I’ve loved Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland from my earliest memories. Wedged into a tree, I could often be found with my gilded-edged copy (fake gold, but my child’s view made that book very special), for hours. I treasure how Alice’s Peculiar adventures sparked my imagination and Lewis Carroll’s vivid imagery still serves as a metaphor for periods of my life now. 

Just this year, I first found myself in the rabbit hole for the first six months falling endlesslessly with no light in sight and seemingly no bottom. Part of that was a mixed episode, so some things were terrifying and distorted and some things were silly, but it never seemed to end. 

When it did end, I found myself at the bottom of the rabbit hole in a room full of doors crying so many tears in a depressive episode that I thought I may drown. 

Once I ate the right cakes and drank the right potions and found the right medication combination, I finally began to see some light. People were talking to me then about things but they still didn’t make a lot of sense. I kept hearing the word “recovery” and I could make heads or tails of it. Much like Alice and many of the people she meets in Wonderland. 

I had my own version of having the threat of my head being cut off (metaphorically speaking). 

I had some frustrating attempts at getting a croquet game started in the form of trying to find a therapist. 

I think I have finally awoken on the hillside, out of Wonderland, but I haven’t quite shaken off the Dream yet. Like Alice, I might step through the Looking Glass and go to Wonderland again. My hope is that when I do that, I am like Alice and I am better equipped for the challenges that face me when I arrive. 

Collage art by me.

4 thoughts on “Wonderland

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