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Hi- What this Blog is About

Welcome to my blog. Thank you for reading.

I’m sure that many of you are asking the same questions that I have asked at times, ” Who are you and why should I read your blog???”

I’m just a woman trying to learn how to live the life of my dreams, and I’m aware that after reading my writings you might think I’m arrogant, or silly, or just downright stupid. For a long time, the thought of not being accepted has stopped me from doing the one thing that I love to do most: write.

You know what I realized, though? One day I’m going to die. Maybe tomorrow. Maybe ninety years from now. And nothing anyone thought about anything I did will matter. What will matter is whether I lived my life doing what I thought was best.

So I think it’s best that I write this blog…

Where This Comes From

In about January 2010, after yet another break-up with a man I thought I was going to marry,  I had a major breakdown. Nothing in my life made sense any more. I didn’t know what to do or where to go for help. I was crying every day. Over something. Over nothing… I felt like I was just floating in the middle of a vast ocean.

I really don’t know how I made it through that time, but about a year later,  in January 2011, I realized that I had made it through the hardest year of my life without dying and so I decided that it might be worth the effort to learn how not to cry every day, since I was gonna be here for a while.

I told a good friend of mine that I was going to do a self-experiment with becoming un-depressed, and he suggested that I write about it while I’m going through it, noting that most people forget what it was like over here when they get to the other side of happy. Sounded good to me, so for a while I did that. I wrote my friend a journal-esque entry every day about my adventures in not crying. That worked out at first, but then it didn’t. So I stopped. In the meantime I learned some things…

We write in our journals and hide them in the deepest, darkest places, closets, drawers, even under our beds, pretending all the while that we don’t want anyone to read them, when truly it is the only thing we really want. For someone to care. For someone to clean out the drawers and find out who we really are…

Why This Comes

My hope for this blog is that it will help. Both you and I. I think the world will be a better place when people can be honest about who they are and get over this notion that we have to be ashamed of the struggles we have been through. We’ve all had issues and oftentimes, our struggles are the greatest catalysts for our forward transformations.

It makes me happy to share my life with others and feel connected to people, and, since I mostly eat dinner by myself these days, I hope that I can come home and tell you how I’m doing.  Your interest helps me to be accountable for continuing on an authentic path of integrity …

Structure

This blog started out with two categories, but has since evolved to many sections.  It starts with “How Not to Cry Every Day Then”, which are the original writings I sent to my friend when I embarked on this adventure in January 2011, and  “How Not to Cry Every Day and then Some”, which are written in real-time. It then continues on to “How to Live With Integrity” “How to Blossom” and on. The topics change as major shifts are made in my life and the current topic is “The Initiation”.

It is organized by days. Although the most current blog is on the top of the page, the story begins with Day 1, and I invite you to read whatever interests you. I started off writing an entry every day, but I have stopped crying every day a while ago, so now I just write when I am inspired, but they are still numbered by days. Every blog heading is titled with something I learned on that particular day, and they are in order from Day 1 until Day…

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There is a place in the in between. The space between a thought and an action. The space where you know that the thought you just thought will come to pass. Insha’ Allah this is going to be good…

Day 539 – Bad, Safe and OK

My family has this thing about being bad. It’s a word with us. We are always trying to be good, and by extension, judging others, consciously or subconsciously, for being bad. Bad can be lazy, a whore, sick, wrong religion, wrong lifestyle, too much money, not enough money, smiling too much, not smiling enough, friendly and loose, not friendly enough, etc. etc.

Last night I had a dream about my disappearing sister. She disappeared from our family because she thought our family had started a conspiracy, where we were gossiping about her and saying she was bad and everyone should stay away from her and be careful around her because she was practicing the wrong religion. She thought I started the whole thing. It never happened. Before this whole conspiracy theory, at some point, she and I were out in the ocean snorkeling. She swims like a fish and I swim like a tortoise. I was exhausted, but trying to keep up with her energy because I wanted to spend time with her and she wanted to do the snorkeling thing. At some point, she invited us to go snorkel deep into the ocean. I had a bad feeling about it and said we shouldn’t go. She persisted and said she wanted to go and I told her I wasn’t going, but I would stand watch for her and make sure she doesn’t die. It was a joke, but I was serious. I wasn’t going out there, but I would make sure nothing happened to her if she went. She went. Lo and behold, right as she started swimming in the direction she wanted to go, a huge storm started in the ocean. In the ocean. It was the scariest thing. Both of us hurried and got out of there.

I didn’t know it at the time, but that incident broke her heart. She thinks I’m psychic. I am kind of psychic sometimes, for what it’s worth. Not really psychic, I’m just super sensitive and I pay attention to energy and feelings. So, my sister thought that I knew a storm was coming. She thought that I knew that if she went that direction, that she would be hit by a storm and drown. She thought that I sat up there in the ocean, and was willing to let her go on a suicide mission and let her die. Because I think she’s bad. It’s a bit far fetched, but hey, that’s what happened.

So, in my dream, a thought manifested. What kind of a horrible person would I have to be to let my sis go drown in an ocean? In reality, she thinks I’m bad. Awful, actually. ‘Cus regular people just don’t sit there and let people die in oceans, not even their enemies. This concept of being bad runs deep.

It’s a message that has been subconsciously or explicitly stated throughout my life. My bestie brother literally stopped talking to me when I was eleven because I kissed a boy. I didn’t know why he had decided to just not talk to me, but at some point, when my mom forced a meeting and discussion and asked him why he wasn’t talking to me, he said, “because she’s bad and she likes boys.” He wasn’t even trying to hurt me. According to whatever understanding of whatever religion, I was a nonbeliever and not to be associated with. Last night, I saw said brother. I went to the ER because my head and scalp were hurting really bad. He met me there. We talked before parting and he said that he thought my head issues were caused by stress. That he finds that certain issues are caused by thoughts. I might want to investigate my meditations, he said and/or pay attention to the oils I use. I had used some oil at his place to steam my face when Covid hit – lemongrass. My eyes were getting red, pink eye I think, and I read somewhere that lemongrass could help resolve it. The next day a spider showed up at his place. He thought the oils brought it. So he recommended that I examine my meditations (don’t ask me what meditations because I don’t know and neither does he) and stop using whatever oils because maybe they’re bringing bugs around that are biting my head. My translation: stop doing your bad stuff, whatever religious stuff you’re doing that’s not my religion. He then invited me to come stay with him and have a bit of a vacation.

Could I tell him how much the stuff he says hurts? He wouldn’t understand. I tried to tell him once and he said I’m not a baby and he’s not going to stop telling me the truth just to spare my feelings, because maybe one day it will resonate and get through. Something about it feels like abuse. I can’t put my finger on it. But something about him always makes me feel like I’m being punched or put down. Not good. Like I am not good. I feel it to.

My sister, too. She is angry with me. She Loves me to death, but she’s mad at me. For not being awesome. For not being the hero. For not saving everyone’s life, including my own, all the time. Disappointed. I told her that I had gone to the heart of the jungle, literally, transformed a community, held court with chiefs with machetes, slept in a bed with my mom for months and planted over 1000 cacao trees, sourcing support out of my butt, and her response was, “why didn’t I do more? Start a film school and make a movie, too?” Followed by acknowledging that I had done what no one else was able to. But the acknowledgement didn’t feel celebratory. It just didn’t. But I know she’s happy for me and she’s proud of me and she Loves me more than most…

I’m processing my feelings. Almost scared to write because I’m afraid someone will read this and call me bad. Do you see how crazy this is? I feel afraid to write about the real stuff. The deep stuff. Because I think it might cause some backlash or break up some relationships or someone will say I’m just looking for pity and actually say I’m the bad one, some way, some how in all these situations.

But I’m writing today because I’m sick of this shit. Yep. Shit. I said shit. Shit to the shit shit fuckity fuck. If I am bad, indeed, then what should we do about it? That’s another poem. Bad. Put on the list of poems unwritten because someone asked me when I was gonna write happy poems, but I didn’t have any happy poems, so I stopped sharing poems and writing them because I didn’t want to offend anyone with all my sadness and badness.

But it hasn’t served me. Trying to be good hasn’t served me. The people I am trying for don’t think I’m good anyway. A trip to visit a sister becomes a ploy to let her die and slander her character. A visit to brother is an entry of stress into his life. A heroes journey to build community is just not good enough, or too soon, or an offense to someone’s ego… Sacrifices for friends out of Love are interpreted as self-abuse and codependency…

I have been quarantined up in my house, for about two and half months, going through the shits, processing the shits, and feeling everything. Every single thing that has passed through my body and through my awareness. Losing my mind. Losing my hair. And now I would like to say fuck you to this part of my life. Yep. Fuck You. That’s how I really feel about it. Nope. Don’t want to say thank you for lessons. Don’t want to release with peace and a prayer. Don’t want to make any of it mean anything amazing. I want it to die. Go to fuck shit hell… I don’t know if I’m gonna publish this, lol. Y’all ain’t ready for these harsh feelings. Lol. I think I will publish, though.

I would like this part of my life to take a back seat to good now. Like, now. Now. Today. Right now. If I am bad, if people think I am bad, and even if it’s not just people, like, if it’s really true. If I’m annoying, controlling, picked the wrong religion, irresponsible, not living up to my potential, make bad choices, don’t show up for people at the level they want, non committal, selfish, self-absorbed, what else, pathetic, victim, blamey blamer, self -righteous (those are all for you, Red Feather. I read your mind), weak, despicable, want more than I give, always thinking about what I don’t have, ungrateful, if I’m just too damn lucky and I don’t deserve it… If I am all those things, than what am I gonna do about it? Should I ignore my good sides and pray to be redeemed of it all so that finally I will be good enough to be loved and accepted? Should I lean in to all the evil and really show people what it means to be bad on purpose? Should I forgive myself over and over again and write positive things about myself until I can at least imagine they are true and write about boundaries and divorce everyone who doesn’t like me, even if it means I end up all alone, lol? Should I just wallow in hopelessness and stay stuck in my room forever, like I’ve been doing, so nothing can hurt me again?

How can I be free when I’m carrying around all this badness and how can I possibly have the courage to feel safe in the world after all of the pain I’ve experienced just for being myself, mostly not trying to hurt people on purpose… I’m tempted not to post this blog. I sound a bit like a jerk… Sometimes I am a jerk. Can I be ok with that? I think that is what this posting is about. That’s what I’m processing as I’m realizing that I have been stuck in this place for far too long because it is safe here. It’s not rewarding to be on a constant treadmill. But it’s safe. If I don’t fall in Love or be in relationship, no one can hurt me anymore. If I don’t finish my projects, I don’t have to worry about them being rejected or the pressure and the judgement and demands and jealousy that will come if/when I have more money and notoriety. I feel afraid to be happy. Feel like people will come for me.

Something in me knows that I can break free of all of this. That if I choose, then, like magic, my life will transform, and because I know this, I choose nothing. Why am I so resistant to getting out of this place? Why do I not feel good about my own power and why do I choose not to use it for the good of me? Is it because I think I’m bad? Is it because something deep in me is out of agreement with anything good? I fear a real choice for myself. I defer to confusion and helplessness. I’m spilling the tea today. The question is, what am I gonna do about it?

Am I really gonna stay here forever? Writing sad blogs and being sick and lonely and mad at everyone, including myself, and letting life pass me by, regretting much? I keep thinking that I need help, and my Spirit tells me that I have all the help I need. And I know it. Yet still, there is conflict around this Truth. To accept it… to accept this kind of luck and freedom, feels like blasphemy.

-Accept Being Bad. Accept Being Good. Accept Being Safe. Accept Being Unsafe. Accept Action. Accept Sitting Still. Accept Being Ugly and Unwanted. Accept Being Desired and Beautiful. Accept Their Judgments. Accept Your Own Non-judgment. Accept that you are the hero. Accept other heroes. Hold on to control. Release control. And finally, accept that you know what to do and how to be and how to get out of here. Are you ready? Choose. Yep. Choose.

Dare. To. Choose. Dare to Use Your Power for Yourself, even as all parts of you scream and flail blasphemy. Dare to allow them to judge you but you don’t judge them. Dare to be better than them. Ummm hmmm. Better. And worse. Dare to be worse then them. And be OK with both. Don’t judge you. Don’t sentence yourself to prison or hell or a room. Don’t demand Heaven, either, or success. Or Love.

You. Know. How. To. Do. This. Laydie. Just accept it now. Or would you rather just keep life out there as a fantasy, like the glass shop owner in The Alchemist? It’s OK if that is your choice, but let it be your choice. Would you rather bring the fantasy into you and see what happens next? You don’t know. I won’t tell you. Yes, you could die. That is a possibility. Yes, you could fail, but you have failed already and deemed yourself a failure more than once. Yes, you could be awful and they would hate you, but they think you are awful already. What is there to lose except for all of your identity? Haha. What a thrill! And you say you are no longer a thrill seeker, and We know. You are an adventurer embarking upon uncharted territory.

Let’s not make this just a motivational blog, something to feel good about. Feel bad if you do. But feel. Let’s make a choice. In fact, a commitment. I want you to go in the world with your hair falling out and choose, commit to Love anyway. Love yourself anyway. This is not everyone’s mission, but it’s yours, Laydie. Love yourself anyway. Love yourself because of it. Love yourself because you have chosen to stay in this excruciating experience called humanness. Love yourself even if the experience is easy. Love yourself because it’s easy. Or because it’s hard. Because you did a bad ass job at being bad. Or being good. Because you honored who you are. You are honorable.

If you need to start with the self help or the self talk or the mental stuff, then that’s fine. Start where you need to start. But you have advanced past that, Laydie. You can start at the root. At the real Source of all of this. It’s choice. Choice, surrender, acceptance, intention, practice. That is your religion. Choose to be Yourself now. Choose to align your will with the will of Creation and see a greater life than you could even fathom… Watch… Take it off this blog today. Today. Today. Now. Now. Now. Now. Now. Take it out of your mind today and put. this. in. to. practice. now. Now. Today. Today. Today.

And be OK. This will be different. Feeling OK will be different than anything you’ve felt in a while. BE OK with it. Remind yourself that it’s OK to be OK. Get used to it. You can get used to it. I can get used this. I can get used to this. I can get used to this…

Ameen

Day 539
Bad, Safe and OK

Day 538 – Unconditional

I kind of want to talk, like, use my voice. Today is a big day for me. A huge day. I made a decision. To take ownership of my life. A thought just occurred. I have a friend that has been a phone friend for a very long time. He’s a guy. Only ever been a platonic friend, although when I met him over fifteen years ago, he was trying to hit on me. I called him and told him I didn’t want to date him, and we’ve been friends ever since.

He gives me a lot of insight into the thinking of men…

But I don’t want to talk about him. I can’t write long. My life changed all of a sudden. For the better. I want to go hug a friend today and then I have an awesome meeting coming up. I’m vibrating at a speed that I’m not used to, and from what I know, when my energy is like this, miracles happen.

So, I’m expecting that when I walk out of this door, the highest possible outcome for my life will be forthcoming. I am looking for the choices that I can make 100 percent. So I have to get off this internet now, because the choice I can make 100% for now is to go see my friend immediately and hug him.

God Bless you. Bless you. Unconditionally. Bless you Unconditional.

Ameen.

Day 538
Unconditional

Day 537 – Integrate, Process, Choose

Here we go. So much pain and unprocessed/ unintegrated emotions still… Thinkin of my sister. Can I just write it out? This might be a bit incoherent. She hates my guts. I wish she didn’t. A few of them hate my guts. Why? They wanted me to be there for them in ways I was not. Am not. I guess I did try to punch one of them in the face. She kept coming for me. That’s what it felt like. It felt like she was just coming for me, trying to pull me in directions I didn’t want to go. Not respecting what I was telling her. Not giving me space when I asked for it. Messing up the good situation I was in by having conflict with my caregiver, which in turn distracted him from his caregiving and even made him feel like he was giving too much to me; when he was giving exactly what I needed for the first time in my adult life. It was the first time in my adult life where someone was actually respecting me, interested in what I needed, and offering care to me in safe ways. I was in Heaven. And then she came around just messing everything up, talking about I don’t need what I need. Not even knowing to this day what was wrong with me or what my diagnosis was. Her actions felt slightly malicious. They didn’t feel all the way accidental.

My other sib is mad at me because she’s going through a major life transition. I stayed with her for three months to help her through, and then left to come back to LA. She wanted me to stay longer, even though she was sitting over there talking about my help is just the same as anyone else’s and she don’t need me and I don’t love her. It’s hard to get anything done for myself when I’m with her. It feels like she wants me to pour all of my time and energy into her all the time, and she resents when I have “Me” time, or if I move forward and she’s not. But then she gets angry if I try and encourage her to do stuff to move herself forward, and accuses me of trying to control her, etc, etc. So I came back to LA. Because I need to move forward with my life. And everyone resents me for wanting to move forward.

It’s like the people in my world feel like I’m obliged to give my all to lifting them up. The give what they can when they feel like it. Sometimes when they don’t feel like it. But they’re not about to move out of their home or quit their job and delay their plans to meet me wherever I am and support me in whatever. They’re definitely not about to do that if they see I’m farting around. But they expect me to do that for them…

That’s not what I meant to write about today, but I’ve been cussing people out in my head. Cussing people out in my dreams. Having all these conversations in my mind with others. Trying hard not to say mean stuff to people, but I got so much mean stuff to say. They’re assholes. Can I say it here? Somehow I feel like it needs to be said. Somehow I feel like they don’t get it. That’s why their lives are all effed up. I wish someone would tell me the stuff that I don’t know. The mean stuff that they gossip about, but never say to my face. I would like to know.

My mean ass brother loves to tell me about myself, but he’s so daggone mean. And he usually has no clue about what’s really going on with a person. He did say something to me, though, as I was crying and tell him I feel like a wounded baby. He said I’m not a baby and I need to get my ass up and take responsibility for my life. I mean thing to say to a person in pain, as usual, but it resonated.

My nerves are tingling. I feel anxious about writing more on this blog. Feel like pushing delete, but I’m gonna finish it out. Closing my eyes… Self responsibility. I am going to have to choose, with every ounce of me, 100% to grow. Something deep in me knows I can. The question is, do I want to quit? Do I want to settle for a life that’s not what I dreamed of? The answer is no. I don’t. I want to live my dream. I know I’m getting old, but nothing else will do. But I don’t know how to live my dream, you see. I’ve never seen it done by someone like me who comes from where I come from.

People have tried. People are trying. They are doing their best. But their is no role model. Perhaps I am to become the model. Yes, that is the truth. That is why so many are upset with me. They expected me to be the role model and show them the way. I didn’t know the way, but they thought I did.

Integrate, process, own, live… It’s time. It’s time to stand up tall in myself. It’s time to get over feeling sorry for myself. I can have compassion and kindness, but it’s time to get up now and fight for my own happiness. It’s time to fight for my own redemption. Make an intention for myself. Make an intention for the world. I’m going to go ahead and finally do it.

I commit. I intend. I’m going for the gold. Yep. Even now. I’m going for the gold. Even when I’m over here all emotionally unbalanced. I’m going for it. I’m going for the gold. I’m gonna face them. I’m going to face my fears and have all of these conversations that have been pent up. Or write letters. Or something. I’m going to process and integrate stuff and I’m going to grow and do my very darned best to make this life something I like being a part of. I commit. I intend. I choose. I’m gonna fight for myself, and I know that when I fight for myself, I’m fighting for everyone else who my life touches.

So here we go. I’m getting offline now. Gonna take a shower and finish two things on my list today. Three things, actually. Finish reading a book. Maybe one thing. Maybe the book might take a while. We’ll see. We’ll plan to finish the book. And hug someone. I need to touch and be touched. Thanks for reading. Have a Blessed day.

Day 537
Integrate, Process, Choose

Day 536 – Untitled Stake In The Ground Choosing To Be

Hi
I’m at my alma mater. Sitting in my car with the heat on. Don’t judge me. It’s 10:24 at night. I needed to get out of the house… I haven’t seen anyone all day. Spent most of my day lying on my deflated sleeping bag on the floor in my room, trying to avoid the world.

The world didn’t disappear. I closed my eyes, hoping to wake up to a different feeling, a different anything, but I didn’t. What got me off of the ground was a phone call from My People, the most awesome man I’ve ever met, who refuses to marry me. He says he won’t marry anyone. He’s old. A priest of sorts as well as consultant to kings, queens, presidents and so many elite people. I’m not even exaggerating. He’s that cool. And he calls my phone sometimes. I should blessed that I can connect with him from time to time… I always know that whenever he calls, I’m at a real critical place.

He gave me advice. I was thinking about doing a ceremony, and asked his advice. He gave me advice. Validated what I’d already known. Told me what to do. The thing that I had been avoiding… Write. He told me to write. He said I’m a writer. And he told me to use my words to set an intention and get my ass to a life I like to look at…

I had been getting this message for a while during prayer, but avoiding it. Lying on the ground instead. I’m supposed to write people letters. Write poems. Forgive people and stuff. Tell them how I feel. Tell them how I want to feel. Make decisions. Make intentions. Make commitments. Aaaaaaagh! Painful stuff all the way around. I have felt so mad and so offended by so many people. I don’t know how to let it go. Honestly, I haven’t wanted to let it go.

Because what will I have after that? Can I just be honest here? I know it sounds silly, but I don’t know a life where I’m all right. Since I was a kid, eleven to be exact, I don’t remember if there was ever a time that I felt ok in myself. Do you know what I mean? Happy all the way. With no burdens. No offenses. No broken relationships… A moth just flew into my car. Moths have been all up in my apartment since I got back to LA.

The police murdered a black man on camera. Again. A pandemic came through and shifted everyone’s lives… I was already in the middle of a restructuring of my world when this all hit. Y’all, there’s so much I need to write.

“Start with your feelings”, my Spirit says. I feel hurt. Confused. Desperate. Sad. Lonely. So alone. Unforgivable. Misunderstood. Lost… I’m not quite sure what I’m doing here on this planet. Some say it’s a mirage. A matrix of sorts, our lives. And here we are, caught in the midst of mirages. And if the real thing is only the centered place, then what’s the point of it all?

My mind goes deep. The hurt goes deep, but under the hurt is sadness. The sadness is so deep. Do you know what I feel like? Like no one knows me. Like no one gets me. Like there is no one to hold and be held by. To smile at. Just smile at without no other strings attached. Like everyone who actually does see me and like me wants something from me that I don’t want to give. Or wants me to give what I’m giving in a different way or be what I’m being in a different way. I feel alone. And I don’t care. I don’t care about the things I’m supposed to care about. I feel like I don’t have a religion… I don’t have a place where I belong. I am fighting a battle on my own, but I can’t win it on my own.

A part of my brain says that this is just a story, and I am so powerful that I can change it just like that. In an instant. Everyone can’t do it. But I can. I know how to dematerialize and manifest in an instant. Change the story. I hesitate to think that I can do this. It feels bad and blasphemous to assume that I have any kind of power. To think that me and God are one. I’m laughing because one of the names of God, actually, two of the names of God in the religion of my youth, translate to the “One”. The all in one, and the one in all… A part of my brain does not want to be special. They will not like me. I want to write poems and tell people off, but they won’t like that either. I want people to be ok with me not being happy all the time, but they won’t. I am the motivator.

And no one is coming to save me. I’m here in my car in the middle of the night without a soul to hold. Without a soul to talk to who can give me comfort. And my mind says, “Well, who are you giving comfort to?” and I want to say, can I just be an ass for a minute? Can I just receive for a minute? Please? Is there some list somewhere of my giving? Haven’t I given enough to enough people where I can take a break? Just for a minute? Can I just not think about giving for a minute and get?

The programs in my brain are fried. They are not making sense anymore. I feel sorry for myself. I remember the days I basically lived in this car. Basically got a blanket and slept here because I didn’t want to go home to whoever was there. The question deep is am I going to fight for my life? Am I going to use my power? Am I going to be sovereign and blasphemous? Who am I without the guidance and overbearing programming of my mother? My siblings? Without the voice of my used to be best friend telling me what to do? Who am I without the book of God that I’m supposed to go to, telling me what life is about?

You say I have to make a choice. Tonight. Put a stake in the ground. I am dying from indecision. Halfway, half-hearted moves will not suffice at last… To be or not to be… the question makes sense for the first time… To be or not to be.

What does it mean? I look for guidance outside of me. Any book. Any body. Any anything except accepting my own authority… My People says I am a writer. He says that what I say with words can be a reality. He says that I can catch a vision for my overseas heal the world mission, and speak it, and plant seeds for a new kind of world. He says that I can use my free will for my own life. Decide. Decide the life I want and have it. Create. Accept it. Allow. Just decide that this is the way it is to be. And be… And I am so afraid of this. I am so afraid of this. I feel so afraid of this.

But still I must decide. Can I? Can I decide not to be this anymore? The only thing and the only way I’ve known for so long? Can I decide to take ownership of my life? I feel like throwing up as I write this. I want to write poems, but I think maybe because the world is talking about race and diseases and my poems are talking about sad stuff that maybe my poems won’t be received right now? I don’t know. But I know I have to do it.

I have to do this. I have to decide. Now. I have to make a full 100 percent decision. This won’t work anymore. I’m dying of depression. I’m dying from heartache. I’m dying from not expressing myself. I’m dying from living out of alignment with who I am and where I belong. And even if I don’t know… even if I don’t know the truth of it all. Even if I don’t know the whole of it all. I know I don’t belong here anymore.

I know that much. I know that this is enough. A lifetime, probably lifetimes of being stuck inside myself… a lifetime of having so many beautiful thoughts die… a lifetime of painful relations… My head hurts, but I’m going to do this, Insha Allah.

I am going to, for the first time in my life, on purpose, carefully, use my words. All the way. Yes, I am going to be like one of those Maya Angelou people. Yes, I am special like that. Not because I want to be better than anyone. I have such a resistance to doing anything more than anyone or people thinking that I’m trying to be better than them…. I am going to lay everything down. Every single thing, God. Everything.

I don’t know what religion to choose. I don’t know about if it’s a mirage or if anything here is real. I haven’t found the meat that fills me up, but I’m going to look for it. There. There you have it. I commit. In this moment, in my lucky car that I won on a game show in 30 minutes… This car that I’ve taken out loans out against and paid my rent with and paid other people’s rent with… this car that I went to an audition for. The lady at the audition asked me why I want to be on the show, and I said because my car broke and I need a new car. And I went on the show. And I won a new car in 30 minutes. And it’s in my name. And it’s the only thing that I own as far as property in this world… In this lucky car, God, that reminds me that there is more to life than meets the eye, I am going to stand my ground. I am choosing to take ownership of my life fully. Now. I own two things, now.

I choose. You say that that is our gift. To choose. Our will. I reclaim my will. Now. Back from everyone. Back from the will of my ancestors. Back from the will of my mom. Back from the will of my friends. And my siblings. And my lovers. And my race. And my gender. Back from my agreements known and unknown, ever. Chords, spells, binds, blocks, implants, illusions have no power over me any more. Today, in this moment, June 13, 2020 12:38am, I call back my power… and I choose to accept it. I accept it. Now. ALL OF IT.

I don’t want to paint the picture too deep yet, God, because I want you to paint it with me. Hand in hand. I don’t want to do this on my own. I can’t, in fact. I choose you, Good forces known and unknown, I accept you to be here with me. I am willing to be a grown up now. I am willing to be responsible for my own life now. My gift. I will face the void and choose to see it for what it is. I accept. I accept. I accept. I accept. I accept happyness and fulfillment as my life. I commit to it. I’m going home now. And so it is.

Ameen

Day 536
Untitled Stake In The Ground Choosing To Be

Day 535 – From The Outside Looking In

We were taught aloneness. Independence. Some of us. Something to be proud of. We did it all by ourselves. And no one but you can get you into Heaven. Is it blasphemy, then, to say that I don’t want aloneness? I don’t believe.

I don’t believe it’s possible anymore, alone. I don’t see the purpose of alone. It feels like the biggest lie. And even together, we are alone. I heard a talk today from My People. My People is a genius. He is a world changer. I didn’t even realize how phenomenal he is and I pinch myself every time I become aware that this guy is my friend. He talks to me and gives me water and he gave me money to buy ice cream once. I Love him. I wish he’d marry me and be my baby daddy to be honest, but he doesn’t want to.

So I am content with receiving what he is willing to give and navigating our relationship in the places where we agree. He’s an international speaker, and I looked him up online today. He had done a talk in the past few weeks, and I took this from it. “I am with you in the reality that allows you to know that you’re not alone… Let me come to where your suffering is, and let’s get out of it together…”

This was it. These were the words. This was the safety I had been wanting all these years. I’m not supposed to say it. I’m supposed to say other things like I can do it all by myself and I don’t need anyone and no one owes me anything and I better figure it out because nobody is coming. I know. I know. How dare I feel entitled to that level of Love and how dare I think that I can’t do anything without it?

I know. I’m not supposed to want those things. I’m supposed to figure out how to get along without those things and don’t even focus my life on trying to give those things – It’s called codependency in many cultures… But those words? Those are the words I’ve been wanting all my life.

My brother gave it to me recently when I was sick down South. He was with me. He was with me, where my suffering was, and he helped me get out of it. To come to the place of another’s suffering and help them get out of it; to be with them in the reality that allows them to know that they are not alone… What a gift.

Many people, some of my mentors, say don’t worry about being alone. Get over this fear of being alone. I see both sides… That is where my mind was when I started this blog today. Aloneness and togetherness. But we will go down that thought path on another day, maybe.

Right now, I’m thinking about this time in my life. The next phase. A new moon. An empty apartment. An older lady. A womb with eggs that have expiration dates. A phone that doesn’t ring that often. Phone numbers that I mostly don’t feel like calling. A realization of so many mistakes. An awareness of my situation like never before. A sadness. A deep, deep sadness. Knowing what to do next, but feeling real resistance to actually taking action.

I had a lot of boyfriends this past week, and dumped them just as fast. Didn’t do anything with anyone. Mostly talked to people on the phone and texted. An old acquaintance who had been trying to get it for some time came by. We didn’t do anything but talk. A young guy looking for a hero. An older guy who is very accomplished and ambitious and lonely. A friend from overseas. I told him that I was just about ready to get married and he confessed his secret undying love for me. Another friend, who has constantly been trying to court me, tried every way to come visit when he heard I’m back in town. I didn’t see him. A birthday of a guy I dated. He was trying to find a way for me to help him with stuff and I said I’d help. He was hurt when I asked him to video stream stuff. Another good friend from overseas messaged to confess that he’s trying to get boo’d up. And finally, the guy whom I went on my first date in life with, a super cutie and respectable guy, reached out… I should be flattered. I used to be flattered. It used to be fun having all these guys around who liked me. Maybe because I grew up as an ugly girl, it made me feel valuable to have guys like me. Or maybe it’s because they were generally my only friends. The people I was doing life with. And so I just ignored that they actually liked me, because I wanted them to be my friends.

It’s not fun anymore, though. Because it hurts people. All those guys are probably nuts anyway, but I’m not helping them by holding their feelings hostage here. And I’m not helping me, either. I’m holding my own self hostage.

So I awake on this auspicious Saturday morning realizing that I’ve wasted a lot of time. Metaphysical people don’t like when you use the word wasted, but ghetto people do. I’m ghetto and meta, so I’ll say wasted. I feel like I’ve wasted a lot of time, and I feel sad about it. And I’m afraid of everything. Not knowing how to start over. Can I just tell the truth? Can I just be honest about what I think and feel? It’s not pretty. I feel like I’ve been in some kind of darkness for so long. And I’ve wasted a lot of time doing the same old things and not even recognizing how deeply they were impacting my life in a negative way.

And now that I see the light, I’m asking myself, how could I have been that way? How could I have done those things or not done those things or thought those things or let people do those things to me? How is it that I’m living a life with no love? No real love. So many of us are so unhappy… How did I get here? Why did it take me so long to even fathom… I can’t even get the words out. I feel ashamed of myself. I really feel ashamed of myself for so many reasons. I feel embarrassed. And my relationships that have fallen apart? I can’t say that I really want them back. In fact, I can say that I don’t want them back in the ways that they were. But how to change them? How to change me? Where do I start? Is there time? Will I have kids before I get too old? Will I ever fall in love and have a healthy relationship with someone who loves me, too? Will things ever be good – for real good – between my family and I and so many others? Will I ever get to experience that real flow? The flow of authentic goodwill – no jealousy. No anger. No bitterness. No resentment. No control. No judging. Just Love and acceptance. Will that ever happen between me and family? Or me and my friends? Or me and anyone except the people who really aren’t trying to be a part of my life like that?

Where do I start? My brother says I should be focused on trying to get to Heaven and taking responsibility for my life. The kid in me wants to say, “You’re wrong! I’ll show you!” But the grown up in me doesn’t want to fight anymore… I don’t want to fight anymore. I just don’t. My other mind says, maybe if I just did what everybody wanted me to, and just said sorry about everything and I said I was all the bad things they think I am and wrong and tried their ways of life, maybe they’d like me then… But I don’t believe it. I don’t really believe I was all the bad things they said I was… I just don’t… These thoughts really wreak havoc on me, though, and have me knocked out on the bed for days. The thought of my brother and mom and family members thinking I’m a bad person really gets me. It gets me really down and has… I got distracted.

Someone, a business acquaintance, sent me an email asking if he could support me in any way and also reminding me that I’m powerful… Well, the good news is that since the start of this blog till the end, I feel a lot more empowered. My Best Friend would be really proud of me. He used to say, “turn it around”. Like, whatever deep hole you were going down, turn it around. I miss him still, but don’t feel strong enough to engage with him. He doesn’t know how to Love and not hurt or use people. We all have our flaws…

I’m debating about deleting this entry and starting a new one… So many freaking thoughts pass through in such a short amount of time. Just now, for some reason, I ended up reading emails from someone who said I was unstable… Oh! I know what I was thinking. I was thinking about how, when you see people in those AA meetings, they always say, “My name is such and such and I’m an alcoholic.” I was wondering what I had to confess to, and then I thought, “I’m emotionally unstable.” Then I went and looked for an email from some guy who had called me such, but I couldn’t find it. I’m a shirker? I’m trying to find the main thing that needs to be repaired. The fulcrum.

The fulcrum is that I don’t accept my power and I don’t want responsibility for leading the direction of my life. That is the point upon which all other disasters have rested… Can we change it? It’s weird, because I feel like I can, but I am so afraid of doing it and admitting it. I feel my heart racing in my throat and belly. It is now or never, really. We can keep on like this forever. Many do. No judgement on them. This is just not the lifetime for them to breakthrough…

But we can keep on like this forever. Or we can not. It was seven years ago that that guy called me emotionally unstable. And six years ago that I got sick and was diagnosed emotionally and physically unstable. And more than ten years ago that I met He Who Came Before and became so unmoored and psychically unstable…

And now, from the outside looking in, I see myself, with these old lady pajamas on and sunglasses and looking so pathetic, and there’s no brother or mother to reach out to. No book that can tell me about myself better than I. There is no sister who’s judgments can reach places that don’t exist in me. Am I willing to know what to do and do it?

Am I willing to jump out of this sad, sad, identity… my back hurts as I write this. My heart rate speeds up. I’m gonna do it. Yep. I’m gonna do it, God willing. I close my eyes. Am I willing to accept my won power? Finally? Am I willing to accept my own power? For real. Even if means not being liked. Oh, my God. Even if it means being liked? Am I willing to accept my own Grace and take ownership of this life at last? Am I willing to own my life at last? Am I willing to own my body at last? Am I willing to own my power at last? To Love myself at last… My body belongs to me. My body belongs to me… My body belongs to me… My life belongs to me. My energy belongs to me… Dream Lover tricked me. He was married all along. I’m sorry, Laydie. Benjamin hurt me. He betrayed me, God. I’m sorry, Laydie. And they don’t really Love me… They don’t Love me, Allah… I’m sorry, Laydie… Would you be willing to forgive?

From the outside looking in, would you be willing to turn your own power towards yourself for the sake of your happiness? Would you be ok with this? Your own happiness? Would you be ok with this? Your own happiness? If no one else made it out, would you be ok with this? Your own freedom? You’re a good person. You’re a good person. From the outside looking in, you’re a great person. A sweet person. A humble person. From the outside looking in, you’re a kind person. And you’re so gifted and… I had to stop again.

Y’all. Do you know the hardest thing? To accept. After you have been through so much shit and you are used to living a certain way… I’m used to being an almost. Not a done. And this shift is huge. And I know that if I open up to my power and use it towards myself and accept the Grace of God, then it’s possible. But I am afraid of possible. It hurts my throat and makes my shoulders tense. But I know it is the only way. But I am even afraid to tell you that I’m going to make it. Like I don’t think you’ll like me if you think I’m going to make it. Like this was the agreement. How not to cry every day was the agreement. The other side of happy – the happy side of happy was no where in the picture.

So, this is a big one. Maybe the biggest one. Maybe the biggest day of my life. If I could get on the outside looking in and tell me what to do… And do it. And if I could accept my power, I could do it. If I could do it, then my life would change. Like, for real. Not a temporary change. Not a part-time change. The nerves in my body are acting a fool right now. My throat hurts. I am tempted to stop writing and go look at my celebrity crush’s Instagram page. But I’m going to power through, God willing.

My name is Laydie Byrd and I am powerful. I accept being powerful. I accept being powerful. I accept being powerful. I am Loving and Loved. I accept being Loving and Loved. I accept being Loving and Loved. I accept being Loving and Loved. My life is a good life. I accept my life being a good life. I accept my life being a good life. I accept my life being a good life. I accept my life being a good life. Whoa. I accept my life being a good life. I accept my life being a good life. I accept my life being a good life. I accept a good life. I accept a good life. I accept a good life. I am willing to have a good life. I accept a good life. I am willing to be a good life. I am willing to be a good life. I am a good life. I am a good life. I am a good life. I am a good life. I am a good life. I am willing to have a good life. I am a good life.

I turn my gaze towards myself. I am willing to listen to the wisdom of my own being. I choose to listen finally. I choose to accept a good life forever more. Forever more. Forever more. Forever more.

Who am I being today? How am I being today? Today I am being full of Grace. I just accept it. Today I am relaxing into my own power. I relax even though it hurts… I just accept it. From the outside looking in, I want you to know that you can do this, Laydie. You can do this. You are ready to do this. You are not on your own with this. Don’t tell them what you’re about to do. Everybody don’t like you. But tell yourself. Tell yourself. Write it down. Write it down now. Today. Make that commitment to yourself. Commitment. Today. Write it down. You know what to do. I will tell you. You know where to get help. I will help you. Please accept my help. The world is counting on you. This is not a fairy tell. The world is counting on you. This is how the world wakes up. One by one by one by one by one. And some person that thinks they’re better than you sees you break free and they say, “If she can do it, I can do it”, and they break free.

And that is your gift. You are your best gift to yourself and everyone else. You understand? From the outside looking in, I am putting my arms around you. I am giving you the compassion that you’ve so craved. I am putting my arms around you. I am loving you… Feel it. Look towards me, now. Feel it. Your life is not the same now. Feel it. I am Loving you. Feel it. Let me Love you. Feel it. Feel what it is to have your shoulders touched with Love, no debt accrued… I see you. I see your pains. I see your suffering. I am so sorry. I know you have been hurting for a such a long time. I know your posture has changed and your skin has changed and your eyes are not as white. I want you to know, though, that I Love you still. And I love you even at your best. Love is not just for the broken hearted. Nor is it only for the ones who got it right. The sun shines on everyone – on anyone who is willing to go out and receive it.

So forgive yourself, my baby. And accept my Grace even if you can’t forgive yourself right now. OK? Even if you only do one thing today. Even if you do no things, but I know you will do many things… But no matter what happens or doesn’t happen, know that I am here with you. Loving you, appreciating you, helping you. I am here helping you. I am here helping you. I am here thinking highly of you. Yes, even now. Look towards me now. Join hands with me now. When you are weak, I am even here lifting you, carrying you, bringing help to you. And I am clapping for you. You can be strong, too. You can be a giver, too. You can be a helper, too. Don’t focus on that, though. Don’t worry about it. They will call you selfish. I am here protecting you from the pain of their words. Let me help you. I will teach you about your own goodness so much so that no lie calling you out of your name will ever land again. And you will be good. You are good. You are good. You are good. Open up your arms. Hold me now… I’m holding you.

Have faith. Go to the place where you know what you know. Know it now. Know it now. Know it now. We are changing lives. We are moving upwards and onwards at last. You were born for this… I was born for this… I was born for this…

Ameen

Day 535

From The Outside Looking In

Day 534 – About Love (Again)

Where to start? I’ve been avoiding writing because I’ve been afraid to deal with all these heavy feelings. Thinking they might come rushing in and take me over…

Don’t really want to be paralyzed with overwhelm… Writing this blog is like the thing that makes me face myself. I ask God to be with me. Let me know that He is with me, so I can face my shadows.

I feel like a fool writing this. Don’t think I’ll write in code today. My siblings. My family. A lot of them don’t like me. Or at least it feels that way. For different reasons. Mostly, they think I’m bad. It sounds so small when I write it, but it is so huge. Or they think I’m good. Or they are disappointed in me because they wanted me to be a way – a hero of sorts, and I didn’t save them.

Or they think I’m manipulative. Or just looking for pity. Or a bully. Or mean. Or cold… The wires in my head are crossed. Resistance to feeling all this stuff. I’ll push through, God willing, and get it out. Another sibling says I’m abusive and always trying to cut people with my words and not help them. One says I went off on her, when I swear I only said one sentence. “I don’t like telling you my problems because you never sympathize with me.” Another sibling made up a whole saga about me. Said I told the family all kinds of lies about her and I was the reason why she separated from the family. I never did it. In fact, I had gone to visit her to try and show her that I cared about her and never said anything but good things about her to the family until she disappeared based upon what she thought I had done.

A trouble maker that brings mischief everywhere, they called me. And yet they seek me out first for help with just about everything. They ask my advice and come to me for comfort. They want my approval.

Something is very wrong here. I’m sure there is some kind of psychological condition that I’m not seeing.

The other day, I was hurting. I can’t even tell you the deeper reasons why I was hurting so bad, but I was hurting so bad emotionally. I had come back to town and stayed with my brother for a couple of days. My brother has a new fancy place and invited me to stay with him. Nothing really happened. A small thing happened. He was just nit picky about cleaning up and anxious… I had cooked spaghetti one night and the water spilled over on the stove. Neither of us had cleaned it up. The next morning, he was in the kitchen and I heard him saying, “Uh uh”… He called my name. For whatever reason, that triggered something deep in me.

I became eleven years old again. Missed the bus for school and ended up staying home with the 20 year old not cousin who lived with us. I was an ugly duckling and no boys ever liked me and I didn’t have very many friends. The twenty year old used to call me pretty, though. He used to pump on his bike and buy me candies and joke and talk with me. And when we were home alone that day, I asked him if he’d ever kissed a girl. He had. He asked me if I’d ever kissed a boy. I hadn’t. He was my first kiss. Lionel Richie’s song “You Are” played in the background. I just found it online and tried to listen to it, but felt like vomiting, so turned it off… After we kissed, I got up abruptly. Didn’t say anything. Went to another room. I felt excited, but I felt bad, too. I had done something bad. But I had also had my first kiss. I went to the bathroom to wash my mouth and avoided my first kisser all day.

When my brother, my best friend at the time, came home, I rushed to tell him! I had kissed my first kiss! Guess who? My brother was not as excited as me. He was enraged. “You have to tell mom,” he said. “What?” I thought. I couldn’t tell mom! My brother said that if I didn’t tell her, he would. He did. That night, my mom confronted my kisser when he got off work. I was with her. I still remember being downstairs in the airport tunnel where we came to pick him up. He had worked at the airport. He was walking towards us with his bike. My mom confronted him and started slapping him. She kicked him out. Gave him a short amount of time to leave our house and said that he and I were not to be in the same room ever again while he was at the house…

I abided to the decree. Shortly after the incident, I noticed that my brother, my best friend, wasn’t talking to me. He would just walk by me and I would speak to him, but he would just brush me off and not say anything to me. He didn’t invite me to play or do stuff anymore. One of my girl cousins, who lived with us, asked what was going on, but I didn’t know. Finally, my mom got wind of the situation. She called us for a meeting. Asked my bro why he wasn’t talking to me. He said because I was bad and I liked boys… and that was how I lost my best friend.

Within a week or so, my kisser and I bumped into each other alone in the upstairs game room of the house. He said he wanted to tell me something. He said that he didn’t kiss me because he liked me. He said he actually liked someone else – my mom. Yep, he said it. Said he kissed me because I reminded him of my mom… I don’t remember what I said. I don’t think I said anything. Somehow, though, I made it downstairs to the bathroom. I got in the tub, ran a bath, and cried and cried for hours until I felt nothing…

I didn’t know it at the time, but I had left my body. And over the years, I would perfect the art of leaving my body whenever something painful tried to hit me. People would think I’m strong, but I didn’t really care about being strong. I actually resented the idea, because to me, it wasn’t a good thing. It meant you had to go through hard shit on your own. But I wasn’t strong. I just wasn’t there…

This writing is painful… I had to stop writing because my Essence was tryna rise up and just get up out of my body and I breathed so that I could be present through this… I’m going to finish it out. My brother and I fought over this core issue over the years. About me being bad because I like boys. We actually fought about me not practicing the religion that we grew up in. According to him, it was the only way to salvation and peace. And if I didn’t practice it, I was doomed. I interpreted this belief as me being bad if I didn’t practice it.

My mom reinforced this belief. I mean, it’s essentially written into many religions. Religious people will say it’s not, but it is. If you don’t believe this path and follow this path, you are not chosen or saved or going to Heaven. Ergo, you are unchosen, cursed, not saved, going to hell. Bad in so many words. In my estimation, this kind of thinking allows to kill each other in the blink of an eye. “If you don’t believe what I believe, then you are wrong. You are destined to the worst place you can imagine. A hell of hells. I am not to associate with you.” It’s hard to have compassion with one another with this kind of programming.

Over the years, I would fight my brother and my mom about whether this was true. We would try and find the worst things about each others’ lives in order to prove that our beliefs were correct and that’s why the person with the correct beliefs had a better life than the person with the incorrect beliefs. We hurt each other much…

So, the other day, when my brother said, “uh uh” and called my name after seeing spilled water in his brand new apartment that he wants to keep clean, it didn’t feel like someone just being protective of their stuff like they should be. It felt like I was being called bad, abandoned, not wanted, a burden, and never quite good enough no matter how hard I tried.

I cried and cried and eventually I left my brother’s place and came back to mine. My mom called, meddling, until I told her what was wrong. She essentially told me how my brother loved me and then advised me that I’m difficult to live with and went on to recount how I had bullied her into accepting one of my friends during our recent time living together, and how, although I used to be lively and vibrant, I was mean and cold now. And she advised that I stay from my friends. There was no “friend” in particular that she could name, but just advised that most of my friends were deadbeats and I should stay away from them in general. She said I had hurt her deeply by being mean to her during our last time living together. Said I should try being the religion I grew up in and my life would be better.

Yesterday my brother called to see what was going on with me. I think he genuinely wanted to help. I told him I felt lost and confused about my next steps in life, and I told him that what I wanted most in life was good relationships. He asked if I wanted his advice and I said yes. He advised that I should set goals, make a plan, and that the most important thing to me shouldn’t be good relationships. The most important thing should be my religion and trying to do what’s right by it. I rebutted against his usage of the word “should”. He said I said I wanted his advice and should was what he advised. He told me eff my feelings. Don’t worry about what others think of me and don’t worry about relationships. Eff my daggone feelings up. Make up my mind that I’m not gonna cry and get to work with whatever I need to work on. His tone felt angry to me, but somewhere in his intention there was some love. I could feel it. The interaction did not feel good, though. My tone was defeated.

Defeated…

I wonder if I am this person. This mischief maker. This bully. This bad person who won’t submit to Guidance. This abuser who tries to cut people and put them down. This hellbound heathen. I wonder if any goth people have made a song called Hell Bound yet… But I digress. What if I was all of this? What would I do then? Change? For who?

My brain swirls. There is nothing to hold on to. One of my new friends, whom I met at my spiritual center the other day, told me that I’m an awesome sister. A gem. I don’t know if I am who some of my family members think I am or who my friends think I am or who I think I am. I don’t even know who I think I am… Maybe it’s official. I’m coockoo at last… What to do?

After writing all this, I’m not feeling as emotional as I was feeling when I started. I think what I’ll do is I’ll just make my own opinion of myself. Take an honest inventory. It’s time. Maybe I won’t focus so much on changing as I will on accepting and forgiving. And I’ll do the same for others.

I’m tired of this game of bad and good. Fed up, actually. I’m tired of being seen as anything but a Blessed gem. I know I ain’t perfect and I can say some cutting words. I’ll accept that. Usually, though, it’s in defense when someone has deliberately crossed over some boundaries that I explicitly asked them not to cross or tried to bully me or hurt me. My cutting words is all I got to keep me safe.

I’m afraid that if I tell my family sorry for stuff, then they’ll think they’re right for all their abusive, manipulative, insensitive, codependent, disrespectful, judgmental, not trying to understanding nobody’s point of view, condemning everyone including themselves, expecting someone to give them what they’re not willing or able to give nobody bullshit that they expect from me.

Something about all of it doesn’t feel right. Like, it doesn’t come from Love. I don’t know how to explain it, but most of all of what happened has nothing to do with Love. It’s about ego and identity and self worth and unmet needs, but it’s not about Love.

How do I process this? How do I process me?
-Pick it up and put it down. Walk. Through. This. Darkness. And. Know. The. Truth. About. Yourself. How do you know the Truth? Just ask to know the Truth. How do you know what to do next? Just ask to know what to do next. Give them all their opinions back. Just give it back to them. They are theirs. In fact, lay even your own opinions down. This is grown folks work. In everything, slithers of Love exist. Pick. Those. Up… Give. Those. Out. This in an intentional practice. You have been instructed. Now proceed…

And so it is.

Day 534
About Love (Again)

Day 533 – Prayers Up

Where to start? So much processing and shifting… Lord have mercy. I’m going back to LA in the next few days. For the past three months, I have been gallavanting around the world with my sister and her three year old son, and I have also visited other family members. It has been wonderful. It has been trying, too, because I wasn’t used to living life with other people anymore. But loneliness has not been my companion.

Now I’m going back to LA. I don’t really have much of a life I like there, and I’m not quite sure that I feel compelled to build one there any more. There’s no one there. I have a brother there. He’s cool enough, but generally we reach a point of conflict when it comes to religion and I don’t feel comfortable sharing the things that matter to me with him. And I have a really good friend there. A guy. He’s cool, too – the best – but whenever he gets a girlfriend, which is almost always, he goes into seclusion with that particular woman and I don’t really live a lot of life with him.

The world is currently shut down. It’s opening back up, but I think I’ll be a recluse for at least another month, because I’m not so certain that things are as safe as people are saying…

So, I’m thinking about the fact that I’m about to be locked in my apartment by myself in LA, with no one around who really wants to live life together or help each other in the ways needed, and it’s freaking me out. I’ve either broken up with my really good friends that I was living life with, or they’ve moved out of town… I know, I keep talking about how I miss my friends that I used to live life with, and you’re probably like, “Why don’t you call them and get back to it?” But it’s not that simple. I’ve changed so much. The relationships I’ve had with them are not ok anymore, and I don’t know if they’ve changed, but I doubt it…

So there you have it. A redundant post, I know. I’ve been here before. I don’t want to go back to LA to that lonely apartment by myself. But although it’s beautiful here, and I have people I Love and people who are willing to spend life with me here, my intuition tells me to go back home and just keep chipping away at the things I’ve been guided to do.

I’m so scared, God. Don’t even get me to talking about men or a husband. I don’t even know how to navigate that landscape anymore. My heart has been so crushed. I’m not that sassy girl who never gets hurt anymore. I get hurt. I feel stuff now. Deeply. And I know I’ve hurt people, too. And I don’t really want to hurt anyone any more. So, I feel slightly horrified… If my bestie were here, he would help me see the blind spots. He’d tell me what to do and help me be aware of what’s needed. Now, by myself… I’m not by myself, I just don’t really have anyone in my life who is particularly invested enough to take an interest in telling me what to do, or really, anyone who knows what to do. They are looking to me to figure this stuff out and show them a map.

So, maybe that’s my destiny. To chart unknown territories and draw up maps and introduce others to these spaces to explore. But I’m old now, God. I feel old, you understand? And really, I just want to be ok. I want my heart to be easy. I don’t want anymore stored resentments. I don’t want to cry so much anymore. I want to be ok. If I’m this trailblazer or whatever… I don’t even care so much about it anymore. It’s ok. It’s great. It doesn’t give me so much pride anymore to be gifted or whatever I am. I didn’t do anything to be born who and how I am. If I’m a leader, it’s just because God made my heart and mind that way. I never really sat down and said, “Hey. I want to be this way or the other.”

But I think it’s time I sat down and said, hey. I want to be this way. It’s way overdue. It’s time right now for people, myself included, to step up and face ourselves. And be on purpose about this life. It’s not so serious, but it is kind of really serious. It’s time. What’s important to me is Love. It’s so important to me to just have Love. To feel it. To share it. To live life with others in harmony. I didn’t realize I cared so much about it, but I do.

So there you have. I don’t have a bunch of witty stuff to say in this entry with a clean way to tie it all up. I’m feeling a lot of pain. I’m feeling paralyzed with fear and I’m just using this space to process and get through so that I can move on and move forward. I wish I could do like the movies and just own my power and my strength and stand up all tall and confident and walk bravely into a brand new day, but that’s not what I look like right now.

Right now I look like tears streaming down my face and red eyes, and trying to breathe deeply so my head doesn’t explode. I don’t see any options that look particularly enticing. Here is lovely, but it’s standing still… I prayed and prayed about it and was led back to LA.

Y’all wish me luck, please. Please keep me in your thoughts. I’m serious. Please pray for me that I can really move on in life now and not fail. I feel like such a failure. Please pray for me that I can do something good with my life and heal and have a good experience of life…

Please.

Ameen.

Day 533
Prayers Up

Day 532 – Sweet Surrender (To Be Somebody)

Here we go. I’m outside. There’s someone sitting next to me and I don’t have my sunglasses on. I don’t know how I feel about this. I like to cry when I write my blogs, and oh, what a good cry I’ve got all up in me today. It’s a good cry. Cathartic. Going to a space where I can cry like I feel like it…

I’m back in my room. Crying like I feel like. The tide is shifting. I feel it. It’s getting better. Life is getting better. I got rejected from a program I thought I was going to get into. It was a directing program where you shadow someone and direct a commercial. I thought it was gonna be my big break and I was going to go back to LA and start directing and writing commercials and making at least 10k a month and never worry about money again, and I was gonna be someone at last.

To Be Somebody.

These days these really deep questions have been coming around for contemplation, and I’ve been looking at them.

What does it mean to be somebody? And how do you deal if you just never get there? Wherever there is? Whatever your dream of life is? What if you never break through? Are you a nobody then?

What if I never break through? It’s a question to wrangle with. I’m getting older and the world is falling apart and stuff. What if I never have a kid? My eggs get too old. Or what if I have a kid and my kid is a complete asshole or the child is just not what I was hoping for even if I try my best?

How do we cope with such deep disappointments? One part of me wants to go gung ho and just put my all into everything in life an make all this stuff happen. And the existential nine year old in me wonders what it’s all about.

What is this life all about? Who cares, anyway? What are we doing here on this Earth with all of our goals and ambitions and hopes and pride? What’s it all about? I could never really get into any of the answers I was given for that question, and even now, at mid age of sorts, I don’t know.

I don’t really know. But I’m coming to believe that maybe it’s about giving. Something about giving. Not in the way I had been giving. Not so that you can think highly of yourself or so that you can be somebody or tell somebody what you did. I think maybe you just give, because what are you doing with all that good stuff in you if you’re not giving it? If you’re not using it? It just kind of makes sense to be giving. And receiving, too. I don’t really know.

But I do. There’s also something to be said about showing up. Just showing up and getting it together. Just showing up. Waking up every day and just being here. Maybe that’s what it really is – maybe that’s what it really means to “be” somebody?

But isn’t everyone somebody? Even if they didn’t get it right? Even if they just couldn’t figure out how to do this Earth walk? Even if they just didn’t get there, wherever there is…

A part of me just wants to crumble. Like, I just want everything in me to fall. Any piece of pride, just break and get over this notion of judging everything and everyone, including myself. Just be ok. Like, just be wise now.

– Crumble, now. This is the feeling of surrender. Sweet surrender, set me free. Sweet surrender, set me free.

Day 532
Sweet Surrender (To Be Somebody)

Day 531 – Move On

YO
Y’all. I’m trippin out. It’s my birthday. My hands are tingling. I’m pretty sure I’m having a panic attack. Missing my bestie again. I could tell him the truth about my panic attacks and he knew how to deal with them.

Here is the place I tell the truth to myself. Been afraid to come, because, oh, there is some truth to be dealt with. Like how I miss my Bestie and my Neighbor. But what is there to say to them? If I was to call, what is there really to say? I’m sorry? For what? And then what? Has anything changed? No. Will anything change? No. But will I ever find anyone like bestie again? Anyone who knows me so deeply… anyone who I can express the deepest parts of myself with and know that he can hold them… I miss him so, so, much, but I don’t want him back.

I miss all of my old friends and lovers and family who are no longer parts of my life. I guess with the men, I would have wanted us to be friends. I shouldn’t have dated, should have just stayed friends. My neighbor? He always noticed when I was about to pass out, when no one else noticed. He noticed the little nuances in the ways I dressed and he genuinely liked my style and he genuinely liked me. He was real catty and jealous of everything and he couldn’t stand people like me – people who he thought didn’t have to work hard for anything and who got things easily and magically. He didn’t understand that we have been doing our own work. Hard, grueling, heartbreaking work. We have been trying to reach points of integrity and we have understood so much less than people thought we did.

I’m not sure where this blog is going. I’m trying not to say it. I’m trying not to look at it. Trying not to see where I am on this road called life. I’m old now. There. I said it. I am old and I am not tired. I am actually ready. I am ready to break through. All the way. All the way .
through. I’ve never done this before. I’ve never said this before. I don’t know when was the last time that I decided I was just going to live life differently. When I went to college, more than a decade ago. I decided I would wear my natural hair instead of perms and weaves and I’ve been doing so since. And now I start again. Ready… I have to deal with all the time wasted. My mind tells me not to say wasted, but I don’t want to be verbally correct.

It feels like wasted. It feels like I could have been doing so much more with this incarnation; like I could have been feeling so much more joy; and sharing. I could have been sharing so much more Love. So now? What to do now? Is there a way to make up for so much lost time? You tell me that there is. Like a person at an alcoholics anonymous meeting – one by one. Piece by piece. It is time to finally get it together. Chip away, but don’t make it burdensome.

Chip away. Share. Share the Love. Just share all the Love in my heart. Just share it. Forget about it. Forget about all the awful things that folks have said. Just forget about it. I can let it all go. I really can… I feel afraid to be different than I’ve been before. I feel afraid to live differently. I feel afraid to accept being Loved… Can you imagine? All this time, I have been thinking I’m alone. All this time, I have been thinking that no one loves me. But it has all been a lie. I haven’t been alone. I haven’t been unloved. I have been surrounded by so much Love. I have had so many friends and so many Loves… I have been so special. Ungratefully special.

Today I got so many gifts. I got a computer and some new head phones and money and my brother got me some purses from overseas… I got so many calls wishing me Happy Birthday. I am Loved. I didn’t know I would live to feel this – to feel Loved. I didn’t know that a time would come that I would be accepted by others just as I am. I didn’t know that people liked having me around, but they do. And here I am. Around. I’m here.

The nerves behind my left knee hurt. There’s a huge energy in my chest and low back and belly that needs to be let loose. My throat doesn’t feel like it’s open. And I call upon you, God. Cubano was right. We can’t do this life on our own. There are forces so much bigger than us that are holding the Earth together. Can I make a decision now to never be ensnared in dysfunction again? Can I decide to just be? Just be the embodiment of the highest Loving intent in every interaction? I know people say it’s not easy, but it’s so easy for kids. We were kids once. Now we have seen the world and we have seen so much darkness and felt so much pain and had our dreams dashed and smashed and screamed at the moon. And still we are those little kids with delight in our eyes.

So what about this blog? I’m not going to edit it. Not even going to go back and see what needs to be done or focused on. It’s my birthday. A particularly monumental birthday. Let’s just let it be so. Let me let it be like before I went to college. I was excited. The future was ahead of me and I could be anything I wanted. I don’t know why it strikes such fear in me to let go of the past and just let what has been be – stop waiting on some man from whenever to reappear and say or do whatever. Stop holding my heart hostage hoping someone will say sorry for something they don’t feel guilty about or don’t want to apologize for. Just stop it. Stop it already. Just stop it.

Take these deep, agonizing pains and kiss them… Bless them. Thank them for the gifts they brought. Do you know the gift they brought, Laydie? Love yourself. I know it’s very unreligious, but I’m not talking about narcissism or selfishness. I’m talking about being willing to turn your energy, your Love, towards your own self, as a full grown woman, kiss those scars, cherish them for the compassion they’ve brought. Cherish them for the opening they have given you. You can feel again. You are connected again. You are a part of the flow of life again. Cherish these lovely scars for letting you know that it’s important to be in touch with your needs. Cherish these amazing scars for forcing you to be kind to yourself now. It’s so past due. It’s time to be kind to yourself now. Be kind to each other. Pick up yourself. Bless the past and move on… Move on.

Ameen.

Day 531
Move On

Day 530 – Untitled

As you know, the entire world has fallen apart since my last entry. People are dying and getting sick. No one I know, but our lives are changed nonetheless. We stay in our houses, walk around with masks and gloves if we must go out, and we are forced to face our own mortality and wonder what we’re doing on this Earth and what to do next.

Yesterday was quite a strange day for me. I had started some daily routines in my life – exercising, praying, meditating, writing poetry, writing in my journal daily for 17 days straight – but yesterday, it all fell apart. It was like this heavy, opening energy was flowing all through my body. Like I was in a dream or something. And I couldn’t get off my bed. I spent most of the day on my bed. I wanted to get up and at least write my journal entry, so I wouldn’t interrupt the flow. I was wanting to write for at least forty days straight, but I didn’t. I interrupted the flow.

Now here I am. I think I need to close my eyes. It has been challenging for me to know what to focus on and what to do in a day. I still miss my best friend. He is on my mind more than anything else. I still don’t know what to do about him. I imagine us talking, but what will we talk about? He’s still him. I try to think about the good things about him, but it’s hard. That makes me even more sad. Surely there were good things about him. Surely there are good things about him. What hurts most is not being included in his life. I know, when I write about it, I guess we were a little too close for adult platonic friends, but his life was my life. It was our life. I was living life with him for so long, and I took for granted how close we were. And how fun it was to have him. And how lucky I was to have him. And how he would mostly show up for me when I needed it. When I needed to get out of Africa because I was literally dying and none of my family quite understood the severity of my situation, he was the one who mobilized my family to get me a plane ticket out of there. I had tried to get one myself, but was so out of it that I booked the wrong date.

He was the one who came and nursed me back to health and cooked me porridge when I was at my lowest, and he has been there so many other times. I remember when I was in Africa losing it and throwing up everywhere, I called him. He told me I wasn’t gonna die, even though he thought I might. He researched bees for me when we had a bee problem… etc, etc. He wrote me a birthday poem. It was a sorry poem, and it felt like he wrote out of guilt, but it was what he could do.

Now he’s gone. I’m all alone. If you’re wondering what he did, it’s a compilation of things. Many things had happened over our twenty years of friendship, but the straw that broke the camel’s back is that he came into town specifically to help me with something, and then he decided to go date one of my friends and schedule his dates for the times that he was supposed to be helping me with stuff. We got into a big ol’ argument about that. It was awful. I was the one who originally thought that he might make a good couple with my friend, but after they both treated me like they did, I told him that the two of them don’t have my blessing anymore (not that it matters) and asked him to not tell me anything about her. I guess they kept in touch, and at some point, while I was overseas, he slept with her. Then when I came back from overseas, he tried to sleep with me. I was sick as a dog when he tried to sleep with me. I didn’t sleep with him, but afterwards, he wanted me to stay in his hometown and move in with his family so we could help each other get our lives together. He has a bunch of health issues, an over the years, I had been helping him manage his life and get his health issues together.

I didn’t stay. I told him I could help him remotely. He was hurt, but I didn’t feel emotionally safe with him trying to stick his tongue down my throat and trying to touch me whenever I was around. I was sick of him using and abusing me. I don’t think he really saw what he was doing, but it didn’t matter. He was still gonna do it. He was still gonna be frowning at me all the time – his frown hurt so much. He was always frowning at me. Even when he was helping me, he was frowning at me. The only time he wasn’t frowning at me is if I was dying, but then, you better believe it, as soon as I got back to health, he was frowning at me again; condescending, violating my vulnerability, not caring about doing things that hurt me deeply…

After I returned to LA, I helped him with managing his life a bit. We had a schedule. He was always good at structure and discipline. We’d meet up on the phone and said goals and act on them. He would encourage me to do things that were out of my comfort zone. You know what I notice about most other people in my life? They don’t want to live life together. Not really. Most people just don’t want to live life with you and be real with you unless you’re their mate. Working with my bestie was working my nerves, because he was ungrateful. He was still mean and frowning about everything all the time. And I kept thinking about the fact that he slept with my friend (who is generally sexually careless) and then tried to sleep with me, being willing to expose me to shit, etc. I was hurting. I didn’t even understand why. I was in so much pain. I was having nightmares about him and just waking up crying all day and just feeling so butt hurt about things that I couldn’t even process.

Then one day, he told me that he’s gonna help me with money if I help him get a job. That was one of our goals. That I would help him get a job. I told him I didn’t know he was gonna help me with any money and hadn’t expected it. He’s never given me any money before whenever he gets extra money and generally uses all his extra money on whatever girl is in his life when he gets money, always forsaking me. Me saying this turned into a big ol’ argument, and then he messaged me talking about I don’t want to help him because I don’t think he’s gonna help me… I was so livid. And so sick of him. All these years, the thought never even crossed my mind that I’m going to help him so he can help me, but he was sitting over there talking all this shit. We went back and forth on the text. He tried to call me, but I didn’t want to talk. Finally I told him that I don’t respect him. I’m disgusted with him. And I told him that I was gonna tell my friend that he tried to sleep with me after sleeping with her. I’m sure that he had planned to go and try and sleep with her again and her knowing that he tried it with me might impact her decision to give it up to him. After all her shady movements, she would know that she’s not so special to him after all. Just a dumping spot.

That’s what I felt like, too. After all this time. I know it’s not all the way true, but I felt like it nonetheless.

Now here I am without a bestie. My childhood friends are all gone. Some are around, but we have grown so far apart. My guy friends are either boo’d up with women who disallow them from getting too close, and I understand; or they are single and trying to mingle with me at last.

I am here. Literally on an island (I’m quarantining on an island with my sis and her son) as the world falls apart. I don’t know what to hold on to and what to let go of. I don’t know what to fight for and what to let be.

I know I’m not alone, but I feel so very, very lonely. I’m thinking about my sister, who’s on her own during this time. I’m thinking about so much sad stuff. My bestie used to say, “turn it around.”

What do I do about him, God? He’s a bitter, usurious, misogynistic, psychopathic, manipulative, jealous, mean, grumpy, closed off, stank breath warmonger… He’s also a brilliant, empathic, generous, strong, action-oriented, fun leader.

And me? Who am I? That’s another entry. I’m heartbroken at the moment. I miss him. I wish had like something motivational to say here, but I don’t. I just miss him but I don’t miss him and I don’t know what to do.

Take care, y’all.

Sincerely,
Laydie

Day 530
Untitled