A few weeks ago I was chatting with a dear friend and he said to me “I am headed to Danny Deardorff’s memorial service”. It took a second to register with me as I processed what he just said. I thought “oh no, Danny died.”
I didn’t personally know Danny and had never met him. But without him I know I wouldn’t be here writing this right now. Danny wrote a book called The Other Within: The Genius of Deformity in Myth, Culture, and Psyche. Early on in my journey, when things had gotten so bad I couldn’t see any way out, my therapist at the time recommended I read it.
The Other Within isn’t an easy read. It deals with complex ideas and uses language I still struggle with at times. But it presented ideas and metaphors that changed me. It changed me to my core.
As I sat there processing the news of Danny’s death with tears streaming down my face, I couldn’t help but think that in that book he had shared part of himself and in doing so it had saved my life. And now he was gone, no more books, no more words. Just what he left for us.
What if part of what he left is what I am now? I feel compelled to share my story, my journey, because if Danny wouldn’t have done just that, share part of himself, I wouldn’t be here.