Mother

Mothering

This pic reminds me that everyday we are brand new like a fresh Spring morning.

Every year, I’m a stranger. An imposter in my own life. Who am I to not love my Mother? How dare I? On a day devoted to the devoted. The selfless and emotional pillar of the family unit. Who tf am I to not be honoring and swimming in the love and gratitude so many feel?

Or do they? Media would lead you to believe that everyone has/had a fairytale Mom. The loving, doting and encouraging Mom. The – I got you – Mom. The way these Mother’s Day cards are written… selling the story of perfection, sweet caring and unwavering love.

My guess is that a little truth and authenticity sprinkled amongst these card stock fancies is in order. I mean, come on! Just close your eyes, hold your breath and add your John Hancock. When your childhood experiences were not in the love basket at all, these well meaning cards can be triggering and upsetting. Card after 8$ card. Sparkles, music, hearts and swirling fonts.

Wouldn’t a little REAL give permission for aliveness and much needed deep breaths? I’d like to design cards with reality in mind. Illuminating the humanness in relationships. The struggles, the lessons, the growth, the separateness – all crafting something beautiful. An imperfect end product. A beautiful mess.

“ Mom, I know you did the best you could and I honor your Spirit for that” “Mom, even though it’s been tough, know that I have learned so much from our relationship” Mom, thank you for bringing me into this world for the opportunity to do great things”.

Even when (especially when) we don’t have a relationship with our Mom – and or it is tumultuous – we gaining valuable insights. We become seekers of truth and who we came here to be. Because. Because we kind of have to. Because the pain is huge. The scars of not being seen, heard, validated, honored and cherished as a child are ever reaching. This is fertile healing ground for a Wisdom harvest.

This is the gift. To ourselves. The quest for wholeness. Without support from the most obvious source, our Mother. For whatever reason that source may have dried up or was never available. Or love was a trick or a performance in front of others. Whatever the situation. I don’t think I am alone by any means this Mother’s Day (or any other day)

We can live and honor and nurture each other. Anyways. There are so many of you in this same seat. I feel you. I see you. I support your mixed feelings on this day and everyday you feel like you’re missing something you think every other person has. They do not. I think many people have a high tolerance for trauma/abuse. Keeping them loyal to that which insults the rest of us. My tolerance is low which is why I chose to live and remain separate. And sane.

Every Mother’s Day I write a letter to myself. Expressing my gratitude to my higher self for never giving up on me. I talk about the partnership and unconditional love I have for my body, my mistakes, my humanness. I’ve got my own back. This is where I MOTHER myself. Turns out I’m very good at it. I suspect you all are too. Happy Mother’s Day to the amazing Mother in you.

Human Spirit

Owners manual

This girl. Right here. Should have come with instructions. She was born to rip shit up – perceptions, control, guilt – I shattered all of it – leaving the abusive family patterns in rubble. Why? Well why the fuck not? I was not made to keep quiet, guard the family secrets, keep the elders happy, drink the sweet tea to further rot my soul. They didn’t read the manual.

Hell to the NO. I was created to shake shit up and not to look back. Blazed trails to connect with the divine without the devil’s influence. And alone mind you – nobody followed, no one was willing to take the chance that this was the way out, to believe that my way was what worked. I traveled alone, leaving mounds of baggage behind. Claimed and abandoned.

After a while it was clear that they couldn’t stop me. They tried so hard for me to shut my fucking mouth. Whenever it opened truth spilled out. It worked. Made them look at their own dysfunction. That’s why I was hated, I knew there had to be a totally different way to live and I pushed hard for it.

Not just survive bathed in lies. But to live and thrive and love. I had to be brave enough to do battle with those who counted on me being silent. They’ll hate you for healing. No pain No gain is reality because it is excruciating for a long time, as life reconfigures around you.

They’ll hate you for exposing them. Try as you might, no one’s coming with. They’ll hate you for talking bad about the LOVELY family. I’m such a villain. That’s the branding. I AM forever branded. But fortunately I’ve turned that branding ass-end up and pointed it towards you all. If I was never “the villain” I would have never gotten well.

Truth be told, I am your worst nightmare when it comes to exposing shit. Illuminating the stuff others don’t want revealed? I’m your gal. My intuition honed – I see into people, their actions, their intentions. You can’t hide your trauma from me. I’m like a trained dog and how they wished I was house trained and would stfu.

Although I don’t expose other situations or call it out, I always respond in a trauma sensitive way which wins strangers over. The “how does she know” looks are frequent. But those who might try n shame me, turning what I “know” on those who still operate in that awry mode is rather enjoyable. When you’re no longer dependent upon those who wish to NOT SEE YOU RECOVERED, it’s rather enjoyable. When other’s hate and desire to silence you – has no power whatsoever, it’s enjoyable.

Regardless…It’s fun to be the sleeper, the underdog, the lost sheep, the black sheep, the weird one, the loner, the shy one. You taught me to be wild, to fight for my sanity, to get away. Up, up and away!!! Like underdog used to say. It’s really a shame I didn’t come with an operating manual – would have saved a whole lot of folks the trouble of sparring with me and LOSING.

Peace

Thrive · warrior · Whole

How I know I’m a Warrior

How do I know? How can I not know? Miles from what I thought was me. She’s gone now. My old self. Gone is the pleaser, the “it must’ve been me” girl, the girl who stayed quiet. The one who allowed others to overrule her thoughts. The girl who believed that she didn’t have needs. How could she ever get needs met? Having needs somehow took away from others and was self centered. Mean. That’s what they told me. That’s what I believed. She’s gone now.

The girl who just wanted to be happy- no matter the cost. The young lady who kept secrets so vile – so others wouldn’t deny her truth or be moved to action, or, worse yet…think SHE was the problem. Swallowing shards of pain for too many moons, too many seasons. The young miss who starved herself in an attempt to kill the beast within. She who flirted with ending her own life as a second grader. Yes, my warrior was hidden deep.

She who finishes last hurts most. The suffering stuffed inside her little body, tucked in every crevice, tissue, every body system. The mini me opening and reaching for support. Then retreating when the flames scorched her opening heart. She was likened to an invasive weed, her desire to live fully anyways. Gathering my scattered pieces, discards, the parts of me that could not stay. Then. Now held in the safety of truth, she’s crawled back, taking back.

Adding to my healing resume, I was. My ground. My worth. This felt right, felt write. Healing through the pen. Words reflecting misery and agony of emotions held. Yet, these words were the very voice I so greatly needed to mend the soul of me. A healing prescription, wrapping the ugly in gorgeous gift boxes. Gifting earned resilience, grace and perseverance – to myself. This is me, the warrior. Yes, please.

I didn’t know this was correct. Following what felt right, I was my own healing mentor. I didn’t know I had the power to change my own life. Excising those who disrespected my essence. Eradicating those who used me for their own pleasure. Ejecting those who snuff my fire. Evicting those who will never be allowed in again. Gates closed. Admission revoked. This is how I know. I am warrior.

Old trauma meeting Wisdom. War. War within myself. Me doing battle with the invisible. The parts of me that knew better – speaking at last. Hard work keeping my inner wisdom silent. The knowing, the wisdom, became the boss of me, eventually. This is how I live my warrior.

connection

Marilyn Doesn’t Know She’s A Teacher

Onions can make you cry but so can a heart opening. So many layers so many lessons.

It would have annoyed most people. I should have been annoyed. I wasn’t. My anger would have hijacked the most profound moment. Her anger could have ruined everything. But instead, a life changing moment, a nudge from Spirit. I met a teacher, an angel…Marilyn.

While attempting to park my car I was met with a snow plow clearing the lot. I pulled to the side to let him clear where I wanted to park. Nosed in and put it in park. When he cleared the area, I put it in reverse and started to back up. I heard a beep and realized that someone was right behind me. I quickly pulled back to where I was and put it in park.

I did feel the annoyance rising in me. But then again, by beeping this person, this lovely woman, saved me from smashing her car. Upon entering the store there she stood. Sizing her up, I prepared to be yelled at, I deserved it obviously. “I’m sorry I beeped at you” she blurted out. Wow

Holy shit! SHE’S sorry? shocking. For what, for being alive? I told her I was GLAD she beeped and stopped me – I was totally going to wreck both our cars. “Always beep and don’t be sorry!” She thought that was a funny thing for me to say. We began to talk about things. Families, jobs, why we were at this store…the normal bla bla bla. Until

Until she disclosed her daughter’s situation. Somehow, by the grace of God, I found myself in a very private and profound conversation with a complete stranger. I was deeply moved by her sharing. I didn’t deserve to be privy to any of this. I was the jackass who made a dumb move in the parking lot! Still, she shared with me. Still. I was deeply moved by her daughters will to live. I was deeply moved that she died repeatedly only to be revived again and again.

All because she made the choice to have compassion for me instead of anger for me so close to wrecking her car. She not only forgot about HOW she met me, she trusted that it was ok to tell me about her life’s recent tragic events, in detail. Every detail. I’m still in shock but strangely honored.

Again. I was blown away that her daughter coded several times during her C-section. Several times. Was clinically dead seven times. That hits hard. Even when it’s a stranger. I didn’t want to cry but it was already there. I was crying inside. Profound. It was a miracle mom and baby survived.

Marilyn’s daughter has some complications because of these events and continues to recover.

I was ready to be scolded, degraded, sneered at for being dumb and assuming no one was behind me. Instead, I was met with compassion and understanding. That’s what Marilyn had waiting for me. Understanding and Compassion. How sweet. What an incredible woman that Marilyn. What an awesome day with the chance meeting with my latest teacher. Teaching love, trust, compassion and understanding even for strangers. Even for someone who nearly caused you more angst and worries.

Can’t we all try to BE the compassion and understanding. You never know who you’ll impact and how far the ripples will go. It may be life saving, life changing. We all struggle. We need to trust and see each other. I think it was Rumi who said, We’re all just humans, walking each other home.

I’ll be talking the long way. Past some lovely strangers.

Joy

Who am I?

Meet Gerlind -named after my PenFriend
(1978, Germany)

I drive down the road in the seat of luxury and wonder… who am I really? Who am I to be seated in this power, warmth and fancy? AUDI fancy. Steering wheel solid and cool. Decisive and direct. Too cool for my meager roots. The feels. The power. Brilliance. Kinda like me… All of what I’ve had to keep hidden. All of what I’ve never let myself fully have. Until now.

I was forever seated in lack and want. In the back. Seat. Disgusting. Making do with less, getting comfortable with the uncomfortable. Hand-me-downs, free lunches, government cheese and discount milk from the gentle eyed milkman. 8 tiny children wild n hungry. We were lucky to barely have the essentials. Free Summer camp, programs for underprivileged youth and bags of clothing from the church. Too many mouths to feed with not enough dollars to make a difference.

Depending upon others for some joy, something memorable. Living and accepting less being less felt like home. Fabulousness squelched by my inner joy stealer. Habitually feeling flawed and unworthy – blocking honor and reverence. It was a comfortable cruxifixction of my magnificence. Poverty of the pocketbook and my young soul.

But now, in the literal drivers seat. Leather seat. Wait, what? I’m suddenly queen of the highway. The power and potential colliding under my bottom. Seat warmer welcoming me with open arms. Allowing the melt of my “sale rack” exterior. I deserve this. I work hard for this right here. Right now. No apologies. None.

I feel like the smaller parts of me disappear in this auto. Automatic re-configuration. Auto correct. Auto-manic smoothing out the highs and lows of my achy, frozen past. I am reborn, repurposed, recycled into comfort and acceptance and reality. The reality of joy for just being. Joy for how I’ve not only survived but thrived. From hand outs to hand ups.

I wasn’t supposed to make it to this. They didn’t want me to succeed. I have so much gratitude for the government assistance, kindness of church people, school programs, psychologists, extended family members and complete strangers who took the time to notice a struggling family, needy children, gems that needed a good polish. I thank you all! Now excuse me

I’m Audi- here.

appreciation

I’m Afraid and I’m Alive

Sometimes I find myself wishing a day would move faster. Hoping I just make it. Through. Without too much turmoil. Then I’ll be home, able to breath and do more relaxing, choice activities. Or even breathe easy and space out. Whatever I do, it’ll be better once I’m out of _____ situation. 🤷🏻‍♀️

Sometimes there’s fear and apprehension around the events I will soon face. I can imagine terrifying scenarios. None of which ever materialize. Ever.
You think I’d know by now, not to obsess and ruminate about the imagined catastrophe awaiting my arrival. Fear bags packed, ready to go. You think I’d be able to dismiss those thoughts and worries.

But not always. Fear is relentless. It has a way of taking over and pressuring us to minimally function in our power. Someone didn’t want us to realize our power. Now we carry that torch. We do it to ourselves.
Dumb ourselves down.


As if, to be fabulous and centered and relaxed was dangerous to our existence…because it was. As if success was frowned upon …because it was. As if being a beacon of light would cause us to stand out in a negative, gloating way… because it did.
No more AS IF. I’m making friends with fabulous, power, center – I’m making friends with fear. As one of my favorite teachers once told me, “I’m frightened and I’m alive. Do it afraid!”

receive

In Love #21

I’m in love with long soaks in the tub. The luxurious idea of it all. Water validating what I bring, who I am. Enveloping me in connection and acceptance. She loves this, my inner Aquarian child. Effective recharge, soaking in simplicity.

Celebrating the solitude in the deep warm. Drowning pressure, responsibility, have-to heaviness and shouldoves, I become lighter. For they cannot swim. A beautiful death, they scatter on the surface until I can no longer hear their voices. Silence. Detaching from their grip, I sink deeper into this best life.

Deeper into aliveness and existence I swim. And I’m a swimmer. Upstream usually, so this is easy. But wait! static waters trigger my busy. My efforting. My reaching for reasons I can’t stay. Reasons I’m not worthy to receive and allow the warm hug, the pleasant and loving warm embrace. All just voices and stories with anxious, ancient roots.

Submerged in sanity, I play. Anyway. Fragrance and texture, old friends we are. I begin again. Cleanse and clean. Brushing, I evict expired drama from my loins. The clarity of the liquid accepting and assimilating all of it. Holding me. Holding separate, my discards. I ride out the calm.

Float until I live. I agree to be alive and transformed. Again. Drained of my “no longer” needs. If just for today. Now I rise, a newborn. Tub drain uncomfortable and grouchy with heavy content. It groans. Hear it? But no one’s there to witness the suck-age. The ancestral bla-bla-bla. It is silenced in defeat, today.

I emerge wet and new, full of possibility. Empty then full. Soak then woke. Tub’s got me dry and deranged to sane and sassy. I love long soaks in the tub.

appreciation

In Love #20

I’m in love with sleepy smiles. Gently spreading east and west. Following a long night’s rest. Transforming the expressionless. An open invitation to hang out deep as shoulders sag. Head tilt welcoming each moment without expectation.

The glistening morning sun sweeping across my tired face, caressing my smile with golden warmth. I lie still basking, breathing, planning. Nothing. Existing fully in my expression. Of pleasantry, of nothingness, in the space between thoughts.

The gentle childlike energy swirling amidst my unassuming grin. Keeping me whole. Wanting me present. Between my lips, gracefully ushering in the newest, sweetest oxygen. To be ushered out in turn, discarded purposefully. Taking with it, everything challenging the grandest of facial postures.

I love sleepy smiles.

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.

resilient

Stacked in Your Favor

I think it’s common to feel overwhelmed these days. Most of the pressure to DO, to HAVE, to BE, is created within ourselves. Do more, be perfect, have it all, win. At our own expense. The target always moving. Higher. Unattainable.

We are MORe. Already. We are perfect. Perfectly imperfect. All that we are looking for. When life appears to be stacking up against us. Remember, the pile consists of great potential. Great strength. Warmth. Energy/fuel to persevere. Raw material from which to create. Build anew. Wood you dare to believe in your own potential?