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Boy meets girl.
Of course, she remains skeptical and everything, but oh shit is he cute. Also, heâs smart in a farmboy-sexy wayâââand a carpenter⊠with those hands. OMGâââthose hands.
They go out a bunch. He kisses her in the backyard under a lemon tree.
Eventually she tells him she used to be a boy, too.
Heâs really nice about itââânicer than almost anyoneâs been ever beforeâââbut, in the end, itâs the end.
They become friends, do things together, talk. Theyâre very close. She depends on him. His voice always soothes her.
Months pass.
Somehow both of them end up tumbling into cryptocurrency around the same timeâââApril of 2017âââright when shitâs really popping off.
But then, unexpectedly, at the first Ethereal Summitâââan overly intense blockchain slash community slash money slash art slash tech thingâââshe breaks down inside and aches.
She calls him to say they canât interact anymore.
Neither one needs any explanation that itâs because sheâs still in love with him. More so than ever.
Fuck.
Every time is the same, she thinks, walking to the subway in Brooklyn.
Every time but this time.
This time, somehow, is different.
She dissolves into a puddle of tears.
She cries so hard, and for so long, that her brain feels like itâs spinning into the ground, and hurts.
The crying goes on for days.
She starts making plans.
*
Iâve struggled with being bi-polarâââand with the depressive episodes in particularâââfor as long as I can remember. Suicide entered my thoughts and took up residence when I was a teenager, and I experienced my firstâââand, so far, thank God, onlyâââhospitalization when I was 18.
The medication made me fall over in the snow and I didnât want to bother with getting my blood levels tested and all the rest. So I threw it out and white-knuckled myself through until I was afloat again.
Darkness has made itself a companion ever since.
You understand. I know you do.
Many days, many months are better than othersâââyet the dips, over the years, grew deeper the longer I spent alone.
The years, the years. So many revolutions around the sunâââso many years.
Man, more years have passed since those white knuckles than I ever expected to live. And Iâm âonlyâ 40âââprobably older by the time you read this.
I know life is precious. Itâs just I lost sight of how much and have only begun to find out again.
*
You see, Iâd never made plans before.
Iâd thought about it, sure, but that previous attemptâââperhaps âaccident that I kept encouraging to go awry until I ended up in the hospitalâ would be a better way to put itâââwas on a whim.
Now was different.
How can I make this one look inadvertent, so my mom wonât be devastated? How can I arrange my affairs to leave everything clean and clear for my brother and his wife and their girls? How will I make sure it works, and I die? How can Iâââfor fucking once on this earthâââdo something right?
And yet, I also wondered, was this all there would ever be?
Was there really no other way?
I mean, instead of giving up, what if I were to give it one more year?
Just one yearâââand see what happens then.
You know. I know you do.
And so, suddenly, with the parting clouds, came a rainbow: If I did, if I gave myself this time to make sure that ending everything was truly the right decision, what would I want my life to look like?
Who would I want to spend my final revolution with, where would I go, what would I want to do?
Oh God. How could I possibly get myself through?
*
Desperation.
I groped around in the pitch-dark anguish until a glimmerâââwas it an illusion? I didnât careâââappeared overhead. Or somewhere in the blackness.
Whatever, whicheverâââa thread that might lead out shone: Each day, I would write down at least one thing I would have missed the day before if I had been dead.
Just one thing.
You identify. I know you do.
Feel me?
Iâd tried everything elseâââthe psychologists, therapists, drugs, the white-knuckling, spirituality, art, exercise, sex, diet, love, family, friends, modifying this or that, not modifying this or that, accepting what I could not change and changing the things I could, reading, traveling, meditating, sports, moving across the country, learning new languages, yoga, the many interests I enjoy, travel, staying in one placeâââabsolutely everythingâââexcept this.
So, why not. What the hell.
âTake your broken heart, make it into art.â- Meryl Streep (quoting Carrie Fisher)
Nine months later I find that I can no longer wait to share how profoundly this endeavorâââborn of necessity, a hail Maryâs grasp at one final strawâââhas transformed my life.
Focusing in on what makes the world worth sticking around forâââand learning to lay aside the restâââhas changed the way I think, how I react (or donât), and who IÂ am.
The process has resulted in a different human beingâââanother mindâââan unlocked soul.
How can we ever imagine what will unfold?
What would it have taken to dream how my thought patterns themselves would alter, how I would relearn what it means to live, how I would get to touch new dreams, how just being would become enough, how Iâd uncover a remarkably simple discovery: the hope that you will read through some of these daily entries and comment with your own experiencesâââso that we can connect across the ether and see what happens nextâââall as we dance together in the stirrings of a technological revolution that just might improve society, possibly maybe even catalyze a revolution, if we play it right?
You are with me. I know you areâââI sense you.
In the last quarter of this projectâââas I post a new chapter-month every couple of weeksâââwill you please help me in searching for answers? Or, better yet, more questions?
Table of Contents
*
Your support will enable me to distill this adventure into a little book. Will you make art slash life slash love with me?
1. Comment below or in response to future chapters.
2. Engage with me on Twitter.
3. Browse my writing here or here, or my books.
4. Cryptotip me:
BTC: 35RjtnfNngDs9RQHFeRpwE2KCAoD5XNGqg
ETH/ERC20/KIN: 0xfA25b56800417ACDF9811674e26Dc94D55119211
5. Share the love.
Thanks so much for being a part of this.
I love you.
XO.
How Crypto Saved My Life was originally published in Hacker Noon on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.
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