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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…

If you are interested in being updated on new posts, please subscribe.

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 525 – The Offended

I don’t feel anything. I always get a little concerned when I don’t feel anything, especially when stuff is happening that would make it appear that I’m supposed to be feeling a whole lot of stuff.

I’m processing… Somebody’s husband told me yesterday that I essentially tried to seduce him and then got mad because he didn’t want me and only wanted to have sex with me, and so I hiked up our business negotiation prices because I was mad. I’m talking about my married friend. Who wanted me to be his mistress. Who cancelled our business deal. Who now told me that he didn’t want me to be his mistress. He didn’t want anything with me, he said. Just business. When he hit on me and tried to screw me, it was only because I seduced him and he felt like he had to do it, he said.

I don’t even know if he believes himself or not. He just might.

A month or so ago, I got accused for being at cause for the disappearance of one of my family members. I sibling had gone MIA for over two years. She said that the family had been conspiring against her and saying things about her. I had no idea that she thought I had started the whole conspiracy. A month ago, I found out that all this time, she thought I was the one who had told the family bad things about her and made them start a whole conspiracy. It never happened. I never said a bad thing about her (at the time she accused me of such) and had only said good things about her.

My married friend hasn’t spent more than two weeks worth of time with me in his life, and so I know that his opinion of me has nothing to do with me and everything to do with whatever experiences he’s had before me, but geez…

I am wondering why I am having and why I have had such extreme experiences of people just thinking I am capable of doing such foul stuff and being so foul!…

I got distracted. A few things happened. First, I wrote married man a text, just telling him again that I couldn’t believe what he was accusing me of, and also letting him know that God don’t like ugly. I was going to curse his children and tell him that I hoped his beautiful daughters met someone just like him that does them just like he’s doing me when they grow up, but I didn’t. Instead, I just told him that God don’t like ugly, and God definitely doesn’t like it when you hurt someone who means nothing but Love and help for you. And God really don’t like it when you hurt one of his people, and so I feel sorry for him, because he has been very, very ugly to me, a person who meant him nothing but Love and help and a person who is really on purpose one of God’s people.

The whole situation is saddening, but it is the last. It is a punctuation on a pattern that is now over. Enough. The end. I did my part in the whole situation. I entertained it… I still do not feel as sad as I feel I should feel and I am wondering if I’ve finally becoming a gangster, or I’m disassociating or if I’ve grown a bit in the past 72 hours.

An interesting situation happened, too, since I started writing this blog today. I am sitting in a Coffee Shop that was recently started by a celebrity I love. I met here this morning with a friend from one of my writing groups so that we could spend time writing together. At some point, a man sat next to me. I saw him looking at me from a distance at first. He sat next to me. Said he likes my haircut (I’ve gotten three compliments on my haircut so far this morning!). Then he said he knows me. Then he asked what I do. I said I was a writer, and then he started telling me about a project he has and asking me if I wanted to write it. Then my friend who I came with, who had previously had his headphones on, took off his headphones and looked in our direction. My friend joined the conversation, and, to make a long story short, my friend told the guy that we don’t take time away from our own projects to work on strangers projects for free, except if we are really compelled by the magnitude of the project. My friends also cut the conversation short, saying that he has to get back to writing his project. Shortly thereafter, I gave the man my business card. He took it politely and left.

Although I didn’t quite like the harshness of the way my friend spoke to the stranger, I appreciated his protection. I actually Loved his protection. I am reminded that I am protected. I am reminded of what the energy of protection feels like, and harmlessness. I am grateful and appreciative that I am sitting here with a friend who respects me and doesn’t want to hurt me and thinks I’m awesome and good and talented, and would never think that I want to steal somebody’s married husband. He would never think I would try to do that because he thinks I’m too good for that, and doesn’t think I would have to do that. I can get a nice, single man easily enough.

I also read a bit of the book I’m reading, “Busting Loose From the Money Game.” I paid my rent the other day, got car insurance (so I can drive Uber or something worst case scenario), got some clarity about my next career and life steps, got a down blanket for my bed with my Kohl’s credit card, which I had gotten two years ago and never used and which I had been getting good credit scores because of, and a bought a new sweater and some new jeans. I don’t even remember the last time I’ve bought clothes from myself. It was kind of weird feeling to be buying new stuff.

I still miss my best friend and some of my old friends. In a perfect world, I would find a way to be at peace with them, they would see my heart and forgive my execution on some things, and they would treat me with kindness and niceness, and I would do the same for them. In a perfect world, my married friend, and all my other guy friends who hate me because they like me and think I’m trying to manipulate them with my sexuality because they are floored by my unconscious feminine prowess, would own their part in the bullshit that has become our relationships. They would grow. I would grow. In a perfect world, I would recognize that I do have feminine prowess that floors men, and I would stop pretending that I don’t know that Love like mine just isn’t that common and that if I don’t plan on being with a man, I might not want to have him in my bed or hold him or act any kind of way that I wouldn’t act if I was already boo’d up.

I would own up to my power. I don’t have any real power, but I do. I am a nobody, but I’m a somebody, too. I have too easily accepted the nobody part, but not the somebody part. In a perfect world, I would be somebody now. Act like I’m somebody’s mamma get it together already. Fight for my life. Fight for the joy in my heart that so wants to live. Fight for my peace of mind. Fight to have good relationships. Use my words to build up instead of break down. Oh, I so want to learn how to use my words to build up instead of break down. I had gotten pretty good at it when I went overseas, but then these people… Dees people be working my nerves and sometimes I just feel like enough is enough. Somebody has got to tell somebody, because obviously they don’t know if they’ve been walking around the Earth with this wickedness for so long. Sometimes I feel like people come to me because they want to hear the truth. Because they want to heal and grow… And I come to them, too, because I want to be the truth. Because I want to heal and grow.

Another fragmented blog entry. I think the topic I had in mind was, “The Offended”. I was pondering how to get out of this place. How to move from being “the offended” and “the victim” so much. I don’t think it’s a war. I don’t think that’s the answer, to go out and try and teach all those “bad people” out there a lesson about treating us right. I think the answer is to get on the other side of things. Instead of trying to ward off the darkness, let the darkness contend with you. You be on the offense, not the defense always. I think something in this is true. I have not been alive. I have not been shining. I have only been at the effect of the darkness, instead of letting the darkness be at the effect of my light.

And it is why they say that even the darkness is a friend. It has been egging me on and egging me on and egging me on, and teaching me and punishing me until finally, we have reached a point that I have to shine. Not in response to this taunting game, but out of love for my own beating heart. Out of care for my own precious life. I have been wasting so much time putting out fires. I could just do like my friend did today when drama approaches, and tell it, “I’m so sorry, but I’m busy doing what’s good for me, which will ultimately result in what is good for more than me. I will consult with you as long as I can accomplish goodness for myself in the process.”

The war is over now. It’s time to come home…

Day 525 – The Offended

Day 524 – Stay In It

I wrote a whole 2200 words and just deleted it. I was telling on myself. Talking about all the men who cheated on me in my past and how I interacted with a man recently who wanted me to be his mistress and I almost agreed. Lied to myself and put on blinders because I was so emotionally bereft and lonely, I just wanted someone to live life with, but ultimately, I couldn’t keep the blinders on for more than a week and I had to decline the opportunity to be a kept woman with a rich sponsor in exchange for my soul and morals… And now I’m broke again because I spent the last month or so not working in anticipation of said cheating man coming into town and doing a business deal with me. The business deal did not involve him cheating with me, at least that wasn’t verbalized. But I found out later that the business deal was not really a business deal. What was really going on is that this man wanted to escape his life and have a mistress (me), and doing business in America (he’s from overseas) was just the icing on the cake… It didn’t work out. God protected me. Or whatever. Something made us fight almost every day about nothing and stopped me from jumping on his penis and he decided he didn’t want to do business after all…

I also wrote about God and religion and about how I don’t know if I’m coming or going with religion and don’t even know where to start. I don’t care about much these days. It has been this way for some months. I miss my best friend and realize that he was super wise and smart. And super abusive, too. Nobody else actually lived life with me and knew me the way he did, though, and I feel terribly lonely without him. But I know that if I reconnect with him, he will take me through the emotional mud again, and I don’t want to go through that. He offered a deeper perspective on life that I don’t meet up with too much and he was always willing to go all the way with everything, or at least be honest with himself and me if he wasn’t willing to go all the way.

I’m broke. I don’t have a job. I don’t have any plans. I don’t have any friends for real. My family is ok, but they are away from me and I am not compelled to come close because mostly I don’t feel like I’m a good thing when I’m with them and I am emotionally depleted and tired of feeling like I’m not a good thing. There’s no man in my life. I have a car that Cheater helped me to get back in my name and an apartment whose rent is officially late today and no foreseeable way to pay my rent before getting evicted and people who owe me money who will never pay. I have unfinished creative projects and a farm overseas. I have men in my life who keep their distance when I’m not ok, and come around to play when I shine. A couple of them, the ones who have no clue how to love me, want to get partnered and boo’d up for real and resent me for not picking them even at my lowest.

My problems are too heavy for anyone else to carry, and mostly, even if people I know could carry them, they wouldn’t. They have their own problems. Many of them have problems worst than mine, and feel like I should help them.

I feel nothing, but will tap in now so I don’t fall into disassociating again. What are you feeling, Laydie? I am feeling lost, alone, and afraid. What do you need, Laydie? I can see that you need Love. Unconditional Love.

I am writing this blog to sort things out. To decide if I want to live or die. Death is not only for the dead. You can living a living death, just a zombie in this world. I want to live. A living life. I want to live. My will is weak, but there none the less. I want to live.

This is the hardest day of my life. This one right here. I know you’ve read a lot of busted blogs from me, but right here? This is the hardest day so far. Because I am not in fantasy land. I am totally aware of just how dire my situation is, probably not even all the way aware. And I feel totally alone. In the past, I have been a blind optimist, and me not seeing the potential bad things that could happen and the bad things are happening helped to shield me and keep my mind stable. I see the bad things now. I see the bad things that have happened in my life. So many. Not even blaming anyone. I will take all the blame. It still hurts. It still hurts to be here all alone not knowing what to do and not knowing where to go and not really having anyone who you think can and will help you for real without asking you to give things you don’t want to give.

This is the day that I’m doubting whether or not anything I believed in was true. This is the day I’m questioning the meaning of life and trying to find something to keep me interested in being here. I am not interested. I am not interested in saving the day and getting the money to pay rent and working some job with people I’m not connected to just to come home and pay rent again. I don’t know how to fix anything. I don’t know how to fix anything in my life. Let’s just be honest. If we knew how to do it, then we would do it. Or maybe we know, but we don’t follow what we know.

This is not a motivational post. It’s just me musing and processing. And deciding. Can I find a part of me that’s willing to stay here? Not so much. But I’m not tryna off myself, either. What can I find? What can I do? I am still here, in limbo. I can’t just wake up one day and say abra cadabra and all my life is changed. I don’t know what religion to start with or what my purpose of life is supposed to be. If I’m being honest, I just don’t know. I’d like to say all this and that, but I really don’t know. I think everyone is just holding on to whatever they can hold on to. Whatever can make sense to them. But there are holes in so many philosophies. But we just want something to hold on to… something to make sense.

So, I have agreed that I don’t want to die. I want to live, but I am so broken that I can’t honestly say that I believe in this good life any more. I don’t know if it’s possible for me. I don’t know if I’ll be able to figure it out. I don’t know if God loves me so much that he will give me something that I’ve barely ever seen in people who come from where I come – peace of mind, happiness, integrity, good relations.

I know that the choice I make today will determine so many other things in my life. I just got played and got my heart broken. Again. This time, I saw it coming and stepped right into it. Is it possible that I could do anything or be anything good, God? I am losing faith. I need to see You and hear You and feel You boldly.

I know this post is fragmented, but I’m going to post it anyway. If you are a friend or family of mine, don’t worry about me. I will be fine. Or I won’t be. I don’t know. What I need more than anything is just to be Loved. Just to be seen as a good thing. Please don’t ask me for anything. I don’t want to talk. I don’t want to listen. I just want to be seen as a good thing. Just see the goodness in me. Just see the possibility for a good life for me. I can’t see it right now. I can’t see the goodness in life right now, but I know that just because I can’t see it doesn’t mean that it doesn’t exist, and so, God, I’m going to stay here, willing. I’m not going to pretend. I’m not going to lie to myself anymore. I’m not going to say I feel what I don’t feel or that I don’t feel what I feel.

But I am going to stay in it. Ok. That’s what I can do. I can stay in it. And I can keep taking steps as I’m directed, the best that I know how, religion or not. I’m gonna go do what you said now and apply for some money and read a book. Bless You, Everyone. I hope we make it through…

Sincerely,
Laydie

Day 524
Stay In It

Day 523 – Merry Christmas

I’ve been crying for a long time. Been crying so long, I started getting dark circles under my eyes and my used-to-be-white eyes started looking reddish and brownish… Vanity wins again. I looked at my brownish eyes the other day and said, “something must be done.”

Yesterday was the first time in a long time that I didn’t cry. It was lovely. My eyes got almost white on that same day. I felt a freedom. Ninety-eight percent of my brain was cloudless. There was a lot of tomfoolery going on with different things, but I didn’t feel sad about it. I was OK. I spent Christmas eve alone in my dirty room, and I was OK with it. I was even proud of myself. I had gotten invited to go a couple places. Men – the bane of my existence – had invited me out. Men who wanted me in ways I didn’t want them. I was proud of myself because I didn’t go. Even though I was alone and would have preferred company to being alone, I would have preferred being alone than having encounters that would ultimately be more detrimental than good for all parties involved…

I woke up on time this morning. Got up before my alarm. Ate my two oranges and drank water before going into yoga class. I made it to yoga class. I added my physical therapy stretches into the yoga routine and sat in the warrior pose as long as they told me to, even though it was painful… I was supposed to be meeting with a friend this morning and was thinking about asking him for us to get breakfast burritos when we meet up. They have awesome breakfast burritos on his side of town.

A voice in my head said he was gonna cancel and I should go buy ingredients to make an egg sandwich instead, the kind my brother made for me when he nursed me back to health. I had to go to the store anyway, because I had to buy some items to groom my feet and hair. At the Walgreens that I went to, they didn’t have the food that I wanted to buy, so I bought the stuff for my feet and hair. Then I sat outside in my car to meditate for a bit. I was feeling really grateful. I looked up at the sky. The sun was just barely rising and in the foreground was a building that had a “Bank of Hope” sign on it. Bank of Hope resonated with me. I took it as a sign. Took a picture of the sky. Maybe I will use it as my Facebook cover, I thought. And Bank of Hope, too. Maybe I am entering into a huge bank of hope, I thought.

Then I got a text message. I already knew what it was. My friend was canceling our meetup. He did. In classic, stank, cold fashion, like he always does when he cancels stuff. He said he had a dream that told him not to meet up with me now. I was heartbroken. I know. I’m not supposed to be. But whatever. That’s what happened. This particular friend is actually my ex-boyfriend. The first “official in-person” boyfriend that I ever had. We got together when I was 19 and he was 18 years old and stayed together for a year. I ended up dumping him because I wanted to see some old raggedy man whom I (thought) I was in a long-distance relationship with and had been in love with before said boyfriend, but who disappeared from my life without exit for more than a year. Old Raggedy had reappeared on the scene. Called my mamma’s house and left a message for me. I had to see him, but couldn’t see him with a boyfriend in tow. So I broke up with the best man I’ve ever been with. Crushed his heart. Of course it didn’t work out with Old Raggedy. And after seeing Old Raggedy, I couldn’t get back with Best Man. I liked him very much and didn’t tire of spending time with him, loved him even, but I wasn’t passionate about our relationship and I wasn’t pulled towards him the way I was pulled towards Old Raggedy. Being with him was more peace than I’d ever known, but there was a part of me that just wasn’t sure that I’d be with him forever…I couldn’t crush Best Man’s heart like I did ever again, and I wouldn’t get back with him unless I knew that I was never going to leave him again…

But I couldn’t commit to that. I thought he was too young. I thought he didn’t know who he was. Nothing bad had ever happened to him. He lived with wonderful parents – a pretty homemaker mom and a handsome psychologist dad – in a house with his own bedroom, and his two siblings were nice to him and he had a lot of good friends and his dad gave him his car when he started college and he was just awesome. But he had never been hurt by anything, and because of that, I didn’t trust that his idealistic view of life and positive attitude would last. I couldn’t commit to being with someone who had never been hurt. He would change, I thought, by life’s first blow, and I didn’t know what he would change into. At the time, it didn’t even occur to me that maybe I could protect him from all the painful stuff in life, and maybe he could protect me.

So we broke up, and I wouldn’t get back with him, and I became his life’s first blow, followed by women who treated him worse than I did and so many disappointments and heartbreaks.

When I moved to California, he came shortly after me. After asking for us to get a place together and then flaking on the day we were supposed to pay the money and move in, we lived down the street from each other for a year or so. He’s an artist of all sorts. He was supposed to draw pictures for a children’s book I wrote, but couldn’t. Didn’t. I edited his first published work. Or at least I edited the first draft. I didn’t like working with him. He wasn’t taking my notes and was chopping up and taking out all of the best material from his work. And he was mean. He was in this phase where he felt like he had to be mean and strong and dominating in order to get things done. I was in the beginning phases of recognizing my deep need for kindness and flow…

When he was broke and down and out, I would help him with money, food, my heater. I ask him for help with stuff sometimes. Sometimes he comes through… We have lived between five to fifteen minutes away from each other for most of the time I have been in LA. For the past four or five years, we talk on average about six times a year at the most and see each other maybe once or twice a year. Sometimes we pass along jokes or ideas via text…

He had been depressed for a long, long time, and started identifying with the dark things in the world. In the past year or so, he started seeing a counselor or psych person and got diagnosed as autistic. He is public on his social media about his diagnosis and also about the fact that he has been starting to feel happy and optimistic about things. He joined a fraternity and started hanging out with a new group of people.

Yesterday, I had such an urge to hug him. I wanted to see him. I wanted to hug him. I had this hug in me, and it wasn’t for just anybody. It wasn’t for whatever men were calling and trying to meet up with me. It was for Best Man. I called him and we talked. I told him I Loved him so much and I wanted to hug him. He said it was the nicest thing he had heard in a long time. He said he had been around such cold people and had forgotten how warm people can be. I was so looking forward to seeing him and hugging him…

After writing out our story, I understand why he flaked today. It was too much. How dare I open up his heart if I’m not gonna stay? I’m not mad at him. I know, you’re probably mad at me for breaking an innocent’s heart. I’m mad at me, too. I wish I could take his heartbreak away, and every other thing that happened as a result of it. What would his life had been like if he never met me? I don’t know if he would have finished college. I used to tutor him during his freshman year. He couldn’t pass the math test to take college class and would complain about how the test was unfair and how it was too hard. In my classic bully way, I told him that if he couldn’t do college math, he was too dumb to be in college. He took it as a challenge, and through our tutoring, was able to pass the test and prove to himself that he wasn’t too dumb to be in college, or too dumb to do anything if he put his mind to it. I never thought he was too dumb to be in college, by the way. I knew he could pass that test if he got over the idea of thinking that it was too hard. So maybe I did something good for him. I made him believe that he can do stuff, even if it’s hard and even if it takes a long time. Who knew that he was autistic and he would need to believe this in order to get along in life. According to him, 80 percent of people diagnosed with his condition at his level can not function on their own in life.

I’m sorry that I hurt him. I’m so sorry that I left him. And I’m so sorry for the bullshit experiences of friendship and love that he has had for so long. I still can’t marry him. Maybe I could, but he is stubborn and he is deeply entrenched in the survival game of life. You know, in America, we learn all these theories that don’t hold water in other places. Here, we learn to only be with someone if you want to be with them exactly as they are and don’t think about changing them. In other places, like my mom’s country, they are taught that people will change and grow, so, if a person has a characteristic that you don’t like and you want to be with them, just be with them. And try to change them. LOL. It’s ok to try to change people in other places. And sometimes people change. Sometimes they don’t, though. I don’t know which theory is better… For Best Man, though, for today, he did what he did to protect his heart. I know the feeling of being in love with someone and they leave you only to come back in your life and tease you with their love and leave again.

I’m not mad at him. I wasn’t trying to come back and tease him. I just wanted to hug him because he so needs a hug and I so need to share all this love in my heart with people who I actually love who won’t hurt me.

God, what am I supposed to do with his hug? You say to give it to myself… And let the energy radiate out from me to anyone safe who will receive it. And so I will.

The good news is, I am finally willing to forgive myself for hurting my angel of a Best Man, and I am thinking about being willing to forgive the people who Loved me and hurt me tragically. Maybe they didn’t mean it. I’m sure some did, but others didn’t. And I’m sure if I look hard enough and imagine how my life would be had I never met them, I would find that they have given me some key tools that will carry me the full distance for this part of my life… Have a beautiful day. Merry Christmas.

Day 523

Merry Christmas

Day 522 – The Other Side (Come With Me)

I talked to mom earlier. She’s super sad. Me, too. I’m feeling super sad. A different kind of super sad. There is always so much to write about, but I’m in the Writer’s Guild library and they close in 25 minutes, and I want to post something before I leave, so I’ll edit as I’m writing and hopefully something good will come out.

It’s been one of those days. One of those weeks. One of those years. One of those decades. I decide to sit up straight instead of slump over in a powerless posture like I’m currently inclined to do. I think the problem is Love. Not enough given. Not enough received. Wondering how we got here. Eyes opening. Seeing the darkness in the world. Feeling the pain that we’ve been staving off for so long.

Not knowing how to fix it. Not knowing how and where we fit in all of this.

My greatest fear coming to fruition. Can I tell you a secret? I think I might have told you this already. When I was younger, eight years old to be exact, my school put me in a gifted and talented program called S.P.I.R.A.L. Once a week, a bus would come and pick me and a few other kids up, and we would go to this fancy bigger school for a day, and play with puzzles and games and do all this brain stuff. It was weird to me and I had no idea why I was there. All I knew is that it was different. And we were supposed to be smart. Or special. Or weird. When we came back to our regular school, the other kids looked at us like we were weird. I didn’t like it.

I stayed in the gifted and talented, or GT program throughout elementary school, and then when I got to middle school, I was in the gifted and talented program again. I didn’t really take classes with the cool kids or the normal kids. And, on top of being in the weird GT program, people would tease me because of my skin color and my hair and my height and my pimples… I wanted to bad to be normal and fit in somewhere. My friends were the odd balls who didn’t have friends…

When high school came around, I had figured out what to do about my hair and my acne had calmed down a bit and I started dressing cool and I grew a butt and some boobs that made up for my height. All of a sudden, I was attractive and the popular boys and cool girls wanted to be my friend. I was supposed to be in gifted and talented classes again, but I told my mom I didn’t want to be in them. And so she let me be in normal classes. We both didn’t understand the implications then…

I’m telling you this story because since I was small, I never wanted to not be normal, even if not being normal meant being smarter than normal. I wanted to fit in. I didn’t want to get too smart. I didn’t want to do too much.

The funny part is, all my life, I haven’t been fooling anyone but myself, thinking I fit in all this while, while other people are looking at me and wondering why I’m hanging out with the normies…

So now, here we are. My greatest fear. Through pure necessity for survival, I have been forced to tap into the depths of the core of my being, because I want to live in spite of everything, and guess what I found out? I’m not normal. I don’t belong. My greatest fear… Of course it’s not true. Perhaps the not being normal part is true, but not the I don’t belong part…

My mom has been through a lot this past year. I don’t know why I feel so sad for her. She and I have been through a lot. I know that she wants exactly what everyone wants. Someone to love her. For real. Not look at her with a scowl. Give her a safe place. Forgive her even if she is nuts and just see the love in her heart. Hold her. Listen to her. Respect her. Enjoy her company. I want the same, but haven’t figured out how to create. Dumped all my friends.

I miss them… What can I say? I miss them. We’ve spent our lives together. My best friend and I have talked almost every day for almost the past twenty years… It’s not his fault that I woke up one day and needed someone to look at me without a frown on their face. He’s been frowning at me regularly for the past twenty years and I’ve been ok with it. But I’m not ok with it now, and he can’t change, even if he tried… What to do?

I don’t have the answer. Find new friends? It feels like such a betrayal. But staying in situations where people are just causing you so much pain doesn’t feel right either. Maybe I’ll go talk to a counselor about this. Yep. I will.

What I want to say, even though I feel sad and I wrote a sad blog, is a realization that came to me earlier. We’ve been here for a long, long time. In this loop. On this sad of happy. We cross over every now and then, but never fully. Something profound has happened to me recently. This open window in my brain. I can see things for what they are. And what I want to say is, let’s make a decision. Don’t be captured by the sadness. Sure, it’s here. Sure, there’s a lot of processing to do. But the most powerful thing we can do for ourselves and our lives is to make a decision and a commitment. Let’s make a decision to break through. Now. We’ve been here long enough. This story is sad enough. We’ve paid all of our dues. We understand now. We’ve learned our lessons. We’ve been humbled to the ground.

We. Have. Found. Ourselves.

Yes, we have. We’ve been here all along. Let’s make a decision now. God didn’t leave us along just to suffer. I don’t understand most of any of it, but I know that there is power in a true 100% decision. Let’s choose to break through. Now. We’ve been here long enough. It’s time. Come with me, please. I am going to the other side. All the way. I want you to come with me. Please. Don’t let all my words go in vain. Come with me. We can do this. We deserve this. Let’s go to the other side. Now…

Day 522
The Other Side (Come With Me)

Day 521 – A Gift (On Making Meaning)

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)

Day 520 – Sad Stuff

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

Day 519 – To BE Taken Care Of

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