Back in 2017, we were in the path of a near-total eclipse. 99.7% totality. So close to the real thing it almost counted. I’d never experienced anything like it, and to say I was excited is an understatement.

All morning I was giddy. I’d do a little work, then bolt outside to check the shadows, counting down to the moment the universe tilted strange. By the time it was close, I dragged my partner and daughter to the park with me. They’re both stoic people — calm, observant, quietly delighted in their own ways.

I was not calm. I was bouncing. Spinning. Cheering. Skipping. Near tears at the sheer glory of it. I flung my arms wide and reached straight into the cosmos and, for one small breath, it felt like the cosmos kissed me back.

I could see in their eyes that I wasn’t who they expected to show up that day. Honestly, I wasn’t expecting it either. But there it was. I couldn’t contain the joy.

Nearly a decade later, with more diagnoses and a lot of reflection, I can name it: I dropped the mask that day. But did I go further? Did I go feral? Is there a difference?

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Sometimes I wonder if what I felt was release… or ferality. Have you been there too?