journal excerpts + streams of thought, 2016 - 2018
eleven eight seventeen
you're allowed to love yourself when the sun goes down.
eleven twenty-seven seventeen
in the non-logical
it's very comforting to visit this place that has no expectation or bounds of conformity. just a list of ridiculous-- or not so ridiculous, "feelings". they don't travel. they have no purpose other than being indications of the presence of the self, and being doors leading to intuition. i'm interested in how connected the emotional self and the intuitive self are, psychologically. but then again, fuck, the mind only observes the emotions. the mind, only a witness to experiences and emotive responses.
twelve six seventeen
ease over discomfort
it's a very intentional thing. to choose ease instead of the more familiar discomfort + resistance. in rush hour traffic during the first few days of mercury retrograde with $?.?? in my bank account is the most contrast i've probably felt in a long time and i feel the most at ease in this position than i have in my entire life.
twelve thirteen seventeen (i think)
reality being dissatisfying, so stage it.
the obvious being not so.
subtlety being more telling.
sometimes spelling things out creates parameters so literal that theres no breathing room for reality and emotion and the divine to intervene. seeking the obvious, always looking, is almost insulting to the divine, the unseen. seeking the obvious insinuates distrust...
social gestures - shade, intimacy, love, secrets, abuse...
what happens when the obvious is harder to see? distraction? disinterest?
what is obvious to me?
the way to get the the core of anything is to ask questions until you get the thee question.
sometimes things happen that can't be explained. sometimes there is a less obvious backdoor to greatness.
the process and its accumulation is the thing, not the thing itself.
the accumulation is exciting and gives a physical component to the process. the accumulation is evidence of manifestation. my life has been such a great manifestation but it is not so obvious. the way i got here was not so obvious. it was unexpected chance. that in itself should prompt my working system of faith in the less obvious. in the unexplainable. in subtleties. maybe my not speaking in my seminar course right now is more obvious than my saying anything. none of these thoughts are linear and that's okay. i'm doing well working through my frustration [with the critique that is happening, that is not mine].
is there value in only participating in things, people or experiences that are interesting, nourishing and provide...? is there value in only being pulled toward things, people, or experiences that feel good?
is there value in destabilization? is that contrast? the gears have to move for an elevator to ascend or descend...lack of grounding. movement.
the tower: getting my mfa, having my heart broken, being disappointed a crush likes someone less interesting, being unsure of whats happening with my uterus.
twelve nineteen seventeen (late)
i am grateful for the days grief doesnt come to visit
i'm tired of you. i'm tired of your name. i'm tired of your smile being embedded in my memory. i'm tired of carrying you with me wherever i go. i'm tired of you not acknowledging me. i am grateful when you and the grief you came with don't come bother me.
[note: acknowledgment and validation are not the same thing to me]
i'm tired of being so nice to you, then being prompted because of the aforementioned unacknowledgement, to create distance only to feel as if i've been having the same limb severed with something blunt [OVER AND OVER AND OVER...]. i do not remember how it feels to love anyone else. of course i love and have loved other people. [insert text about love and corn and blah blah] i want to feel better. i have been trying to feel better for almost two years now. some days, weeks, mont-- hours are better than others.
at what point does self love reach maximum capacity? does it ever?...
...loss. i am still grieving you. in the dark. i want so much for the men who have hurt me to console me. to tell me they're sorry and hold me until i understand. i am angry that i always have to hold myself. nurse myself through the grief until, for a day, i feel better and am grateful to have break from it. until it comes again to sit with me. how do you keep resentment + anger away? we are always left to pick ourselves up and sew ourselves back together without comfort or consolation. or let me only speak for myself.
i am laying on these [journal] pages. i want so much to say that i hate you. i want to say-- write, about how you don't ever deserve to prompt this many words from me. this many days of grief. this much energy. i only hope my transparency helps someone else who knows grief to also see the beauty in it. [corn and a stretch?] the light and gratitude when grief decides to take a day off. to find the breaths that nourish your spirit to keep loving, to brush your teeth, to take a shower, to keep talking. to keep creating, crying, eating, picking yourself up. to keep loving yourself in that radical way they tell you not to.
i want to say i hate you. for reintroducing grief and i, but i love you both just the same. the both of you taught me about healing and loving without condition. introduced me to feeling deeply. introduced me to the realization that i am innately worthy and never need to judge myself so severely. i will not grieve forever. i will love another. i will feel loss again but will invite grief in as an old friend, with compassion for myself-- with tea and let it stay a shorter while.
my therapist told me to feel my feelings. *rolls eyes*
eight three eighteen
*tw:abuse + rape* honesty is the best policy. my meditation today was about attachment + aversion. i realized i’m reallyyyyyyy attached to protecting myself. i’m averse to being abused, raped, abandoned + immeshed. i’m not used to kindness + love from most, i’m used to being someone’s sum total or negation. someone’s home or escape. i’m used to having to prove the worthiness of my being, the necessity of my safety, even the birthright of my happiness. people have not been kind to me for a better part of 20 years, i’m 28. i’ll always protect myself but the reflex to completely fight-or-flight isn’t healthy or necessary to this part of my life. i read a post about emotional labor after my meditation today and it hit hard— my attachment to protecting my neck after being traumatized by mostly black men + white people should honored + paid attention to so it can be released. if i’ve blocked you, cussed you out or completely dropped off the face of your planet, i’m learning. i will not allow you to abuse me or make me your lesson but i will commit to detachment of my self-protection/defenses. being highly sensitive + empathic is my gift. being taken advantage of because of it or told it’s a hinderance is an automatic fuck you, but again, work in progress. honor your attachments + aversions. let them teach you. pray for those who have misused your light, or pray that one day you will be able to. namaste.