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…
My brain is working now. Almost. 97 percent. But this is the clearest my mind has been in months. The heavy depression, or craziness, or adjustment disorder with mixed disturbance of emotion and behavior, is not taking me over, and I can see clearly now on this rainy day in LA.
I have been here for years, in this energy loop, haven’t I? I spoke with someone who’s known me since I was young today. She said she doesn’t see me living this life, scrapping by, sad, hair not growing (she didn’t say that part), not having enough money for stuff. She said she imagined I would be super rich and thriving and happy. That she looks up to me. I saw it finally. I saw that I have been here for years. Years. And this is not what I had in mind for my life.
A space cleared up in my brain. Like a window. An opening. I have been here, closed up in this foggy, confused, dark place for so long. I don’t even remember the days when I was so happy and thriving and carefree. And rich. And beautiful. But the people who knew me before remember. And the people who meet me brand new expect. I guess these years of my life have been the worst of me. I didn’t know there was a worst of me, but now I know. I guess that’s how compassion is built.
In the midst of the worst of you, can you remember? Overcome by darkness inside and out, can you hold on to the glimmer of light in you? I’m not telling you that I could. I couldn’t. I forgot it was there. I became consumed by a dark and heavy cloud for so long. But the light… The light has always been there. It never went away. I just couldn’t see it in so long. My life has been so sad for so long. My inner world has been such a storm for so long…
Do you know what I have learned in all this time? My head is hurting as I’m writing, I kid you not. What I have learned – what is taking root in me – is that God Loves me. I know you weren’t expecting that one, but that is the most important thing that I’ve learned. God Loves us. You say it is not true and there is no God and I say it doesn’t matter what you think is true. If you can not believe that you are loved, then how can you face the world?
Today I thought about my baby nephews. They don’t have to pray. They don’t have to adopt a religion and say affirmations in order to be taken care of and nurtured. They don’t need to know how to forgive or apologize for smacking someone in the head before they are given food and a safe place to lay their head. They, and so many of us, come into the world and we are fed. We are bathed. We are given places to eat. And then we are programmed and taught by whatever family we end up in, and the rest is history.
We make so much meaning out of all of it. We make it mean that we are good. Or we are bad. Or we are lucky. Or unlucky. Or God is good. Or there is no God. Or heaven is better. Or life is only here. We decided what people like us are capable of having and then we go about living it. And most of the time, we don’t even realize that we have any control over any of the awful things that happen to us. And some of the time, we don’t. And it all gets so confusing. We shut down, get sick, close off, involve ourselves in the most painful of experiences, stay afraid, don’t even dream our dreams, much less live them.
This has been me. I came into this blog that way. I couldn’t see myself. A scared, traumatized bird just flapping and flapping in a cage, not knowing how to fly anymore. Not remembering that I could fly. Just hoping that I will be safe somewhere. Just hoping that whoever did it to me won’t do it anymore and not even knowing what he/she did.
I lost my mind. I really did. In this time since my last entry, I freaking lost my mind. So much happened with family and friends. I lost most of my friends. Me and my best friend for over twenty years, the person I talk to almost every day, had a falling out. I don’t know if we’ll get back together again. All kinds of craziness happened with family. Car got towed. If I write out all that has happened in a mere month a half, the clouds will come back in my brain, and I want to hold on to this opening, this oxygen that this open window provides so all I will say is,
“My barn having burned down, I can now see the moon.” — Mizuta Masahide
and I learned that I don’t know much, but I know much.
And that I have no power at all, but I am super powerful.
And that plants grow. The don’t have to read a book or go see a counselor or practice anything to grow. They grow if you plant them in the right soil and they have water, sunlight, and protection.
I am my own kind of plant. We are our own kind of specie, but we grow.
My thoughts were consuming me and so I decided to stop giving them credence. My brain broke and I stopped making it mean anything. Heck, I couldn’t make it mean anything if I wanted to. I was busy trying to get my body to stop trembling so that I could send out a text and ask for help. And I asked. And I decided that I want to live. I want to thrive. I do. The open window in my brain is not big enough yet for me to yell these things with passion, but it is here, and in the clarity of oxygen in my brain, I know that it does not make sense to make too much meaning out of things. I don’t know.
I could beat myself up for being in this energy loop for so long. For taking over ten years to finish a project that would honestly take ten months of part-time attention at most. For being so poor for so long even though I’ve had money in big sums and so many opportunities to make money. For having so many dysfunctional, unsatisfactory relationships with so many people – men, friends, colleagues, family… For being the perpetrator and victim of so much pain. I could make this almost ten year dark night mean that I’m a bad person. That I’m cursed or something. That somewhere in my childhood, I did something really bad. That I picked the wrong religion. That I’m crazy, stupid, dumb, weak… Or I could say that I’ve been going through an initiation. I’ve been learning all of the deep things about myself and humanity that I will need in order to be a great humanitarian and artist. I could make all of this mean that I’m brilliant, strong, powerful… I could say I’ve been being blessed out of the wazoo with such depth of experience, and I could find evidence for all of the meaning I’m trying to make.
But the window in my brain gets smaller when I try to make meaning, and I need to breathe. And so I go in the direction where the oxygen pours in. When I just give thanks that I have found a window where I can breathe, my mind is soothed. When I just allow for the possibility that there are Universal forces focused right at me, helping me, no matter what has happened or hasn’t happened in my life, and when I allow myself to accept help, my brain is nourished and my body relaxes a bit,
I wanted to reach out and give something today. I have been hoarding my self. I thought I was only good enough if I had something good to give. IT’S A LIE.
“Give now. Just give. It will land where it is needed,” You say.
So here. I offer you a window. A reminder that you are more than this dark cloud. There is light in you yet. Even if you don’t know what all of this means and why it all happened… Even if you never know and it takes you a long, long time to get it right, I still Love you. I forgive you. I still Love you… Be Blessed.
Sincerely,
Laydie
Day 521
A Gift (On Making Meaning)
I’m procrastinating. Not that much, but a bit. My emotions getting the best of me. Need to write it out. Don’t want to be walking around all heavy like I’ve been for half of the day today.
I’m lonely. I’m surrounded by people, but I’m lonely as hell. Nobody liked my lasts posts. I guess they sucked. LOL. Sorry. I’m gonna keep them up there, though. Paint a real picture of this journey. It’s not always pretty with an inspirational ending. My thoughts don’t always come out pretty. Everything about me isn’t always lovely and light. I have parts of me that others don’t like. I’m kind of kind and lenient with myself, so I like most parts of me, but I can see how everyone I interact with might not think that I’m awesome all the time, and might not be as compassionate and nonjudgemental towards me as I am with myself…
Tonight I’m in Starbucks. I’m supposed to be sending out two emails to two people. One of them is supposed to be producing a movie I wrote. The other could potentially buy and make one of the TV shows I wrote and my life could change instantly. Like, by the end of next week instantly…. I am feeling sad, though.
I don’t care so much if my life changes instantly and I make a bunch of money by the end of next week. I know I’m supposed to care, and I have bills and debts and stuff, but it doesn’t matter so much if my life changes instantly, because there is no one to share it with. And I don’t care about money or fame or prestige. It comes with the territory if I am successful in my career, but what I really care about is sharing this journey with someone… Deep.
So I am here, back at the beginning. I see what’s going on. I am back at the beginning. The same pattern. The same cycle. I don’t know how to get out of it. I am scared that I’m gonna have another seven years of how not to cry every day, and I’m tired of crying every day.
I wonder where I can go. What I can do. I have family. A lot of them. Some of them are nice. I’m not enemies with anyone. But most of us aren’t living life together. Most of us have blocks between us, that limit the full expression of ourselves with each other. Mad about something from whenever. Hurt. Scared we’ll be judged or shunned. Fears are valid. Me? I just can’t ever seem to get as close as I want to. I always meet up with some kind of pain. Some envy. Some competition. Some withhold. Something feeling like someone trying to put their thumb on top of me and bend my shoulders, or someone trying to pull my strings and make me doing something I don’t want to do. Some distrust. Some unforgiveness… That’s not the whole story. There is love and kindness and fun and deep bonds and care mixed up with all of this, and that’s what makes it particularly painful.
Because I want to talk to someone, and it just be easy. I want to hold someone and it just be easy. I don’t want to feel all the blocks between us. I want to do this life with someone. Someones. For real. To smile big.
I am losing the smile in my eyes, and sometimes I feel like I’m the only grown up trying to hold on to some white eyes. Most of us have given up and given in to the status quo of the world. But inside, in our journals, in our deepest thoughts, in our hearts, we are crying.
I bought into the fantasy. The Advisor told me to change the channel on my fantasies. I bought into it, though. I bought into this idea that life can be good. Like, for real. Like, deep in your heart content and having enough and true friends and true family…
There are men here. They love me. They like me. But I will break their hearts. Because they all want something from me that one day they will realize I won’t give them. I’ve told them. But I’m still single. And they’re still single, divorced, separated, or whatever. And if I was smarter, I would just marry one of them. My Neighbor is cool and he loves me much. But I find reasons to reject the ones who love me and pick the ones who don’t. My reasons are legit, mind you, but still… Love is worth something. I’m actually asking myself why I won’t get with my neighbor???? Dude Loves me. See what desperation does? I know I have several reasons why I haven’t dated this guy over all these years, but I can’t think of not a one right now. 😦
The Starbucks I’m at will be closing soon. On this blog, I don’t have an inspirational message, either. I am afraid of everything, but I am not happy where I am, this way, so far apart from having a clear energy flow between me and others, without interference. Maybe that’s a new poem or song. Interference.
I don’t know if I should stay here, God, but wherever I go, there I am, and there is nowhere to go now. There is no home except here where I am. The sibs are all growing and they have their own lives. My mom is still her. Lovely yet controlling. My best friend is a guy who, when he’s around, his presence stops any other man from hitting on me ever…
I don’t know. I’m gonna get offline now. Gonna go ahead and just feel sad. Don’t even feel like pushing myself out of this, coaxing myself, none of that. I don’t know how much of what I believe is actually true. I don’t know if there is a “true” or if truth is relative. I am realizing now that what I’ve been told since childhood, that I think too much, might actually be true.
There is no stopping it, though, and so what I can do is lean into this. Just lean into the feeling. Stop trying to not feel. And I’m going to see if I can jump off this ledge for real tonight. I’m gonna do my best, ok. Not a ledge like a suicide ledge. Jump off this ledge and into a different experience of life. I don’t know if I learned everything I’m supposed to learn in the previous chapters of my life. I don’t know if when I take certain steps if I’m gonna fall on my face or life is still gonna be the same.
I don’t know if I’m gonna lose everything and if there’s gonna be anything to replace everything I’ve lost. I don’t know. But I know I just can’t do this anymore. Take me now if we’re gonna have a repeat of How Not to Cry Every Day for the next seven years.
I’m going home. I’m going to send out these two emails before I go to sleep. I’m gonna surrender, and not even try to understand everything that’s going on and just listen to you, God.
Be Well.
xx
Day 520
Sad Stuff
Hi there.
Long time. Been avoiding. There’s something about writing here that is different than anything else. I’ve said this before. It’s like, praying, meditating, journaling, exercising, therapy, talking to friends, sleeping, eating, physical touch… they all do their own things to help move the day along.
Writing in this blog does something different, too. It exercises a different part of me. It makes me face things in clear thoughts. It holds me a bit accountable. Not really, but kind of. It makes things real because I am sharing my thoughts with the world, and so, mentally, I approach this a bit differently than I do with my handwritten journal that nobody sees.
I’m at an airport. I’m gonna tell the truth. It’s embarrassing because I’m too fine and too old and I’ve experienced too much for this kind of thing to happen, but here goes. I’m at an airport. About to go catch a bus and head home to my city of Angels. And my bed with trees outside of the window. And my soft water shower. And the people who I have linked arms with and journeyed during these past years of my life.
I am at an airport because I went to see a man. A man who doesn’t want me. You’ve heard of him before. The Advisor. The last man standing in my heart. I don’t really know how he got into my heart or how he lodged himself so deeply in my mind and imagination, but he’s been here, like a benign cancer, a mass, for a little over a year.
Him being in my heart hasn’t caused much trouble in my life, or so I thought. What had happened was, I knew this guy. He was my college teacher many many years ago, actually. He never tried to hit on me while he was my teacher, and we stayed in communication after I graduated. We would send Facebook messages to each other every now and then. He would comment on some of the poems I’d write and he really liked my writing and encouraged me to pursue publishing and production. We would communicate online on and off over the years. Always positive and sweet. Not too personal except for a very subtle flirt from him every now and then.
Then last year, I was visiting my home town, where he lives, and I invited him to meet up. We met up. Went to the movies. Talked. We held hands. His hands were full of fire and love and passion. I loved his hands. At some point, he tried to lay his head on my lap, but then got up, saying it was too much. He had just gone through a divorce, and was kind of traumatized from his previous relationship.
We spoke about how we wanted to relate to each other moving forward. He didn’t want to get into a relationship with anyone, and I was super single and actually wanting to meet someone that I could partner with for life. He said he could really use a friend, and so we decided to be friends….
I paused while writing this. Meditated for a bit. Received inspiration saying, “Let yourself be taken care of.”
But to finish the story. My friend and I were good friends. I loved him. Then one day he came out to LA to visit me without telling me. I didn’t know he was here. He told me he was in a city that’s both in LA County and in our home town, and I thought he meant he as in our home town. At the time, I was dating someone. I thought he was asking me to get on a plane, come visit him in our hometown and spend the night with him. I told him I couldn’t go see him because me and my boyfriend have an agreement that I don’t spend the night with guys…
He was devastated about me not coming, and at the time, I couldn’t understand why. Then he asked me to visit him again. This time, it was my mom’s birthday, and my mom is real particular about her image. She didn’t know I had been in touch with this guy, who is also a popular member of our cultural community in our hometown. I would have had to visit him while my mom was around, or tell her I was going to visit him, which would make her mad. She would be embarrassed and I would have essentially had to fight her in order to go see him. So I didn’t.
He was leaving to go overseas. We both have the same mother country overseas. I thought he was just going for a trip for the summer, but I later found out that he had gotten a job over there and was moving. He was gonna come back to the states and pack up shop before moving, and during his absence overseas, I realized that I had a feeling for him in my heart. Me and my boyfriend had broken up, and here was my friend the Advisor, just on my heart. I asked him for us to see each other when he got back to the states.
Then it happened. He told me he liked me. He was mad at me. He told me he had come to see me in Cali and I wouldn’t see him. That’s when I realized that he had been in Cali that time that he asked me to visit him. I hadn’t known. But he wouldn’t believe me, even though I sent him a copy of our text message exchange which clearly indicated that I hadn’t known he was in Cali. So he was mad at me. That was over a year ago. Our relationship changed after that.
He didn’t talk to me in nice tones anymore. He would go back and forth. It’s like, he naturally would sound so loving and then he’d catch himself and make sure he said something mean to me.
He told me that he wanted to have sex with me, and that he had wanted to have sex with me all these years. And he told me don’t come around him unless I was gonna have sex with him.. Yep. He said it just like that. When I went overseas, I saw him once. It was a lovely, intimate encounter, or at least I thought it was, but we didn’t have sex.
“Leave these men alone,” says the voice in my head.
Me and the Advisor fought. We’ve been fighting for over eight months. Mostly over nothing. Mostly he just ignores me before we even wrap up any topic of conversation, and even though we’ve been in close physical proximity for the past eight months, he makes it a point not to see me. I guess I should take a hint. I guess I should have taken a hint. I think we’re fighting because I won’t have sex with him? Or we’re fighting because he’s mad that I didn’t see him when he came to Cali? I don’t kow, because we never actually talk about what his problem is with me. Just every now and then, we talk. I ask for us to meet up so we can finalize things. And either talk about our issue and move forward, or just decide we’re not going to engage with each other anymore.
He says we’ll meet up. Then he disappears. He probably has avoidant personality disorder, among a slew of other mental conditions.
But for some reason, his crazy and harsh behavior couldn’t push me away for too long. I kept coming back, asking him to meet up, asking him to talk. He kept sitting there in my heart as a fantasy unrealized. I only remembered him as the integrous teacher and friend that I used to have. I thought he was going through things. This wasn’t the real him. Someone had put a spell on him or something, or maybe his job in Africa had gotten the best of him, and he was usffereing from extreme PTSD like most people who go to our country for any amount of time.
I wanted him to be who he was to me long ago: a friend, an ally, a safe space for my heart, a confidant. I wanted us to start again and let’s see what we could do with each other. Because I could have fallen deep for him. It was too easy for me to see myself with him. With our kids. Being happy together. Living awesome lives together. I thought I would give him the fun and passion and depth that he so craved and he would balance me with his practical approach to life.
So, after talking to him and realizing he was visiting our hometown for a little bit of time, I asked him if he wanted me to come visit him and if he wanted to see me. He said yes, and as we were talking about the arrangements, he went MIA. I only have a limitied amount of time before I need to focus on making money, and that time was now, and I knew he would be leaving the states soon, too, so I took it upon myself to get a ticket to go see him. I called him and messaged him for over a week to tell him my plans. He didn’t respond.
The day of my trip, he finally caleld me. Said he couldn’t house me. I asked him if I should come. He said he’d call back. He didn’t. I called him. No answer. I message him. He replied. Said a bunch of shit, arguing about whether he had agreed for me to come. Still didn’t tell me not to come. Still didn’t tell me to come. Was mean as hell, saying “If I have time to see you then I will. If I don’t, I won’t.”
I know. I’m too fine and awesome to let men talk to me like that, but I did. I let him. I told him I’m coming and that’s all I’m doing and I hope to see him.
And I didn’t. I didn’t see him. I got on a bus, rode five hours, then got on a plane to go see him. I called and messaged him from the airport, asking him if he could tell me if he was gonna see me or if he was gonna pick me up so I could plan accordingly. He didn’t respond.
Then, after me sitting in an airport chair for over ten hours, I called him again. This time he asnwered. His tone was so harsh. He asked how I’m doing. I said I’m not good. I asked how he’s doing, and he said ok. Said he had just finished with his engagement for the morning. I said, “Ok… So?” Then he said, in a harsh voice, “You made an outgoing call.” And I just lost it.
I don’t have a bunch of money. I’ve been outputting money with no income for almost a year now. I spent my last little change to come see him. And he didn’t even respond to my messages all day and now he was talking about I made an outgoing call??? I busted out crying. “Why are you being so mean to me?” I asked. “I can’t take anymore of this meanness. I gotta go.” I hung up the phone.
I sent him a text message, telling him I’d reached my breaking point. I told him that I hoped that someone he really loved treated him the way he has treated me one day. You will say don’t be vindictive, but I don’t care. I mean it. It’s not even coming from a place of spite. It will be a service to him and a service to the world if he can really feel the gravity of how he’s been. He doesn’t see himself as the asshole he’s been, and if he’s ever able to see it, I’m sure he’ll change it.
He didn’t respond to my messages. Grace stepped in, and a friend of mine picked me up from the airport, hosted me in his house overnight, and spent the next day with me. Now I’m at an airport heading home. One more bus ride to go..
I don’t know how I feel. I guess I don’t feel anything, and that’s a problem for me, becaues I’m really good at disassociating from my feelings when I’m hurt.
So I’m try to feel on purpose. How do I feel? I feel like a nothng. I feel hurt and wounded. I feel spit on. I wonder why I haven’t been able to get it right with men and why I have such a history of falling for men who don’t want me, or men who want me, but just want to use and abuse me and never think of taking care of me.
I don’t think I’ve ever felt it; looking towards someone who is looking towards me and just wanting to love me. I am usually looking towards someone’s back or they are looking towards mine.
I am also feeling relieved. I wasn’t looking forward to being hurt all the time and being in relationship with someone who was just gonna be mean to me. I feel sorry for all the people in abusive, dysfunctional relationships. I feel sorry for myself, but not so sorry any more. Because I think I’ve had enough finally.
Can I tell you a secret? When I was on my way there, I do this meditation, which I learned from the Feminine Power class by Claire Zammit. You connect your strong, powerful aspects of self with the self in your body that feels wounded or hurt or stuck. And you ask the hurt part of your body how it feels and what it needs. You do this while extending love and connection to yourself.
So before I went on my trip, I asked my body how it felt, and it was horrified that I was gonna get hurt and abused if I went to see Advisor. I promised my little horrified self that I’d keep her safe. I promised her that I wouldn’t let anyone abuse her anymore… I had been thinking about maybe having sex with Mr. Advisor. That way, I thought, it would fix everything. But then I thought about the promise I made the self in my body. I wouldn’t be keeping her safe if I had sex with someone whom, I didn’t even know if he’s physically healthy. I wouldn’t be keeping her safe if I kept engaging with people who were trying to hurt her and bring her down. I wouldn’t be keeping her safe if I allowed anything but loving energy and kindness into her body.
So I didn’t do it. I didn’t give someone else what they wanted at the expense of my safety and health. It was a big deal for me. It is a big deal for me. I don’t usually honor and respect my own safety, desires, wants, references and needs… So I’m learning.
I’m learning… I’m growing up, finally. It’s been a long time coming…
Just realized this is a super long entry… Sorry. I’m thinking about this idea of being taken care of. Even the idea makes me feel a bit guilty… Oh, the world has done a number on my kind. We are not even ok with thinking about this idea that someone should take care of us, nurture us, love us, provide for us, just because. Just because we exist, we should be able to live and pursue the things that we want. Just because we exist, and for no other reason, someone can love us… Can you stomach that? It’s real challenging for me to let that sink in.
Someone could Love me? With all of my flaws? All of my mistakes? All of the things I have not done? All of the things I have done? Someone could just be nice to me and be patient with me as I’m learning and growing? Someone would want to do that for me? I am trying to imagine someone putting their arms around me and kissing the back of my neck… and not asking me for shit. My brain says it’s not fair. If they kiss your neck, what are you gonna do?
But my heart knows that I’d kiss their neck, too, and then some, and that naturally I do not ask for support from people that I wouldn’t give to them.
For now, I give thanks for the people who have taken very good care of me. There are many. I am grateful. No man holding me and saying, “Hey babe. I’m gonna fly you in to see me and we’re gonna have an awesome time!” And planning stuff and asking am I ok and wanting to just make me proud of him.. I’m not even mad at the Advisor. I’m just sad at him.
But I know, that finally, this heartbreak will not last too long. An energy is dissipating. Something putrid is falling away. I know that I have learned my lesson at last. Do you want to know what the lesson is? It’s not an angry lesson. It’s not a judgy lesson. It’s not even a proud lesson. It’s not us against the world. It’s a lesson bathed in compassion, acknowledging another’s woundedness and misdirection and also honoring your own needs and taking a stand for your own care and safety. You can do both. So what I learned this weekend is to finallly take care of myself.
Finally. Look towards my own Blessed self. See if I can just take care of myself without feeling guilty that I didn’t succumb to what another wants or expects of me. The funny thing is, taking care of myself will always include sharing with and giving to others, but in healthy ways… Taking care of myself means putting my shoulders doan, not worrying about how others see my need for support, and just letting people love me and help me along the way. I’ve been going this journey by myself for quite some time. It’s time to let others in. It’s time to really get into others’ lives and take care of them, too. And it’s time for me to hold my own self in my own arms and say “I Love you. I Love you, anyway. I Love you because… I Love you in spite of… I Love you, I Love you, I Love because in spite of… I Love you I Love you I Love you…”
I Love You.
Ameen.
Day 519
To Be Taken Care Of
I just read one of my recent posts – “The Way Forward”. It was good. I am sitting here in my sister’s house. My rich sister. I have a rich sister. She is out of town and I am here.
Synchronicity had its way again, and I came to visit her right at a time when she would have wanted a family member around to help watch her kids. So I’m here. The kids are all right. They are at school and daycare. I am ni a spacious room and in the energy of a home where people have learned to be ok with having money. It’s a big deal. It’s an energy.
Everyone can’t hold it. Everyone is not ok with it. My sis has her own challenges in life, but being able to hold and have money is not one of them. I am glad and grateful to be in her home. I am glad and grateful to have this moment to sit still before I move on to whatever is next in life.
I am feeling lucky, and trying very hard to be ok with feeling and/or being lucky. Lucky because God is always on time. God always takes care of me, even in my lowest moments. Even when things don’t go like I would have wanted them to go, I land somewhere that has exactly what I need. Why am I not ok with this? Why do I feel guilty about it?
Why are we not ok with being ok? In the kitchen, the babysitter talks on the phone with her boyfriend. She giggles. She is happy with him. She is ok with being happy with him. I recognize that even the thought of me actually being happy and ok with a man is foreign to me. I recognize that even the thought of having a home – a home… a clean place with a big bathtub and a backyard – is foreign to me. I recognize that even the thought of having a lot of money, enough money, a cash flow, a big cash flow that allows me to move around like I want, is foreign to me.
All of these things that I give lip service to, when I think about them truly, when I try to see a picture with me in it… it is hard. My head hurts. I start crying. And I see. I see a whole identity matrix that is out of alignment with who I say I am and what I say I want.
And now we come to the root of today’s musings. I have been avoiding this question and I am here to face it. My teeth are chattering and I tap into my stronger attributes. I am brave as can be, and my intuition is strong when I tap into it. It brought me here today because my sense of self has been completely pulverized, thankfully, and I am not who I used to be. Of course, I am who I have always been, but I am no longer who I thought I was.
I thought I was this sorry person. I thought I was ugly. I thought I didn’t deserve shit. Don’t ask where all these thoughts came from, because I don’t even know. Trauma or whatever. I never was willing to accept that I was “lucky”. Things that were hard for others to get often just fell into my lap by chance or with very little effort on my part. Magic would happen in my life. I didn’t want to accept it. Somehow it was bad to be special. Somehow it was bad to think I was different than others. And so, subconsciously, I tried very hard to sabotage anything that made me special or different. I tried very hard to be normal. In high school, I asked my mom to put me in the “normal” classes instead of the “gifted and talented” and “honors” classes like my teachers suggested. I didn’t want to be not normal. I thought it was arrogant.
But try as i tried, I was still never normal. I just never was. And truth be told, if any of my dreams actually came true, then by default, I would not be normal. I definitely would not be normal compared to where I come from. If I actually had one of my movies produced and distributed large scale, then I would be rich and maybe even famous. Not normal. If my heal the world project kept going in the direction it’s going, then I would be a trailblazer in my mom’s country. Not normal. If I found a man… wow. If I found a man… If a man found me and we were able to love each other and be at peace and in harmony… It would be the most profound thing I’ve ever witnessed. Not normal at all…
So I am here, contemplating what’s next in life. A crossroads again. The biggest crossroads of my life. In order to go past it, I will have to give up my identity of being normal, because normal people don’t make it through here. At least not normal according to what has been normal in my life thus far. So far, it is only the extraordinary who live in integrity with their souls, and this is what I am endeavoring. It is a big deal.Finally, this is what I’m choosing.
It had to come to this.
One day, it will be normal in our world for people to want to live in integrity with our souls, for people to live their dreams and their destinies, but for now, I have to get over this idea of trying to stay lock step with the world around me. I have to get over this fear of people being jealous or not liking me if I succeed. I have to be willing to accept myself for real. Not just the bad. The awesomeness. Yes, awesomeness. I can call others awesome. Why can’t I call myself awesome, too? Why can’t I be awesome, too? Why is it so hard for me to accept the good within my own self?
The tears fall. The teeth chatter. I came here today to get clarity on my next step. You say don’t take too long writing and get into action now. I am stalling. I already know my next step.
What I have to do is do what I’ve always had to do. Finish up on what You’ve told me to do, God. We see now, where the blockage has been. I have been in conflict with my own self, wanting to live a life which, by default, makes me special, unique, gifted, lucky, but not wanting to be special, unique, gifted, lucky.
You say I have humility. I have passed the test. You say I care about others, finally. I have passed the test. You say I have decided at last to love, and this is the greatest lesson of all. And yes, I have decided at last, to Love. And so you give me permission to participate in the world like never before.
Shift.Into.Alignment.With.Me. Accept that I, God, am your partner, and you have chosen to live my Will. You have the power of the universe backing you. I am backing you. Can you get that? Yes, you can. Get that. Accept that. Yes, you are lucky. Yes, you are blessed beyond your fondest dreams. You all are. Accept that. Please. Carry my Blessing and experience a life that you never even dreamed possible.
Accept, Allow, Surrender, Submit, and Choose. For today, my baby, accept that you are lucky. Don’t care what others say. They’re gonna judge you if you’re sorry, too. Much better for you and the work you have to do for the world if they judge you because you’re lucky. So, this is your practice for the day. Hold your head up, Laydie. Hold your head up. You have a right to be here. You have a right to be happy, too. I want you to walk around the world as if you are the luckiest person ever today. Accept that side of yourself. It is important for you to accept just how good you are. And you have been denying your luck for so long, not walking in it, being ashamed of it, pushing it away, not using it in ways that help you, not allowing yourself to have your heart’s desires, not even daring to dream of them. Today we are going to dream of them, and then we are going to change our posture and walk around like the luckiest person in the world, a person that walks hand in hand with the best friend you can have – the magical hand of God…
Ameen.
Day 518
A Lucky Posture (Accepting Luck)
I feel afraid to write. Afraid of all these emotions. Don’t even know where they are coming from. Deep and raw.
Mission accomplished. Mission over. All the stuff I was supposed to do, I did. And now? I am here. Some man in my life didn’t come and see me today and my heart is all heavy.
Don’t know whether to cut him off or don’t trip. Someone I met at the festival. I made it to the festival. Magic. I don’t know if I wrote about it already, but I made it. Made it to LA, and from LA, hitchhiked to the festival. It was amazing. Too amazing to talk about here because it’s over and I’m gonna start crying…
My friends were there. They welcomed me with open arms and big hugs. They got me food while I was sick, gave me gifts, toted me around on their bikes… I went to an amazing workshop. I danced under the stars in the desert. I watched a temple burn and prayed while people roasted marsh mellows. I exchanged hugs…
Somewhere in the celebration, I met a man there. Nothing happened. Just an easy, safe cordial exchange. I was working at the information booth of my camp, and he stopped by to talk. We had a connection. He’s not my type at all. Never ever dated a man of his race before. Sometime later, he came by my camp again. This time, we listened to music together. Just sat down and listened and chatted.
He asked me to come by his camp the next day. I told him I would. I came, but when I came, neither him nor any of his campmates were there. I left a note with my number on it.
After the festival, he called. Told me he had found the note while he was packing. Actually, he didn’t call. He texted. We texted back and forth. I asked him what he wanted. He said to get to know one another. We don’t live in the same state, and we agreed that we would visit one another. Be kind, open, honest, and caring towards one another…
We messaged some more. I started getting tired of messaging. The magic of the festival was wearing off, and he was becoming a guy who didn’t seem too interested in getting to know me. He wasn’t doing anything. Wasn’t setting up any time to meet up. Wasn’t calling. Only sending little messages every now and then… Finally I asked him when we were going to meet up. It took him a day to respond. In his response, he apologized for taking so long to respond and said he had had to think about things. I told him it was ok, and now… I’m actually looking through my text messages and see that he never addressed when we are going to meet up…
So, as fate would have it, one of my sister’s lives in the state he lives in, about thirty minutes away from him. He asked me if I ever come to visit my sis and I said sometimes… Then I told him that I was coming to visit my sis this past weekend. He said he’d be gone on a training this past weekend. He asked when I would be leaving town and I told him and then didn’t hear back from him. Then today I told him I was still in town… He messaged me and asked if I’d like to meet up tonight. I said I would. He gave me a tentative time.
Then a few hours before the time, he messaged and asked to reschedule for Wednesday. Said he had a bunch of work to do. My heart cracked a little. I know, it’s silly. I guess I had already judged him as an awesome man in my mind, and then realized he’s probably an ass… or scared of good things. Or unavailable. Or a coward. Or married.
I went back and forth in my head. Should I tell him, no, the jig is up, and I don’t want to meet him anymore? Was it really a big deal for someone not to call you in a month of knowing you? Especially when they certainly had a life before meeting me?
He said he didn’t cancel. But he did cancel. He didn’t say sorry. I get the feeling he has a mean streak. I’ve been here before. I got on a plane and went to a whole other country, as fate would have it, in a whole other country happened to live a fifteen minute walk away from my friend the Advisor. And then, actually lived right in his same apartment complex. Thought if I was near, then we could get near. Then we would get near. But we didn’t. In six months, I only saw him once. He avoided me like the plague. He only wanted to have sex with me, and when he found out he wasn’t getting none, he didn’t want to see me. I don’t want to believe that that is the truth. I want to believe that he was in love with me and scared and the feeling was too intense… or that he had a psych problem… or that someone put a spell on him.. or that he secretly had a pee problem and peed on himself and didn’t want me to know. Anything except he didn’t really Love me.
With Dream Lover, I wanted to believe the same thing. But then I found out that the truth was, he was married. He was married. And talking to me about our future. And our kids. And wanting to go look at houses with me for us to buy. He was lying to me. About everything.
This new guy? He is not lying. Well, he lied about canceling, talking about he didn’t cancel. I think I feel heartbroken because he felt like such a safe place. I thought I had met someone who could hold me, if even for an hour. I didn’t feel pain when I sat next to him. I felt relaxed. But now I feel afraid and doubtful. I have been here before. I can’t even tell you if I’m overreacting. Do you think I’m over reacting? This is how I scare guys off. I tell them how I feel and then they think I’m making too big of a deal of stuff, and they had a life before they met me and they can’t just drop everything and I’m supposed to be patient and see how things go… but I’m not buying it anymore. It’s bullshit.
It’s just bullshit. I scare them off because they’re assholes with no good intentions. Single to this day or dating some woman and wreaking havoc in her life, because they never set a good intention for her. They never set a good intention for me. Had a thought of a nice first date but never followed through. Had a thought of a nice anything, but got scared, or had to fast their real feelings, their attachments to whoever else, their insecurities, etc. etc. Had to come to terms with whatever fantasy they were living.
I can hear all the men who ever really loved me telling me that I’m too fine to be worrying about some man who ain’t coming to see me the second I touch down in his town. A lifetime is ending. A whole entire way of relating to men is coming to an end.
I am sad… I am feeling so, so sad. I thought I had finally met someone who had the right vibe. Someone who could hold me and not hurt me. I am really in need of someone to hold me. I am really in need of a touch filled with Love. I am really in need of someone to love.God, please send me someone to Love…
Ameen
Day 517
Someone To Love
Good morning
I’m tripping out. Strssing out. Brain on overload. I am sure it has been like this for years… I am in a situation. I don’t have to be in this situation, but here I am.
In a hotel. Ran away from home. Don’t want to go back. Which home? My brother’s home. He had been taking excellent care of me for the past month and then one of my sisters, who had been living there previously, moved back in. I was horrified. I am sure she loves me to the moon and back and I love her, too, but she has a “tough love” approach to care, and I had been tough loved to the max out in Africa.
My worst fears came to pass. Our household changed and the peace that I had had for the past month was replaced with discord. Maybe it was my fault. Maybe it was hers. Probably we were all to blame, but nonetheless, I was getting sick. I was never calm. Breakfast by my brother was late and our consistent schedule was no more. I didn’t feel safe anymore… I had been needing a safe space to be for so long, and I had finally found one, and now it was ending…
I was heartbroken.
My body was doing things I couldn’t understand. Twice, I felt like the angel of death was asking me if I wanted to come with him, and I couldn’t tell him yes or no. I couldn’t tell him yes or no because I was so tired. I didn’t want to be here in this world where no one takes care of you unless you ar really really on your death bed.
This two month’s bout of sickness was different than anything I’d ever felt. It was so dark. It was so heavy. I do believe that I’ve been under some kind of spiritual attack. I made it through. Almost. I am here writing my blog in a hotel room.
I ran away two days ago. I had no money in my pocket and no idea how I was going to do anything or get anywhere. My sis and I had gotten into a fight two days prior to me running away. She was yelling at me about something. I was sick of her meanness and lack of compassion towards me. I swung at her face. Missed. Kept swinging. I’m not sorry. She was hurint me and I was tired of being hurt, pushed, pulled, judged, anything but loved and treated with kindness and compassion by the people around me. I didn’t care if their meanness was warranted or if I wasn’t giving out the kind of care that I was asking for. I was sick, dammit, and just for one moment, just until I got well, I believed that I was entitled to a “be nice to me and help me get better no matter what” card.
Anyway, I swung at my sis. We talked about the situation, said some words, but I still felt pain. She still believed I didn’t like her or I was out to fight her or whatever. I woke up one morning and reealized I was not going to get well in that environment. Neither was she. So I pushed myself off the bed, asked my brother for a ride and went to the airport trying to catch a standby flight to Cali and then go to a civic arts festival after landing in LA.
I didn’t get the flight. Instead, I ended up in a hotel room, where I have been for the past two days.
There is a tub here, and last night I took a bath. I put rose oil, bath salts, eucalyptus, rose petals, sage, frankincense and lavender oils in the tub with me. 27 rose petals from my room service rose. I prayed and sobbed and yelled. Prayed for my sis. Prayed for my mom. Prayed that the war going on between so many of me and my family members would finally be done. Prayed the generational curse would be broken.
And then I prayed for myself. I have been here in the mud for quite some time. Every now and then, I get a breath of fresh air, and then back in the mud it is. Murky, heavy, nothing but sloshing around here. I felt sorry for myself. Nobody ever feels sorry me because they think I’m supposed to be able to do everything. When I planted my trees in Africa, some of my family said, “Why didn’t you run for president? When are you making your movie?” I gets no love for what I have done or the value I bring. I gets no compassion for being who I am on the inside and yet living the life I am living on the outside. It has been hard. I didn’t realize it until now.
I’ve been very naive about very much for very long. It’s funny because people think I know better. I didn’t know the depths of jealousy in the world. I didn’t understand the potent pull of sex. I didn’t get that some peope really just don’t like you and want to subjugate, manipulate, etc, etc even if you’ve done nothing to them. I couldn’t see my place in this whole web of life.
One of these past days in the past months, as fate would have it, I got into contact with someone who knows my disappearing ex “fiance”, Dream Lover. Dream Lover was the last official boyfriend I’ve had, seven years ago. He disappeared seven years ago. Just stopped answering my calls. No conversation, no goodbye, etc. We had been arguing shortly before his disappearance because he had been hard to reach. During our last conversation, I was on the road driving seven hours up to Northern California to see him. Yes, seven hours. He had been ditching my calls, and I told him I was coming anyway. About an hour away from his house, he called me. Asked me if I was coming for real. I said I was, and he got upset and asked why I would come when we hadn’t arranged things.
I got emotional and asked him why he’s treating me the way he was. Did he not want to be with me? What was going on? He told me that I was doing everything out of order and forcing things. I started crying and he hung up the phone. That was the last I heard from him… When I arrived at his house, one of his family members told me that he wasn’t there. He was very apologetic. I do believe I left my body. Went into a numbness. Sat in my lucky car and cried for hours and hours. That was seven years ago.
Some months ago, my brother started courting a lady who just happens to have worked for the family member who turned me away from Dream Lover’s house years ago. She knows all about Dream Lover’s life and is roommates with the girl who babysits Dream Lover’s kids. Yes, kids. She knows his wife… He had a wife. He has a wife. All along… He was telling me about going to the ends of the Earth wth me and marrying me and talking about the kids we would have, and all along he had a wife. And it gets even better. His wife would call all the time, and he told me she was his daughter.
Just to put some things in perspective, Dream Lover is a highly respected religious figure in his religion. I never would have thought he was playing me the way he did. I felt sorry for myself. Every man I’ve ever Loved has had a secret life – a wife and kids somewhere. I’m never quite a true blue mistress, bc I don’t know about the secret life. These men were not interested in loving me for real, they just loved whatever I brought to the table for them. I feel stupid. I have wasted a lot of time being hurt, being sad, being broke, being anything and everything but loved.
I have been in this frantic energy loop for years, rushing, stressed, broke, hurting, fighting, not finishing stuff… This farm was the first major thing I’ve seen all the way through in years. It was a big deal. Now I stand on the threshold trying to see how to build a brand new life. I have no idea how I’m going to have an experience of life that is so different than what I have known for the greater portion of my adult life. I want to be held and Loved, but maybe no one is coming… You say someone is coming. You say someones are coming. I breathe into my belly. I think of those people in the world who Love me and have carried me through these years. Even ones who may not have been consistent or hurt me, even my sweet sis has helped me many times… I don’t want to think about what should be done here and there. I don’t want to rely on my mind as my first problem solver.
I lean into my Spirit. I lean into my heart. I look for the answers there. Allah, the road ahead is daunting, but the road behind me is worse. I’m not giving up, but my will is weak, you hear? I feel tired and heartbroken. I was such a sweet little girl…
You say I have to fight for my life, but it doesn’t have to be hard. You say to keep fighting for my happiness. I have finally opened my eyes and seen how dark the world can be.
-And it is hard to see, I know. I am sorry. But there is light here, too, and you can do this. I will be here with you, aligned. Holding your hand. Your partner. You are not alone in this. Find your will inside of you and turn on the switch. Let’s not make this a fantasy anymore. Let’s make it a practice. Don’t believe your thoughts. You’ve got a lot of life in you yet. Embrace all of yourself, including your power and your magical heart. Embrace all of your luck. You are a lucky one, and that’s ok. Embrace the warrior in you who knows what to do to break free. We are breaking free now. At last. We are shifting to the place of Spirit. This is the answer you have been waiting for and avoiding. Align your will with your Spirit and take action. That is the easy way. Choose 100% and throw yourself into your choice. Even when you are sick. Even when you are weak. Especially when you are weak. I am with you. Every step of the way…
Thank you. Ameen.
Day 516
The Way Forward
All over the place. Not sure what to hold on to and what to let go of… where to focus my attention.
Here. In my body I am. Lots of pain here. Don’t feel bad for me. Pain is not always the enemy.
Don’t know what to write about. Been wanting to write for some time, but don’t do it for some reason or another.
Free association. What I want to to do is just get the words out of me, share something, touch the world outside of me.
My brother in other room, working. Me in America. Down South. In recovery. Traumatized. Sorry for myself. Attacks. They tell me to do more with my life. I have done a lot.
I am proud of myself.
They said I haven’t done enough, but I feel like I have. I have done what they did not. I went overseas, found and earned the support and sponsorship, helped mom rid her household of immediate danger, started work on a heal the world project, planted over 1400 cacao trees, trained community members on cacao farming and solidified the reclamation of my mom’s land, employed over 30 people, faced inner demons, created closure with the last love standing, got up every day and put in work…
My teeth are chattering. Lived with my mom for twelve times longer than I ever have in my adult life. Confronted lifetimes issues with her…
Fell in love with a demon and was brave and faithful enough to finally end codependent relational patterns.
Proved myself to myself… They say I did not do enough. I could be the president, they say, and change the world. Trees are not enough. I could be a billionaire. I am wasting my intelligence by planting farms for villagers in remote worlds.
They said I did not do enough. I am not enough. And I am flattered by their high expectations of me.
In America now, at a crossroads in life, I sit on a bed and feel sorry for myself. I am allowed to feel sorry for myself. Nobody else does. They think I am strong enough for everything. Or too lucky. Or whatever. But I feel sorry for myself, this sweet sweet girl with a great big soul. You’ve had it rough. They will say you have not had it like such and such who is suffering more, but don’t let them rain on your pity party. I will give you compassion at last.
You’ve had it rough. You are like an open wound born into a world of thorns, or so it feels. A vibrant, radiant wound…
I got distracted. Got horny. I never write about sexual things here, but hey… there you have it. I’m a woman of a certain age, the age where your sexual libido picks up bc your body is trying to make you have kids while you still can, but I don’t have sex. That is becoming problematic. That’s all I’m gonna say about that…
Considering not posting this blog because it’s disjointed, but I’m going to post it, no matter where it leads. I’ve been writing unposted blogs for the past month and also feeling bothered about not posting blogs for the past month.
Is it ok to be disjointed? Is it ok to not be enough? To have people looking at you like you’re a failure and you didn’t do what you could have done with your life? Is it ok to be horny as a dog but not have a man to have sex with? Is it ok to be sick or sad or poor or alone? Is it ok if people you want to be close to don’t want to be close to you? Or they don’t like you? Or, even worse, they try to hurt you? Is it ok if maybe you hurt someone and they won’t forgive you? Is it ok if you give your all, spend your last dime, do your best, follow the Guidance you get to your best ability, feel like you succeeded, and then someone looks at you from another perspective and tells you you didn’t do shit?
How does one be ok if your life is sorry? How does one move to higher ground? I am looking for the answer, but something deeper in me tells me that I already have the answer, and I am just sorting it out in words for you and me.
Yes, it is ok. We have been at this struggle for a while and we have finally come to this. It is ok. It is enough. Yes, you are enough. Yes, it is enough. Enough is enough. Enough is enough. You understand?
Something massive is shifting at last, and it’s ok. It’s ok if it’s taken a while. It’s ok if you’ve bumped your head over and over. It’s ok if you thought or they thought you would be better off by now. You’re not. It’s ok. Maybe you are. Probably you have gathered up enough life experience to learn a thing or two. Probably you are better off than someone else and worse off than someone else. It’s ok.
My Africa trip totally turned me out. I might have to write a book about everything that happened. I went deep. I literally went deep into the jungles of my ancestry, and figuratively, I did so as well. And I saw all the psychic residual stuff, painful stuff, and awesome stuff, that lives there. And I’m ok with it. I’m ok with being exactly where I am and having done exactly what I’ve done with my life.
I’m proud of myself for showing up. I’m proud of myself for finishing this blog post even though I know it’s all raggedy and disjointed. I’m proud of myself for learning compassion, finally, for my own self. I’m proud of myself for going there, for letting myself feel everything and giving myself an opportunity to heal at last. I don’t want to pretend like I’m gonna write this blog and then everything is going to suddenly work out abracadabra.
But I would like to acknowledge that much has already worked out. For me. And for you, too. You have come far. Forgive yourself for not being where you might have wanted to be. Or where your parents might have wanted you to be. Or where society might have wanted you to be. It’s ok. You’re still enough. Even a little ant has value and has a place in the world. Even now, at your worst, you still have inherent value as a human being. You don’t have to save the world or be the president or live the fairy tale life…
Maybe you will get there, probably you are getting there, on your way to your destiny, in it. Do you understand? The story ends when the story ends, but each chapter is a piece, an adventure, an episode on the road to the end. And each piece is a piece of your destiny. Each episode, even the sad ones, is you living your destiny. Life doesn’t start when you win the prize. All of the preparation, all of the sadness, the ugly parts, they are a part of the story.
Embrace them. Embrace all the things that you don’t want to know about who you are and where you have been. And know that you are enough.
And remember how the story ends. We win.
Bless you Always.
Sincerely,
Laydie Byrd
Day 515
Enough is Enough (We Win)
