Gradually, my perspective began to shift. The embarrassment faded into understanding, and I started recognizing the ways ADHD had woven through every corner of my life. It wasn’t just about forgetting plans or leaving half-finished cups of coffee around the house, it was about how I saw myself and how I showed up for the people I cared about. I’d always been the friend who enthusiastically said “yes!” to every invitation, only to bail last minute because I’d overcommitted or simply lost track of time. I remember one birthday party for a close friend, where I texted her ten minutes before it started, frantically apologizing because I’d double-booked myself—again. She laughed it off, but I could sense the disappointment. In those moments, before my diagnosis, I thought I was just a bad friend. Now, I could finally offer myself a little grace, even if I still felt the sting of letting someone down.

Family visits are another stage for my restless energy. I fidget in my seat, unable to last more than five minutes before jumping up to clear plates—sometimes before anyone is done eating. My mom often sighs, half amused and half exasperated, asking, “Can’t you just sit still for one minute?” I’d shrug, not really knowing how to explain the unease of buzzing under my skin. A buzzing that seems to catapult me up and out of the conversation. Outside, no matter what the weather, to walk around, look at nature in all her glory, and then a switch flips, I’m back inside to try again. Hopefully they’re done eating. But it’s becoming apparent that this diagnosis gives my family a bit more patience; at least now we have a name for my constant motion.

Having ADHD doesn’t magically fix anything. My house still gets messy, with laundry piles in the closet and half-scribbled notes lingering in every room. But instead of beating myself up, I catch myself blaming ADHD, like there is a shield between me and responsibility. A safety net, catching me whenever life spirals into chaos—which it often does. I still dive into a project with the best intentions, only to find myself juggling ten tasks at once, none of them close to finished. One Saturday, I set out to reorganize the closet. Within minutes, I was halfway through cleaning the bathroom, sorting through old mail, and somehow trying to bake cookies—all at the same time. It’s like living inside a tornado of good intentions and questionable execution. At some point, I found myself laughing at the absurdity, standing in the kitchen in mismatched socks, holding a scrub brush in one hand and a spatula in the other.

I started catching myself using ADHD as an explanation—sometimes a crutch. “Sorry, I have ADHD,” I’d say, when a deadline slipped or a task went unfinished. It became my go-to line for everything from restless nights to hyper-focused rabbit holes, where I’d spend hours researching a random topic but forget to eat dinner. Mix in some lingering brain fog from several bouts of COVID, and it’s a wonder I ever make it through a day without accidentally emailing my grocery list to my boss. There are moments of real frustration—like losing my keys for the third time in a week—but there’s also humor in the chaos if I am willing to look for it.

Living with this gifted wiring, I’m learning to accept the mess, the missteps, and the unpredictable detours along the way. The diagnosis doesn’t solve everything, but it gives me the language to understand myself—and a little more permission to laugh when things don’t go according to plan. I’m not hiding anymore; I’m living, mess and all, one hyperactive and honest day at a time.

I’m determined to do the hokey pokey and turn this ADHD thing around. To claim this diagnosis, as an asset which helps to empower me into the best version of myself. I’ll share what works for me and what doesn’t, knowing that everyone’s experience is different— what doesn’t help me, might be exactly what someone else needs.

Angels, are you ready, I ask? “We’ve been ready, Samantha, we’ve been waiting for you to be still long enough to hear us.” Chakra up - your aura is radiant and your wiring, simply gifted

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To be candid, even as a seasoned student and practitioner of Metaphysics, I once dismissed the concept of the Dark Night of the Soul, viewing it as cliché and a cop-out. That was until I found myself deeply entrenched in a complete breakdown—mind, body, and spirit. Everything crumbling around me.

WTF is happening?

Early 2020, as the entire world retreated, I was forced to close a very successful practice. Seven years of building a thriving healing haven and flourishing brand disappeared. Every class, client, and community event scheduled on my agenda was instantly cancelled. My schedule looked as blank as my stare. The biggest dagger to the heart was losing E.P.I.C. (Empowering People, Inspiring Community), the beautiful print magazine birthed into reality with 100% of our hearts. My business partner, Lisa and I, poured our entire ALL into this baby. Everything revolved around creating, designing, publishing, and distributing each issue. Distributing thousands of print copies stopped, advertisers cancelled, and we found ourselves mourning our dream. In an attempt to hold onto hope, we published a digital version of the magazine for a bit. That didn’t last long. Less then 1 year into the pandemic, we were financially, physically, and emotionally depleted. The decision was made to dissolve the business. Everything we built instantly vanished. POOF, gone. E.P.I.C. went dark.

This hard headed Aries trudged forward. Holding on to my dream of rebuilding my business and reuniting our community. It didn’t take long for reality to slap me into admitting that the world had become a very different place and a difficult realm to transverse. Collaborative efforts faded, more doors closed then opened, and vibrant visions faded. My options quickly narrowed prompting haste decisions. Should I continue to struggle to rebuild or should I succumb and re-enter the 9-5 grind?

A regression or rebound!

I accepted a part-time Medical Records Coordinator position at a skilled nursing facility, which I enjoyed. Soon, I was offered the Director of Admissions role, but my intuition warned me that this path wasn't right for me. I was tempted by the title and money, yet I ignored the internal nudges urging me to reconsider.

My role evolved from a part-time job to a full-time responsibility of maintaining 75 occupied beds to satisfy the owners. The phrase “just put heads in the bed” reflects the pressure to find wealthy, ailing patients for skilled nursing. Despite discomfort during tours for families, I consistently maintained an occupancy rate of 88-99%, balancing high reimbursement plans with lower ones. I scrambled 24/7 to respond to hospital coordinators looking to get the patient out of the hospital and into a facility. Bombarded with with patient referral portals, picky administrators, and piss poor care of residents, still I gave it my all. Driven by the need to satisfy my ego. Heck, I was making “good” money, donned stylish suits, and finally earned the label of having a “real job” from my mother. What could be wrong with this?

Side note: Let me interject that during this tumultuous year, I “lost” precious time for prayer, meditation, and pursuing my true calling. Transitioning from a teacher and practitioner of healing love to seeking the wealthiest and most ailing individuals to fill beds felt disheartening, it felt wrong.

Feeling financially stable provided a sense of ‘freedom’, a sense relatively unknown to me. So I moved my son and his family into a new, larger apartment while I settled into a cozier space right next door. Large deposits, upgrades, and carpet padding filled my days and drained my savings. All seemed well as I was smug and smitten, I was making good money that would replenish the empty well.

Yet, the harder I worked, the more everything unraveled. The move was chaotic, my car’s engine ceased days before I stood against unethical practices at the facility. Yup, they FIRED me. That Monday morning in June, a mere 20 minutes into the day, I was invited to attend my very own exit interview. I listened as they told me that my position was eliminated and I needed to quickly pack up and exit the buildings. Within minutes the office was cleaned out, income stopped, and the shitstorm rolled in.

The tower card?

Devastated, embarrassed, and fatigued, I cried continuously for at least a month I made myself ill and my skin was raw. All savings were quickly drained, leaving me with no other choice but to file for unemployment benefits. I seriously believed that I would find a job immediately but six weeks passed with no income. I had to apply. Within days of submitting my case, I was informed that my demographic information was used in a fraudulent claim attempt. Someone, somewhere had hijacked my identity with the hopes of draining my benefits. Thus began the nightmarish ordeal of proving my identity. What else could go wrong? A question I should not of pondered. That same week, my soul sister, my Yaya, experienced a devastating episode leaving her having to relearn how to talk, write, read, and live. As selfish as this sounds, I was growing weary.

Any lingering independence, finances, cherished relationships, and self-esteem faded. Each passing day grew darker as I fell deeper into isolation. I felt like a castaway, adrift in a sea of despair, as predators tore at my spirit. Instead of reaching out for help, I sought solace in a bottle. Abruptly ending 15 years of beautiful sobriety. Each day mirrored groundhogs day. The same old shit, day in and day out. What was happening, why, and who is living within my body? I was a stranger to myself and to the very few people I clung onto. WTF. I lashed out. Grasping for anything and everything that would numb and distract me. I abandoned the spiritual truths that had once nourished me. My conscious compass was broken, the shitstorm raged on, and the relentless force of fear tossed me about.

You said what to me?

Summer sauntered into Autumn and that crisp day when the phone rattled my nerves, instead of dismissing the call, I answered. Accepting a call was rarely done. I struggled to engage. This call felt different. After listening to my repetitive woes, this friend firmly knocked me on my ass with her words. The sharp tone cut deeply as she said that “Samantha, I will no no longer pray for you. Starting now, I will only pray with you”. An underlying truth vibrated loudly as she insisted that I had the tools to help myself and it was high time I took action. Her words ignited a mix of anger and disbelief, prompting the fear from within me to click the disconnect button, hanging up on her. What a F-ing biotch, how dare she talk to me like that!

My next patterned reaction was to call another friend and unload the newest woe. I was pissed off, hurt and wanted to whine. Again, this friend listened, waited, and then shot another searing blade into my core. This time I heard, “Sam - You’re going through a Dark Night of the Soul. There is a way back to your light. It’s time.” Holy shit, everyone was beating on me? That call ended quickly as I tried to catch my breath. WTF. She knew I didn’t buy into the The Dark Night of the Soul theory. How dare she?! To hell with everyone, I thought.

OK Biotch, you win!

But later that day, a shift happened. Something from somewhere prompted me to broaden my perspective. I was nudged to open my mind and consider this long dismissed theory. Pondering where to begin this investigation, like most modern day web warriors, I looked to Dr. Google. Fueled with a smug determination to prove her wrong, I dug in deeply into all the digital real estate I could find on the topic. Devouring articles, binging on videos, and stalking many teachers of mysticism. It didn’t take long to realize the similar stories shared by others. Starkly staring back at me was my story, my journey, and a ton of information supporting this common experience. Shit, maybe she was right? Maybe I had made a bad call by dismissing the Dark Night of the Soul theory. I continued the deep dive into the dark abyss.

Tattered & torn = Dark Night of the Soul?

So what does this chaotic theory mean? The Dark Night of the Soul was first coined by St. John of the Cross, a 16th-century Spanish Carmelite. He referred to this bleak part of our life journey as The Dark Night of the Soul, using darkness to symbolize the struggles and hardships we endure as our spirits detach from the familiar and reach for the light, seeking union with the Creator, Source, Higher Power - call it what you will.

Like a finely tuned dance, “The Dark Night of the Soul” is believed to unfold in a series of stages. While some philosophies propose four distinct phases, others speak of as many as eight. Yet, the exact count seems less significant than the profound pattern shared among those traversing the Mystic's Path. From the illuminated 16th-century monk, John of the Cross, to the contemporary sage, Gregg Braden, the wisdom of recognizing and yielding to these shadowed moments in life is essential for healing, growth, and the transcendence of darker days. In other words, the Dark Night of the Soul is a crucial period of transformation and introspection. Core beliefs and our personal view of the world are seriously challenged. Questioning can lead to a deeper comprehension of the Self and all that is around us. It’s like peeling away layers to uncover a more genuine version of yourself. It’s walking the talk.

1.Dissolution

The dissolution marks the beginning of The Dark Night of The Soul, a period when the vibrant joy and ecstasy experienced during the illumination phase start to fade (Ingram, 2018). This shift can resemble a deep sense of loss, as the warmth of happiness gradually diminishes. It may feel as if both the earth and sky shudder in harmony with our changing emotions (Vipassana Dhurs Meditation Society, n.d.).

2. Fear
At this point, we must confront the harsh truth that everything has an ending, sparking a realization that casts a shadow over what lies ahead. This awareness brings to light our profound fears (Vipassana Dhurs Meditation Society, n.d.). We may grapple with our anxieties surrounding mortality or the painful thought of losing our loved ones. Everything fades away. (smack, smack – reminiscent of the summer of 2023)

3. Misery
In this moment, the heaviness of despair surrounds us. All conditioned experiences—thoughts, feelings, and sensations—seem to lose their significance, leading to a decline in satisfaction. This prompts a quest for comfort through various distractions, whether it’s television, food, alcohol, companionship, or exercise. Yet, no relief is discovered; rather, each effort feels jarring, akin to nails scratching against a chalkboard.

4. Disgust
As suffering continues, we arrive at a point where even our most beloved possessions or circumstances no longer bring us happiness. A deep loneliness surrounds us, cutting off our ties to the world (Vipassana Dhurs Meditation Society, n.d.). We grow disenchanted with the material world, observing our attachments fade away into emptiness.

5. Desire for Truth
In due time, the illusion fades, revealing that external sources do not provide genuine comfort, joy, or happiness. Gaining this insight, we let go of our cravings for worldly pleasures, experiencing a restless desire to rise above the material (Vipassana Dhurs Meditation Society, n.d.). Our hearts become insatiable, yearning solely for the elusive Truth, in whatever shape it may appear.

6. Re-observation
Upon re-evaluating, we encounter the phases of The Dark Night of The Soul, almost as if trapped in a harsh joke. Any lingering issues from previous stages reemerge, insisting on our focus once again. We might experience a sense of heaviness, exhaustion, or even find ourselves sweating (Vipassana Dhurs Meditation Society, n.d.). The physical world unfolds as an immense emptiness, devoid of enduring meaning (Buddhaghosa, 2020).

Will the shitstorm end?

Periods like this are unlikely to be a one-time occurrence. Instead, we might find ourselves on a round-trip journey aboard the crazy train, facing these storms repeatedly throughout our lives. These turbulent times can last anywhere from 24 hours to 24 months or even longer. Regardless of how long they last or the reasons for them, we have the guidance and light to help us emerge from darkness. While embracing this time as an opportunity for growth may be difficult, a simple shift in perspective can transform the course of our lives.

Faith it ‘til you make it!

Trust: Trust your intuition, your Higher Self, and follow the path illuminated just for you. Seek blessings within lessons; discover the diamond amidst the rubble—the shore of the island.

Let Go: Resisting this journey is painful, and the ego's need for control is unyielding. Do not flee—dive inward. Reprioritize your goals.

Feel it: Never numb your feelings; instead, remember that the Dark Night of the Soul shines a light on these tendencies. Feel every emotion, allowing them to rise. Spiritually bypassing will only prolong the path and intensify the struggle.

Spiritual practice: Engage in prayer and meditation—Centering Prayer, mantras, community, meditation, and activities that promote positive mindset. Art, vision boards, journaling, etc. Do you boo, do what makes your heart sing!

So it continues

The relentless anguish demands us to embrace painful thoughts, feelings, and experiences. Fully witnessing these manifestations without judgement allows for each to gently transform into wisdom. The very wisdom that will reveal new opportunities and illuminate the path that propels us through the stages of The Dark Night of The Soul, not around it. Through it! Suddenly the way of the mystic calls our authentic self to live in direct alignment with love, purpose, and joy.

Enter light!

All this and more is within reach. Each of worthy of such a life. Remember, you don’t have to navigate it alone. Allow the chaos to create confidence that has ten the realization of who you came here to truly be. Find your tribe, reach out, and remember - TOGETHER WE CAN!

Answers to our questions come in many interesting ways. Sometimes direct and obvious while other times the answers to our burning questions are segmented through symbols, analogies, and faith. Don’t ever be afraid to ask a question for fear of the answer. Each problem you encounter, each person you connect with hold answers to your quest.

Look for answers to your deepest inquires in your dreams, in the beauty of a stream, in the crispness of a cloud. Never discount the lyrics of a song, the cover of a book, or the words from the person ahead of you in line at the grocery store. Play with the information bestowed upon you, let each answer prompt a new quest. Allow yourself this freedome will keep your mind forever young.

Never stop asking questions. Never stop searching for the answers. And never limit the scope of your source.

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