Angels · connection · Remember · soul

I Met A Stray (Twin Flame)

So I met a stray. More like he met me. His tragic accident cracking open our ancient connection. Felt like we had always known each other. Lifetimes ago reflected in this immediate recognition. We had always know of each other. For this was absolute.

The promise of wholeness, never yet realized, in our glances soul deep. The most intriguing of wanderers. Beckoning me to live deliciously, gate wide open. He felt expansive, this stray. Roaming the back alleys and dimly lit corridors of my heart.

I offered my heart willingly. With no care but blind trust. For in return came psychic connection, honor and dedication driven by forces larger. Much larger than ourselves. An energy strangely familiar – like blue electricity, supercharged and exhilarating. Remote viewing, lucid dreaming, visions, Clair-cognizance, clairvoyance the newest gifts.

So high I was. Like a runaway train. Breathless foot chase through crowded streets. Dizzying, bottomless highs. Out of bounds, out of body, higher. I spiraled. We filled our empty spaces, drinking from this supercharged fountain while unknowingly foraging for and excising ancient wounds. Fears and insecurities darkness and unhealed trauma ushered in.

The Stray, a catalyst of transformation. He could not be owned, relied upon, trusted, or changed. Yes, such a beautiful soul energy underneath the rough exterior. monstrous life lesson. An excruciating, scarring chapter of lie down on the train tracks despair.

A lesson I needed to look into the eyes of. The Stray was the perfect currier. Of loss so great, my tender, protected heart ripped and spilled out. Leaking everything held close and hidden. Everything awesome drained out as our human lessons came to the forefront.

Our insides turning outward. As he began to pull away. Run. Hide. Deny connection. Deny it was anything but attraction. The Stray simplifying that which was set to unseat his darkness.

Our eyes meeting was almost too much to bare, ripping into each other. Danger, danger Will Robinson. Visual electricity igniting the wick on old wounds waiting for expression. Triggering my every sad story of not good enough, being invisible and objectified- I was just an entertaining, energetic plaything. The deepest most profound disturb as he began to pull back. A psychic, well wisher, a tender hearted cheerleader.

Aloof and unaware, I attempted to wake the Stray. Insistent that he see what I saw. He HAS to. But you, Stray, clouded by narcotics and years of bad decisions, owned nothing but the present moment. Floating, attaching to rocks on your path but always one foot untethered. Breaking away suddenly, like it meant nothing at all and was normal to have SUCH A RELATIONSHIP.

Leaving devastation/heartache in your path. Blind to the worth of the connection. Fucking blind. The possibility of transformation, until the connection was lost. You just scratched the surface Stray. Taking a lick and reserving buy in. Never totally selling out, never totally opening up for the demons awaiting expression.

The Stray likes to tread water, not deep dive. Even when the amazing is at your feet…the aloof sets in, comforting sleep and you’re off running again. Shattering hearts that feel something more. That are willing to open to both painful and moving truth.

Strays are best honored from afar. The trap is reel. Like a trout that circles the hook, rubbing on it, smiling, smelling, present but careful to contain/conceal their desire for fulfillment. Stray, you were a master at running and not being seen, never getting caught, owned – greater than the desire to stand and feed your primal hunger. Hunger to be whole. You’ve lost your appetite.

So I do honor my Stray. This vehicle of unbeknownst divinity. For opening my eyes to self love above all else. For never again will I love someone more than I love myself. That is dangerous. Keeping all my goodies close, never again reaching outside of myself to merge with those who are unavailable. You taught me that my dear Stray.

Lowering my expectations of others and filling my OWN holes. YOU taught me that, my dear Stray. Not looking for external fixes. That too. Not desiring others to be any diff than who they are, to reach out of THEIR comfort zone and rescue me. Lastly, I learned to honor another’s slumber and not wish for them to excise their demons they cannot see and/or may deny.

So with fondness and gratitude, Stray, you have a beautiful Spirit. My wish for you is for YOU to see what I saw. The magic, the energy of healing wisdom, the essence of unconditional love and pure reverence. If just for a brief moment. Through the pain and pleasure I was most absorbent, healing and expanding into myself. Although I rarely think of you today Stray, if/when I do, you will always be remembered with the utmost respect and honor. Forever in my heart, Sir.

acceptance · anyways · awareness · Celebrate · Change · Comfort · gratitude · healing · healthy · heart · human condition · Human Spirit · inner work · Joy · listen · Manifest · Moving On · old patterns · persevere · presence · Reframe · Satisfied · See · self love · self talk · soul · Thrive · trust · Uncategorized · Universe · validation

Retiring My Emotional Armor

Yesterday was an emotional day for me. The purging hurt so good. The death of an antiquated pattern, shedding my dumb-suit. My beauty radiating blissfully from under the decaying camouflage. Reflecting on how different I am today. It hit me hard. Like my heart was cracking open to love – love for myself. Continue reading “Retiring My Emotional Armor”

abuse · trauma · triggers

Just A Shell

Born into a family of dysfunction, I navigated my world the best I could, hoping to be loved, cherished, valued, held and heard. Instead I was met with disregard for my life, repeated, long-term invasion of my body, my innocence, violence disguised as love, safety/security masquerading as control. All at the hands of my parents and male siblings. I was doomed. A shell of a human. Existing in the dizzying cycle of being tossed around in the surf of life – only occasionally able to take a full breath, surface. Pieces of my personality chipped off, the tide taking them far off, away.  Never feeling the ground beneath my feet. Becoming dead inside, broken. Accepting the abnormal as normal. As violence, invasion came over me again and again I became familiar with rage. The rage that was growing inside of me. Rage that would never be recognized. Undercover. A secret rage, thoughts of revenge that would bring a sweet, savory smile to my perfect little-girl face. Continue reading “Just A Shell”

inner work

Deep-Rest

The deep sadness that comes in. I let it in because I know it needs to be met. Seen. Heard. Somehow it feels familiar like a stranger that I keep meeting up with. I don’t want to know this part of me. I’d rather believe everything was fun and alive and innocent. Back then.

But no. This is real. Real deep. Real helpless. The horrible despair. Grasping to live. To feel. To be someone else. Have someone else’s childhood. Where are my memories? Did I have fun here? I think as I sit in my car overlooking a fav ice skating place. Did I enjoy it? Was I numb? An empty smile, laugh. What did I like?What was I like? Just an empty vessel filled with others thoughts and wishes?

Did I express my confusion? Did I cry myself to sleep? Why so few memories? Feels like 18 years condensed into 2-3. Was I even conscious? What’s in there? Who’s in there? The code was one of silence. I never expressed anxiety, terror, depression, frustration, rage – did I even know I felt those? Could I even feel? now I do, now I feel – overwhelmingly so.

The mind fuck, staggering. Did they purposefully place the dead inside me? To make sure I was so hollow? Not quite sure…maybe they were dead too. Definitely. I was absolutely raised by the dead. Nobody’s gotten out intact. No-one. But rather than be ok with that or find comfort with company – there’s none. They have their own BS meters. Mine is ultra sensitive. My soul wants better for me. I won’t continue to be bathed in untruths and stories of how wonderful childhood was.

Every once in a while I hit bottom. The lowest of raw emotion. Like all of my childhood experiences run up to me at once, begging to be rescued, clutching and clawing to be seen and heard. The least I can do for my inner girl now is to be present and let the unsettling memories and emotions have me now.

It was that bad. It was hopeless. Instead of wiping myself out I wiped out any expression of what as going on. I had no tools or support to process what was happening at the hands of those who were supposed to keep me safe. Victim? Absolutely. Staying that way? Absolutely not. I’m raising MYSELF from the dead.

I’ve turned the tables. My life now unrecognizable from what it was. But still, the past has a way of bringing us the next piece, when we’re ready to deal. I must be ready for the deep despair, the gut wrenching loneliness, the what’s the use of going on – type of heavy thoughts that fuel my desire to take the day off and brace for the all of emotion.

So I take the day to rest. Deep-rest or depressed, however I say it, I am surrendering my armor. Surrendering. My fake smile. My escape hatch and eject button. I stand up, stand tall and withstand the unwanted-est emotion, the triggered memories, the bullshit life in poverty and love lack. I just rest.

Deserving

Aliveness is never Cancelled

Hopefully we realize

before regret grows us old

that we’re crafting

our own existence

not to be consumed

with impressing the others

with shiny somethings

or silencing our soul’s whisper

with cunning substance

for status and financial gain

as none of us are

getting out of here alive

although I believe

in life after death

much work is required

to be alive before death

to the greatest extent possible

let’s together realize

the simplest existence

an appreciation for things

without a price tag

Nature, feelings, memories,

love, touch, taste, smell, sound

shall we be #1

in no other area

than our own well being 💜

resilient

Flip Side of Healing

I would have denied it had someone told me this 20 years ago. But with eyes wide open now I clearly see how healing your traumatic past, without a doubt, fucks your life. The tragedy of healing is the cascade of eventual loss. It takes years to materialize…The falling away of everything as you knew it. The crumbling of excepting things at face value. The dismantling of living an “as if” life. The loss of what was once tolerable.

Truth has a way of rendering you lonely. Busts up your friendships. The people we’ve surrounded ourselves with are our friends/family for a reason. They’ve allowed us to play small, safe. Supported the same ole same ole you. But we were never meant to be stagnant, unchanged smallish beings. Unfurling from our childhood wounds, we stretch and grow in ways we couldn’t see coming.

This makes our closest people, well, squirm. Like underwear that slips up your asscrack every once in a while – you keep it around because it’s familiar, the material is soft and you’re too lazy to go out and replace it. You make peace with the constant irritation. Same with your friends/family, they may be the underwear or they may be like you, wearing the irritating version of YOU.

In my experience, people are generally adverse to excepting anything different than the present version of you – what they already know you as. If they went along with the newer parts of YOU that would mean they’d have to change THEIR ways also and that’s prob going to be met with kicking/screaming. So once you grow, there some of them go.

Enter deep healing…As we unravel our structure, a stranger is born, outgrowing the familiar. Our voice heavy with truth may be seen as righteous and self serving, bold and threatening. Finding and using our “voice” no longer renders us selfless and complacent. This is the price.

This is the the fucked aspect of healing…at least initially. It’s ok that not everyone shares in our revelry. Not everyone will be overjoyed that you are healing and growing, especially those inner circle folks. As we’re walking through the fire they’re hurting and groaning – and you’re to blame for their discomfort. Your presence awakens the creatures, usually dormant, in the caverns of their unconsciousness. 100% not going to travel deep with you.

So as you’re trying on all these new tools of self awareness, having needs, opening your heart, exercising personal boundaries, on your journey to greater sanity- it will feel mean. Super mean. Self reliance, honoring self, intuition and listening to the drive from your higher self to UNFUCK your life are NOT what we were taught.

Your “closest” people will resist and act like you’re killing THEM, doing something TO them. Getting healthy, doing the right things for your own mental health ripples out to everyone. Your people may get angry with YOU as they’re going to feel the waves of your higher vibration which will make it tougher for them to hold against their own darkness. Facts.

This is the lifelong challenge of healing childhood trauma. Navigating our path while creating a support system around us that doesn’t irritate our soul or dampen our Spirit. THIS is how we unfuck ourselves. Healing does have a difficult twist in the early stages. One of tremendous loss. Of great sadness. Of isolation. Of self doubt. As we lose who we thought we should be. All part of the process. All necessary on our self healing journey.

gratitude

In Love # 19

I’m in love with toasty bonfires. Snuggly warmth to share. Staring, wide gazed, fixed eyeballs absorbing the weight of the show. Front row for the crackling symphony. A golden dance holding space for presence. Gently. As we accept the invitation to let down, let go.

We surrender our frozen parts with certainty. Trusting the blanket of heat. A wish for renewal of body. spirit. mind. Allowing the heat to singe the unwanteds, yet cradle the keepers of soul likeness. Right now we so desperately need to dance like careless flames on forgotten felled trees.

Gather friends and tribe as plumes of crimson, tangerine and canary glow in the arms of darkness. Illuminating both shadow and light at once, we voice our intentions for prosperity, peace and perpetual blessings. I’m in love with toasty bonfires.

Spring

In Love #18

I’m in love with sprouting seeds. Beginnings are special and cause for hope. Sleepy heads popping out of warmed soil. Met with squeals of excitement. Beckoning their silent promise of coming attraction. A possibility of radiant blooms for gathering quite a useful visual and olfactory delight.

Hope may have escaped us in 2020. Underneath it all we are the sprouting seed. The seed dependent upon light, love and the promise of improvement and growth. Hiding in darkness, waiting and trusting in the universe for the continuance of our existence.

Sprouting seeds of green, yellow and purple unfurl and remind us that we have innate inner wisdom. A knowing. Each sprout a unique expression of divinity. A fresh start on the journey to fruition. I’m in love with sprouting seeds.

healthy · heart

Check Engine

If you have a car you are familiar with the CHECK ENGINE light. If you have a body you might also be familiar with the same kind of warning. The warning might come in the form of swollen joints, fever, chest pains or any other sign there is a security breach of wellness – inside your castle.

The early warning beacon, letting you know that you need to go in for service. Probably skipped that last service appt as things were going well. Why fix what’s not broke? 2 weeks ago my CHECK ENGINE siren went off in my chest.

I awoke with chest discomfort. A cramp of sorts that I just could not ignore. It had been less severe during the week but this was different.

Of course, I fast forward to my funeral. Have I made a difference? Will anyone miss me? When will my heart stop? Will it hurt? Then, the pain disappears just as quickly. Relief. But will it return? Will this be it?

As I wait for my appointment, I live my best life, wondering if each hour could be the last. Waffling between panic and satisfaction, I carry on. For the next 3 days I reflect on my life, how I’ve been able to bust up my FOO (family of origin) and continue to stand tall atop the rubble.

I am flooded with pride, my love for myself spilling from my pores, a purple mist entering my heart space. A healing mist, mist of comfort and knowing and grace. Angel’s exhaled grace holding my heart in tender appreciation.

I’ll be fine. My heart is fine. Scarred? Yes. A thorough exam and stress test reveal normal function. A beautiful, typical pitter-patter. Nothing wrong they say. My heart whispers, “there was never anything wrong with you.”

My check engine light is off for now. I resume normal function. Listening to my body, everyday. Slowing down to take notice of my needs. My self heal modalities cued up. My toolkit brimming. Self-talk extremely important. Ready for this to happen never again.

anyways

Steamy

The usual walk into work. Breathless, no minutes to spare, still swallowing the last of my morning tea. Bags and baggage rolling down the icy, brown, salt stained sidewalk. My work cart trailing behind me. Announcing my morning arrival with quite the ruckus.

So little of the snow covered path visible to me because, well I CAN’T really SEE where I’m going. Mask up to kiss my glasses. They meet and conspire to steal my view. Then this voice, this smugful tone rises above the sound of wheels on crunchy snow. “You only need to see what’s in front of you” ok gotcha!

The wisdom comes when you’re not looking for it. Like a dog that appears out of nowhere for a scritch-scratch, reminding you to slow down, be present or some other profoundness. So, only see what’s right in front of me huh? Ok, got it…so I can’t spend any time thinking about the what if’s tomorrow, next week, next month, next year?

Nope! I am to stay contained today, in this space, in this me moment LANE. I am thankful for this reminder. I am thankful that I know to heed tiny messages such as this. I am thankful to know that if I don’t, the message might not be so sweet the next time. I know this. D

Irritations always get our attention. We wish to choke them out as quickly as they show up. But don’t. Their message comes from a higher place. We might not notice the message if life carried on seamlessly. But the piss-me-offs? Just like that annoying person at work… always keeps us growing. Happy Friday everyone!