Fibromyalgia, anxiety, and a panic disorder tried to stop me in my thirty-two-year-old tracks, but they didn't, they only fueled my desire to find a cure.

Michelle, a Great Unlearning reader from Colorado asks, “Where do you find the inspiration for your amazing self-portraits?”

I get inspired a bunch of different ways, Michelle, (like from something someone says, something I read in a book, a dream, or something I see in nature), but there is one sure fire thing I do which always renders a good result. It’s kind of weird and was quite unexpected when it was first happening…

What does it mean to be a crone?

Self-portrait

“With a goal of becoming a doctor, and more credits than needed to graduate from the University of Hawaii with an undergraduate degree in biomedical sciences, when the opportunity to shadow doctors for two weeks at The Queens Medical Center in Honolulu came up, I jumped at the chance.

My first day included a grueling and unprecedented morning in the emergency room where I witnessed the…”

Nancy, a reader from Florida asks, “What is your writing process like?”

While writing “The Great Unlearning” I’d be out here in my little backyard studio to write before the sun came up. I went to bed thinking about writing and woke up thinking about writing. Sometimes I would write outlines for stories, sometimes they just flowed right out of me, and hours would pass. For some stories, I enjoyed writing in a stream of consciousness fashion and glean out the gems of the story later. Regardless, I would revisit and edit all of my stories at least five times over a week or two before I felt they were done. Then I sent them off…

Me Too addresses the all too familiar topic of sexual harassment and assault, but in my case, while riding a bike down a busy stretch of highway in Honolulu while training for my first triathlon.

Excerpt from Me Too

“Near the end of my magnificent twenty-five-mile ride along that breathtaking stretch of Hawaiian coastline, I noticed a blue compact Toyota along side of me and could hear (and feel) Burning Down the House by the Talking Heads blaring through its closed windows. Four boisterous boys in the car were laughing and carrying on as cans of Budweiser beer sloshed all over them.

My first thought was the hope that they would make it to wherever they were going without hurting themselves, or other people. But as one of the boys in the back seat rolled his window down and shouted, “Hey baby, want to sit on my face?” and the other three…”

A woman halfway around the world inspired me in a moment when I wondered if I was making enough of a difference.

It’s a lot of work to put myself out there by sharing my thoughts and most difficult stories on social media, my blog, and podcast. This kind of raw vulnerability isn’t always easy to embrace. I can get weary.

On this particular day, I found myself slumped in front of my computer asking it out loud, Is anybody out there reading or listening to my stories? Why am I doing this?

Then I received a message from a lovely woman in Egypt who just finished reading my memoir…

“The Calling” is about my search for independence by running away from California to Hawaii at nineteen to escape my chaotic teenage life and leave my reputation behind, but was living proof that wherever you go, there you are.

Excerpt: “I soon met a charismatic party animal at a disco one Friday after work who approached me as a male equivalent of a damsel in distress by coming on all lonely and needy. But when he invited me to go waterskiing on his speedboat, I joyfully accepted the invitation.

After being picked up in a fancy black and gold 280ZX, I felt like a queen while driving with the top down along the beautiful turquoise coastline of Oahu with my new friend—a thirty-two-year old former used car salesman from Montana who had become a cocaine dealer in Hawaii.

Katie, a Great Unlearning podcast listener and blog fan from Chicago asks, “Why is your face not visible in most of your photos?”

Great question Katie. I’m not hiding, but it definitely serves the introvert in me. Leaving my face a mystery is a way I engage and connect with my viewing audience. That sounds kind of weird because the first place we look in a photograph is the face and eyes, searching for an emotion that typically sets the tone for the photograph. A sad face means a sad story and if someone is smiling, all is good. We also compare ourselves to other people’s faces and create instant judgments about…

Lori, a podcast listener from Oregon asked, “Mary, what are you afraid of?”

Whoa, what a bold question Lori, but not one I am afraid of.

I held this question close for an entire day and came up with a significant fear and questioned it, deeply. I know that fear is a signal that something isn’t right or out of alignment and is not sustainable. I’ve learned that fear can teach me about myself. In this way, I can make fear productive.

When I was embracing this question, the first thing that came to mind, and safest thing to share in the moment, was my irrational fear of…

This beautiful hand written note from a delighted reader in Texas touches on every reason why I wrote “The Great Unlearning.” I hope you find the same sentiments when you get your hands on it.

I asked my Facebook community if they thought we stored trauma in our bodies, and if so, how does it get in there and why does it land in particular spots to wreak havoc.

The answers were wonderful and varied. Here are a few:

“Yes, and I think it affects your weakest part. For me, that’s my gut.” Jeanne

“Yes, most definitely. This from the Social Research Association: "Trauma results from an actual or perceived threat to life or physical and/or psychological integrity that overwhelms an individual’s coping mechanisms.

Wowzers! The response to my new podcast “The Great Unlearning, a memoir by Mary La” has been nothing short of amazing! I am giddy with all the new followers and the depth of the questions and comments I am receiving (which I will feature in future podcasts.)

It feels like my stories are making a difference.

I’ve never been so inspired to share what I know to be true while on my journey of self-discovery and healing. Stay tuned, I will be posting a new episode every Thursday.

“…Within a week my mother and father, who were in the throes of a messy divorce, found enough civility to drive me down to a clinic in Los Angeles that “took care of such things.” Although grappling with the fear of what was about to happen, feeling a strange pleasure in seeing my mother and father together caused me to make a special effort to be on my best behavior, so my only expression was one of quiet compliance. I didn’t want to cause any more trouble for them, and believed that I was one of the problems that had caused the breakup of their marriage.

Here is an excerpt from a rather unfavorable response to a simple inquiry letter I sent to a columnist at Psychology Today requesting a review of my memoir, “The Great Unlearning.”

She said, “Believing that your own story actually contains enough to provide healing for everyone else is, in my opinion, short-sighted and even a bit narcissistic. The idea that you actually believe you have taken the hero’s journey (which I assume you take from Campbell) is startling. Not even Pinkola Estes said that. Forgive my bluntness but

“…I was intercepted by a boy who had already graduated from high school, I described Amy and asked if he had seen her. Without saying a word, after staring at me for just a moment, he lurched toward me and flipped me over his shoulder. Reeking of wood and leather, most likely his father’s cologne, he carried me into the orchard, running the entire way. I laughed for the first few jostling steps, until his shoulder started digging into my stomach, with my giggles quickly turning into screams when some low branches from several orange trees clawed at my back…”

“Although I don’t have many memories of being a high school student that fall, I remember snorting heroin off the hood of a root beer brown Karmann Ghia in a parking lot, and doing bong hits of marijuana laced with PCP—whatever that was. Every weekend I’d go to parties, naively accepting any drug or alcoholic drink that was offered. The feeling of not being in control was worth the feeling of being perceived as brave and accepted in a group. Any group. I’d do anything to be included.

"Unseen"

This piece is the second in a series I'm calling "Pearls."

I was thinking about times when I was so preoccupied with the past and future, I missed out on opportunities that were right in front of me. I would be inattentive to the present moment by holding out for perfection or while ruminating on a hamster wheel of what was wrong with my world.

“I went to two different high schools in one school year, and was tormented by three Cholas at the first one. Although they never hurt me, they threatened to, especially after PE class. I would change into my street clothes in a bathroom stall in the girl’s locker room, then stay there until I was sure the room was empty. It was the only place I felt safe. Even though I didn’t make any noise, and held my breath as much as possible, I still feared I would be detected because my heart seemed to be pounding so loudly in my chest.”

I always felt the need to be on guard.

An excerpt from page 26 of my memoir "The Great Unlearning."

Fitting In

“I wasn’t actually intending to die that day, although my silent screams for attention could have gone terribly wrong. My desire was only to kill myself just enough to impress a gang of ninth grade kids at school to fit in. My interests took a turn toward a type of survival I wasn’t fit for, and I became lost without a touchtone to help me feel safe.”

I fit in alright, but endured some absurd rituals to stay in.