Dana Da Silva

“I knew I could get help and, more importantly, get better. Because suddenly I wasn’t bad, it was bad. It was no longer me, it was something else. I wasn’t schizophrenic, or psychotic, or any of the other things I thought I was. I had Obsessive Compulsive Disorder, or OCD. In that unforgettable moment, I took back some of my power – chunks of it flooding into my psyche, called in from afar, returning home to me.”
― Dana Da Silva, The Shift: A Memoir

“At the Chinese restaurant, I stared out the window overlooking a tranquil garden with water features, ponds covered in lily pads, and koi fish. Amid the serenity and smell of dumplings, I struggled to breathe. It seemed the walls were closing in, and everyone was looking at me. Words danced around on the menu. I didn’t want the waiter near us. I wanted to shrink until I popped and disappeared.”
― Dana Da Silva, The Shift: A Memoir

“I loved to dance for myself, but also for a man. Since the beginning of time, men have loved watching women dance – losing their minds, entranced like cobras hypnotised by snake charmers.”
― Dana Da Silva, The Shift: A Memoir

“I was in the prime of my time as the maiden, the magic of the middle – not yet the mother and far from the crone. My supple, small breasts were not yet deflated from years of nursing sweet babies. My strong, smooth stomach hadn’t expanded in the mysterious, magical way it would, to grow another human. My skin was yet to be speckled in white spots, ravaged by too many summers. As the years passed, my looks would fade, the lines around my eyes would grow deeper, and I would become a different kind of beautiful.”
― Dana Da Silva, The Shift: A Memoir