me once again. I identified an opportunity to let go. To rethink what it was that this experience was trying to teach me.

A moment passes, I feel once again the urge to cry. I stop in the midst of a narrow path of trees. This time I let go of the energy being spent to contain and hide.

I begin to cry.

Then, I begin to sob.

Time would stop at this point, I doubt it was more than a few minutes, but it felt like weeks. I would no longer comprehend why I was I those woods, or what I was searching for. As tears filled my face, I’d start bawling. As if I was in those woods to bury a family pet, and perhaps I was there to bury something.

Images of many moments in my life flipped through my mind. Like life flashing before my eyes, but full of many painful moments. Times where friends took advantage of me, times I burnt bridges, painful lessons of my youth, and failings of relationships.  These scenes where numerous, confusing, conflicting, and also painful. I crumple to the ground due to the weight of the emotions pouring out.

After sometime of this, I would regain my breath. I stopped having what I’d assume was partly a panic attack. Spitting the salty tears that had reached my lips and wiping away the ones still in my eyes. I can now see again.

I look up at the tree line straddling the path. On a branch hanging from a tree a short distance away, I see my water bottle.

Coming through this narrow part of the path, It must have gotten snagged, and removed from the side of my pack. What should have been a feeling of relief was replaced with with another familiar urge to cry. I didn’t fight it.

I surrendered.

I’d go right back into funeral grade tears. Another eternity of time, and rounds of more flash backs would come up. Eventually I would collect myself, replacing the guilt and blame with gratitude. The sadness would still come back in waves, but they were never as intense. I would relinquish all efforts to stifle these releases. Now able to just feel the sadness without it crippling me emotionally.

I get up. I grab the water bottle off the tree and turn back to the compound hopping get a bit to eat.
I enter the dinning hall, and the first person I see is the elder I’d talked to days ago. Despite my efforts to calm down and relax myself, it was written all over my red face and bloodshot eyes. The amount of emotions on my mind could not be ignored or hidden.

As soon as the elder saw me the first words out of his mouth were, “You shook the glass really hard”.
Those world shocked me like a lighting bolt to my heart. All the silt collected from my years of life that I had trained myself to ignore because I constantly wanted to see the glass as clear and pristine. Many times through out my life I would observe the filth and gunk, but wold develop emotional habits which would ensure it was forced to settle to the bottom.

I’d cry heavy again. Once again burying another beloved pet into its shallow grave by myself.

This older man would give me a hug and tell me it’s OK to be sad, and it’s OK to grow.

I find myself everyday exploring many different trails through the foothills of my own life. Completing these routes bring up various challenges along the way. I’ve learned refusal to accept the difficult aspects of these challenges doesn’t do me any favors. It’s rare these days for me to completely breakdown and cry like I did that day in the woods. Only has Ayahuasca or other deeper meditative states brought up such revelations through emotions.

I think much of this is due to the fact I don’t hide from day to day emotional releases anymore. I try to embody compassion for the human experience I’m living. I know it’s easier on my soul to not fight what it wants to remove. Allowing the energy to pass through me and not feel like I’m less of a man because of it. Contrarily, I’m now able to navigate my logic with fewer emotional blocks. Enabling me to better navigate a head space where my true strength can manifest all the complexities of our world.