Life Is Like A Game of Chess

Free AI web copilot to create summaries, insights and extended knowledge, download it at here

1687

Abstract

ng trauma as I was not experiencing trauma. In my mind the world was terribly cruel in that bad things happened to people every day, every hour, every minute, every second — all the time. I often got caught up in thinking about that.In my feverish vision, I saw a larger-than-life-sized chess board and I understood at once that I was witnessing a benevolent entity playing a game of chess. The chessboard was Earth and the pieces were humans. Nothing was good or bad in this game. It just was. And, for the moment that I was having that vision, I accepted this as such and felt a great wave of peace wash over me, no longer obsessed with traumas I had no control over. When I had that vision, I made a promise to the benevolent spirit that I would not end my life early. I began experiencing suicidal ideation during adolescence.I agreed my purpose on Earth was to teach, and I vowed to try to fulfill it. In the vision, I knew I was destined to grow to be an old woman in her 80s (doesn’t feel so old now that I’m in my 40s) and that I would have to overcome my anxiety and depression. I had no idea how I was supposed to teach, but I decided to trust that it would be revealed, and vowed to uphold my promise. I took this promise very seriously, and at times, I am sure it has saved my life.In my 20s, I married. In my early 30s, I sought counseling again and worked through cognitive behavioral therapy while also taking medications that stabilized my mood and eased my anxiety. We had two children. I stayed home for several years and I went back to work part-time in the visitor center at our local botanic garden at

Options

age 37 when our kids were elementary school-aged. Then, I changed areas and began working outside at the botanic garden at the age of 39. Horticulture was a field in which I was mainly self-taught. I worked as a gardener for a little over two years, considering my experience similar to a paid apprenticeship. And, I loved it.I experienced the peace of working in an uncrowded, newer garden space, surrounded by the sounds of birdsong, colorful lizards, barn cats, a guard dog, and babbling water from fountains. Looking back, this immersion in Nature is what led me back to my core self.Around the two-and-a-half-year mark in my horticulture job, my brain and my body were giving me signals that I refused to hear. I was stubborn and would not listen to them. At the same time, I was offered a promotion from my part-time job to a full-time position, and I gratefully accepted it. I was nervous about how I would work full-time through the kind of unidentified physical pain I was experiencing. I thought I should keep my pain secret–I didn’t want to lose the job that soothed my mind so beautifully.<a href="undefined">Aimée Brown Gramblin</a> is the founder of Age of Empathy. She became a memoirist in her younger years and is writing the stories out now in middle age. A regular contributor to AOE and The Memoirist, Aimée is also a late-blooming pop-culture enthusiast; she’s a contributor to FanFare and The Riff. With a minor in art history, she occasionally publishes art-centric nonfiction.Subscribe to Aimée’s stories <a href="https://medium.com/@aimeegramblin/subscribe">here</a>.</article></body>

About a vision that anchored me to Earth

Photo by Elias Maurer on Unsplash

From early childhood, I have had strong empathic tendencies. I am quite introverted and highly sensitive, and as such have spent most of my life sorting out bouts of fear, depression and anxiety. I was hospitalized for one night for a severe depressive episode in my early 20s. At the hospital, my roommate asked me to cuddle; she was hurt in a different way than I was, and she scared me. I told her no to cuddling and also decided I never wanted to be hospitalized again — it was more frightening than grappling with depression. Making sure to abide by all rules and expectations, I was released from the local hospital’s safe-watch floor the next day.

I attempted to heal through off-and-on counseling and a variety of antidepressants in my 20s.

Anxiety and depression wove through most of my life, starting from childhood; threads in the tapestry that is me.

During my first year in college, I caught Mononucleosis, which was accompanied by a lot of fatigue and a major depressive episode. At 5’6” I barely weighed over 100 pounds and I was feverish, losing weight rapidly. I was told to drink Ensure when I dropped below 100 pounds. I had lots of fitful sleep. One day, I was able to actually rest, and as I slept, a vision came to me. I had often ruminated about all the injustice in the world. The people experiencing trauma as I was not experiencing trauma. In my mind the world was terribly cruel in that bad things happened to people every day, every hour, every minute, every second — all the time. I often got caught up in thinking about that.

In my feverish vision, I saw a larger-than-life-sized chess board and I understood at once that I was witnessing a benevolent entity playing a game of chess. The chessboard was Earth and the pieces were humans. Nothing was good or bad in this game. It just was. And, for the moment that I was having that vision, I accepted this as such and felt a great wave of peace wash over me, no longer obsessed with traumas I had no control over. When I had that vision, I made a promise to the benevolent spirit that I would not end my life early. I began experiencing suicidal ideation during adolescence.

I agreed my purpose on Earth was to teach, and I vowed to try to fulfill it. In the vision, I knew I was destined to grow to be an old woman in her 80s (doesn’t feel so old now that I’m in my 40s) and that I would have to overcome my anxiety and depression. I had no idea how I was supposed to teach, but I decided to trust that it would be revealed, and vowed to uphold my promise. I took this promise very seriously, and at times, I am sure it has saved my life.

In my 20s, I married. In my early 30s, I sought counseling again and worked through cognitive behavioral therapy while also taking medications that stabilized my mood and eased my anxiety. We had two children. I stayed home for several years and I went back to work part-time in the visitor center at our local botanic garden at age 37 when our kids were elementary school-aged. Then, I changed areas and began working outside at the botanic garden at the age of 39. Horticulture was a field in which I was mainly self-taught. I worked as a gardener for a little over two years, considering my experience similar to a paid apprenticeship. And, I loved it.

I experienced the peace of working in an uncrowded, newer garden space, surrounded by the sounds of birdsong, colorful lizards, barn cats, a guard dog, and babbling water from fountains. Looking back, this immersion in Nature is what led me back to my core self.

Around the two-and-a-half-year mark in my horticulture job, my brain and my body were giving me signals that I refused to hear. I was stubborn and would not listen to them. At the same time, I was offered a promotion from my part-time job to a full-time position, and I gratefully accepted it. I was nervous about how I would work full-time through the kind of unidentified physical pain I was experiencing. I thought I should keep my pain secret–I didn’t want to lose the job that soothed my mind so beautifully.

Aimée Brown Gramblin is the founder of Age of Empathy. She became a memoirist in her younger years and is writing the stories out now in middle age. A regular contributor to AOE and The Memoirist, Aimée is also a late-blooming pop-culture enthusiast; she’s a contributor to FanFare and The Riff. With a minor in art history, she occasionally publishes art-centric nonfiction.

Subscribe to Aimée’s stories here.