In the spring of 2016, I'd reached what felt like the end.

All those years of trying to cope with the trauma from my past: the weekly therapy, medications, meditation, self-help books- they'd been helpful.

But they only helped me live with the wound, not heal it.

On top of this, I was homeless after leaving my abusive ex husband with nothing more than gift cards I'd started stashing away months earlier from grocery stores, and trash bags in my trunk filled with the few things I managed to get with me out.

Part of me was terrified not knowing what's next, but I also felt grateful.

Two months before I got out, I'd told myself two very wise words:

"Screw it."

And I was not only referring to the situation I was in, but also what I'd been taught to believe about my trauma.

For eight years I'd listened to who everyone told me were the experts. I'd listened when they said my PTSD was chronic, that I needed medication, and that I should learn to live with my triggers and depression.

But like when I was living with my ex, there was always a voice inside of me that kept saying, This isn't right.

I'd been numb for so long. Guess there's nothing like a good "screw it" to wake you up.

I was finally ready to listen to my own people and culture.

How it started

My great-uncle, who in 2020 became the first Indigenous writer to receive Chile's National Prize for Literature, calls what we see today, a "sickness of uniformity."

When we don't hear or see any other way of living around us, we stop questioning if it makes sense.

How I lived didn't make sense.

Neither did it for all the people who had to spend twenty, thirty, or even forty years of their lives coping and suffering with their trauma, before joining SLG.