WHITE ROOM

a white light pours into the crown and fills the temple from the hairs on the head to the tips of the toes.

becoming aware of each contracted muscle until my breath and the white light relaxed it. i felt as if i was being held as a baby, secure in myself and unaware of any external fears. With my present self and all her worries blurring into the background, i was prepared to meet a future version of me; a self i knew intimately and yet, a self that eluded me. i could only find her if i stepped forward into the darkness of the unknown, right behind my eyelids. Breathing in from every orifice, the exhalations hugged my curves, and every crease and wrinkle filled with the plumpness of youth. it was a time to learn; i was safe, so i became eager for the lessons. 

i was guided into a room. i was instructed to observe the room⸺how it was decorated, what it smelled like, etc. All my senses were activated, and working together, without any effort—how they operate the majority of the time, when healthy—but i could feel my whole body light up. i could move from breath to touch to breath to sound to breath to sight to breath to smell to breath to taste to breath. in the feelings were words. i couldn’t yet decipher the messages i was receiving, but i was aware there were messages coming through. Being nonjudgmental of myself was easy. Then i was instructed to sit at a table (that wasn’t there) and i was informed of a door opening (when there was no door), and out of that door (that didn’t exist) walked someone familiar to me (who i didn’t recognize).

i stood in a room with white floors and white walls and a white ceiling. There was no decor, no smell. There were no doors or windows. When the word ‘table’ was presented, a table appeared. it was metal, cold. When i was told to pull back the chair at the table and sit down, a plastic chair appeared. 

Plastic; i wasn’t making myself comfortable. 

When my future self was invited in, she entered the room through a door to my right, where there was no door. A door simply manifested and eased open from inside the white wall. My future self floated through the wall-door as a ghost. 

i’m always a mysterious one. 

When she was in, the door was only a wall again.

She joined me at the table, pulling another invisible chair out to sit across from me. Her plastic chair had a cushion. Oh good, she’s smarter than me. i will be curious about her. 

i will be curious about myself. 

She had short bangs and wavy hair that landed on her shoulders. Her eyes were my eyes, but they were deeper; i wanted to know how she did that. in her presence i was calm, confident. i was provided a list of questions to ask my future self. One by one i asked, and waited for her response. i became anxious to hear her voice, but she didn’t say anything. i thought she was trying to annoy me with her silence, but then i felt a tug in the very center of myself. i understood why she didn’t have to move her mouth or tongue to produce words. The answers were in the quiet, right there, inside of me—because they were right there inside of her. She’d done work i’d not yet done, work i didn’t have any idea how to do yet. i experienced my anxiety being replaced with hope. She listened to each question, made her considerations quietly, with very little movement, and responded from her heart. Her heart was at the bottom of her eyes, that’s why they were so deep. 

i already know everything i need to know. i am her. She is me. We. 

Now that i know where to find her, i thought, i’m going to spend more time with her. 

it took months before i understood my room was empty because my present state of belief was a blank slate. i was learning how to change my mind, learning to discard the beliefs i had been given that were not mine, so i could find my own voice. 

This voice. 

i was ripe to begin replacing the programming. 

it’s okay to start over, she encouraged. And it is time. 

How do i live my own beliefs? i asked, not wanting her to leave me. 

How quickly i forgot she was always with me. 

You have to make yourself remember.

You’re doing it. 

She pushed her chair backward and stood up, signaling the end of our conversation. 

Watch yourself. And write it down.

After my future self disappeared through the wall-door, i was guided backward to reality. 

Reality; my own personal illusion. 

As soon as i opened my eyes, i grabbed a pen and documented everything i could remember. i have to make myself remember. i have to watch and i have to write.

Then, to physically embody my future self, i decided to grow out my pixie haircut to match her longer locks: bangs with wavy fine hairs framing my face and falling past my chin. i’d been avoiding what i considered to be “long” hair for years, but i wanted to see her look back at me from the mirror.

i first became aware of the white room in my unconscious mind in 2015. it represented my state of belief; i’d discarded every single belief i’d been handed from my upbringing and within my marriage. i wanted to know what wasn’t mine. i wanted the home within myself to be a safe place where i could freely “try on” beliefs—i would determine whose they were and seek to understand why they continued to plague me. The only decorations i wanted inside my home were to be spun from the truth; i wanted only what belonged to me.

it’s helpful to document with dates; i leave breadcrumbs for myself all over the place. Sometimes you don’t know you’ve healed until you see it for yourself.

The awareness “i have healed” 

is the most pleasure 

i’ve ever allowed 

my body 

to experience.