The Mirage of Freedom Questing

A life-long, traumatic search for liberation that led me nowhere

Freedom was once my modus operandi; my quest; the only thing I could consistently commit to. My life, up until recently, has been in total service to the liberation of myself and others.

Little did I know, my lifelong devotion would be the primary source of my pain and suffering. I’ve cycled through a couple of different definitions for freedom -- both of which led me down some rather traumatic roads, that I’m only now beginning to truly process and heal from.

I used to define freedom as the ability to be physically unattached to people and things and places; to do whatever I wanted, with whomever I wanted, whenever I wanted.

This definition of freedom caused me first to rebel against parental and societal expectations as a teenager (which later morphed into rebellion against “the man”) and then sent me seeking an ever-shifting set of idealistic circumstances; all mirages in the desert. I ate fistfuls of sand on more occasions than I care to admit, each time believing I'd finally reached the oasis that would quench my thirst for liberation.

When I began suspecting that my concept of freedom wasn’t working for me (as evidenced by my near continual state of anxious discontent, peppered only with fleeting moments of satisfaction) I began the process of moving on to what I would eventually think of as a more “evolved” notion of freedom.

This notion was initiated by the arrival of “The Secret” in my late twenties and was a slow burn that would come to take root in my psyche as I spent the next 15 years diving to the deepest depths of new age teachings. This new-fangled definition of freedom I’d found, was a state of mind in which I was informed I had the ability to be both physically AND emotionally unattached.

I devotedly sought out all of the ancient texts and teachings I could find that supported this idea, all of which encouraged me to reach infinitely for lofty, transcendent states in which I knew life as nothing but a wispy dream; my true reality an eternal paradise I’d never left; my true self an omnipotent God capable of commanding reality.

Although I devoted my whole self and life to these teachings and their subscribed practices, they were never quite able to deliver me to the promised land of ultimate freedom —

however, they did do a pretty stellar job robbing me of my humanity, turning me into a colossal jerk, and spiraling me into the deepest depressions I’d ever known (on many fronts)

Both of these concepts of freedom, and their associated quests, lead me down some very dark roads.

You may (or may not) be surprised to know that the loftiest of the roads crawled with far more damaging people and destructive perspectives than the "lesser evolved" roads. Since these characters masqueraded as do-gooders and well-wishers, they were nearly impossible to identify as dangerous, until it was too late.

It’s only been recently that the spell I was under for all those years somehow lifted; an experience I’m not yet able to put words to - similar to a spell that was broken nearly a year ago, regarding a psychologically and emotionally abusive relationship I was in with a man whom I didn’t even know was abusing me until it was over (still looking for the words to fully and accurately tell that story)

As my lifelong quest for freedom is coming to a screeching halt, I am slowly becoming aware of just how much trauma I have sustained over the years, and am contending with some pretty intense crises of faith & identity.

I’m not sure yet who I’m becoming, where I’m going, or what I believe, as the one thing that’s always guided my narrative and directed my actions - freedom - is no longer relevant.

Ironically, I’ve been feeling grateful to be liberated from decades of seeking freedom.

In the spaces between processing all I’ve been through, I’m beginning to catch glimpses of an authentic self, that I’d slowly bargained away in exchange for empty promises.

For now, all I know to do is focus on restoring the perfection I spoiled by trying so desperately to improve myself, and my circumstances in the name of liberation and enlightenment.

You could say, I gilded the fuck out of the lily.

There are two main restorative elixirs I find myself turning to lately on repeat; the first of which is simply - telling the truth.

Not "the truth", but MY truth.

New age indoctrination trained me to gaslight myself (for reasons I won't get into here) and left me often feeling very ashamed of who I was and what I had created. For so long, I hardly allowed myself to acknowledge, let alone share with others, what was going on in my life. And so, it feels like quite the radical act to tell the actual truth, as I’m doing here.

My second restorative elixir is - basking in everyday beauty.

Beauty has always been very important to me; I'm a libra, a designer, and an artist at heart. For so long I was perpetually focused on being somewhere (or someone) I was not, that I robbed myself of the beauty around me, and within me, all along. To prioritize seeing beauty in the ordinary is the second elixir integral to my healing (only after telling the truth, of course, because sometimes, my truth speaks of ugliness) 

As my quest for freedom is coming to a halt, and my healing is beginning, I’ve begun asking a new question entirely. The question is, “what would contribute to the overall quality of my life now?”

The answer is nearly always to tell the real-time truth, find the right-now beauty, and be exactly who I am, where I am, as I am

Pretty wild that a life-long (traumatic) search for liberation could lead me absolutely nowhere, but here… donchya think?

Xo Chandra Nicole