Writing for the Light

$6,147 of $12,000 goal

Raised by 50 people in 1 month
Dearest Friends and Family of Heart,  

Sending SO much love!   And I need your help!  I feel a tremendous need to create some open space in my life for finally putting  what is within me into words  - there are actually 3 books racing around within me these days, looking for escape routes! 

To do this though, I really do need your help.  It feels odd to ask for something for me; for a personal project, but it is all burbling within as if my seams will spit apart if I don't unload... So here goes! 

I need to create a four-to-six-month period where I am not concerned with making money, teaching, scrabbling for pennies; - you know, regular life... but kind of take a "sabbatical" allowing me to finally focus on the writing of a rather extraordinary story. People have asked me to write about my life for many, many years, and I find the time has come

Please help me offer the gift of my tale to the BFRB  community I so love, and, of course, to the world. 

For backdrop, I am the woman who in 1990, devoted myself to the  task of starting the movement to  break the silence around the shame of living with BFRBs.  BFRB stands for Body Focused Repetitive Behaviors, and includes hair pulling, skin picking, nail biting, cheek chewing, and related problems. 

Back then, people thought I was basically nuts, many friends would say things like "People don't do that stuff!" 

But I knew people did them, , because this is how I myself grew up; for me, hair pulling started at 12, skin picking arose at 15, and thus began the sorrowful plunge for over two decades into an inner isolation that knew no bounds.

During those years I was trapped within a life-stultifying, paralyzing false facade, that eventually became such an impermeable barrier, no-one could hear my terrible screaming even though I stood right before them. 

There is a totally magical tale of how my eyes were finally opened at the age of 33 – which I hope to write all about! 
Through a a series of amazing experiences, culminating in a profound inner vision, I underwent such a powerful internal transformation that I became absolutely compelled to seek out this community of sufferers and find healing for us all. I desired freedom; not only for me, but for anyone who ever struggled within this realm of insidious entrapment. 

So in 1990, I opened the world's first center focusing on hair pulling and skin picking, called the Trichotillomania Learning Center (TLC). Today the organization is known by the name the TLC Foundation for BFRBs.  This was how the daunting task began, of chipping away at the icebergs of public denial, eventually giving voice to the daily suffering caused by BFRBs the world did not want to acknowledge, to the laying down of tracks capable of delivering healing when it became available. 

Mine has been a spiritual journey, fraught with peril and fear, with  moments of wonder and consternation inextricably woven in. Initially, all I wanted was to stop these maddening behaviors. And yes, today I HAVE stopped pulling and picking; for almost 3 decades - yet that is the least of what I have gained by willingly stepping into the unknown vastness of my own potentiation. 

I sought a way to ease the pain, for myself and others like me.  Me, an eighth grade drop-out, recovering drug addict and alcoholic, set out to change the world for those struggling with hair pulling, skin picking, and related Body-Focused Repetitive Behaviors. This is my story.  OUR story.

AND the story of a woman who felt broken, defective, and world-weary at a far too young age, who could find no reason to care for herself until she found something within that was worthy of respect. 

And, did I mention I was raised in the House of RAW? Yep, my Dad, (who raised me from the age of 2 so he is really my father even though not my bio-dad) was Robert Anton Wilson, a one-time Playboy Editor, a self-professed ontological guerilla, a flaunter of tradition, a psychedelic investigator, and author of over 35 books...  And I want to write that book, about growing up with RAW, too! 

Yes, my saga is filled with magic and despair, love and betrayal, science and spirit, clarity and mystery, woven within a context of my own disbelief at the often absurd yet utterly profound unfolding of my life! Oh, and of course –the requisite sex, drugs, and rock and roll are  included... and so much more!

 I used to fear telling the tale because who would believe it? That is not my concern these days,  as I don’t really care if it is believed or not. More, I feel a pressure to sort it out, get it down, and surrender it.  It may be useful, it may be inspiring, but mostly I think it is a great human tale of  uncovery,  discovery, and recovery!

It is also a tale filled with major achievements, regular failures, and the radical breaking of my heart.  Only then to find myself emerging from darkness stronger, leaner, and perhaps a smidgeon meaner,  after surrendering so much that had become deeply identified as an extension of self.  

Whether it is your child, your passion; your true love, or your dreams, the regular shedding of our identity layers must occur for that which is within to truly bloom in fullness. 

 I aim to write a comforting go-to manual for those who do NOT always fit so comfortably within the shell of our current culture; and an intriguing and often funny story of how one scrapper kid ended up making a difference.

Yup.  At 10 years old I was sure I would be  the first female president, soon after that I wanted to be the first girl on the Moon; next it was to save the world - but oh, no. Not me! I got to grow up and become famous for pulling hair and picking skin. There really is a deeply Divine humor peeking out here!

A small but prolific publishing house has already agreed to publish my tale. Now I just need to write, which means putting my online classes on hold, as I cannot do both, but still have bills to pay. I need to get this done, it has been waiting in the wings for far too long. I would truly appreciate your help with this.

Thank you for your loving support! 

 EVERYONE who donates will  receive a personally signed copy of my book! And if you are interested , I will send various snippets of my writing to you!

SO MUCH Love to each of you, and thank you so much. This journey has filled me with profound awe and deepest anguish; navigating this path has been magnificent, heartbreaking, and frequently terrifying, but ALWAYS a privilege and a blessing. I hope that my desire  to share my tale from the inside out will touch you in unexpected ways and inspire you on your own pathway to precious unfolding.

All my love, 
Christina Pearson
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Dear Ones, I just posted this to FaceBook, but I am sending here through my GoFundMe link also to share that I am beyond grateful, and here is a rather long ode to the vision I carry with me from 29 years ago... THIS is what compelled me to give voice to BFRBs, starting TLC.

From Love, To Love:
The beginnings of my path to freedom

All I know
Is God Is Love.

29 years ago,
A vision was gifted.

First, pain;
Relentless, merciless, soul shredding.

Pain SO great, so profound,
All of Existence trembled, aching.
Elementally shuddering
Within the utter desolation
of a soul adrift.

No end in sight,
Depths of
Despair and grief
In tidal endless wave
Unlike anything previously known.

Climbing, climbing the Mountain of Being;
Looking back - seeing Life as is known.
Forward, the cliffs below breaking
Into endless distance
With swirling greyness
Hiding what lies to come.

bell Sounded
Pealing outward, a single note –
A clarion call reverberating
Throughout all of existence.

Vibrating, a Pure Note,
Overflowing unto Eternity with Embodied Gift;

The Call heard, a summons, invitation…
Right here and now.

Either go back, to the life waiting;
Choose what was reasonably safe;
Familiar, Known.
As It Was - So It Shall Be.


Stepping forward,
Into the eternal teeming potentiation
Of the unknown future;
Clinging to whatever streaming rags of trust exist within.

A moment in forever; time has no existence.
The soul screamed and raged, wearied,
And yet the yearning to offer what could be offered

And YES resounded through the myriad corridors of Being.

I WILL step into the newly-borning pathway
Gray and swirling,
Unknown vastness as it is before me…
But YOU must hold my hand,
And comfort me along this journey.

And a shimmer of light stepped forward. .

Driving home, face swollen, unable to breathe,
Quietness, weariness, slipping inside
Crawling into bed, pulling covers slowly over till darkness settled.

Serenely silent, drifting…

Entering a great darkness so richly velvet,
Embracing and gentle
There was no room for fear.
Long did I travel the beating heart
Of this infinite womb of eternal creation.

Only to shoot out, out, out,

Into the great pulsating, brilliant vastness of the Universe.
Passing eons, unimaginable distances;
endless galaxies flying by.
I looked ahead;

Eyes widened by wonder; aware of countless stars;
distant sparkles unfolding in space and time
While thrusting forward beyond light speed
Only to stop.
Drifting in Space.




The living shimmering trembling
Tendrils of radiance;
The fiercely raging,
Coalescing Beauty of Life,
Life Itself - Unfolding tremulously,
Flowering, in new and oh so precious ways
Within the most beautiful network of
Living Radiance ever to be seen.

unknown colors in elemental transfiguration
Effervescent hues un-nameable
By human tongue

Looking closer, breath swept away by awe
Rising in primal response
To the glorious birthing -

Of my own nervous system?
This? THIS! this flower is ME?

In shock, raising questioning eyes
To the fullness of the Universe unknown
And behold!

a beauteous array of endless stars
sparkling gloriously, endlessly, before me.

Each beyond precious, radiantly unique,
Twinkling in spectrums of light uncomprehended -
DISTANT, SO distant as they seemed,
Yet were right here, within the Holy Heart of God
And Understanding flooding in

That You
Were Just Like Me.

Every star beheld
Radiantly, joyfully reflected back
The radical resounding beauty of
the unfolding flowering of Self Embodied.

Sudden knowing; deeply knowing, that what was birthing within was Good.
Was of God’s deepest Loving Yearning for Becoming.

A question floated up from the depths of my Being;

“WHERE does all this COME from?”

Suddenly - dislocation, weightlessness;
Backward falling, falling, fearlessly falling...
To be suddenly dunked; immersed in
a River of Love,
so Vast, Eternal, so Overwhelmingly
Self disintegrating completely
Into the very Home of Heart’s Eternal Love.

Swept back, endlessly forever,
Outside the realm of time and space;
Within the considered chaos of Elemental Being;
Back, back, back to a tiny body,
Seen from afar.

Drifting down, down, down,
Entering, embodying - bucking, wildly in bed,
And sweet Nectar roared up the spine
To take root in the heart.

Lying there, not knowing whether the vision
Lasted hours or a nanosecond
Becoming aware of the Light rising through Being,
Flooding the new-found Heart Space within.

A Thought arose.
“It should have gone higher! I must not be good enough”

Self! Self! Compare not; judge not -
For ye know not of what you speak.

Ah, My humanity is young, not yet even a toddler in
The blink of its own existence
Yet already so full of Self, demanding!

Slowly, slowly, spending decades
Upacking this gift so freely given
Of health, of life, of vast potentiation
Spanning All that Is and ever was, while
Transforming into What is to Become.

Each moment since -
The heart within steadfastly,
Blindly, foolishly, gleefully,
Beating, beating

In loving cadence with the unquenchable song
Of Radiant Love arising
In full response to the yearning needs
Of Love’s Own Light
Into Form unfolding.

Christina Pearson
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I am so excited, I am brimming over with amazement, gratitude, and relief; when I first thought of this project so many years ago, I always said to myself "when things calm down I will write." And then when I would write, it took SO excrutiatingly long, I was terribly frustrated. So let me share the story of how the floodgates opened! About 3 weeks ago, I was writing about some event earlier in life, and when I was done I looked at the word-count. Hmmm - 422 words, and it took me almost an hour. I will be 105 years old by the time I write a whole book!

Sitting there, alone at my office in Grand Junction, I sighed and contemplated my word document I had been working on. It has always been a creative dream of mine to write; stories, essays, commentaries, fantasy, fiction, and non-fiction - anything goes. Reading opened up the world to me, from B'rer Rabbit and the Snow Queen at 6 years old to Lou Tzu and the Tara Mandala . in my 60's.

So there I am. Looking morosely at the screen; and I notice something... in the upper right hand corner in the toolbar is the image of a little microphone with the word DICTATE underneath. I push it. Nothing happens. Then I start talking. And OMG, it was stupendous! Over 2,000 words flowed across the screen within just a few minutes, and something clicked inside me letting me know the time for sharing has come!

What is so amusing is I have no idea if that little microphone was there for a week or for years; all I know is that when I was ready, it appeared in my consciousness. Funny how life works!

To those of you who have gifted my writing campaign, I salute you with the deep respect of a budding artist, suddenly recognizing that wings so closely held are unfurling all on their own!

I always tell my students: Good things take time. Even if it SEEMS like something happen instantaneously and easily, there is a tremendous amount of unseen footwork that has occurred for the process to unfold.

Tomorrow I will tell you all the story I wrote in First Grade about Spot the Pig! All my love, Christina

All my love, Christina
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