Last year, I experienced a psychotic break during Flipside, Austin's regional burn. After nearly a year of having an overwhelming need to tell a story that no one around me would listen to, I sat down to write a "short" Facebook post before packing for the event. I unexpectedly spent 20 hours writing, finally feeling like I could say what I needed to. I’ve always struggled with talking about myself, and in the obsessive flurry, I discovered the trick of talking in the third person, which allowed me to share things I normally wouldn't (like how smart I was in my former life).

Sleep-deprived but proud of my work, I went to the event hoping my friends would finally understand and show concern, even if they didn't fully grasp what I was saying. Just months earlier, I had written about my gratitude for my new housemate Monkey, praising how she helped me "learn to be myself" - an ironic contrast to how she would later make me feel deeply unsafe in my own home, judging me and lying about me to her partner.

I'm writing about this now because I went to FreezerBurn this weekend - my first social outing in Austin since July (seriously). Seeing my abusers there, continuing to present themselves as healers pushed me to come home and start sharing again. Also, it was very cold out there.

🙃 I arrived to Flipside sleep deprived and emotionally exhausted, and then took care of my responsibility to camp: putting up the lights. It was hard, because my brain was dead. I had permission to show up late and do it upon arrival, which I did. The only person who helped me was one of our guests. Even basic communication with my campmates became difficult, because they'd started just ignoring me. Things that I needed were missing, and I had no one to ask.

My campmates were unfriendly and unhelpful the entire event. I received more scowls than smiles. None of them participated in my offerings (which included a 2-for-1 massage trade and training with my self-massage tools). On the last night, when it became clear they were sticking to their nonsense, I decided I was leaving this community (and would wait until I felt safe to tell them so).

By the time I returned home from the event, I felt transformed. I'd realized these people—my burn camp who I’d been investing in for over a year—weren't truly my friends. At Flipside in ‘23, they were proud of me for my growth and a bit jealous of my vibrancy. In ‘24, they couldn’t have been more mad at me for being me. After Flipside, I suddenly felt freed from the negative image of me they’d been trying to force upon my reality.

In the following weeks, I would hear indirect demands for an apology; no one ever said for what, I was just told that people thought I should apologize (I assume it was mostly Monkey). Instead of bringing up concerns during the event, they ignored me and then were mean afterwards, too. I was confused they were still pretending we were friends at all. By that point, they’d been awful to me for months.

I now view what happened at Flipside as psychological abuse, at a level that I consider unacceptable for burn environments.

📝 My compulsion to write continued through Burning Man, as I now had an even longer story to tell. I stayed up all night before my flight, then spent two more days writing from a Reno hotel room, driven by a need to feel psychologically safer at the event. After the event, I learned that my writing had not been published by my friend (who totally made the correct choice).

So, I booked another hotel room, and spent two days asking ChatGPT to help me write code to put my text message transcripts into Notion. I figured, the raw data would make it obvious to anyone who read it.

I didn't complete the task, and I'm not sure what was in the final version, though I know it included the Angel's self-deleting email threatening legal action, and his texts demanding I lie to his Burning Man camp.

The response was telling: the leader of a community called TAR advocated for "taking space" when he should have been seeking my story. I also received performative concern from Ms Potato Head who commented on my post and then ignored my DMs. (She got the name for her behavior here, and because she dated a guy named “Potato” from TAR who claims to be a mathematician but definitely is not one).

In the past few months, I’ve continued distancing myself from anyone associated with TAR (most of them stopped talking to me, anyway). I see it as a place where people use conscious babble and “leadership academies” to trick themselves and others into thinking they are doing personal work, but instead they just party. I find it especially ironic that I found my burn name through this community - in my intro for the event, I wrote about my personal work and said I was hoping to find humans who wanted a Familiar in their lives. Now I'll be doing everything I can to continue distancing myself from them.

🎑 After Flipside, I behaved recklessly for an extended period, unaware of how far I had strayed from my normal self.

The isolation in Austin was profound—invitations ceased, group chats disappeared, and I became too scared to reach out. Just months earlier, I'd written about my intention to develop a more internal locus of control. I got exactly what I asked for, spending most of the year alone, discovering what that really meant. While brief visits to Billings offered moments of connection, what stood out most was how few people wanted to hear my story. Everyone chose to avoid "getting involved.”

What was I supposed to do when none of my friends would hear my story because my abusers were the community leaders themselves? Who do I talk to? As someone intent on making the world a better place, I do not consider “just let go” an option here.

💸 In February, I paid $2222 for a course called “Something More” where The Zach (Monkey's partner and one of the community leaders in question) was an "Angel". I was triggered for most of the 4 day event, yet was still thanking him for his support.

I’d hoped the course would help me better navigate my friendship with Ground Score. She was my best friend and had been supporting me in a role we jokingly titled “PEFA” while she was on the road. I was in love with her (and trying not to be), and our work relationship eventually included a lot of what I wanted from a romantic relationship.

We met up at Love Burn the week after the course—her ticket had been my Christmas gift to her. For much of the event, we had a great time together, which amplified my feelings for her. My last night there, I cried for hours around her, and on my way home I abruptly ended our friendship by blocking her everywhere except Facebook - looking back, this was likely another psychotic break.

Over the next few months, I made several (unwelcome) attempts to explain myself to her (usually on substances), and I wrote a long post about my balls in which I gave her the name Qubit (a name that fits her better than mine fits me, until she accepts it). When I explicitly asked to reconnect, again messaging her on substances, she said ‘no thanks’. I replied ‘take care’, and felt lighter knowing I could finally move on. I got a missed call that night, and shortly thereafter, she decided to come back for Flipside.