by Susan M. Silver

Golditox, a golden girl with a variety of gifts, was inspired by her lifelong love of learning to share wisdom with new generations, and she became a much beloved teacher.

One day Golditox woke up in a strange bed, in a strange house. In fact, she awakened because the bed was making her heart race, and the house, filled with cooking gas and formaldehyde furniture, was causing her breathing problems and headaches. Moreover, her brain seemed to be separated from her, in a house of its own, filled with fog.

She tried to communicate with other teachers and students, but they shunned her, frankly fearing the fierce and formidable “unknown” that was engulfing Golditox. After all, they reasoned, if they associated with her, they too might become engulfed. “Toxic, shoxic!” they cried, pelting her with pastries and pizzas.

Wracked with pain, confusion, and fatigue, she ran off into the woods, as if to run out of her own body, which didn’t appear any different but was behaving in a bizarre fashion, reacting to the very air she breathed.

Golditox encountered a sturdy old home, the House of Larceny. Here she felt a sense of victimization, having been robbed of former accommodations and pleasures—fabrics, foods, and mobility from one environment to another. Uneasy, she exited quickly, lest she be robbed of the last of her clothing.

The House of Lethargy, a majestic but comforting structure, appeared. This house, she saw, entices one to do…nothing, and accept that nothing will ever change, that illness or injury causes the body to be irrevocably broken and life permanently damaged. Uneasy, she exited quickly, lest she be robbed of the last of her hopes.

About to give up and tempted to fall into an endless sleep on the grass, she made an unexpected turn and spotted the House of Like Me, a veritable shack made of supplements. Inside were no mirrors or bad memories, or even any furnishings to speak of, just a sign that read: “Love the Now.” The owner, Vito Vitamin, a wise young expert in environmental medicine, explained to her the basics of Toxic Injury.

He encouraged Golditox to make a safe haven for herself and taught her to reclaim her life, avoiding exposures to the poisons that sickened her. At the end of the course, he awarded her a rare organic cotton White Ribbon of Excellence.

Having come to the proverbial road’s fork, she learned to use her creativity to make her life flower in productive and inspired new directions. She re-examined the beauty of a single purple petal and rustling russet fall leaves and an ocean sky just at the moment before darkness. She rediscovered healing humor, turning every minor “tragedy” into a joke and learning that laughter is truly life-affirming. She marveled at the magic of music, with its mysterious, deeply felt messages of pain and joy. The real tragedy, she concluded, is to fail to appreciate life’s opportunities and gratifications, which are often subtle and elusive, yet simultaneously obvious.

On reflection, she realized that the House of Larceny and the House of Lethargy were, in effect, the residences of the predatory Mama Bear and Papa Bear, whose claws were deeply embedded in resistance to change. They sought not to nourish or shelter her, but to overtake her, turning her into a self-pitying void. No one and nothing were capable of that, she now knew, unless she allowed it. This all-important lesson was one she alone could teach herself: the spirit is more fierce and formidable than any unknown.

Golditox had uncovered her path. Safe in the shelter of a porcelain house, she found her life’s work as a teacher of children of all challenges, showing them how to Love the Now and find the “gold” of a new life.

© 2009 Susan M. Silver. All rights reserved. May not be republished or shared electronically or otherwise without permission.

Before developing full-blown EI/MCS, Susan M. Silver was a professional writer specializing in personality profiles. Her byline appeared on hundreds of articles in such publications as People Weekly, Us Weekly, The New York Daily News, and The Saturday Evening Post. She also ghostwrote a column for The New York Times. Susan currently resides in New York City.