03/26/2026
“1. Lyssa, how do you need to take care of yourself so you can move deeply from your power?
Lyssa, how do you need to take care of your community so we can move deeply into our communal power?
Lyssa, how are you taking care of those most vulnerable so we can move together in our collective power?
Write whatever comes up with ferocity.
Write with honesty, even if at first you hear doubts.
Let those inner forces have their say, then ask them if they will let loose the love that is behind them.”
—
—------
How must I take care of myself?
By being mindful enough to actually take care of myself. By making the choice.
It’s one thing to make the effort—getting out of bed and feeding myself. That’s effort.
It’s another thing to choose care.
And in order to make educated choices, I need to be more mindful. Not just inside my head, but inside the part of my mind that connects to my heart—to all of me.
Being able to handle mindfulness would be the best start to taking better care of myself.
I have conquered being alone with myself.
But I am still filling those moments with hot air.
There is still an arm’s length between me and my Self.
I am still very uncomfortable in my skin.
I have spent endless hours alone, and hardly any of that time has been spent getting to know Lyssa.
Instead, I spend the majority of my time learning other people—systems, stories.
I started this journey of psychology and social awareness in an effort to help myself, and I fear I have lost the plot.
I am obsessed with sharing what I’ve learned.
Yes, I want to help people.
But I also want validation.
And that is a wound that needs to be mindfully attended to.
Taking care of my community—and the most vulnerable—starts with making sure that my help is coming from an authentic place.
And the truth is:
I am still part of the most vulnerable population.
I have spent my life trying to simultaneously become “better than” and assist the most vulnerable population.
Facing my own internalized ableism and the trauma at the hands of the medical and psychiatric industry is the only way to move forward.
I have been living as though one day I will magically be less mentally ill and less chronically ill—and therefore more able to help others.
More equipped to critique current treatment modalities.
If that is the bar for being able to help others, I will be chasing it forever.
I will never see myself as worthy of speaking about my own experiences.
I will forever be chasing a colonized view of wellness and expertise.
If I am too embarrassed to say I am sick and disabled—and likely always will be— how can I speak for those who identify as such?
What mold do I think I have to fit?
And if I believe I have to fit that mold, why wouldn’t my child—the most vulnerable—feel the same way?
Would I want anyone to feel this way?
Would I talk to anyone else the way I talk to myself?
Why?
Why not?
Mindful and consistent self-discovery and inventory—
not unlike Step 4 in AA, “made a fearless and searching moral inventory of ourselves”—
paves the way for honest leadership.
Some people don’t like the idea of “leading.”
I don’t like the idea of holding that much responsibility.
I do like the sound of consult.
Of being in it. Speaking from within it, not above it.
Consistent, mindful moral inventory and self-discovery—used as a pathway to honest consultation among and within the most vulnerable population—is how we move into our individual and, eventually, our collective power.
Lyssa Charnae Bastet
