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)
Hello. Good afternoon. Back. After month’s pause. Same American Embassy. Same keys that are hard to punch. Same amazing energy. It is true. Places have energy. Collective will. Something brightens places and darkens places. Here, it is bright. Progressive. Hopeful. Alive…
Here it is easy to love, write and have fun. I am interested in being here. My body relaxes. I am alive…
What is next? Shall I tell you what happened? I might write a book or movie about this time in my life, because it has been so eventful and I have been inside of a world that most people don’t get to experience. I’ve been and I am in Africa. I’ve never spoken about my race or my age on this blog, because I know that once I put those labels on myself, people will feel like they can or can’t relate to me.
I know you are surprised, those of you who thought we shared a common journey until you found out I was black just now, or right now, rather. I am black. My parents are from Africa, and I am still just as human as I was before you found out this information. I have been in Africa, in the heal the world country where my parents were born, for the past four months. It is a long, long story.
My mom moved out here almost a year ago to take care of her mom. Then a friend of mine – the last man standing in my heart – moved out here to accept a position with the new government here. Then, through this friend, one of my sisters got a meeting with the First Lady out here, and during and after the meeting, she told the First Lady and others that I would be coming to Africa to work on some development projects… Many years ago, me and several of my siblings had spoken of working on some development projects out here.
My mom came out to Africa and she was having a hard time adjusting. I could see that the stress was impacting her physical and mental health negatively. And so, for several reasons – to check on my mom, to give myself a chance to see if my friend was “The One”, and to start work on some development projects- I came to Africa last December. Stayed in the same bed with my mom for six weeks, left and went back to America for two weeks, and have been back in Africa for the past four months starting a cacao farm right on the land where my mom was born…
Why I chose to come here, to this heal the world country, at this particular time in my life and start a chocolate farm, only God knows. But here I am. I was committed to staying here until I put some cacao trees in the ground, and yesterday that mission was accomplished. In the midst of family members trying to sabotage my best efforts, children dying, a bee invasion at the place I’m living, sleeping and waking next to a mom who’s transitioning into old age and confronting lifetime issues with said mom, and the disappointment of my lovely friend not really giving our love a chance, I gathered and employed 36 people who walked about 2 miles into the African bush with me daily in order to brush a forest, map and peg out a plantation, dig holes, and finally plant some chocolate plants. We planted a little over 1400 cacao trees, 3 avocado trees, 2 soursop trees, and 2 plantain trees on the land where my mom was born. We stood in a circle and prayed and sang songs every day. My employees were the guys who everyone thought were the troublemakers in town, and women who had never worked a day in their lives.
My mom and I fought almost every day until we got tired of fighting each other. A new love interest came to help and I discovered that, although something healing and magical happened whenever he hugged me, he was not the person I wanted to be standing next to me when times got rough. And they did get rough during the planting… I lived through it all, smile in tact. I am proud of myself. I am grateful. I am no longer depressed…
I feel like I’ve been through an initiation or something. Like those stories you hear about people who would try and pass through the gates of the sphinxes, and the sphinxes would zap them and kill them if their heart wasn’t pure. I went through the gates. I found bravery and pure intent inside of me, and I became a hero. It was that serious. I know that in many instances, my life was on the line. When I lost courage, I had loved ones giving me encouragement and providing tangible support.
How did I get so lucky? A tinge of survivor’s guilt tries to steal the moment, and I lean into acceptance. I can get used to this. I can get used to this. I can get used to this. I can get used to success. I know it’s been a long time, but it’s been a long time coming. I can get used to success. I can get used to success… I choose to make a definite and firm decision to accept success.
I am not the same person I used to be. I keep being tempted to say I can’t believe it, but I have to train my brain to say “I can believe it.” I can believe it. I can believe it. I can believe it. I can believe it. I can believe it. I can believe it. I can believe it. I can believe that I actually accomplished my Africa dream. I accept it. I can believe it. I can believe it. I can believe it. I can believe it. I can believe it. I can believe it. I can believe it.
I thought that I would inspire people to believe in themselves by giving them a tangible project where they could see results quickly. And that happened. What also happened is that I inspired myself to believe in myself. God took me through it. God made ways where I couldn’t see them. I learned to get deeply in touch with my intuition and rely on it. I learned to release resentments and recognize abuse at the onset. I was forced to take ownership of my project at the risk of hurting people’s feelings, or watch it fall apart and be sabotaged…
I am writing too much… What next? Energy is flowing through my lower back, seeking the hands of my Beloved. Spirit says it’s time to leave Africa for a while. Have is the word resonating with my soul. Work on transforming and transmuting my identity into someone who has. Make your life joyful. Make it a life worth celebrating… Life finally forced me into paying a $1300 overdue light bill. I am interested in being joyful and fearless… There is a fine line between doing what you think needs to be done to serve others and doing what you think needs to be done to meet your needs and make you come alive. I believe happiness comes if you can find the harmony between the two.
Even though I feel afraid, I am going to turn towards my fears and feed them with all the Love I can muster. I have been so sad for most of my life. A thought bubble tries to enter my awareness. “Anything is possible for you now. Take action on your inspiration, even when afraid… You are ready now. You have proven yourself to yourself, and I did not give you this magic and power for naught. You have My permission to LIVE! You have learned humility. You have learned patience. You have learned faith. You are beginning to accept your strength and power. Yes, you are a magician and your heart has qualified you to use the magic given. Relax into your bigness. Be bright now, baby. Be open and choose to Have. Accept. Have. Accept. Make a definite decision to have and accept your heart’s desire, even if you don’t know what that is. Have. Share. Have. Share. Have. Share… Have.” And so is life.
Ameen
Day 514
Have (Success)
Can’t write long, but haven’t posted in a while, so just wanted to get something out there.
I’m at the American Embassy in the heal the world country my parents are from. The keys on the computer are making a lot of noise as I type fast, and people are looking at me.
Thinking about money. Wondering how the people who give people jobs make money. The computer room is shutting down now.
I Love you. Thank you for being with me all these years, reading my thoughts, making me feel like I’m not alone in the world. Life gets better.
Take care,
Laydie
Day 513
Life Gets Better
I learned to Love my mother…
I’ve been out in the world living. Now I’m sitting at a Starbucks at one of my favorite parts of LA thinking about my next steps.
So much has happened in the past two months. Epic adventure. I went to my mother’s land. Across the ocean. Another country. Another way of life. A strange combination of the most beautiful and the most horrendous things I’ve ever seen in my life. And I Loved it there. I began the “heal the world” work that I’ve been wanting to do for so long. There is something about beginning…
I started planting a cacao farm. Twelve trees in the ground and one baby tree nursing. I organized with the local university to teach a film course this fall and also use some of the students from the course to work on the film that I’m shooting later this year. I did research for a book program and radio program and medical program that my family is working on.
And I spent six weeks sleeping on the same bed as my mother. That was the greatest part of the adventure. In her, I found the amazing power partner that I had been looking for for so long. She was there for me every step of the way. She was on my team wholly. She was my biggest fan and supporter and we went on wild road trips, slept in mansions, walked on beaches together, strategized and fought for our rights, and shared many laughs. It wasn’t easy. My mother and I are about as different in personalities as you can get. There were many moments that I felt all the things that I had previously felt with her – not accepted, not safe to express who I am fully, etc, etc. There were many moments where I didn’t particularly like her and I’m sure she didn’t particularly like me. But I managed not to fight with her or snap at her the whole time, and only once, in those whole six weeks, did I have an emotional meltdown. Only once, for about three days, did I get sick.
Mostly, I was full of joy while overseas. I was myself again. I haven’t been myself in so long. I was so happy. My skin was radiant. I was doing every blessed thing I wanted to do with my life. My boo the Advisor was there. He’s not my boo, but I’ll still call him that, because he Loves me even if he doesn’t want to. As God would have it, all the way across the ocean on a thirteen hour plane ride, in a country as far away from America as you can get, my boo lives a five minute drive away from where I was living. His brothers are good friends with one of my mom’s close family friends, and on one occasion, me and my mom ended up spending the night at one of his brother’s house, not through an intentional arrangement.
I left my heal the world homeland about a week ago and came back to my city of angels, LA. My original plan was not to go back overseas until May. But when arrived at my LA apartment, I came home to a roof that had fallen in due to the rain. There was a big hole in my roof and water was dripping from it. It smelled like mold and mildew in the house…
All of my old friends were here, most of them men whom I had either dated or whom have wanted to date me forever and it never happened… Everything looks different here in LA. All of a sudden I want to take care of my sweet mamma. She ain’t that sweet, but she’s sweet enough to want to be around sometimes. All of a sudden, I want to joke around with my grandma and hear her tell me stories. I want to hang out with some little kids every now and then.
And as fate would have it, my lead farmer called me today and said that he wanted to implement a phase of the cacao farm – planting 400 seeds, ASAP. My mom can be there to supervise it, but I would love to be there. Don’t ask me how or why I became a farmer. Almost every plant I’ve ever had has died. But I Love these cacao plants. They feel like my babies. I want to love them and give them safe spaces to grow. Cacao takes about three to ten years to come into maturity, and me, Mrs. Afraid of commitment, I, am actually excited about sitting around for about three to ten years and watching something grow.
I know. There’s no rhyme or reason to any of this. Why did I thrive so much in a country that has many more challenges and much less opportunity than the country I live in? I think it was because I had what I needed over there. I had real, deep love that doesn’t abandon. I had a partner who is going to get up every day and get it done. I had a community that I was living life with, whether I wanted to or not. I had enough fine men to look at to keep my passion and my girly playful side excited. I had time and space to pray and meditate. I had sun and water and fresh food. It was enough. And Truth be told, I could have all of those things right here in LA, but I just haven’t created them yet…
So the question is, what to do next? Where to go next? We are somewhere else is consciousness. I have become a new person since I left LA. I became myself. I experienced being myself, and I think I must say, it was the best month of my life thus far… I was in my true place. I was a patient, Loving, Joyful, Creative, honest, integruous leader. I am still in my True Place, but this is the part where I start to plant seeds. It is planting season, and I am looking for the perfect place to nurse this baby of a new identity whom I am becoming. Where will I get the right amount of nutrients that I need? Where can I grow strong? Where can I express the fullness of who I am? Where can I experience the fullness of Love.
God, you tell me that I am finally asking the right questions. I’ve been drifting for many years, not fully excited about much in my life besides relationships. Now, I feel like I am in my body at last. I can feel. I feel excitement. I feel love. I feel disappointment. Maybe there is an awesome job for me overseas… Maybe I can make money. Can I finish out all of my LA business at last? Can I be completely free and clear at last? I have been afraid of being free and clear but freedom is finding me nonetheless and I believe that this is what they call Grace.
So, I am finding the place to nurse this new life that is birthing in me. After I have nurtured it in the womb of my soul, I will put it in the best natural environment, root it at last, in a place where it will blossom and thrive. God be with me. I know you are always with me. I am willing to be everything that you have created me to be. I am choosing to give me all to this seed of a life that has been dying to express for so long. I thank you for keeping me alive. I thank you for keeping me alive. I thank you thank you so much for keeping me alive. It’s Planting Season.
Ameen. Ameen. Amen.
Oh. Btw. I spoke with my mom today. This past six weeks is the most time she and I have spent together consistently in my whole adult life. We usually don’t spend more than two weeks together. My mom told me that she’s finally getting to know me, and she sees that I am a leader. A leader who brings joy wherever I go. It is the best thing that could ever happen to me. To feel Loved and seen by my mom. Thank You so much, Allah.
Ameen.
Day 512
Planting Season (Healing Roots)
Feeling my feelings. Extreme. Here with my mother. She doesn’t make it to this blog that much. On an island. Literally. My sister works and lives on a beautiful island. I’m here with my sister and my mother. In a few days, my mother and I will be traveling together to another country, the country of her birth.
Electricity is not constant there. We take baths from buckets. There are villages and deep-rooted cultural traditions. I am going there to continue on the heal the world work that my family and I started many years ago. I am going there because my Spirit is directing me to go there. I don’t really know the true purpose, but I am thinking that it has something to do with my mother.
It occurs to me, that if I could Love my mother, then all spells would be broken and all would be right in the world. My therapist asked me if my mom and I were close, and I didn’t know how to answer her. We are not close, but we are deeply bonded and we deeply affect each other. We have been fighting each other since I was five, when I first asked her if I could have a boyfriend.
8, 11, 13, 17, 18, 19… 20, 25, 26, 28 and many more ages, we had major battles. Heartbreaking episodes. Men and religion always seemed to be involved in our disagreements. I never really felt Loved or accepted by her, and I guess she always thought I thought she was bad. I remember being a little kid and she was telling us how hard she worked for us, and I told her that she didn’t take care of us – welfare did. I remember her telling us how she had done something really hurtful to her mom because she didn’t know better, and I told her that she was always blaming others for stuff. I don’t know why I’ve been so mad at my mom for so long.
Maybe I needed more hugs than she was able to give. Maybe I needed to be protected instead of blamed and told to be strong about everything that happened to me. Maybe I wanted to be understood. My mom would tell me that I was her strong one and that I made her proud, but I didn’t want to be her strong one or make her proud. I didn’t care about those things. I just wanted to be Loved and accepted for who I was, whether or not I was strong or whether or not I made anyone proud or did anything exceptional with myself… I liked to dance and my mom had mixed feelings about dancing. I liked to smile at boys and boys were not allowed. I liked to let people know who I was for real and know who they were for real and I was not supposed to let anyone know the bad things about me. I wanted friends and friends were not to be trusted. I was supposed to be friends with my siblings, but when I was younger, my sibs around my age didn’t want to be my friends and the younger ones were too young to hang with…
As I got older, I explored other religions than the one I grew up with. Not because I wanted to be bad, but because I didn’t get it. I wasn’t wholly sold on the religion I grew up, although I liked many things about it. This was a big point of contention between me and my mom. I was supposed to be the religion I grew up in or I was going to hell and that was all there was to it. I’m not supposed to be writing this blog and telling you all my deepest darkest feelings. I never told my mom about it. Someone told her that I had a blog somewhere where I share things about my life, and she was appalled. Told me not to do it. Somewhere, I think my mom has been trying to protect me from many things over the years. I think it’s a mix of protection, ego, control… I don’t know. I am trying to find the energy of Love.
At the beginning of this year, we had a huge blow-out that involved my older sister. My older sister had been telling my mom things and letting her assume some things that were going on between us, and my mom was just taking everything my sister said and led her to believe at face value, and then calling me and attacking me without questioning anything. Finally, after she attacked me for a lie that my sister had bold-faced led her to believe without questioning anything, I asked my mom why she hates me so much. She said she doesn’t hate me, but I could not feel the Love… I can not feel the Love…
Now I am here with her, and we have been bumping heads for the past week. She has been fighting with her family overseas, and I said the wrong thing. Said I could understand how they feel. I actually think her family overseas is in the wrong, but I can understand how they feel. I was just supposed to say that my mom is right about everything always. Then, after telling me how I’m supposed to be the religion I grew up in and don’t do anything else, she invited me to go to one of our religious services, and I declined, she got mad at me… If she was not my mother, I don’t know that I would ever be friends with someone like her, although I have been attracting female friends like her most of my life. It feels like there is no space to be powerful around her. My head is always bowed, waiting for approval that I will never get. I do not feel ok with being myself around her, unless myself is what she wants me to be. I feel terribly misunderstood in almost every conversation. I feel like she is mad at me always for everything and I am mad at her always. And something has got to give.
Somewhere in my relationship with my mom is the answer to every other relationship in my life. I feel like if I could Love my mother fully, then everything would be all right. Let’s say the worst case scenario was true. Let’s say my mom didn’t Love me. Let’s say my mom will never approve of me if she knew who I truly was. Let’s say my mom will never understand me and will always be mad at me for something I did in the past or something I’m doing in the present. Let’s say that every time I do something good, she will be happy, but there will be a sadness in her eyes. Let’s say I never really feel her hugs. I wish I could feel my mother’s hugs.
I wish I could feel my mother’s hugs…
I wish I could feel the energy of unconditional Love flowing between us, but I don’t know that I’ve ever felt it. I don’t know that I’ve ever given it. Somehow I know that my relationship with my mom has something to do with what I came to do in this life. Somehow I know that Love and Forgiveness are big parts of what I have to contribute to this world.
Somehow I know that if I could Love my mother, fully and unconditionally, even if I wasn’t convinced that she Loved me… if I could look at her without judgement, if I could give those things to her that I can not feel her giving to me, if I could accept her exactly as she is, no matter who she is or how she is, then somehow, someway, she and I could both be free…
This year has been so hard, Allah. This Life has been so hard for me. I have not known how to be myself and walk around on your Earth and be safe and be happy at the same time. But I can’t stay locked in my apartment in the ghetto anymore. I want to be Free…
So I’m gonna do it. I’m gonna open up my hands and I’m going to forgive. I’m going to forgive myself, too, even if no one else will. And I’m going to turn every ounce of Love within me towards myself. Then I’m going to turn it towards my mother. I’m going to be Powerful now and I’m going to shine my Light and my energy as bright as I can and I don’t care how she feels about it. This is what I came to do. I have had enough of these curses and spells. I am going to Love my mother now, regardless. Regardless. Regardless. And through the mercy and Grace of God, I’m going to give us both a chance to be free… A chance to be Free…. A chance to be free.
Day 511
If I Can Love My Mother (A Chance to Be Free)
Well, everything that could fall apart has… My fake boyfriend is gone. All my mens are gone. Most of my female friends are gone. Still waiting on this big film check but in the meantime, bank account is very low…
I started seeing a therapist about three weeks ago. We both acknowledged that I generally leave my body when I am in situations that seem too painful for me, and I don’t come back and revisit them until things become too painful and I am forced to face them. My therapist gave me an assignment. I was supposed to feel my feelings. Like, feel them while they are happening. Every time I felt something strong, I was supposed to stop, feel it, and write about it in my journal…
And Lord have mercy. I felt like a drug addict getting off drugs. I mean, I’ve never been a drug addict, but I can imagine how it must feel to have years where you don’t really feel what’s going on, because you have some substance clouding your body and mind and making you feel good, and then to lose that substance and actually have to feel the depths of whatever you feel.
It was extreme for me. I felt so much sorrow. I saw a pic of my old teacher, The Advisor, and felt heartbroken. Heartbreak was a feeling that I hadn’t acknowledged in years. I felt so much grief. Wailed in my car for four hours straight, full of grief. And the worst feeling of all? Hopelessness. I had never felt that in my life before, and I wouldn’t wish that feeling on anyone. I felt hopeless. I felt like selling and giving away everything I owned, packing a backpack, getting in my car, and just going somewhere away from this life I had created. But there was nowhere to go. There wasn’t even any gas in my car… Nothing made sense. This life here didn’t make sense any more.
There was no joy in it. There was no passion. There was so little real Love. And there was no one to call. I didn’t know too many people who had figured out how to be fulfilled on the inside. How to be at peace on the inside. Most people were just faking it… I felt so much pain. I felt hopeless. There was nowhere to go. There was no one to call on. Nobody was coming. Nobody was going to save me. Nobody was going to hold me. Nobody seemed to care, and most of the people in my life only seemed interested in giving the least they could to me while trying to get the most.
My fantastical musings seemed miles away. How was I going to create any of that when I had none of it right now? How was I going to do anything when I was feeling so much pain? Pain in my heart. Pain in my head. Back pain. I caught a cold. Confusion. So much confusion. I couldn’t see the light at the end of this tunnel. For the first time in my life, I couldn’t see the light at the end of the tunnel.
I didn’t know what to do. So I did nothing. I laid on my futon and cried. I didn’t go to work. I didn’t ask anyone to help me. For the first time in seven years, I didn’t pay my rent on time. My manager sent me a text message saying he was charging me a late fee, and I didn’t care. “Maybe I’ll get evicted and I’ll be forced to get out of this place,” I thought. That would be good.
I spent about a week just crying and sleeping. Don’t ask what I was crying about. I don’t know. Everything. Anything. My life. The world. Things that had happened. So much sadness. I felt sorry for myself. For the first time, I saw what a sensitive being I am. Super, hyper, extra sensitive. I don’t know how I survived my life thus far, and perhaps I wouldn’t be alive had been feeling all the things I felt all along. Perhaps my brain would have busted a long time ago, and I would have been for real plum nuts crazy. So many dark feelings and thoughts were overwhelming me, and I didn’t know what to do. So I did nothing…
Eventually my best friend (I’ll call him Dark Angel because he’s been my angel for most of my adult life, but he has a very dark side to him) called me. He asked if he could reach out to people on my behalf so that I could get some help. I said ok. He reached out. Asked some people that I was going to do contract work for to advance me some money so I could pay my bills. They did. I paid my bills… And here we are today… Spent about two more weeks feeling my feelings.
These darned feelings hurt so bad, but I felt like there was something good on the other side of this experiment. I felt like it was a move forward. I couldn’t feel all these things if they weren’t in me already, I wanted them out. Hopelessness left me after about a week and hope returned. Just a little bit of hope, but it was enough. It was enough to get me off of the bed to put some food in my belly. It was enough to spend Thanksgiving with a small group of people, my brother and two friends, instead of sitting at home alone and crying.
My mind is blown and I am just getting out of the dark woods. I still feel fragile. Opportunities in life are opening up, like they always do. I am thinking about my fantastical musings and wondering if any of it is still possible for me. I don’t see it. You understand? I don’t see the path from where I am to where I imagine my life to be. Nothing is clear.
“Take the steps”, a voice in my soul whispers. “Take the steps.”
I know I will have to become something I have never been. I will have to walk through the world in a different way… Straighten up my back a bit. Be a little more kind, or rather, be as kind as I am. It’s been a tough year. Wildfires have come and set my whole life ablaze. Burned everything down. Started about this time last year. Everything is lost except for me. And me? I am holding on to everything by threads, but the voice inside of me tells me to let go.
I don’t have the affirmation, the book, the plan to move me into my True Place in this world. I know, though, that I must choose to be moved – to move – or not. There is no more room for half stepping on this leg of the journey. Commitment and surrender are required. I, of myself, can do nothing, says the Voice of my soul.
Pride falls to the wayside. I am a beginner again. And what is left of my life – what is left of my identity is me and God. This not knowing what will happen next; this not knowing what to do next or where anything will lead in five days, much less five years – is the hardest thing I’ve ever experienced. My brain is not connecting the dots. Survival mode has exploded. The wildfires have come and they have burned down everything except the little child in me.
The little curious child who wants to live still remains. The little child who has heard stories of Love and joy and passion still remains. Will I be taken care of? Will I survive this world.
I name the little child in me Good. Her name is Good. Extraordinary Good. Her middle name is God is With Us. God is with us, OK? God is with us. Just believe it. What if we believed it? What if we believed that we would be taken care of? What if we took care of ourselves? What if it was really True that our old life fell apart because it was not in alignment with our True Place on Earth? What if we are finally starting anew, with a real foundation, partnered with the entire Universe? What if it was possible that the entire Universe actually was in support of our thriving?
Something in me says this is true. Something in me says that it’s time to surrender. One step at a time. One day at a time. One choice at a time… It’s time to surrender.
Day 510
The Wildfires (On Surrender)
So much to say… I just deleted an unfinished entry.
I’m closing my eyes. Want to get to the deep place. Wanted to reach out and touch someone. Share. I have been learning a lot lately. Taking a lot in. And feeling the urge to give out now. Balance. Incomplete sentences.
A new chapter beginning. New job. In film. Tell you what it is when the check clears. Eyes open. Sunlight shining in from the windows in my gated apartment in the ghetto. Everything is the same except it’s not.
Ideas of normalcy and happiness flood my mind. What if I could actually scrub my walls down and clean my house? What if this part of my life could actually be over? What if I could have true friends who wished me well and didn’t get jealous even if I was doing better than them – a flow of goodwill between us? What if I was happy? What if I always had more than enough money than I needed in my account and a passive income and a big bank account? What if everything was paid for and paid off? What if I was a real writer and real filmmaker, living in a house with a lot of color that smelled good? What if I lived in a house? A house… What if it was somewhere with a nice sky and streets that felt good to walk down? And what if there was a back yard and clean sheets and comfy beds and sheets and towels and a bed for guests? Ooooh! What if there was guest house? What if I had neighbors I liked and a community around me? What if I had good relationships with all of my family members? Am I dreaming too big? What if I was actually a professional writer and I really wrote movies and shows and books and plays? What if it was real? And people took me seriously and were moved by my work and inspired and they thought my creative works were at least interesting? What if I was really a writer and I got paid really well for my work? What if I really did do heal the world work and the things I know were taken seriously and my leadership and my ideas and my work actually helped people and made the world better? What if I had a kid? What if I had kids? Little people whose bellies I would rub and play with?
What if all of my inventions for products came to pass and people were helped by the things I thought of and I made a lot of money – so much money that I never had to think about money again and could just make decisions based upon what I wanted to do with this body and soul that I call my self?
What if I had a man? What if I had someone whom I could pour all of my Love into and he could handle it? What if he wasn’t scared of me and didn’t leave or be mean to me when I made mistakes? What if he Loved me? What if he Loved me so much that I didn’t cry so much anymore and he thought that I was awesome just the way I am. What if I was his dream girl and he was my dream guy? What if we had awesome sex and he was able to hold me? What if he was strong enough and wise enough to hold me and comfort me? What if I could work with and collaborate with awesome people all of the time and we all had a mutual interest in living goods lives and being a beneficial presence on the planet? What if we could be integrous? It wasn’t just a fantasy…
What if I could be integrous?
These are my thoughts this morning. These are the kinds of thoughts that I haven’t had in years… I am thinking about what I can do with this life. I am thinking about possibilities. Is my life possible, Allah? Are my dreams possible? What if they were? What if I just believed a little bit that these things were possible for me? What if I gave myself a chance for them to be possible? Surely there are people who are doing the things that barely dare to speak of. Surely there are people are living the lives that I barely dare to imagine. Or at least they are experiencing parts of that life.
A fog has lifted and I can have these thoughts and wonder why I haven’t had them in so long. I never really believed that these things could be a part of my real life. They were fantasies – relegated to a space outside of me. Only to be dreamed about but never had or lived or experienced or given.
Today I’m going to step out of time and pull these fantasies here inside of me. I’m going to see if I can make an imprint on my brain and tell myself that they are possible. I’m going to see what I can do about this life, see if I can actually have a good life now. God, can I have a good life now? I’d like a good life now. Will you help me, please? I know You will help me if I am choosing to do Your will and if I am choosing the highest good for all involved. And I am choosing to do Your will and I am choosing the highest good for all involved.
So I guess I’ll start my day now. I’m grateful for these thoughts. I’m grateful to be alive. I’m grateful for the sun. I’m grateful for everything that has come before this moment. I’m grateful for a new day and all these fantastical musings. Have a beautiful day. I Love You…
Sincerely,
Laydie
Day 509
Fantastical Musings
Emotions raw… Feel them. Things thought resolved bubbling up. Forgiveness on the brain. Living with others. Synchronicity. Pain. Contrast. Happiness…
How can I be in this place? How can I be in this world? Brokenness everywhere. And me, too. Was holding things. Am holding things still. My sister visiting. Just shut me up as I was singing my song. I just told her to cut that shit out. Messing with my vibe…
I don’t have much to write about. Sometimes I just need to write. Praying won’t do it. Reading won’t do it. Meditating, dancing, singing, hanging with folks won’t hit the spot. I need to put words on paper or computer or anything, and then I am ok.
I am not hurt. I am not broken, but my heart is breaking open… But there is a sadness for so much time lost. I have a good friend. My best friend – the last man standing – for over twenty years. Oddly enough, he doesn’t make it to the blog that much. Just like my father’s name is hardly ever mentioned here. I loved them the most. I Love them the most. My Best Friend hurt me really badly. He had hurt me very badly over the years.
This past fall, to make a long story short, I tried to hook my best friend up with a good friend of mine. She was a female friend living in LA. To make a long story short, the hook-up didn’t go too well for me. My best friend ended up forsaking helping me out with stuff I needed and being there for me in order to spend time with my female friend. My female friend relished in the opportunity to be picked first and forsook me as well. I stopped being friends with both of them for a while, but my best friend – well, he’s been my best friend for years.
He was the one who came and took care of me and cooked me oatmeal when I was sick and alone in my apartment in LA and couldn’t even get up off the floor to make my own food. He was the one who sat on the phone with me and counseled me through anxiety attacks as I started back writing again. He is the one who sends me his last little dollar to celebrate myself and take myself out to dinner after some small accomplishment. He is the one who checks up on me. He is the first man in my life who didn’t disappear. When we were much younger, after our first fight, I thought he would never talk to me again, because that’s what the men in my life did when they got mad at me. They disappeared. But after a few days of being mad at me, my Best Friend called me and he said, “Just because I’m mad at you doesn’t mean I’m not your friend anymore.”
It was a mind blowing concept for me.
Twenty years later, my Best Friend broke my heart by the way he treated me last fall. We stopped talking for a while, and then we became friends again, but things were different. I was hurt. We had many, many, conversations, but he never really saw what he did that hurt me so bad. He never acknowledged it. He never said sorry. He tried and has been trying hard to be nice to me since, but something had changed in my heart about him. I didn’t trust him anymore and it made me very sad.
As fate would have it, he got very sick. My other friend whom he had betrayed me with had gotten sick, too. They are both assholes of a sort, and so they don’t have a big support system around them. All they have is each asshole other. My best friend reached out to me in his time of need, but I thought, “Go be friends with my asshole friend who you betrayed me for. She’s an asshole so she ain’t gonna help you with shit, and that’s what you get…”
I’ve had that feeling towards him. I’ve been holding that feeling towards him. That “that’s what you get” feeling. I’m just being honest. Part of the time, I’m aware that I’m holding that feeling, but most of the time I’m not aware. It’s just like there’s a sadness between us. He frowns when he sees me, mostly. I am not particularly excited about him, but he is like an old coat that has been there for me and a comfort. I know it’s not cool to admit these things out loud, but it’s true. I had been holding those “that’s what you get” feelings about him and my female friend as well.
As fate would have it again, some years ago, my Best Friend had introduced me to the guy who is now courting me. Last night, me and Best Friend were talking and I told him about how I like cooking for the guy who is courting me. I never liked cooking for my best friend b/c he’s always critical and ungrateful and he never seemed to like anything I do for him unless it looked like I had to go through some pain to do it. Anyway, when I told my Best Friend that I enjoyed cooking for new guy, my best friend got jealous. He started talking about how he was the one who introduced me to the new guy, and for a moment I thought, “I’m gonna do my Best Friend just like he did me with my female friend.” I’m gonna cancel doing stuff with Best Friend or say no to him and tell him I’m hanging out with my new guy instead. I’m gonna stop helping him while he’s sick and tell him that I thought he’d be ok and it’s more fun hanging out with my new guy. I’m gonna save all my smiles for my new guy and frown at my best friend all the time, and then he’ll see how it felt to do what he did to me. That’s what he gets…”
It didn’t feel good to think those things, but I thought them. I realized that I wasn’t over it. I wasn’t over the pain that had come between us. I wasn’t over so many things. I had been holding so many people hostage energetically, waiting for them to learn their lessons, waiting for them to get what they get until I forgave them.
And I don’t know what to think about these things. This is grown up stuff. Where is the line drawn? When do you say, you have done too much, and you will not repent, so you can’t come around me no more? When do you say, you have done so much and you will not repent, and I will forgive you anyway? When do you punish? Do you punish? When do you love anyway? At what point does continuing to engage in certain relationships become self abuse?
I don’t know if there is a book of rules about these things. There is no book of rules about these things, besides the religious books. I wanted to Love him. My Best Friend. I was tired of holding him hostage to my unforgiveness. I didn’t want to be like him, holding back my smiles from him, only seeing the worst in him. I didn’t have the answers. I don’t have the answers.
What I know, though, is that there is something about forgiving and saying sorry. Not just forgiving others, but forgiving yourself. My heart longs to love. Some people have been assholes. Sometimes I have been the asshole and I am sure that someone has written in a blog or a journal about the ways I have hurt them somewhere. Sometimes on purpose. Sometimes not. What would it be like if I could just open up my hands and let it all go? Just say, “I know you hurt me, and I know you may never realize or acknowledge your offense, but I am not set on punishing you anymore.” Could I allow them to be happy and healed and live good lives, even if they never said sorry to me? Even if they never wished good things for me?
I want justice, but something in me says that this is justice. This is justice for my own heart. Forgiveness is justice for my own heart. I don’t really understand, but I know it’s true. I want to Love. I want Love to flow freely between me and the people in my life. My Best Friend is tenured. He has earned his place as friend till death do us part. I am sure we have journeyed through many lives together in many ways, but in this life, finally, I want Love between us…
So this is what I needed to write. These are the words I needed to release. My back feels lighter. Aches and pains are softening. My frozen heart is melting. I will be safe even if I forgive. I will have Love even if I forgive. Justice has a way of finding it’s way into all of our lives, even if I’m not serving it. For me, I choose Love now… I choose Love and Forgiveness now. And that’s what I get…
Ameen.
Day 508
Love And Forgiveness (That’s What You Get)
