Monthly Archives: August 2016

Every event has brought me here 


The past week has been a challenge for me. Triggering events from start to finish. The last time I felt like this I was on the verge of a breakdown. That breakdown was avoided by paying attention to the signs and finally heeding the advice given to me for years and years: meditate.

When I did just a 5 minute meditation everything changed. You can read all about it here (and then stay for the guided meditations). I was able to transform a breakdown into a breakthrough.

Gawd, that sounds cheesy.
The truth is I was able to exert some amount of control over my life. I allowed my heart let go of some of its fears. I felt some of the natural insecurity subside. And everything started to become so…open.

I’ve done a lot of thinking recently about the walls I’ve built up around myself. The lack of dating. The refusal to engage flirtatiously with someone. The counter-intuitive pulling away if someone accidentally gets too close. But that refusal to dream big is far beyond just relationships and potentials. It’s how I’ve chosen to see my calling. How I’ve perceived my own personal power. How I’ve advanced my own dreams. I temper everything so either I don’t disappoint anyone or so I don’t have to experience disappointment either.

In this journey over the past 6 months, I feel like that openness has expanded beyond what I’ve ever achieved before. I can see and feel so much. And in so doing I’m starting to draw people toward me again. By reclaiming my passion, I’m able to give voice to a power within that has been cocooned away healing its wounds over the past few years.

I’m not a stranger to trauma. I’ve had more than my fair share over the past few years. It’s not fair and it’s not right. But the worst of it was in 2012. While there were a few noteably amazing things that happened that year, it overall was a devastating year. It was the last time I was able
to trust anyone or anything. Because even though I passed the bar that year, I was being torn apart by grief. Grief for an abusive brother (yes, you can grieve abusive people too).

Retraumatization showed up in so many forms compounded with heavier forms of secondary trauma thrown in. It had an impact of everything–from insomnia to flashbacks, to uncontrollable crying, to an inability to have sex at all. I really couldn’t function at all after the bar exam. To the point that i even injured my knees and ankles and have trouble walking for months. My body was reflecting my inner world.

This journey to where I am right now started when I was at my lowest then. When I thought I would never feel again, a few days before my birthday I had a dream that allowed me to believe that I would recover. That my soul would come back to life. It was so visceral and so real that 4 years later I can still feel the presence and subject of that dream in my everyday life.

So, let’s call that presence “The Druid”.  Let’s say this presence has been growing in my  awareness since that dream. Wild and controlled. He is an image from another dream years ago. He a priest of nature and me a priestess of love. Committed partners but both with the freedom to honor the organic connection that is created between people.

So since that day 6 months ago, it’s like this Druid spirit has been growing in influence in my life. I’ve been growing more weary of making my life conform to anyone else’s standards. I’m willing to honor consciously discussed agreements for my partners, but no longer willing to hide behind the walls. The Druid spirit calls me from behind my walls. He calls me to build myself back up again.

Every event that has happened to me has been for this: to find a path to rebuild and renew myself. Every obstacle in my path has been to get me closer to my true self, to find control over my surroundings, over my destiny. Everything as been to gain insight into who I really am–without the chamelon skin and delayed wishes.

It’s felt…big…all this time. But I have been impatient for results. And after having one of the hardest weeks on the job I’ve ever had, I took some clear time for myself.  And honestly it has been about savoring the sweet joy of being present in the moment. To sit on the back porch at night feeling the breeze around me. To allow the sensations of life to permeate my life on a deeper level. To be completely emotionally open and honest with Warrior. All of these have been acts of radical self-love. A level I never thought I would achieve.

The lesson here is: Fear not for your path, my friends. Listen to the whispers in your heart, follow the light offered to you. Those whisper, that light and your trust– They will lead you home.

Dusk 

Tonight is about my truth. My whole self out on display, unedited and unfiltered (let’s call it mildly filtered to be safe). This is the part where I start writing and don’t look back.

It feels like fall here these past couple of days. Cool thunderstorms and mild nights. The sounds of crickets during dusk reminds me of growing up in Pueblo. Nights like this were state fair nights, where I could hear the sounds of the midway join with the crank and bounce of low riders up ass up into the air. We lived half a mile away, so the sounds would keep me up at night just like Christmas. We would walk to the corner at starlight and watch the fireworks that would go off at the end of the rodeo. The whole block would watch. And I’d hear the crickets chirp between the bangs of launching rockets. 
It meant summer was over. 
And what a summer this has been. National tragedies like Orlando and the shooting deaths of black men by the men in blue sworn to protect them. In a year already punctuated by the deaths of our heroes and fallen comrades in authenticity, we are at a turning point. Where we go from here will matter so much more. 


Tonight I am sitting on the back step inside the house. Smoking and drinking a glass of wine. My wine cup is stupidly simple because it’s sturdy and makes me feel luxurious in a down-home, could-give-a-fuck way. I picked 4 of these up at Ross or something for like $2 each. But I love it. It’s corny and vintage and it’s all mine. 

I really like the idea that things belong to me. Help define me. Are a part of my identity. So why do I choose polyamory? Because it’s more like a feeling that this person belongs in my life not that they are possessions that I hoard. They contribute to who I am. They have a thread of importance that stays with me throughout my life. That pieces of us will always reside in each other. 
Even when that hurts like hell. 

I’m exchanging messages with Husband about what kind of pizza he wants. I’ve given up on cooking today. I had a kid therapy appointment and an EMDR session for myself. Hence the smoking. And the wine, I guess. 

All the while I’m deciding not to worry that my menstrual cycle is off or address the jealousy I feel at the birth of a friend’s baby. I’m a monster, I know. But I put off hanging another baby until I “addressed my health issues” and with my youngest now 12 years old I feel like I missed my chance. 
My cat, Starbuck (or her psuedonym: Princess Fuzzy) is peeing in her box right next to me. It’s disgusting and oddly cute because of how much she trusts me. I don’t sleep well without her nearby me, so I guess you could say I trust her too.
The boys (Husband, Warrior and DistractaMonkey) are watching the Major League Lacrosse championships. I stepped away because I found myself yellin at the tv and fuck me, I’m not one of those moms. 

So, I smoke, write on my tiny screen, and drink. And think about all the ways in which I am totally not ever going to turn into my mom. 

 

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