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good morning x forever.
i hope that every one of my
âgood morning!âs steeps you
in my careâ
that you feel submerged
often enough
to start each day
with the daily reminder
that you are worthy
of consistent love.
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receive.
your care makes me feel
beautiful
profound
divine
worthy
full
whole
abundant
free
liberated
boundless
endless
infinite
seen
heard
valued
celebrated
nurtured
loved
like I could fall into
an ocean of your love
and never drown
but rather
come up with even more
breath in my lungs
who knew that was even possible?
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blessing.
May the sunshine follow you
Warmth embrace you
And Light keep you
May fear disband in your presence
Courage rise once again
And Resilience name you
May Hope find you
just as you need it
right when you need it
And above all else
May Love hold you
Tenderly
Deeply
And always.
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11:11
weâre talking
after days of distance
itâs 11:11
and I canât help
but let my mind wander
dream
about what could be
what we could be
someday maybe
itâs 11:11
and somehow
âmake a wishâ
doesnât seem so silly
of a phrase.
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7.2 / not meant to be.
i miss you
but thatâs not enough,
just because we miss people
just because we want something
doesnât mean itâs right
âi miss youâ
is not a valid justification
for unwise action
and yet
all i want to do
is exchange loving embraces
you in mine
me in yours
so long
that i forget
how to count secondsâ
what day is it?
i want to close my eyes
and breathe you in
feel your breath
your heartbeat too
the warmth of life
coursing through your arms
but every hello
must also be a goodbye
and every âi love youâ
must stop itself just beforeâ
shit
full and whole
and yet somehow
limited
how to love someone
within bounds?
one day
iâll fall in love
and i wonât have to
hold my breath.
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prayer of wholeness.
each day i pray
for something to convict me
and something to encourage me
for something to break my heart
and move me towards action
and for something to line the shattering
with Hope and Love
i pray for all that is necessary
to get me to the next point
in my journey
i pray for moments of weaknessâ
that i may be humbled
just as i pray for Strengthâ
that i may recognize Godâs own Power
and my own Resilience,
with this i pray also
for spaces to be held
for hands that hold
for hearts that love
for people to walk alongside,
El Roi
may i see with eyes that acknowledge purpose and necessity in every gaze
i pray for Wholeness
for Fullness
and everything in between.
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how to begin againâ
every day that i wake up
and decide to try again
is a sacred moment
may God remind me
every time I transition into consciousness,
that the small moments
are not small at all
that every time
i choose to try
is Strength embroidered with Grace
a space for God to show me
how God will show up with me
time and time again
and each time
is an act of Resilience
an embodiment of Faithâ
and nothing less.
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2016.
âget upâ
she says
âyou donât even do _____â
when did she
get so bitter?
when did her words
become so accusatory?
âyou know youâll pick up
even m o r e weight
from eating late, right?â
i knew what i was doing
how could she think
i didnât know
what i was doing?
i already felt badly
about my bodyâ
about the stress eating
does she know
how much it sucks
to slowly hate
the way you look?
every glance in the mirror
accompanied by a wince
but no strength to make a change
âyouâre sure doing a good job
of showing how much you love themâ
he mutters
doesnât he know
how much it hurts?
how difficult it is
to love someone so much
and somehow
have no love to give?
do they know
how much it hurts to lose
the ONE person in your family
who really SAW you
who loved you tenderly
do they know
how it feels to know someone
who took their own life
at the same time
you almost contemplated
taking yours?
they will never know
what 2016 did to me
or how it broke me
simply because
they
will
never
ask.
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the weight of trauma.
some days my heart feels like lead
and my spirit like bricks
cut the cord
take a knife
to
the
chainsâ
donât you know
that this dull blade
canât cut through steel?
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reflection 1/3.
I think the Tieren situation frustrated me so much because it brings up the fact that I felt like my power was surrendered and I hate that. Like the whole sexual liberation thing was MY quest to allow MYSELF to claim MY sexual FREEDOM and get better and not feeling shame for itâto gain POWER in my BODY. And then itâs like some dude takes advantage of me during a time where I am vulnerable and it feels like he took that power away...like he tainted MY journey, tainted MY quest. What was supposed to feel like a BIG celebration and LIBERATING journey made me feel SMALL.
It reminded me of how I was set to start my journey of reclaiming my time at the beginning of junior yearâof doing all the things I was too afraid to do, to love myself, and to more fully lean into what God and the world has in store for me.
How my junior year felt like brokenness but in all the right ways because I truly encountered my brokenness with authentic, deep healing and how senior year felt like all the engagement with brokenness without the healing.
My senior year I struggled with feeling like my journey of reclaiming was robbed from me. When that situation happened with me and my fam where I exploded it made me realize that I felt like my childhood was robbed from me.
When that situation happened with Tieren it felt like the third time in a year where I felt like I had been robbed of something that was rightfully mine. That someone/other people/some outside force took from me the right to health and wholeness. That someone/other people/some outside force tainted something that was set to be liberating but instead felt like being smothered.
I think thatâs why as I moved through 2019 my childhood feelings of pain and sadness turned to pain and anger. I was mad. I was mad that I had felt taken from. And in some ways maybe that comes from a place of privilege for believing that such grand ventures were mine to claim or being too optimistic that I could ever have a journey that was much more beautiful in my head than it had played out. Whatever the case is, I think I thought that what I needed was the freedom to do whatever when what I needed was the freedom of validation.
That yes my validation should be rooted in God and myself. But I also reject the gross individualistic idea of brokenness just as I do things that are closer to the other end of the spectrumâlove and community. If I truly believe that brokenness and pain should be a collective thing, that we are binded by this thing called pain. What is so damn wrong about believing that we are all binded by needing each other for validation, kindness, tenderness, empathy, and love? What is so freaking wrong about being just as hopefully expectant of the solidarity that comes with brokenness as I am with the solidarity that comes with love?
But yeah in addition to the ârobbingâ feeling I have also felt like I have been âexternally halted.â As in, I felt like here I was embarking on my journeyâwhether that was reclaiming my time, leaning into my sexual freedom, etc., And then some people, some external actors, came in with behavior that threw me off track. And it made me upset because it seems like people arenât aware of/donât care how their actions can impinge on/affect other peopleâs journeysâwhich then again feels like Iâm being robbed of a portion of my story and journey.
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thank you/ê°ìŹí©ëë€
and I know how weird this sounds...
but when I get nostalgic it isnât always about the big and momentous of memories, but more often than not it is the little thingsâthe things that perhaps I did not even feel was particularly special as I experienced them in real time. it is with this context that I say these words:
I miss the smell of wet dirt from clean rain, pitter pattering on the tree right outside my window and the now, mud belowâthereâs dirt here in Seattle and it rains a ton, but when it rains in Maui it doesnât feel quite the sameârain sounds different when it falls on a bed of earth instead of concrete (smells different too). I miss those cotton candy clouds and those skies of fire, somehow they never seemed ordinary even though thatâs exactly what they are back home. I miss the warmth on my skin and the thrice too beautiful golden hourâthat was my favorite part of day (still is). thereâs something about the way that gold feels in your lungs *deep inhale*âit was my favorite time to walk Lucky. *sigh* I miss that dang doodle dog. I miss the sand beneath my toes (sometimes too hot to touch!) and the cooling essence of bright, bright blue ocean waterâthe salty sea softly kissing the shore. I miss the homemade Korean soups left lingering on the stove topâêčìčì°ê°? I miss the daily dog snuggles and laughing at Snapchat filters with Makeila and Kuponoâomg we looked at this one yesterday how is it t h a t funny again? (did I mention that kids kinda make my head do swirls but that I still love em anyways?). I miss the good conversations with ìë§ and ìëč , especially the days where the good ones outweighed the badâwhen jokes made the jury stand, and yelling and slammed doors did not. I miss closing out a conversation with Solana saying, âIâll see you in 15 mins!â because long distance friendship was temporarily a concept unknown. I miss all of the fresh vegetables from the farmers markets (we are a sprouts and radishes stan account, I donât make the rules!), the fresh kombucha, Hawaiian/local food (real pokĂ©!), sushi (with fresh Ahi/tuna,,,,,oof), açaĂ bowls (with lilikoi butter!), hurricane fries (and popcorn), rainbow shave ice (with vanilla ice cream and a snow cap), turkey/avo panini with a side caesar from Kula Bistro, crepes and a Mediterranean platter from CafĂ© Des Ami, eggs beni and freshly baked pastries from La Provence, and anything Solanaâs mom is making......mmm...........To be home for a day, a good day, where there is relational peace, sun shining, laughter cascading in the ripples of the warmth, gas in the car, a towel in my tote, and lots of lots of tasty food otwâwhat I wouldnât give. longing for home brings on a certain sense of guilt for me. to long for a space that presents such a mixed bag. but today...today I do not want to think about the brokenness and the strain, the tears and the pain, the battles and the scars, and everything that made me want to leave. today, I pay homage to the good. ì ìŽììŹ ê°ìŹí©ëë€.
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free.
rigid structure tethers chains to breath
what danger comes from suffocationâ
that tasting liberty may cause for an eruption of the unruly and unhealthy
to finally allow the tip of my tongue
to taste sugarâ
a frenzy of binging ensues
funny how
freedom gives wings
to much needed self-control
i am in need of a compromiseâ
one characterized by guided freedom
an acknowledgment of the both andâ
a liberation that sets me free
but letâs me know where to return home.
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late night decisions.
if you ask why
itâs because
it was safer
to miss him
instead of you
because at least
i was sure
that he was longing
for me too.
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organic bloom.
i told God about you
(it was a meeting worth praying about)
i thanked Them for your existenceâ
you showing up in mine
have you ever felt deep gratitude
for the chance of intersection
how could this crossing of paths
be anything but a Divine gift?
have you ever seen a whole garden
thriving by accident?
it reminds me that you shouldnât have to try so hard to love someone or something
we may not be romantic soulmates
but i cannot deny the beauty
of seeds that unintentionally
and effortlessly
find their way to the ground
and bloom there.
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self-compassion â> men
Iâve learned to stop being so hard on myselfâto give myself more grace, more self-compassionâthis doesnât mean that I donât get to have self-accountability, but it does mean that I get to acknowledge the crucial role of context.
What does this mean for me? A variety of things.
One of the areas of my life that Iâve learned to apply this to is my relationships with men. I fully recognize that trustworthy, kind, tender, loving, and respectful men existâhell, I have come to gain extremely meaningful, platonic relationships with incredible men. With that being said I think I also owe it to myself to take the time and space to recognize the painful and undesirable experiences that I have had with men. I owe it to myself to pay respects to the parts of me that were/are impacted by the hurt that I felt/feel.
Do I get to acknowledge my own shortcomings in my experiences with men? Yes. Do I get to take the easy pass of blaming men for everything and anything? No. But I do get to have self-compassion for the ways in which I chose to move forward from and with my pain.
You cannot tell a womxn to simply have grace for a man mistreating her. You cannot tell a womxn that it was just a one time eventâthat his actions in that one moment do not communicate something bigger. You cannot blame a womxn for having trust issues when her previous partners have cheated on her. You cannot tell a womxn that she is âjust jealousâ when her previous partners coveted other womxn, compared her to other womxn, and made (passively) negative comments about her body.
How can you tell a womxn that she âjustâ has to trust a new man her life (platonic, romantic, and/or intimate) when her past experiences emerge from the shadows like a familiar and unwelcome predator?
I had agreed to sex, I wanted this, this was me taking control of my body and sexuality. When I was more sober we agreed to protected sexâI was adamant about this. I did not want the risk of STIs/STDs and pregnancy. I remember becoming very intoxicated, slowly fading off into unconsciousness. He asked if he could slip the condom off, I refused repeatedly. Did it not feel good enough for him? Was my earlier ask of protected sex not good enough? He continued to ask. After a while it felt like too much energy to resist, I caved in to stop the talking. We continued. It felt good right? âI wanted to have sex,â I reminded myself. It was over before I knew it. He pulled out before he finished, thank God.
I gathered myself from the bed and my clothes from the floor. âDriving back home is gonna be so long, I couldnât even imagine doing that right now,â he said, half sorry, half seeming to want me out so he could go to sleep. âIâll walk you upstairs.â We hugged. He kissed me goodnight, giving me a playful squeeze and a cheeky side grin. I smiled and walked back to my car. I drove home, still pretty fucked upâbut this was more than just the alcohol and weed. I felt weird but I didnât have the words for why.
A couple of days later he asked to see me again. I had already felt the chemistry fading days ago. I had gotten worse at texting back. I wasnât even gonna go to his house the other night but I wanted to know if the physical spark was really leaving.
He hit me up 2-3 times in the same week that followed that night. He eventually grew tired of my flip flopping. Doesnât he know that I am not horny at 4:30am? Doesnât he know that Iâm tired? Doesnât he know that I feel weird about Friday? I tried to message back with a sorry for seeing his messages and not replying. He had already unfriended and deleted me. I did leave him on read three messages in a rowâmaybe I just dropped the ball.
Soon we were strangers. A week later I was visited by a wave of anxiety, an irrational fear of pregnancy. He did pull out before he came right? I just...canât remember clearly. What if there was pre-cum when he went in again unprotected?
November was a month of me sitting on my hands as anxiety sat on my chest.
Thanksgiving weekend I got my period. I had never been so excited to be PMSing.
The processing came later in wavesâright before I fell asleep, first thing in the morning, on the bus, at work, when I was walking around a building. I couldnât have been taken advantage of...could I? He was a good guy. A man of color. Well-loved by the creative community. Full of smiles and talent. The internal dissonance was HELL.
My journey of sexual and body liberation had been interrupted and tainted by another outside of my body, a man. I had set out to take ownership of what was rightfully mine and instead felt that I had those things TAKEN from me. After a difficult year of pain and rising through the mud by work of intentional healing, all of my strife seemed negated. Lost. Discounted. Thrown away.
How can you tell a womxn that she âjustâ has to trust a new man her life (platonic, romantic, and/or intimate) when her past experiences emerge from the shadows like a familiar and unwelcome predator?
Trust me when I say that I am trying to learn how to trust men in my romantic and intimate life, that I hope to be able to depend on a man in the future. Trust that I am doing the work to move through my past pain and experiences. I am learning how to have self-compassion as I continue to carry my burdens. Please do not interfere with my journey by offering your âhelpful adviceâ and âwell-meaning wordsâ if you are not willing to extend to me the same compassion that I have identified as necessary for my growth and journey. The word âjustâ does not make my burdens feel lighter, but rather invalidates the weight that it imposes upon me and other womxn who share this common narrative.
I do not choose hatred of men, but I do choose compassionâa lens that gives me the time and space to figure out how to âjustâ trust again.
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heart check-up.
does your breath feel light, heavy, or somewhere in between? do you feel safe? do you feel free? is your heart in the right place? does your spirit feel at rest? is your mind thinking, reflecting, creatingâare you inspired? are you having fun? do you experience joy in its fullness? do you feel heard, valued, seen, and loved?
speaking these affirmations over you today: you deserve a life that makes you excited to get up in the morning. you deserve compassion. you deserve open and loving communication. you deserve healthy and whole relationships (with others, but also yourself). you deserve to laugh when you are grieving. you deserve self-patience as you journey. you deserve the agency to revisit and revise. you deserve feelings of fulfillment.
i say to you tenderly, firmly, and wholeheartedly: i.am.glad.that.you.are.here.
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