When I was finally alone, I replayed, in my head, every single moment of that Ayahuasca retreat. Whatever I had previously glossed over in real time, I scrutinized during this time of reflection. As I dissected the high strangeness, I kept thinking, No, it couldn’t be. Could it? One thing I knew for sure though, even if it was, I couldn’t tell anyone and not just for fear of religious discrimination. As a psych nurse, I knew exactly how my experience could be interpreted by someone who didn’t have the mental dexterity to simultaneously hold awareness in two places.
I’m talking about the physical and the non-physical. If I had told a little, it would’ve sounded like a bad trip. And if I had told a lot, it would’ve sounded like delusions, paranoia and psychosis.
So I said nothing. Instead, I began doing what I do best, researching and investigating. I felt compelled to figure out who, if anyone, from the Ayahuasca retreat, was a chaser from MIMIC-OPPS. This is the cult which infiltrated many parts of my life. Never, did I ever think they could get this close to me, though. Could they? As my insight deepened, my self-talk shamed me.
How could I have been so stupid? How could I have not known? It was right there in front of me all the time! After that, I had to accept that I couldn’t un-eat from the tree of the knowledge of good and evil. I could not un-see or become less aware. I could not give back the insight which I had acquired. I could return to neither the bliss of ignorance nor to the familiarity of arrogance. In short, there was no going back. And besides, at least to a degree, I had gotten exactly that for which I had asked, a heightened ability to perceive intentional deceit.
This insatiable desire to always know when someone was lying had started ten years prior.
It began after one particular night when I was again working as a private duty nurse. She was lying in her hospital bed in her room and I was sitting in a chair against the wall across from her. Between my chair and the doorway, was her dresser. The room was mostly dark and the only visible light was coming from the living room which was just outside the semi-open door. While my patient slept, I saw Tyrone, who was supposed to be at home with my kids.
He kept peeking his head out from around the dresser. When he realized I could see him, he pulled back. Presently, I blinked as my two eyes opened and my third eye returned to the background. My focus shifted back to the steady humming of the ceiling fan. I must have slipped into a meditative state during the first few minutes of my break which I had decided to take right there in the calmness of the semi-dark. Compelled by the absolute clarity of the vision, I tiptoed to the living room and opened my phone. For a few seconds, I didn’t think he was going to answer.
But when he did, I could hear Tyrone’s feet crunching on the sidewalk. He said he woke up hungry and so was just walking to Sonic which was near our apartment. Then he gave me his worn out but favorite lie, “My battery is about to die.” There was nothing I could say or do. So, I went back to my chair in the patient’s bedroom to finish my break. It was moments later when my phone started vibrating. It was Tyrone. I again hurried back to the living room and quietly answered, “Hello?” But I could hear only the crunching beneath his feet as he continued to walk.
I quickly realized he must have butt dialed me.
I hit mute and listened. Soon, the noise of his feet stopped and I listened to him knock. I heard the door open and a feminine voice greet him. There was little conversation before they got right to it. The sounds had become slightly distant and in my head, I could see his phone inside the pocket of his jeans where they were lying on the floor beside her bed. But muffled or not, I could still hear the unmistakably rhythmic sound of his cheating. Bam, bam, bam, bam! My heart flinched with each clap.
She laughed for what seemed like the entire time. It was more like giggling really. There was so much gaiety amidst my pain. As he was redressing, she asked, “You don’t have a girlfriend?” The sound had become clear again. His pants had to be off the floor and back on his body. He said he did but her kids were bad and besides, all she wanted to do was tie him down when he wasn’t yet ready. My sorrow and shock quickly turned into quiet rage. And by the time I heard his feet crunching again on the outside sidewalk, I had already slipped into a state of stoicism.