I was in the hell realm. I’d been diagnosed with extreme bulimia and my only respite from the struggle was using drugs. I thought the only way out was to take my life, and I had tried three times before the age of eighteen. In my twenties, I was slowly killing myself without concern, numbed through my hedonistic lifestyle of running nightclubs and Queer beauty contests, and producing festivals. My life swirled around at such a speed I could hardly catch my breath.
When I came across the four noble truths, it was a thunderbolt moment. I had thought I was the only one who was suffering and there was something terribly wrong with me. Not so, the dharma told me—everyone suffers.
Read Full Article »