Photo by Elijah Hurwitz (35mm film)
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Instead of a word that would magically bring us success, Lisa and I made a pact that we’d hold each other accountable.
Watching the ball drop. New Year’s resolutions. Word of the year. Good luck food. None of those things are Amish tradition.
This is Tool #5 out of 5. On a cold, overcast January morning, I got off the train and walked into a ketamine clinic in Lower Manhattan. My expectations were low. So low, in fact, that I was getting the treatment just to cross it off my list as another thing that didn’t work.
This is Tool #4 out of 5. I had to sort through my traumas every step of the way, and handwriting made it possible for me to find clues that typing simply couldn’t.
This is Tool #3 out of 5. My garden is a chaos of plants, weeds, and leaves. And that’s totally okay. It’s part of who I am: cluttered, disorderly, a stormy mess.
COVID-19 has shown us that we’re all interconnected and that the actions of one community affects everyone else. The Amish aren’t self-sufficient and separated from the modern world: they go to the grocery store, sell things, interact with the non-Amish, and depend 100% on the outside world to survive.
This is Tool #2 out of 5. Long before the hour was over, I found myself going to a freeing, happy place I hadn’t experienced since I was a first grader in Amish school.
As a practicing Amish girl, I had no resources (e.g., textbooks and books) to teach myself accurate knowledge about the ins and outs of menstruation, exactly how I could get pregnant, and the actual versus perceived dangers of running and playing softball during school at recess when I had my period.
This is Tool #1 out of 5. When I began traditional therapy, I started working through my emotions and traumas intellectually, but it wasn’t until I stumbled upon physical tools that I could use daily and incorporate into my everyday life that I really began to see improvement.