.your self-proclaimed Eden

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You once told me that you no longer recognized me… 

Distaste spilled from your mouth as if this was a truth I should somehow have found shame in. But I knew better. Finally, I knew better. 

For you see, I am still me. It’s just that when we were together I was made a little more of “sorries” than I was of myself. 

 I was little more doormat than backbone and I was little more a weed in your garden of self proclaimed Eden than I was a beautiful, blooming wildflower. 

You said that I changed…. that I was no longer a person you once considered loving. Words designed to cut me to the ground beneath your feet; where you kept me so neatly trimmed for all those years, instead it fell as sweet liberation upon my ears. 

You were right. I was no longer the same reflection you once threw your scraps of love at. But not because I am someone else now. No. Because I finally became the me I too long let wither in your ego’s shadow. Because finally I stepped into the light and let myself bloom. I am me. I always was me. But finally, I am now JUST me. 

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.underneath

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You ask me where I come from. What I’ve done. Where I’ve been. Who I am. 

I could write about my childhood…. growing up in a household with parents who don’t know what love is. With siblings that follow suit. I could tell you about the endless days and nights where I cried alone in a dark room hoping for an end to my own misery; learning the ins and and outs of lies and manipulation. My journey of raising my younger siblings alone and trying to educate them so they have a chance at a decent life…. or how my drive to be better than the life that was set up for me. I taught myself everything I know. I learned what love was by loving and nourishing others. That’s where I come from. 

Where did it lead me? Into the law binding marriage of an emotionally and physically abusive man. Into the home of another shade of ugly that disguised itself in religion and tortured me behind closed doors. I didn’t believe that I deserved better. Not after all I had been through before. 

The next rut was just as ugly with out the exterior bruises as proof. Manipulation and emotional abuse that ripped me to pieces….

You want to hear the struggle? About my endurance and drive? 

You want to know what makes me tick? How I managed my way through life and how the hell I’m probably the happiest person you know?

Well that’s just it… I’m happy. Because I choose to be. I had no reason to be for the first half of my life. I’ve changed my perspective and I’ve embraced life. I’ve walked away from the toxic waste that loomed over me for so long. I’ve built bridges out of trust and communication. I’ve formed relationships out of love. And I’ve learned to love myself. Scars and all. 

This is me. My past is just that. It is not who I am. Or who I have been. It just was. It was a chapter in a book that was burned. One I’ll never open again. One I’ll never revisit. One that lead me to emotional turmoil… and eventually to peace. 

Peace. Such a lovely thought. It seems impossible to some. But the secret to it is acceptance. Acceptance of the ugliness we have all carried at one point in our lives. It’s acceptance of failure but also acceptance of who we truly are. How beautiful we are. How magical we are. Peace is alive. It is an attainable blessing that comes from making a simple choice. 

That my friends, is who I am; I am Peace. Don’t ask me where I come from as if it reflects who I am today. I am who I am today because of who I choose to be each morning. And that is where I come from. I come from the beautiful acceptance of beauty and love each and every morning. And that too, is who you are. 

Namaste 

.time

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Time is a funny thing. It keeps me up at night. It speeds me through my day. It stresses me out and I never seem to have enough of it. But what is time, really?

Why does it dictate my life the way I allow it to? Why do I dread looking at the clock only to rush my way through the day? 

I sit and think. And think and think. 

I’ve been told to embrace each moment as if it’s the last. Hoping that tomorrow will make more sense and that life will pan out…. in time. But tomorrow will soon be my yesterday. And my yesterdays are full of hope for tomorrow. Today will soon be yesterday too…. What did I get out of it aside from a muddled memory of running through the rat race of life? Will the moments add up and finally click for me? Or will I continue to work to live and live to work in this rut I call independence? 

I appreciate the small things in life… a child’s smile. The warm windy breeze. The sound of waves crashing. The warmth of my blankets. I appreciate the kind gestures of others. The way my chest sinks when I can make someone else smile. The feeling of a warm embrace. It is those moments that have filled my life with joy. They have outweighed the uncertainties. But I can’t help to question why. Why do the little things mean so much when the negative seems to come in waves of destruction? 

How is it that my stress levels can bring me to my knees in tears yet a simple song can remove the pain? A kiss on my forehead or a hand run through my hair?

The questions keep coming and I have yet to find the answers. Maybe I will in time… but again, what is time? 

.then to now

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Going through the words, poems, stories and memories that I have recorded on paper over the past few  years can make my heart tremble at times. The pain that drenched so many of my days still lingers silently in the background of my mind.

Inside of me:

Every moment, every day
navigating through; trying to find my way…
lonely sidewalks calling,
they all know my name
drenched in sorrow, sadness and
a tangled unnamed shame…
Every thought I process
another turn in this lonely game.

My words were so heavy with sadness, confusion and pain…. I remember looking at myself in the mirror not recognizing who I was behind the fake smiles that I wore most every day. 

Reflecting on those words makes me that much more grateful for where I am today… As impossible as it once seemed, I have found the light at the end of my tunnel and have made peace with my past and my pains. My journey is far from over and I’m sure there will be more hurdles…. But my heart no longer hurts as it did before. My soul no longer longs for anything more. It took years, it took patience, it took strength and it took more soul searching than I could have ever imagined, but after a long battle of confusion within myself, I found light.I found peace. And I am finally free.

Now, on to my next journey…


 

.escalate your mind

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High tide
Purple mountain
Revolution pride…
Dirty water
Smokey skies
Transcending into time…
Walking through the rivers
Elevating minds
Take the time to escalate
All it is you find

Lonely sidewalks sliding
They all know my name
Traveled on before hand…
In this never ending game
Roaring waters pushing
Bouncing back in time

Crimson clouds
Passion that seeps
Bones that ache
And feet that break…
The heavy load you’ve carried
About all you can take

Don’t lose faith in what you don’t know
Don’t hold back…
Let yourself grow
Expand your mind
Your soul, divine
Illuminate the darkness
That has crept in over time…

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.i’m not sorry

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Someone close to me recently pointed out how I apologize for things that are both in and out of my control. He pointed it out often, until I started to notice myself… Yesterday I counted 42 times before the day was over. Why am I so sorry? Truth is, I’ve been programmed to wish I was better and could fix all of your problems. That I am less than… That I am not enough unless I can fix your problems… The world’s problems. Truth is: I can’t. And I should not be sorry or disappointed when I can’t. Because that is reality.

Sorry not sorry
I’m not sorry… Truth be told
That I can’t help you when you don’t want to be helped
I’m not sorry that I was in your way when you chose to walk in my direction.
For not living up to your expectations…
I’m not sorry for that either
I’m not sorry that I can’t buy you happiness or give you all I have worked so hard for.
I’m not sorry that my opinion is different than yours
Or that I enjoy my music loud and powerful in the car next to you
I’m sorry not sorry for smiling at you when you are in a bad mood
I’m not sorry for getting offended when you say something stupid
I’m not sorry for calling you out when you are being naive
When I told you that you needed to wake the hell up and appreciate what is in front of you, I’m not sorry for that either
I’m not sorry for dressing the way I please
Or singing my way through the grocery store
I’m not sorry that I get overly excited over things that are insignificant to you
Those are the things that make me happy
They don’t have to make you happy too
I’m not sorry for not knowing how to do everything the right way
For making mistakes, I make them often and I’m not sorry for it
I’m not sorry that you can’t find your pen. Or that you are having a terrible day because you stubbed your toe this morning.
I’m not sorry that I have feelings I can’t explain.
And that I don’t know how to express them, I’m not sorry for that either.
I’m not sorry for crying when I need to cry.
Or for distancing myself when I need space to think.
I need what I need. And I am who I am. I am not sorry for that.
I am grateful for you… Being understanding, but not sorry.
One thing I AM sorry for, is that I had become this person who was sorry for existing unless it pleased you. She is gone now.
I am not sorry for being me. At all. I enjoy being me. Mistakes and all. I might be empathetic for your misfortunes but I don’t take the blame and I can’t be sorry for being who I am. I do my best to be the best me… This is all I’ve got.
If you choose to stay either way, I’m grateful. Sorry not sorry

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.broken toys

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The little girl who grew up too fast
Always picking up the mess after others…

She learned to be a servant first
And not to forget to wear her plastic smile
She played with beaten down toys
And grew up surrounding herself
With broken boys
Always hoping to fix them…

She didn’t realize until it was too late
That the fixing wasn’t for them
That she needed someone
Who wasn’t broken like her
She found though, that no one would put her as priority
As she did the broken boys…

With no one to clean up her mess
She wiped away her tearful memories
And questioned the massive amounts of fears
Questioning her own sanity
Digging for more truths
Of the unconventional reality
That was bestowed upon her roots
The broken down girl
With her head in her hands
Wanted to feel secure
In herself or anyone else that wouldn’t
Use her for that plastic smile
And for her servant perks
For a moment to cherish and feel cherished
For a moment to prove that there is more to life….
And once and for all to throw away her tear stained strife.

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