Hi. It’s 1:40 am… I can’t sleep. Took a nap earlier today. Spent the day by myself today. Feel far away from the world. Want to connect…
I’m leaving soon. Going places where there is no resistance to sharing love and life with others. For the past month or so, I’ve been trying to build connections and bonds here in LA, but haven’t gotten much momentum. Everyone I know is in their own world. They’re either not willing or able to live life with me, and what’s more, there’s so much resistance or lack of appreciation when I try and offer love and connectivity in the ways I can…
And I’m starving. I didn’t realize it ’till the other day. I’m a Love child, and I’m starving.
This past weekend was so lovely. One of my very best friends came into town, just for the weekend, just to see me. I felt so special. We drove out to Northern Cali to a conference I wanted to go to. We had so much fun. We listened to my Feminine Power tapes on the way there and paused and discussed the different things on the tapes. We ate good food and laughed so much. We took pictures of cows and olive trees and grapes and oranges and lakes. We held each other. It was so nice. Like a dream. He and I don’t have any unresolved issues. I’ve known him for a long time and we’ve had many fights, but at this point, I trust that he will tell me the truth and be there for me when I need, and he trusts the same in me. And it was so lovely…
Of course he had to go back home, and I came back to my apartment, but not the same as I was before I left. My apartment was empty. My life was empty. I did the math, and I guess it’s been about two months since I called it quits with My Kind. And it was about two months ago that I started having panic attacks and feeling so depressed. I didn’t realize that I was heartbroken. I didn’t even put two and two together. I was heartbroken. I am heartbroken…
Don’t really know why I was so in love with him. He’s probably the most average Joe I’ve ever dated. But I Loved his golden amber eyes. And I loved the way he would hold me. I don’t believe I’ve ever felt safe in anyone’s arms before him. But he was hurting me so much. He was killing me and he didn’t even know it. He went from treating me so good to not answering calls, not returning texts for days… He lives right on the next block, but I wouldn’t see him sometimes for a whole week. He would hold back and not look me in the eyes anymore when I would see him, and I would ask him what’s going on, and he would say “nothing”. I would wait for him to have dinner with me like we used to, but he would call me after he had eaten dinner on his own, right when he was about to fall asleep. And he would talk to me in his business tone and fall asleep while we were talking… And it was hurting me. And I would tell him how he was hurting me, but he wouldn’t do anything differently. Instead, he would just say something like, “I hear you” and keep doing the same things.
I asked him what he wanted with me, what kind of relationship he wanted to create. He could only tell me what he didn’t want. “I don’t want to lose you,” he said. I’m old enough to know that nothing is created in mutuality with two people choosing to create it, and so I knew that our relationship wasn’t going anywhere, because he refused to choose me. If he would have said, “I want to be with you” or if he would have said, “I’m trying to figure out what I want”, then there would have been some hope. But he didn’t know what he wanted, nor was he trying to figure it out. What he was trying to do is avoid dealing with himself and his issues. What he was trying to do is escape anything that made him feel uncomfortable…
Before the new year, I had bought him all this health stuff that he needed. I was traveling, and I wanted to see him before I traveled. And I called him and told him that I wanted to see him before I leave town and that I wanted to give him his health stuff. He said, “OK”. He called me around 8p, but I missed his call. Then I called him at 9p and he didn’t answer. And he didn’t answer at 10. Or 11. Or 12. I messed around and needed a ride to the airport. Had a 5am flight. Called him. Texted him and asked for help. He didn’t answer or respond. Didn’t hear from him till three days later, when he sent me a text asking if everything was all right…
I guess emotionally, that was the end for me. Physically, though, I would see him a couple more times when I came back in town. The last time I saw him, I asked him if he had been seeing any other women. He had. I do believe I left my body for a moment. When I came back, I was full of pain. I think sometime later he texted me at night telling me he was going to call me. I waited up all night for his call. He didn’t call. I fell asleep crying, and the next morning, I decided I was tired of him hurting me.
I cut things off. Went ghetto “I’ll bust the windows out your car if you fuck with me ever again” with him. I didn’t mean it, but I kind of did. I needed him to understand the seriousness of the damage he was doing. I needed him to understand that some people don’t take it lightly when others mess with their hearts on purpose…
The other day I thought of him. I decided not to think about the last two months of our interaction and instead thought of the first two months. I wanted to remember how it felt to be in Love and to feel safe. I wanted to remember my brief experience with reciprocity and with having a man treat me exactly like I wanted to be treated. After all is said and done, I was in Love. And I was overjoyed to be sharing life with someone who liked doing mundane things like washing clothes and going grocery shopping together; someone who liked giggling and someone who would just hold me when I was mad instead of getting mad at me for being mad. He was height, weight, and age appropriate and he didn’t smoke or drink or have any kids or any other major hangups. And he had a job. And a degree. And a place of his own. And he paid his own bills and helped other people. He was always looking for ways he could help when he was around…
There were things about him that would have prevented us from being a good match – he wasn’t willing to go after his real dreams in life. That’s not a deal breaker, though, ‘cus I think he’d change that when he saw me succeeding at my real dreams. It made him a bit less focused, though. Sometimes he would want to join him as he found ways to amuse himself when I was trying to focus and work on things I was trying to accomplish, and maybe as a partner, if he was around all the time and didn’t have anything he was focused on, it would take me off track or be a source of stress in my life. The real deal breaker, though was that he didn’t deal with conflict well. He would withdraw, say everything’s ok, and then run away…
What I know is that if My Kind really wanted to be with me, then he would say it and he would be with me…
Anyway, I’m going to sleep now. Guess I had to get that sadness off my chest. I’m not gonna pretend like I understand anything. I’m not gonna psychoanalyze myself and beat myself up and say, “Why is Laydie so alone?” I’m not gonna pretend like this shit doesn’t hurt. It does. But what I know about grief is that it hurts less and less as time goes on if you deal with it. If you don’t deal with it, then it just sits inside you undermining everything you do until one day a simple trigger blows it up and you have a panic attack or a meltdown or something.
So I’ll deal with it now. I’ll just cry. I mean, crying must have some sort of purpose. I’ll just cry and I’ll simultaneously find ways to keep my heart open and find people I can share Love with. I’m not going out without a fight, y’all. I am in this to win this and if I die before I make it to the other side of self actualization, no one will ever say that I didn’t do my best…
What I’m gonna do is focus on the life I’m creating now, continue resolving any old issues or old pains, and move in the direction of the things that bring love and peace and joy and abundance to my life, let my intentions be known to the people I Love and the people I want to connect with, and be open to the possibility that everyone I choose may not choose me at the time I choose them, but keep on choosing until I find an open door…
Good night everyone.
Day 467
Broken Hearts and Shtuff
Hey there. Good evening. I’m at Panera Bread feeling urgent. Feeling an urgency. Maybe I’m dying or something, but I just feel such an urgency to get everything out of me right now, have every conversation I need to have, say all my sorry, tell everyone off that I need to tell off, and do all the things I’ve wanted to do with my life for so long.
Today I met with the Old Prophet for lunch. On Monday I went to Whole Foods and he was there. He gave me a massage, and he said some things. He said to me, “If you were more sophisticated, you would have had me in the palm of your hands.” I didn’t curse him out. I just flipped the statement on him and told him, “If you were more sophisticated, you would have had me in the palm of your hands.” He understood his offense and apologized.
What he had meant to say is that he really had loved me. He really wanted to start a life with me, and he wished that I would have been mature enough to see through his bullshit asshole-ish ways and stick with him until he felt safe enough to reveal all the love he had for me. I understood. I hadn’t been mature enough to stick with him, but I don’t regret it. His asshole-ish ways took a lifetime to develop and it will take just as long for him to change them, and there are nicer men… There are just nicer men who are a little more brave.
I do regret, however, breaking his heart. I regret all the hearts I’ve broken. I regret the many mean things I’ve said to people. I regret throwing away people who Loved me. I do regret that. But I don’t regret keeping my distance from people who were actively trying to hurt me.
There’s a balance to be had. There’s a place to be where you can say to another, “You can’t come around if you’re going to hurt me, but if you choose to have a good intention towards me, you are more than welcome to come talk to me later.” There’s a place for reprimand and there’s a place for encouragement. And there’s a place where you just Love anyway. There’s a place where you may keep your distance, but you pray for good things for your fellow human anyway…
I met with the Old Prophet today. We talked. I told him the things that had hurt me. He had forgotten. I told him the good things that I appreciated. He said that if everybody got every thing they ever wanted, the world would be a mess. He was sweet. Velvet skin. Wise, frisky eyes like my grandma. We said we weren’t meant to be and he thanked me for talking to him…
I’ll keep it going. It’s not easy. My body trembles with each release. I cry. My brain gets foggy for a bit. And then it clears up. And then there is one less pain inside of me and I feel a little more free. It’s a process way overdue, but it’s time. It’s time to forgive. It’s time to let go. It’s time to stop judging and stop trying to play God and just be honest and finally be wise; act like I’ve actually been through everything I’ve been through and act like I’ve learned something from it. Its time to do the thing I love doing most. Love. It’s time to Love…
Day 466
Time To Love
I’m thirty plus. Most people don’t know that. They think I’m in my twenties. But I’m not. I’m thirty. Plus. It’s not relevant, but it’s worth mentioning…
My brain is all over the place, or rather, my mind is all over the place. You know what is a trip to me? How sometimes it feels like you’re in a vortex. There are heavy clouds all around you and all you can do is feel their weight. You can’t think. You can’t smile. You don’t feel anything but pain. You’re not present. Your mind is scattered. And then the next moment, it’s like you’re living a whole other life. Your mind is free. You are hopeful. You can focus. You enjoy the company of others. You clean your house…
That’s where I am right now. Out of the dark place. I watched “Get Out” this weekend, and I will refer to the dark place as the sunken place now. The sunken place is the place of being lost; the place where you cannot think; the place where you are amenable to any suggestion fed into your brain, and you are unable to process things on your own; you feel trapped. I am out of the sunken place today.
I am at USC. My writing bud just went home, and now I’ll be here for some time doing work on my own. I need a shoulder massage. The Old Prophet (the old guy who I dated some years ago who turned out to be an ass) gives massages at Whole Foods on Mondays. He’s a great masseuse. He will give me a massage for free. Told me I should come by and see him. Gave me a massage some months ago, but then when he was done, he said, “See you later, baby.” Him calling me baby made me feel violated… Not quite sure what to do about that…
Hello world. I have been traveling through galaxies in my mind. Do you know what has been happening? I have been having to make tough decisions. My life was shit. My life had been shit for some time, but I didn’t know it. By shit, I mean that my life was nothing like the life I had envisioned for myself. The eight general life structures – money, relationships, life’s purpose/work, community, self-identity, health, beliefs, spirituality/religion – all shit. The only thing that was kind of healthy was my spirituality, but I hadn’t really picked a side as far as deciding what concrete religious/spiritual path I was gonna follow.
I have been trying really hard for my life not to be shit for some time, and I have made a lot of progress in some areas, but still other areas were so heavy that I had a hard time getting to a place where I was stable. And do you know what happened this weekend? I decided that the days of my shitty life were over. They are over. I just made a choice. My therapist friend helped me. Things had been getting too bad. I had been too consistently emotionally unstable for too long, and the kind of deep depression I was experiencing just wasn’t sustainable. So I had to make a choice. Am I gonna keep living like this, just fighting depression, fighting people, fighting circumstances, or am I gonna do something different? What if I could do and be anything? I know it’s crazy to think that, but I had to think it, because there was no way out of the heavy cloud without thinking that anything is possible.
So I allowed myself to think that anything is possible. What if I am really who I imagined I am? The me that I never tell anyone about. What if it’s not just a dream or a fantasy or some thing to do or be in the future? What if I am me now? What if I am 30 plus years old and wise now? What if my brain could figure this thing out? What if I really had a spirit and an intuition that would tell me what to do? What if I really did live in a safe world, like all these books I’m reading keep telling me? What if happiness and joy were options not dependent on circumstances? What if I could just love my family and my friends and whatever man hurt or rejected me and forgive them even if they never changed a doggone thing. Doesn’t mean I have to participate in abuse. What if I could set boundaries so that I didn’t allow abusive people to abuse me? What if I could enjoy this moment? This very moment of being able to sit in a library with hopeful young people. This very moment of being able to have the space and time to process my thoughts without worrying about if I’m going to eat today or if my rent is getting paid. What if I could be grateful for my writing bud, the kindred soul who just sat with me as we spoke about our lives and goals and promised to hold each other accountable? What if I could be grateful for my friend who did a therapy session on me last night, hundreds of dollars worth, for free. What if I could just be grateful today and just take action and trust that life is going to keep getting better and better?
Last night I chose my spiritual/religious path. I’m not gonna tell you, for their will be negative judgement no matter what I picked. The point is, I picked something. I decided. I committed. I had been teeter tottering in the in-between for quite some time. I had been imagining that I could be a thing in some far away fantasy instead of just stepping into the thing I want to be and becoming my fully actualized self. I had been feeling so powerless, like I was on the puppet strings of everyone and everything around me.
But I’m not. It’s not true. I have power. I can’t control anyone or anything else, but I can control me. I can choose how to spend this very moment. I can choose which religion and which path I will look to for guidance. I can choose to choose something that is easy for me. I can choose something challenging. I can choose to forgive every single person who ever hurt me and say every single thing to every single person I want to say something to, and I can choose to just let it all go. Just let it go at last. Let people be who they are, and if they choose to be loving and kind towards me, I can choose to welcome them into my life, and if they choose to have no good intention for me, I can choose to deny access to them. I can choose to be there for whoever I want however I want. I can choose…
Today I choose to see myself as already whole. No more standing on the outside of life. No more imagining that there is some dangling carrot out there ahead of me that I will never get. Today, I choose to be my full and complete self. No more begging. I choose to come with all of my things. My words, my heart, my brain, my body, my humility, my power, my wisdom, my courage, my strength, my deep deep Love. People will not understand why I do some of the things I do. It’s Ok. They will project their own beliefs on to me. I don’t care. I choose to be myself anyway.
Today I am not a woman begging to be a writer, trying to be a lover, crying for love, hoping that one day someone will save me somehow. Today I am a writer. That’s it. I am a writer and my words heal, uplift, entertain, encourage and nourish. Today I Love and I am receptive and appreciative of all the love that already comes towards me in so many ways. Today I am my own hero and I step out into the world knowing that the One who created me always makes a safe space for me to be… Today I am 30. 30 plus. And Golden. And Humble. And Grateful… And Wise…
Day 465
Thirty Plus (And Glowing)
I’m woke up two hours later than I usually do. It’s been that way for at least four days. I’ve been sick – cold got me. And I haven’t been doing much productive. I’ve just been at home sleeping most of the day and feeling like shit.
But today I’m up. It’s 8:12am and I’m writing. I want to write about what happened to me, and I want to let it go. I’ve been struggling. Not just with my physical health. I notice that my physical health is deeply entwined with my emotional and mental health these days. It’s probably always been that way, but I’m just noticing it.
What happened to me is that I got into a small disagreement with someone close to me. But that small disagreement triggered the thought of larger disagreements and betrayals from said person, and I had a panic attack. I wrote about the situation without filter on this blog. I decided to keep a distance from said person for a while, as I had a lot of work to do and a lot of deadlines coming up, and I knew I wasn’t going to be able to do any work if I’m running around having panic attacks and being knocked out for a day or days. So I kept my distance, but it hurt me. But I got work done.
About a week later, I spoke with my mom and told her the situation. I was already feeling real threadbare fragile. I messed around and accidentally told my mom that I wrote about my disagreement online. Prior to that conversation, my mom had no idea that I have a blog online where I pour my guts out. My mom got upset. She didn’t want me to write about my personal business online. She didn’t want me to write about anyone else’s business online. She wanted to see what I had written. I didn’t send it to her. I didn’t want her to track down my writings and find this blog.
This blog is my therapy. This blog is the place where I feel almost completely free to express myself exactly how I want to and people will just read it and mostly not judge me and be ok with the fact that I’m growing and I have issues and not get their feelings hurt or try to guide me or change me if I think one way or the other about something. With the exception of one close friend, I really have a space like this blog anywhere in my life. And so I wasn’t willing to let her in. Because, if she doesn’t even approve of the fact that I share anything personal online, imagine what she will think when she finds out that I curse. Or that I hate almost everybody half the time. Or that I’m really not the religion she wants me to be… I didn’t tell her what my blog was, and she got mad.
When I spoke to her next, she spoke to me in her accusatory tone. “I just knew you didn’t want me to read what you wrote because you knew I wouldn’t approve of it. Why would you write something that I don’t approve of?” she asked. And I became 11 years old again. I became little. I became unsafe. I knew that if my mom really knew what I thought and felt about life and the world, then she wouldn’t like me. She would pray for me so that I don’t go to hell. She would be confused. She would look at me with disapproving eyes. I knew that I my mom wouldn’t really approve of me just the way I truly am. Not because she doesn’t love me. Not because she doesn’t want the best for me. Because she believes there is a good way to be. She wants me to be the good way that she sees. And if I’m not, then she worries that I’m going to suffer in life, be punished, etc.
This may sound small as I’m writing it, but it was huge to me at the time…
As I’m writing, I just received a phone call from one person, and a text message from another. Both men. Both had asked me to be their wife this past weekend. I know. I’ve known both for many years. At least ten. One is currently married and separated, and the last time I saw the other was a few months ago. I went to his house, sat on his couch, and got bitten by bedbugs, which I then brought home to my couch. And then I threw away my couch. I’m standing in my couch-less apartment as I write. But I digress. The devil is a thief and a liar…
To make a long story short, after the incident with my mom, I started to doubt. I doubted whether I should share things about my personal life online, or anywhere else for that matter. People would judge me. People may not like me. People might say, “Aha! Look! She’s crazy!” or “Aha! Look how many men she’s dated!” or “Aha! Her life is shit!” They may not want to hire me if they knew that I’ve struggled with depression for time or if they knew that I’ve had panic attacks. They may think I’m nuts if I talk about magic or spirits or intuition. They may find arrogant or self-righteous. They may not agree with my viewpoint. Or think I’m stupid. So all things went through my head, and then I couldn’t write.
Found myself editing my private journals right here in my apartment. Had poems flowing out of me and posted them online and then took them down immediately. Deleted the blog post that I had told mom about. Wondered why I would go into a profession where, no matter if you write fiction or autobiographical blogs, people are going to know your viewpoint. People are going to know your experiences. People are going to know where you come from. Wondered why anyone would want to have a career where essentially you say, “Here. This is all of me. Look at me. Judge me. Judge every sentence. Judge every rhyme. Take everything I am and if you don’t like it, if you think it’s crazy, then hey, I gave it to you for you to do as you please.”
I considered going into my shell, pressing stop, and changing the course of my life. I considered not being a writer anymore. I considered going back to the religion of my birth and just doing what my mom said so that she would love me, I mean like me. And I was eleven again. I considered just opening my door back up to people who obviously hurt me, just so I won’t be alone (that’s why these two ridiculous men are calling/texting me right now). “Cut after I cut all the assholes out of my life, there was no one left. And I was alone. And I don’t like being all alone.
So, what happened? I cried. Threw myself a huge pity party where I was the only one invited. I stopped doing the things that needed to be done for my progress. I got sick. I gave two different strange men my number, knowing that I would never ever want to marry them. I went to the park with my stupid married friend, who’s texting me right now, and I answered the phone when my non-married friend (who’s been wanting to be with me for years) called. And I told him the truth when he asked if I ever felt even any little thing for him ever. I should have just said no, so we could keep things like it is. But instead, I told the complex truth, knowing that he wouldn’t understand shit. And now he’s calling me thinking he has an opening. I didn’t do my daily prayers, readings or meditations that I have been doing for the past two months or so…
And after four days of being sick and wreaking havoc, I had a scary dream last night. And woke up with my hands trembling. Body still kind of has a subtle tremor in it, if I’m being honest.
I had to make a decision. I have to make a decision. I Love to write. Writing is not all there is to me. More than write, I love to Love. I Love to dance. I Love to connect with people. Can you believe that my shy ass loves connecting with people authentically more than anything else? But I don’t like fake stuff. I don’t like stuff that’s out of harmony. I like it when pure Love is expressed between two or more people and there is no distrust and no hold back and no jealousy or envy or ill-will. That’s really who I am. I found me. I write because it saves my life. And sometimes it helps other people, too.
I had to come to terms with my eleven-year-old self. I am coming to terms with her as I write. A lot of things happened when I was eleven. An older guy who lived with us kissed me. It was my first kiss. I told my brother, who has my closest friend at the time. He told me that I should tell mom, but I wouldn’t, so he told on me. And then he stopped talking to me – just wouldn’t say shit to me. Would pass me in the halls of our house and walk right by – for a month. My mom kicked the older guy out of our house, but before he left, I wasn’t allowed to be anywhere in the house alone with him… You have to understand, at eleven years old, I was an ugly, awkward girl. Nobody at school liked me. I was too tall, too pimply, too skinny. My hair was too short. My skin was the wrong tone. I was too awkward. Too smart. So this older guy in our house was my friend. He liked me. He was nice to me. He would call me pretty. He would buy me little candies from the store. He would talk to me… I wasn’t allowed to be alone with him after our kiss, but one day we ended up in the same place at the same time. He took the opportunity to tell me that the only reason that he kissed me is that I reminded him of someone else. I went to the bathroom, locked myself in there, threw up and cried. About a month later, my mom noticed that my brother wasn’t speaking to me. She had a meeting with us and asked him why. He said he didn’t want to talk to me because I was bad and I liked boys.
I guess you could say that that was the first trauma of my life. My brother and I fought about whether or not I was bad for more than 20 years until I finally had a heart to heart with him some time ago. He barely remembered the incident. And my mother? So many things happened between us over the years. She always treated me like I was up to something sneaky or bad, especially when it came to guys. She always treated me like liking guys or having guy friends was the worst thing in the world… And I always liked guys and had guy friends. I was tom boy sandwiched in between an older and a younger brother. How could I not like guys? I didn’t understand this theory that any guy who came close to you was trying to do something sexual with you, because, although I had had that traumatizing experience at eleven, I had also had very safe experiences with men throughout my life… I wonder if my mom told the guy who kissed me to tell me that he didn’t like me. I think I’ll ask her about it today. The guy eventually told me sorry…
It’s 9:30am and I’m meeting with my writing bud today. I have a writing bud. I said it in the blog post that I deleted. I absolutely Love her. She called me yesterday to find out why I had flaked on our writing meeting. I told her and she gave me encouraging words. I like the fact that she is naturally strong in the areas I am weak and vice versa. So I’m gonna get dressed in a minute so I can meet her on time and write my heart out and get back on track.
I want to say, though, the decision that I came to. About writing. About whether or not I’m bad. About my eleven-year-old self. About life and relationships. While my mom was trying to convince me not to share my business online, she said, “Maya Angelou doesn’t tell people her personal business” and I remembered reading or hearing somewhere that Maya Angelou had gotten raped as a child. It just so happened that someone on my social media posted a video of Maya Angelou talking about her rape, her first trauma, and how it molded her. I looked at her in a different light. You know, the people who know her know who it was who raped her. They know who the story is about. So why did she get in front of the world and share something so painful, something that could be perceived as so humiliating? People are going to judge her. They are going to think she’s dirty or diseased or bad or all manner of things. Why did she choose to share her pain with us?
I ask myself this question. Why did I choose to write and tell stories, and moreover, why did I feel it was necessary to share so many of my secrets with strangers? Truth is, there’s gonna come a day when I’m not gonna remember most of this. For now, I choose to write because I have to. It frees me. It’s really selfish. I’d like to say, “Oh, I want to heal the world and I want people to feel validated and know that they’re ok,” but that’s a byproduct. That’s a byproduct when people tell the truth. When people tell the truth, when people share in the ways they are inspired to share, when people choose to love and heal, it ripples out into the world. I choose to write because I want to live, and I want to be free…
And to my eleven-year-old self, I want to tell you, that you are good. I’m sorry so many sad things happened to you. It doesn’t mean that you are bad because you like boys. It doesn’t mean that you are bad because boys like you. And just because you and mom don’t agree on everything doesn’t mean she doesn’t love you. She Loves you, ok? But even if she didn’t, let’s imagine that she doesn’t, even if she doesn’t, it’s no reflection on you. You, my beautiful, are Golden, understand? You are Golden. Understand. We are grown-ups now and I am with you. And I give you permission to Love innocently again. I give you permission to trust again. I will find the people and the places to keep your innocence safe. I am wise now, my baby. I give you permission to share your Golden light with the world. I will protect you. I will keep you buoyed up. The world is not against us. I will keep uprooting all the lies until we can walk in truth and purity. I promise you, my baby. I will make a good life for us. We will forgive everything, even mom, so our hearts can breathe, and oh, my baby, we will open hearts along the way. Do you know how lucky the world is to have you? You are lucky. They are lucky. We are lucky. My baby, you are Golden. Understand…
Day 464
Eleven Years Old (And Golden)
I still can’t write. I’m gonna try this one last time. This is the third time. I think I’m gonna post no matter what comes out of me.
I can feel myself leaving my body. It’s a strange thing that happens. When I don’t want to feel stuff, it feels like my spirit just leaves my body, and I am here, a numb shell, moving through the world, but with no feeling. I try to come back into my body if I notice it happening. I’ll try it now…
Suddenly life is urgent. There is an urgency to get everything out of me, to tell everyone everything I need to say. To be honest. To express and share everything in me with the world. Maybe I am dying. Or maybe I am hungry for life for the first time ever. So much has happened in the past couple of weeks. I don’t want to write about that. I deleted the most recent blog I had posted because my momma said I should tell my business or my family’s business to the world. I had an existential meltdown wondering why I chose to be a writer in the first place and what’s the meaning of doing anything. I met a random predator guy at a coffee shop who told me that God had sent him to tell me to come back to the religion of my family and that it was my destiny to meet him and the he was supposed to be my husband and king. I fell out with my little sis over something small that had triggered the bigger issues we have. I stopped talking to most of my friends because I realized that most of our dynamics were me giving and them taking, and I didn’t feel like I had much to give, nor did I trust that they could offer me much without me agreeing to interact with them in ways that would be detrimental to me.
I found myself very alone in my apartment in the middle of Los Angeles, crying and shit every day. My writing bud and leaving the house helps me get a lot of work done, but when I go home, I crash on my bed for hours.
I realized that I am hungry. I have been hungry for some time without knowing it. I am hungry to live. I am hungry to express my full self. I am hungry to Love. I am hungry to trust and feel safe in the world. I am hungry to have sex. I am yearning to be fully in my body. I am hungry to be alive and to experience, express, create, and contribute what is in me while I have the chance.
I am tired of being pitiful. I am tired of being sad. I am tired of being under-expressed and underpaid and undervalued and under-lived. I am tired of bullshitty relationships where each person just cares about themselves and is fake and doesn’t tell the truth or share deeply with one another. I mean, I’m not gonna cut out the people in my life who have been there for me just because they may not be willing or able to express connection on the level that I am, but I realize that I need to have at least one person in my environment who is interested and willing and able to live full out.
This won’t do anymore. This sadness won’t do anymore. I am realizing that relationships are everything to me. I don’t know how I’ve survived so long, creating so many dysfunctional relationships.
It’s time to heal. Everything. It’s time to just tell the truth about everything. I know, everyone doesn’t want to hear the truth if the truth means you’re saying something they don’t want to hear. But if I express the truth with love, it will be received at the right time. I know it.
My life hasn’t been too good. I know it. But there is so much goodness in me. It has been hard. These past years of my life have been so hard. But aren’t you tired of hearing my sad stories? I’m tired of writing them. I hear that not too many people make it to this magic place where they have healthy, loving, honest relationships where they can be and express themselves fully; and where they are doing the dream thing that they want to do with their life, whatever that may be, and where they have more than enough money than they need. I hear that no so many of us are truly content with our lives when we go to sleep. I’m in this group. I have been trying to figure this thing out for some time. How not to cry every day. How to get to the other side of happy.
It’s not the outside stuff. It’s not the money or the accolades. It’s not even “having” the things you thought you wanted, like a man or some kids or a house. Those aren’t the things that bring happiness. You got to deal with what’s inside you. All of the broken pieces. All of the un-forgiveness. All of the unhealed relationships and bitterness. All of the lies. The resentment. The bitterness. The envy. The pride. The pain. It’s heavy. And for some of us, we’ve been carrying it around for years without even knowing.
You can’t make people like you. You can’t make people love you. You can’t make people be there for you in the ways they don’t want to. You can’t make them accept you as you are or even be kind or forgiving towards you. You can’t force people to take care of you. But you can take care of yourself. You can. You can take a good look around and a good look inside and see what you have been doing. See what you have been creating. See what you have been accepting. Right? You can be the kind of person you’ve been looking for. You can be kind. And you can be giving and forgiving. And you can be open and loving. And you can heal the wounds you’ve been carrying. You can. You can take care of the ones you love. You can offer Love in dark places and you can be so good to yourself that you make a space, that you go searching, that you make a point to find others who can give you what you need to help make this life worth living… You don’t have to keep crying. You don’t have to keep starving… The healing isn’t easy, ok? You’re gonna have to face your past. You’re gonna have to face the things your mom says that may still make you feel like shit. You’re gonna have to take a good look at the fucked up stuff that has happened in your life, many of which happened because you allowed them to and chose them. You’re gonna have to take responsibility for some things and there may be moments that you feel like shit and you feel like a loser. You’re gonna have to love the most shitty, weak parts of yourself and forgive yourself for all the silliness. But don’t you want to be free? Don’t you want to be happy again? Don’t you want to have that cloud in your head disappear at last?
I’ve had enough. It’s enough already. I want to be healed and free and live my life more than anything…
I’m gonna go now. Time to heal.
Mwa.
Day 463
Time To Heal (Hungry Heart)
Another poem I wrote:
Hungry Heart
Hungry hearts everywhere refuse to be fed.
Open up, dear.
Stop looking for water in acid pools
Know what you need and let yourself have it.
You have to let yourself have it…
Be patient
Be steadfast
And do your part
Open
Give
Forgive
Let go
And Grow
Harder than it sounds, I know
But you are starving, dear.
Let your heart be fed…
My computer is updated. My blog is updated. My computer got attacked by a virus the other day. I’ve had it for five years and it was our first attack. I had to update my operating system. Now my background screen is red instead of blue.
I logged onto my blog and the setup is updated, too. And me? Well, I got attacked, too. By all manner of things.
And here I am. Upgraded. I guess it had to be done. All manner of thoughts and emotions going through my head. All manner of change in this past month. On Friday, I started my first day as an Assistant Director on a feature film. It’s a leadership position and it’s the first film job that I’ve had in years. I was hired to clean up a mess of a crew and I was scared out of my mind before I started. I didn’t know if I was gonna have a panic attack. I didn’t know if I was gonna get stressed out and get sick. I didn’t know if my hair was gonna fall out. I didn’t know if my emotions were gonna stay stable. I didn’t know if I was gonna do a good job and if people were going to listen to me. But I took the job. And I went into work. And everything went ok. I mean, everyone was horrible, as expected, and certain people didn’t listen to me at first, as expected, but my ghetto girl stubborn background finally came in handy for me. I told everyone off. Yep. Told them I wasn’t going anywhere and we were either going to learn how to work together and help each other or the film was just gonna fall to pieces.
They couldn’t believe how crazy and bold I was. I was able to talk to them like that, because, for the first time in my life, I felt like I had absolutely nothing to lose, and so I was really able to be how I wanted to be and create what I wanted to create. It was a good day… They listened to me. I earned some respect. We will be moving on…
And today I am sitting at Coffee Bean at the same table that I sat at almost two years ago as I mended a relationship with Sir Deplier. I thought that he would be a great friend of mine and that we would work together to help each other out in life, but it didn’t happen that way. Instead he took me for granted, tried to use me, lied to me… I don’t blame him all the way. After all, I let him. I made it known that I was the kind of person that would give you something for nothing, even if you hurt me.
And I am sitting at Coffee Bean feeling ashamed and proud and thankful as I look at how far I’ve come. I am grieving the death of my old self. Since my last blog entry, I must have parted ways or changed relationship dynamics with at least four different people. They are all people who I loved deeply, but they were hurting me and they just wouldn’t stop and I couldn’t get them to see me as a person who needed to be Loved too. I had set up a pattern that you didn’t have to wish the best for me to be around me, and it was hard to break that pattern with these people. I didn’t completely throw them away. I told them they could come around if they were willing to play nice, but they haven’t…
I am sitting here at the Coffee Bean realizing that if I hadn’t let go of those people, I would probably be sitting in my house right now feeling like shit and feeling like no one in the world loves me. If I hadn’t let go of those people, then I wouldn’t have gone on Facebook, trying to find opportunities to connect with anyone who still believed in life, and stumbled upon the job opportunity which led to the job that I now have. I am sitting here at Coffee Bean being grateful, Allah. I think I’m finally growing into my own skin.
I don’t have much to write about. I have too much to write about. I’m not gonna tell you about my plans or the breakups that I experienced. I will tell you that it was hard. It was very hard to turn down an ex who wanted to plan a Valentine’s date with me when no one has taken me out on a date in a while and I’m bored out of my mind with no courters right now. It was hard to tell another guy he can’t come and visit me when he is the best hugger I’ve ever known and I’ve been needing a hug. It was hard to cut ties with My Kind when he lives right on the next street and has been my companion for over a year. But I had to shift these relationships. Because they were confusing and hurtful. And nobody knew what they wanted. Or rather, hanging out with each other was not leading any of us towards what we wanted. My Kind knows what he wants, but he doesn’t want anyone else to know because then that would make him responsible for his own life, and he’s not ready for that. And the others want me to be their woman, or at least their lover, and, as sweet as they both are, I don’t want to be with them. It doesn’t even matter why. I let go of three others, too, and it was hard, but I finally realized that they don’t like me. lol. I mean, they like me, but they also hate my guts and hope I fail at everything I do because they’re mad that I don’t want to be with me. I know. I asked them. Hehe. Ok, so I did tell you about some of the breakups I experienced.
I’m making it sound like it was easy, but it wasn’t. And I’m making it sound like I have arrived at some magical place in life where everything is all good, but I haven’t. I am still at the same place I was when I wrote the last blog. By myself in my apartment in LA. Unfinished projects. No man. A very handsome man just walked by… Something is shifting, though. Something is clearing up in my brain. When I went on the film set the other day, I recognized something. I used to hate going on film sets because people are so competitive and catty and mean to each other in that environment. But I realized something the other day. It doesn’t have to be that way. When I walked on the set, I realized that I was the only person bold enough to say, “It’s not gonna be this way. No.” I was the only one able to let them see the benefit of working together and being nice to each other. And that was so valuable. That was what they needed.
I am beginning to see that I am valuable, that all my life experiences and everything I’ve been through have brought me to a place where I have something good to offer to the world, and I’m no longer afraid to give it. I’m no longer afraid to have it. I’m just beginning to believe. I’m out of the fog some kind of way. Something in my brain has clicked and I don’t care about how hard it is. I’m going to fight. I’m going to reach out for help. I’m going to grow and develop myself and I’m going to do every and anything I can to be the Light and Love that I was sent here to be. I’m not giving up. Nope. I am going to be my fully actualized, Divine, fabulous self. I am going to live the life I was sent here to live, or I’m gonna die trying. I mean it. I am committed to that…
That’s all there is to it.
Ameen.
Day 462 – The Shift
Fear… Gonna work through this and then take some action. Need to send some more emails out… Kind of scared ‘cus I’m gonna be vulnerable when I write them. Don’t know how I’ll be received.
Love on the mind. Why is love always on my mind? You know, people say love is not important. Relationships are not important. To me, they are the most important thing. Everything we do in life is in relationship to one another…
I had a panic attack this week. First time in my life. If you’ve never had a panic attack, then you will feel like I did before I had a panic attack. “What’s a panic attack? No big deal. People just feel panicked,” you will think. It was the worst experience of my entire life. It was the biggest deal of my entire life, and I’ve dealt with a lot of things…
I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t think. My whole body started trembling. I busted out crying. All of my muscles hurt. It hurt so bad that I just wanted to knock myself out. I don’t drink or smoke, but in that moment I could understand why people get pissy drunk and smoke. It hurt so much. Nobody wants to feel that much pain. I had a project due and I couldn’t make myself do it. I thought I was losing my mind. “What if I’m crazy,” I thought. “What if I can’t do life on my own anymore? What if my brain doesn’t work anymore?” It was the scariest thing that ever happened to me.
I went to sleep so that I wouldn’t feel the pain. When I woke up, my muscles weren’t hurting as much, but my body was still tingling and I was still having a hard time breathing. I called my mom. I never call my mom when I’m going through stuff, so you know I must have been feeling really bad. I called her and she prayed for me. Maybe someone put a hex on me, she thought. She asked me to pray over my house and throw away things that certain people (people who probably hate my guts) gave me. Normally, I rebel when my mom tells me to do things like that, but I was so desperate that I just did what she said.
Strangely enough, after I had thrown everything out, I could breathe better. I wanted to finish my project on time. It was such a great opportunity. I had to sit down and take a good look at myself. “What are we gonna do? What are gonna do, Laydie, if our mind has broke? How are we gonna live?” I told myself that I was going to tap into everything, every single piece of me, everything I had learned my entire life… I was going to use every single part of me, all of my willpower. I was going to reach out to every and everyone I could think of. I was going to pray like I’ve never prayed before and open up and make myself available to more guidance than I’ve ever received. I was going to allow myself to be helped and loved. I was going to integrate all the classes and lectures and books I’d ever read. I was going to absorb every truth I’d ever heard into my body. I was going to do everything I could to finish this project by this deadline. So I called my friend who’s a therapist, and he stayed on the phone with me. He helped me do some processes and breathing exercises so that I could get off the bed. He asked me what I was afraid of and if I knew anyone who could protect me so that I could focus on my work instead of having to fight all my demons by myself. And there was no one. There was no one present in my life who was strong enough to fight the demons I was dealing with. But there were some people, who were not exactly active parts of my life, but who had protected me in the past, and who I thought, if they knew what I was going through, they would be willing to protected me now and champion me so that I could live.
It’s funny when I thought of this. I also realized all of the people who claim to love me but don’t have the guts or nuts to stand up for a beloved. I can’t get mad. Everybody’s not a jedi… I imagined that the people who I thought were willing and able to protect me were there, keeping the demons at bay, slaying dragons, while I did my project. My therapist friend called to check on my every fifteen minutes, and if my breathing wasn’t right, he helped me get back to normal. It took everything in me to finish that project, but I finished. Afterwards, I collapsed and slept the rest of the day.
I had never used that much energy in my life. The next day I spoke with my sister, who’s a doctor. She said I had had a panic attack. She told me the sobering truth: I had been sick for over a year and I had experienced some major traumas that I’m only recently dealing with. It may take a while for me to heal completely. But then she told me something encouraging. She said that even if I never return to 100% functionality, that my 50% is a lot more than many people’s 100%. I don’t care about being better or worse than other people, but I realized something. For the first time in my life, I had given my 100%. I had tapped in to everything I could. I had never done that before. I think, even when I was at 100% health level, I mostly stayed at about a 20% giving level. Things came easy for me, so I just didn’t have to give !00% to function. So if I’m at a 50% health level now, but I’m giving my 100%, I’m still giving more of myself than I’ve ever given.
I was really proud of myself for finishing that project. I felt like a spell had been broken somehow, and I could now get on with the rest of my life. It’s so crazy how we are all trapped in so many bubbles. I have been in a mental cage for so long, and for the first time I can see the electric fence around me, and better yet, and I can see the way out of it. As the saying goes, I asked for strength and God gave me difficulties to make me strong.
There is a difference between wanting a thing and being ready and able to have it. Whatever it is you’ve been wanting for so long, do you believe that you can have it? The types of relationships you want. The career. The money. The peace of mind. Do you believe that you can have it? If you don’t, then start there, because if you don’t believe you can have it, then you will have a hard time holding it when it comes.
I am planting seeds of faith in the fertile soil of my subconscious. I can have the life of my dreams. It’s not a dream anymore. I can have it. I open my mind. I open my heart. I can have it. I can be the woman of my dreams. I have to be her. I am choosing to be her, no matter how hard it is. I will be humble. I will let all the pride fall off my shoulders. I will be vulnerable and kind and forgiving. I will allow myself to be seen and accept my power, no matter who thinks I’m weird or too much or too little or too whatever. I forgive myself, even if people want to hold on to resentments and throw spells at me and not like me or judge me or whatever. I am choosing to be quite all right with my beautiful self even right now. Even when I’m at my worst. Even when I’m at my best… I am tapping in to my brilliance and reaching out for helpers and lovers and support. I am seeing who is friend and who is foe and I am choosing to not even mad at the foes, but just recognize what the relationship dynamics are and make choices accordingly. That’s it. There is no giving up on me anymore. Nope. I am going to be my own hero, but that doesn’t mean that I have to do this alone. It means I’m going to find people who can journey with me when I need it and I’m going to find people who I can give love to as well, because that’s a part of it.
It’s time to stand up. It’s time to save my life… Ameen.
Day 461
100 Percent
Can I pour my heart out to you?
I just want to pour my heart out for a minute. I just did something so wonderful. Oh, it’s a really small thing, but it feels so good. I Loved someone today. I gave someone Love and kindness when I could have been very mean to her. My heart is overflowing right now. I am so grateful to be alive and to be a grown-up and to finally be healing and living…
So, I’ll start with this morning. I went to bed super early. Around 8:30. And so I woke up super early. Around 2:30a. I did all the stuff I love to do when I’m alone. I prayed. I meditated. I planned out my day. I wrote in my journal. I read my daily quote from this new love book I’m reading, read a few pages from my Oneness book (which I read over and over again), read a few pages from Think and Grow Rich (which I’m reading/studying for the first time), and then I listened to a recording from this online course I’m taking about Feminine Power and stretched while I was listening to the recording.
I know. I’m doing a lot. What I’m really doing, though, is building a foundation for my new life. I thought this blog was about how not to cry every day – me just trying not to be sad. But what it has become is a journey towards self actualization. It has become a grand adventure to heal myself and live the fullest life that I can imagine. And so I have been taking the opportunity – before I become someone’s wife and before I become someone’s mother and before I go back out into the world and do any kind of work or contribute anything – I have been taking this opportunity to clean up my blessed act and get myself together and really become clear and strong about who I am and what I want to be doing with the rest of my time on this Earth.
So I’ve been reading a lot of books. And taking a lot of courses. And literally cleaning up my apartment and doing things to heal my body. And checking out what I think and what I believe. And working with my therapist friend so I can figure out why I have panic attacks at the most inconvenient of times. And getting used to my mind and my body at their functionality level now. And practicing forgiveness. And learning to be ok while sitting in this apartment without a gosh darn man and without anybody validating me from the outside. And I’ve been testing myself to see if I am ready for this world again. I’ve been trying to see if I can take a dance class till the end without stopping (I can’t yet). I’ve been trying to see how I deal with stress (my body still starts trembling everywhere). I’ve been seeing if I’ll die if I let a man close to my heart and let myself be vulnerable. I did and tadaa! I’m still here. Got my heart broken by My Kind and found out that I won’t die and I can actually do stuff in life even if I’m all by myself.
And it hasn’t been easy. In fact, it has been very, very hard. It is still very, very challenging for me to dust my boots off and take a step towards the destination of my dreams when there is absolutely no guarantee that I won’t try something and have a melt down or that my body won’t just give in when I think it’s supposed to work and people won’t be looking at me all crazy or that I won’t meet some fabulous guy and fall head over heels only to have him leave me or betray me or tell me that, actually, he really doesn’t want to be with me, but I have a big booty, though… smh… It has been hard to not have the kinds of friendships and relationships that fill you to overflowing when I know that these kinds of things are possible. At least in my mind they are. It has been lonely, and there have been moments when I have wanted to curse God and ask him why he made my heart so big if there is no one who will receive the fullness of my love and see me for who I truly am? If there is no one strong enough or deep enough to put their arms around me that I may know that I am safe…
It’s been hard, y’all. But today, a little thing happened that was so sweet. So, I started this course on feminine power, and at the beginning of the course, we have to set an intention about what we want to create. The teacher gives eight life categories (they happen to be similar to the eight life categories that I learned in my last course) and you pick one or two to focus on in the course. I picked relationships and career/prosperity. Other possible categories were health, deepest desires, spiritual connection, legacy, fulfilling your calling, and authentic experience of self. The teacher takes you through this meditation to help you discern which category is resonating and calling for attention the most. So after we pick our categories, we go through all these exercises, and eventually, we define what we would like to experience, express, create, and contribute in our category, and we write a statement about our intention.
Then we examine what our life pattern is in relationship to our category. For example, my pattern in relationships has been: I meet some fabulous guy. He pursues me. I play hard to get. The minute I open up to him/make myself vulnerable/tell him I love him/do something kind or giving to him, he becomes unavailable. Leaves. Disappears. Starts being mean or holding back. OR I meet some fabulous guy and he doesn’t even consider giving me the time of day and instead gets with some girl he doesn’t like. OR I meet some fabulous guy and of course he’s going through a divorce or just lost his house or has some woman(en) that he’s trying to cheat on.. In other words, He’s unavailable. And then men who I never want to be with ask me to marry them every year… So that’s my pattern. Don’t judge. I’m not proud of it, but I had to tell myself the truth so I could find the place where I can grow.
After you find out your pattern, she takes you through an exercise where you find the belief that you have about yourself, the other, and the world, which may have been causing or validating this pattern. My deep rooted belief was that I’m not wanted, men are liars, and I can never trust anyone and let them see my true self. Then you look to see where your behaviors have been validating and creating experiences that reinforce the belief you have. What I had been doing with men, is that the minute they act like they want me, I reject them. Shoot them down without a thought. Second nature. If I really like a guy, I’ll frown at him and be really guarded. It’s so silly when I think of it. And I’ll be so mean and judgemental and punitive when a guy has a flaw that he will never feel safe telling me the truth about things I may not like. 
I took responsibility for my behaviors, because those are things that I can change. I can actually open up instead of frowning when I like a guy and he likes me. I can accept his gifts and let myself feel wanted. I can not try and punish people the minute they do the smallest things. I can be kind – but I’m getting ahead of myself.
So in the course, after we identify our behavior patterns, she takes us through this lovely meditation where we unite the part of us that holds the damaging belief with the part of us that is strong and wise. We tell ourselves the truth about ourselves. I belong and I am wanted and valuable… The exercise was just lovely. And then we start to change our behaviors and show up differently in the world from a foundation of the new truth seed that we have just planted.
So anyway, one of the things that I wanted to contribute in my relationships was that I wanted to be able to create a space where people can feel safe to be and share their true selves, flaws and all. I wanted to contribute nourishing love and comfort and support to someone.
And this morning – There’s this young woman that I order health products from online. She’s super ghetto and her life is a mess. She has a crazy live-in boyfriend that she calls her husband, even though they never got married, and two children. She about 27 years old. She’s beautiful and hardworking and every now and then when I see her post stupid stuff online, like “I want to be a polygamist” or “women are supposed to serve their man” right after her boyfriend has posted some abusive rant, I want to snatch her up and hold her. And break her boyfriend’s knees.
Her products are great, but her customer service sucks. Recently, I made a large order from her. I asked her if she was sure about the delivery date in advance and she promised that I would have my products by a certain date. On the date I was supposed to get them, she sent out a fake shipping notice, but never shipped the items. A week after I was supposed to receive my items, I told her that if she hadn’t shipped them, I want a refund. She broke down. Told me about her life. She was struggling. Had fled her house. Was going through a divorce with her non-husband. Her business wasn’t doing well. My mean self wanted to give her a lecture about how we still need our products and we all have problems, but I didn’t lecture her. I don’t know why. At some point, I got my order, but it was incomplete. -_-
So this morning I was messenging her about my incomplete order, and I also wanted to order some other products from her. I placed the order, and she thanked me for continuing to patronize her even though she had such poor customer service. And I thought about it. I thought about lecturing her about her poor customer service. But I didn’t do that. Instead, I told her how great her products were. I told her how many of my friends I had gifted with her products when they couldn’t find any other products that worked. I told her how her products had helped me so much. I told her that I knew that sooner than later, she would get her customer service act together. And I told her that she was valuable. I told her that she was treasured. It was what she needed to hear. I know it. And I was so glad to be able to say it to her. I was so glad to be able to use my heart and contribute Love and Kindness…
It’s been a good day so far. My heart was just so full that I had to share. Thank you, God, for blessing me with such a sweet moment. Thank you, me, for being such a sweet thing.
Have a good day, y’all.
Ameen.
Day 460
A Sweet Thang
My flight leaves first thing in the morning. Back to LA.
Heartbroken. The people who love me are here in the south… Heartbroken.
My Kind is still over there, separate from me, holding resentments, keeping his distance and saying everything is “fine”. My neighbor still hasn’t said sorry for using the spare key that I gave him to come up in my house and take the airbed he had let me use without telling me, only for me to come home at night and find no bed to sleep on and for him to text me saying, “Why you trippin’ ma? You got everything you need.”
My life in Cali is pretty lonely. I am by myself over there. And I have friends and family there, but the quality of my relationships there is much different than the quality of my relationships here. My relationships here are open and free and authentic and sincere and honest and so Loving. There is no such thing as holding resentments and being fake. We just get mad at each other, tell each other what’s wrong, fight each other, say sorry, and then get over it over here.
So. I am going back there, though, because Lord You keep telling me to go back to that God forsaken town and finish what I started. Lord, Lord, Lord…
Someone asked me to marry him. An old friend who I haven’t seen in ten years. He remembered so many things from our youth. To hear him tell it, I was an awesome woman. I was really nice and kind to him and he remembers everything I did. He said I used to sing him songs when he was sad. I remember… It seems like lifetimes ago. I said no. I told him I wouldn’t marry him. I don’t know why. I just didn’t want to, to be honest. I don’t like the fact that he loans his family money and keeps tabs on every penny. Or the fact that he was really concerned about what kind of car I drive and what neighborhood I live in in Cali… I just didn’t want to marry him, to be honest. The reason doesn’t even matter. Something in me knows that I wouldn’t have a happy life with him. I see a headache when I think of him and handcuffs. Even though we have awesome chemistry, the thought of being his woman does not excite me in any form or fashion…
If I may tell the truth, I’m kind of stuck on My Kind. I’m stuck on everyone who doesn’t want me, aren’t I? Something in me doesn’t want to get over him. He’s not so extraordinary. It’s just that I really Loved him a lot. He was good enough… A strange thing is happening to me. There will always be better men than the one you have. There will always be better friendships and deeper bonds. But sometimes, you find something you want to hold on to. It’s good enough. It’ll do. It’s tough for me to be so far away from him. It’s tough for me to be going back to Cali tomorrow, so far away from my mom and my brother who stays up till the morning talking to me… It’s tough for me to be starting life on my own.
And it feels like I’m starting life on my own. It feels like I’m starting life again. Starting over again. This is different than all the other times. This time, things are on purpose. I see what I’m doing. I know what I’ve been doing – being caught up in a cacophony of relationships, avoiding doing the things I’m here to do. This time, I know that entertaining my friend’s marriage proposal is a trap. I even know that letting go of My Kind and really letting go of all my dysfunctional relationships and/or demanding that they change is the act of faith that is necessary to move forward… I wanted to hold onto something, God. I’m just a little tired of temporary relationships. I wanted to hold onto something. Do you understand why it’s so hard for me to let go of My Kind? For the first time in a long time, I met a man that I wanted to hold onto, and I thought he wanted to hold onto me, too. I still think he does, even though he’s not acting like it. I know his heart is pure and golden. He’s just confused about a lot of things…
But let him go I must, You say. So… OK. OK. OK… This time, I can see all the fears in my mind as I embark on the greatest adventure of my life – the trek towards living my destiny. I hear the voices telling me how lonely I will be and how hard LA is and how I won’t be able to do things on my own. I hear them telling me that something’s wrong with me and I don’t know how to pick a good man and I’m too picky and no one will ever understand me. I hear them saying that all the men and other people who I didn’t give what they want are against me and trying to sabotage me. I hear them saying that I’m crazy and this whole thing about having a destiny and a purpose and a mission in life is hogwash. I hear them telling me to just give up these grandiose dreams and just do normal stuff. I am too old, the voices say. Compromise, the voices say. I could get My Kind’s interest if I played women games, tricked him and acted like I really thought that him only giving me 5% or less of the love he could give was good enough for me.
I hear the voices… They are all lies. They are lies. They are lies. I do believe that if I want to make it through this time in my life… If I am going to go back to this city of angels and do what my good Lord has sent me here to do, then I’m going to have to Queen up. I’m going to have to look all these voices in the eye and call them Godforsaken liars, even though I have no evidence that anything else is true for my life. Even though I have no evidence that I can create the kind of life I want all by myself, I’m going to have to step out into the world and get to the business of creating.
OK. OK God. Patience, integrity, passion, peace, acceptance, power. Kindness. We will cultivate these qualities. We must learn how to see past the voices of our past and lean into the Truth of who we really are… Is it true, God, that in this moment I can begin again?
Is it true that I don’t have to listen to any of those old voices? I can choose to have faith? Is this what faith is? I do believe that this is what faith is. I’m not stopping. For the first time in a long time, I’m committed to something – myself. I am committed to living the life that I am here to live – I am very clear about what that life looks like. I am committed to being a powerhouse of Love and Light on this planet. I am committed to the evolution and the transformation of my life. That’s it. Final answer. I don’t care how scared or sad or hurt I get. I am committed to moving forward, God and I ask for Your Grace and Guidance as I take one step at a time towards freedom. I accept your Grace and Guidance as I take one step at a time.
One step at at time. And so it is.
Ameen.
Day 459
On Queening Up (One Step At A Time)
Can I tell you what I love most about visiting family? The kids. My nieces and nephews. They are so innocent and loving. They make me forget about the cold life in LA.
I’m in the dining room at my sister’s place down South. My older sister. It’s 1:03am and everyone else is sleeping. And my niece just came downstairs to check on her clothes that’s in the dryer. She saw me, but she didn’t say anything. She just looked at me and smiled the sweetest, most loving smile. Unguarded, trusting, loving. So beautiful.
Are the children the only ones who can do this thing? Love so openly? Share so freely? Say sorry when they hurt you and move forward with Love? My family has some deep, Loving souls in it. They’ll heal you with just one smile. This is the kind of Love I’ve been hungry for. Does it only happen in families? Can friends and lovers be like this, too? I’ve been missing this kind of love: filling like Southern food. Unpretentious. Forgiving. Accepting. Open. Honest. Strong. Backed by action. Intentional. This is what I got from my mamma. I learned how to Love.
We haven’t always seen eye to eye on a lot of things, and we still don’t see eye to eye on a lot of things, and her love has often come accompanied with manipulation and control (stemming from her fears). But underneath everything, there has always been this deep thing going on, this wonderfully deep Love.
Happy New Year. I came down South five days ago so I could spend the new year with my mom. I’ll be back in LA by the end of the week. I haven’t been here in two years. This city. This state. This environment that shaped my formative years. I am far away from where I came from in every possible way. My mom is very involved in the religion that I grew up in. She volunteers at the worship center, takes classes about the religion, does all the prayers, studies the holy book, listens to religious songs and speeches all day, and mostly makes every conversation a lesson about religion. I can’t even get mad at her. I guess I’m becoming the same way. I just have a different religion now.
What can I write about? I don’t have much to talk about. Just complaints and gossip. I fell out with My Kind again. This time because he didn’t ask how I was getting to the airport for this trip and he didn’t see me the night before I left, even though I wanted to see him. I realize that everyone doesn’t do these things, but when I’m with my family, we do these things. We never take taxis or buses to the airport. There is always some family member dropping us off and wishing us farewell. There is usually some family member with us the night before our trip helping us pack. Every family is not like this. Everyone is not like this. I get it. But why not? Why must we live our lives so cold and so alone? I got mad at My Kind because he used to be like my family. I got mad at him because he thought of taking me to the airport and coming over to help me pack, but instead he booked his entire night up and made sure he spend the night somewhere else, just so he could defend himself in case he asked to come and hang out with me and I said no. I got mad at him because he has been withholding so much love from me lately, and when I confront him about it, he acts like nothing’s going on. The sad thing is, I don’t even think he’s aware that anything is going on… Sigh…
I read this in Michael Bernard Beckwith’s book called Life Visioning: “Many relationships remain in seed form; they don’t sprout when there is detached withholding, withdrawal, manipulation, or control.” My Kind is withholding much from me and he has withdrawn from me. And I could play the woman game and get him back, but not without being out of integrity with myself. I could pretend like it’s ok with me to have bullshit superficial relationships, and it is ok with me in some instances to have bullshit superficial relationships, but with him? No. It’s not ok. I Love him. Even if the way we relate to each other changes, it’s not ok for me not to love him. But I have no control over him loving me, and if he chooses to hold back love from me, if he chooses to betray his own heart, there’s not much I can do, is there God?
So what is there to write about in this new year? Besides sad stuff? I kind of want to write about sad stuff because so often we run away from sad stuff. We don’t want to hear about it. We don’t want to deal with it. We just want to leave our pain and resentments and sadness festering beneath the surface and run off to some busyness, as if the sad stuff goes away just because we don’t look at it. It doesn’t go away. It doesn’t. It just grows and grows until it affects your posture and it takes away the light in your eyes. It stays in you until your hair starts falling out and your muscles start hurting from being so tight and guarded all the time. It weighs on your feet and makes it so hard for you to move forward. The sad stuff doesn’t go away until you deal with and heal it.
And everybody doesn’t do this kind of thing. I get it. Everybody doesn’t care about healing everything. Everybody doesn’t care about going deep and mending relationships. Or at least parting ways with the energy of Love. Everybody isn’t as affected by things as I am. But I am affected by things. And I do care about healing everything. Somehow it seems necessary for me.
-People will not understand the urgency. People will not see you as you are. They will not understand why I’m up late at night writing a blog instead of going to sleep. Because I need to get free. You understand? These sad things are like hooks in my back, weighing down my wings, and I need to get free. I need to fly now. I need to get free, you understand? It is not a want any more. It is not a namby pamby wish. It is a need. It is the only thing that sets my soul on fire – the thought of being free. The thought of walking the Earth without these heavy, sad things weighing me down. The thought of smiling just like my niece did tonight and sharing my world so innocently and purely.
And I don’t want to say everyone is wrong. I don’t want call everyone bad and blame everyone, you understand? I just don’t want to anymore. Everyone is doing the best they can, and we are all blind in our own ways. I want to forgive everyone. I just want to. I don’t want to hold anyone hostage to my thoughts anymore. I want to be free. I want to see things as they are. I want each day to be a true new day, not colored by the hurts and fears of my past.
You say it is time today. We have done much work, but this is the big one. It is time now to be free. We can do it today. We’ve been building up to this our whole life. We can make this moment the moment we are free. Look at the sad things. Just look at them. Don’t run from them anymore. They are hooks in your back. Unhinge them. Forgive. Forgive. Forgive. Tell the truth and forgive. It’s time now. You see, you have come here on a mission. It’s not the same as everyone else’s mission. But your mission, baby, it requires a clean heart. It requires a vessel healed enough to host all the Love and Light that is your gift.
It is time to stand up tall and with all the strength in your heart, let all that shit go. Pull the hooks out. Let. That. Shit. Go. Get rid of the judgements. Do life different now. You know how. You know how, mamma. Let others live their paths and love them. Love them. Love them. Love them. Let your powerful word be laced with kindness always. It is time to be yourself now. You are ready. Straighten up your back, meet the world with your heart, and set yourself free… Set yourself free. Set yourself free…
Ameen.
Day 458
Freedom Songs (On Facing Sadness)
