Early this year, our chorus participated in a few performances of a play that was inspired by Anders Breivik's mass shooting in Norway four years ago. In one scene, the main character (Claire) is describing to another character what she felt during the shooting, and during it she says (transcribed from rather imperfect memory):
Claire: ... and then -- I felt my soul leave my body.
Other: And when did it return?
Claire: it never has.
I keep trying to make some sense of what happened to me in childhood and how the rest of my life has gone, and this scene and this way of describing a feeling resonates with me.
I feel as if some essential part of me -- soul is a good word for it -- went away, faded away, died, "left my body" over the course of a year or two fifty years ago and hasn't returned. And it feels like the rest of my life has been spent suffering from its absence and trying to find it again and, in a way, trying to make my life, "my body" if you will, something my soul might want to return to.
(Trivia note: during that scene, our chorus sang a piece composed for the play called "Soul")
Well it might come back...
if you concentrate on what really brings you joy...
I know the feeling , between being trans early on and shutting myself away from the bullying and the confusion of not knowing why I didn't belong and an horrendous desire to be female ,I died. I was overwhelmed by what I was dealing with and my self died. Everyone finds their own path and I have faith that the light will shine again for you. I got lucky and got struck in the head by a vision of God. That vision became my purpose. Steve died a long time ago, but Stephanie took his place.