How to Eat an Elephant

Jess Hall

Description

The how-to guide for overcoming obstacles, the daily mantra, the wild adventure, the quarter-life crisis, and the self-help book of the century - all wrapped into one crazy story about the life of a "kinda Amish" girl.It's messy, honest, real, and inspiring. A young woman's fearless journey into the unknown after having an epiphany about the true meaning of life.The beautifully woven masterpiece looks at the life of a small-town girl who, at the age of seven, predicted that she would one day write a book. Despite being shunned by her family, she decided to take a leap of faith and left home at the age of nineteen with $500 to her name and a one-way ticket to Honolulu, Hawaii. How to Eat an Elephant is an eloquent reflection of the life of a first-generation college graduate. The nuanced writing style brings new life to the mundane artifacts of everyday life.

Sujets

• USA
• Hawái
• Popular psychology
• Hawaii
• États-Unis
• Hawaï

Informations

• Publié par: Austin Macauley Publishers
• Date de parution: 31 mars 2020
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9781641828598
• Langue: English
• Poids de l'ouvrage: 1 Mo

Extrait

How to Eat an Elephant
A memoir about life, living, and letting go
Jess Hall
Austin Macauley Publishers
2020-03-31
How to Eat an Elephant About the Author Dedication Copyright Information © Acknowledgment Note from the Author Introduction The Jump Mastering the Abject I Made It to Denver 1.7 The Buddhist Nun Llama on the Run Karmic Debt: The Downhill Slope Sea Star Cove Death of a Curry Tree How to Drink a Bottle of Brandy When the Earth Quakes Inspiration Ridge
About the Author
Jess Hall was born and raised on a small farm in northwest Georgia. She grew up in an independent Baptist community and was homeschooled her entire life. As a young adult, she longed for more than what a small town could offer and decided to move away for college. In 2012, she graduated with a bachelor’s degree in Sociology with a minor in Social Work from Marymount Manhattan College in New York City.
Traveling extensively in the United States and Canada after graduating college, she developed her spiritual intuition. She has lived in Hawaii, New York City, Colorado, and Alaska. She believes that each place has provided her with a unique perspective, each of which she has learned to value. She believes that the more one moves around emotionally, physically, or intellectually, the more they gain spiritually.
Dedication
I would like to dedicate this book to the fearless hearts who seek adventure in place of ordinary life.
Copyright Information ©
Jess Hall (2020)
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, write to the publisher.
Any person who commits any unauthorized act in relation to this publication may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages.
Austin Macauley is committed to publish works of quality and integrity. In that spirit, we are proud to offer this book to our readers; however, the story, the experiences, and the words are the author’s choice.
Ordering Information:
Quantity sales: special discounts are available on quantity purchases by corporations, associations, and others. For details, contact the publisher at the address below.
Credits:
“Life is like a box of chocolates” from Forest Gump “Feeling Good” written Anthony Newley and Leslie Bricusse
Publisher’s Cataloging-in-Publication data
Hall, Jess
How to Eat an Elephant
ISBN 9781641828574 (Paperback)
ISBN 9781641828581 (Hardback)
ISBN 9781641828598 (ePub e-book)
Library of Congress Control Number: 2020903331
www.austinmacauley.com/us
First Published (2020)
Austin Macauley Publishers LLC
40 Wall Street, 28th Floor
New York, NY 10005
USA
[e-mail]
[phone]
Acknowledgment
I would like to thank my friends, family, and partner for supporting me during the process of writing this book. Special thanks to my dear friend who, unintentionally, helped me pick the title for the book. I would also like to thank my partner for always pushing me to be my best even when I am at my worst.
Note from the Author
There are always hurdles to overcome. In many ways, this book represents a major hurdle in my life, the hurdle to overcome self-doubt. I have been writing this book for many years, neglecting to realize that taking the time to type my story into existence is simply the final draft of a lifetime’s work. This book is just a snapshot of my life; a comic book of all the moments that have and continue to make me who I am. It would be unrealistic to say that this book is an exact depiction of me or my life. Instead, I will say that this book is a collection of memories, some blurry and some poignant, that reflect my journey in life. Special thanks to everyone who has helped me on this journey. My mentors, spiritual leaders, employers, friends, and most importantly, my partner. Without you, this book would have been impossible.
Introduction
On May 18, 2012, I walked across the stage at New York City Center and became a first-generation college graduate. I was in debt, on food stamps, and living in low-income housing for women at the YWCA in Brooklyn, NY. In the fall semester of my senior year, I was sexually assaulted by a man I knew as Ahmid, a former employee of the United Nations. On October 19, 2011, my twenty-second birthday, I sat in the DA’s office, 1 Hogan Street in lower Manhattan, and recounted every detail of the painful night that unfolded on the Upper East Side of Manhattan just weeks prior. On October 15, 2011, I met the keynote speaker of the “Sex, Power, and Speaking Truth: Anita Hill 20 Years Later” at Hunter College. As I walked out of the conference, I took the last of my money and bought a copy of Hill’s book on the meaning of home. I waited patiently in line to have my book signed. As she signed the book, she wished me well. I walked out onto East 69 th Street with a new sense of strength.
As my world crumbled into a million pieces, I realized I had two options. I could shut down to everyone and everything or I could keep living. If he could go on living his life, so could I. So I made no excuses. I chose to get up every morning and go to class, work, and continue my internship. Besides, I couldn’t afford the luxury of stopping. I had worked so hard to get to where I was, and I wasn’t going to let anyone or anything stop me from walking across that stage. The countless nights of staying up all night to complete assignments, going to my internship placement, and the countless hours in the school library suddenly came to an abrupt halt. Everything that had motivated me had suddenly been taken away. Friends I used to see every day were gone, teachers who mentored me vanished, and no one was standing in line to take their place.
I struggled to make a decision regarding graduate school, even though my professors assured me that I shouldn’t be afraid to shoot for the stars. I had always applied to one institution at a time because I didn’t have extra money for application fees. Which meant making the “right” decision about where to continue my graduate degree was even more important. After researching every graduate college in the United States and some abroad, I made the decision to return to my hometown for a summer of recovery. At the time I had been assaulted, I was in a writing class which helped me work through some of the numbness. When I returned to my hometown, I thought I had made it through the worst. It took me a long time to realize that the night terrors, flashbacks, insomnia, depression, and anxiety would continue to reciprocate their inflictions cycle after cycle.
My emotions were like the turbulent thunderstorms of spring and fall that saturate the atmosphere with heat, rain, and electricity, only to leave you with sunny skies the next day. After a trip to the chiropractor’s office, I found out that my top two vertebras were tilted so far that they were actually pushing on the base of my skull which caused me to have severe headaches, neck, and shoulder pain. The doctor was surprised when I told him that I had never been in a car accident. He said the injury was most likely from some type of blunt force trauma. Just like a flash of lightening, the memory returned. We were galloping through the back pasture, bareback on my sister’s favorite mare, when suddenly I fell off the back of the horse. A rock about the size of a soccer ball was my pillow that day. As I lay dazed on the ground, my sister ran over, frantic. We weren’t supposed to be riding horses, and she knew we were in trouble if Mom found out. After it was determined that I was okay we decided not to tell anyone. It was several days before my mom found out what had happened, and by that time there was no point in taking me to the doctor.
Just when I thought I had figured out where the trauma came from, I had another flashback of the assault. As my perpetrator was getting off my lifeless and limp body, I fell off the bed. When my head hit the corner of the nightstand, everything went dark. The next thing I remember, I was laying on the bed again. His body upright, and lingering over me like a cloud. The memories of that night fade in and out. The one thing I do remember is saying “No.” The memories became debilitating.
My mind was like a broken record playing the same verse over and over again. At the time of the assault, I was taking a writing class. We were asked to write a fiction piece, and instead of writing fiction, I wrote about the aftermath of sexual assault in my life. I called it fiction because it was the only way I could cope with reality. “While standing in the subway, she saw a rat running toward her. The creature’s razor-sharp teeth reminded her of him. The rat was looking for dead flesh to feed on, and she felt dead. As she turned her face away, she bumped shoulders with a stranger. The sensation of contacting another human felt like his body pushing against hers. Two steps later, she made it to the trash can where she vomited violently, hoping that everything inside of her would come out. Her body was no longer hers. It was just an empty shell of existence.”
I told my now ex-husband what had happened, and he blamed me. The second person I told was my best friend in college. She had a way of making things seem okay even when they weren’t. When I cried, it was okay. I cried more, and it was still okay. If it hadn’t been for her, I don’t think I would have gone to the hospital to have a forensic exam. I blamed myself more than anyone for what had happened. My ex finally came around and decided to go to the hospital with me. During my exam at the hospital, I heard him flirting with the social work intern in the hallway. Although my e