Rocks Don’t Cry : Jaime Bartolotta

I am Nobody. But I have a story to tell. I’ve always heard the adage that to write well, you must write what you know. This story is what I know…

“Something’s wrong with me. I need help. I don’t know who, but I need help.” Thus, punctuated the beginning of my ascent out of the viscid, oppressive tar pits of black goo accrued across my thirty-five-year suffering borne of the dark arts: neglect, emotional and psychological abuse, manipulation, guilt, unrealistic expectation, dysfunction, and ultimate lack of love. What was left behind was a latent cycle of restricted eating, a completely fractured psyche, a ceaselessly stormy sea of repressed emotions, and me desperately searching for the purest love of all – self-love. Floundering in the funk of rock bottom is where Jenn found me, my literal and figurative mischievous imp of a therapist.

Together we traversed the wrecked landscape of abuse, hugged my inner child and rebalanced my damaged chakras in the parallel world of hypnotherapy, exorcised and burned down a dollhouse, broke free from the shackles of Time, embarked on a galactic mission to retrieve pieces of my soul, painstakingly glued each shattered shard of me back together, and laughed our way through every nasty bit of it.

Braiding memoir with an empowering guide to awareness, Rocks Don’t Cry is not just another stranger’s story because it aims to draw you in, enveloping you to become a part of the story, because ultimately the story behind the story is about you. How, you ask? Well, let me tell you what I know…

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