My Story

Mine is not a fairy tale that began with dreams in childhood of becoming a therapist or of doing good in the world. In fact, I had no dreams at all, until later in life.

As an only child I was tasked with the rather monumental undertaking of raising myself. It sounds dramatic, and it was. My journey to becoming a therapist and ‘expert’ on the construction and restructuring of personality was a harrowing personal journey through the fire swamp of insecurity and instability resulting from complex developmental trauma.

Born in 1969, I was the progeny of flower children. My parents, both young, faced significant challenges. Each of them were untethered and struggled with the sanctioned use of drugs and alcohol during a societal time of social and political unrest in the United States, marked by large-scale protests, a counterculture movement, and the Vietnam War.

Due to an inability to hold a job, my father, by default, was a stay at home dad. From the time I can remember he began everyday with a black coffee and vodka to assuage the monster of addiction that consumed his waking life. My father was also a prolific and talented artist and spent his lucid moments engrossed in the task of channeling his pain into his art.

My mother worked tirelessly to provide for us, often holding down multiple jobs while pursuing her education and trying to find her way to a better life for all of us. My mother was also a spiritual seeker, and taught me so much about the power of delving deep into the mystery of life. They divorced by the time I was nine years old.

What they did absolutely right was our time spent on Lick Creek; a small stream which wound through the Arbuckle Mountains of my youth, the oldest mountain range in North America, in the heartland of Oklahoma. ‘The property’ was a stretch of wilderness owned by my father’s best friend, and it was there I discovered I had a place in the world and the basics of how to survive. Knowledge I programmed deep into my bones.

Time was different at the property. It was slower, kinder. The constant agitation I felt navigating the chaos of home life was pierced by the sound of locust. The secrets contained in the walls were flapped away for a time by the flutter of butterfly wings.

The adults in my life didn’t pay attention when I drifted away – a little girl with a tangle of cotton blonde hair, naked, and free in the best possible way to explore the wildlands of the natural world. It’s curious what leaves a stain on the soul and what leaves a beauty mark. My spirit took hold of something in the Arbuckles… as far as I can tell, it was the roots of my salvation.

Those early years were a challenging and isolating time. But they also taught me invaluable lessons about resilience, the importance of connection, and the power of finding solace in the natural world. I learned to listen deeply, to hear the echoes of pain and the whispers of longing in the hearts of others.

Through my own journey of healing and self-discovery, I developed a deep understanding of the human condition. Through my relationship with the natural world I learned to see patterns, follow threads into the mystery and find my way back out again.

I dedicate this work to my parents, Ernest LeRoy Carman and Jan Grey Rose, whose struggles and resilience shaped who I am today and my loving step father Dave Rose who has been a generous contributor to my well-being, modeling security and consistency. To my children, I offer the promise of a brighter future, a legacy of love and understanding. And to all who seek to understand themselves and their place in the world, I offer the insights of POISe – a roadmap for navigating the complexities of the human experience.

shannon mirabel iris

My Story

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