Day 4: Divine Love

Do you know how small you are? Our egos work to prevent us from really seeing. If math is the language of God then Science is the evidence. (And after googling— “How many earths fit in the largest star”…) VY Canis Majoris has a diameter which is roughly 2000 times that of our sun's and 155,000 times that of Earth. Which calculates to π×1550002≅7.5477×1010 earths. Who’s really a Who.

When explaining the Divine to the youngins, you equate the magnitude of God by drawing reference to size and scale. I hear can it now, “Think of the biggest thing you can think of.. God is bigger than THAT.” Growing older the understanding of big evolves from physical size into, bigger than my problems. It becomes a mantra. But, there is still a disconnect. Flesh and spirit are opposite. How am I suppose to feel like I can connect on a personal level with something so MORBIDLY GRAND. I am unable to read aloud the above equation, much less understand the mathematics of it —and even less—the scale of myself in comparison.

The depths of my love for God and His Majesty are unable to be replicated in written words. However to this day it remains true and He knows it, He’s just too damn big. For example, I could never imagine myself cuddling with God. Maybe fit in His hand. But why would I even try to imagine? Because thats my language.

Connection with the Divine must be personal and intimate.

How intimate is your relationship with your Divine?

Complexity is in His nature and although we know we are made in His image we were not made in his reflection — Just too damn big. But big enough to fit inside of us all.

Then theres, יֵשׁוּעַ. You may know him as Jesus. His love is like three very slow forehead kiss. Like feeding you the last bite. Like letting you be the little spoon.

This month, two years ago, I asked Jesus to marry me. I was so nervous. Fear of rejection runs deep but I pulled all my strength together and just did it.I had entered into that year broken hearted and spiritually frail. My body had been used and abused by me and those I let in. What I needed was a repairing, someone who would commit to me as I submit them and take care of my every need. I had grown accustomed to working overtime to be treated with an unmatched level of reciprocation and now my heart was weary. Like a schoolgirl with a crush. Blushing and stumbling over words. Would you believe me if I told you He answered, “Yes”.

In my mind I had to bring Him to a level of love of my own understanding but it only elevated myself in my heart, to be worthy of that kind of love.

Our relationship is not perfect. Just last night we were sitting on my bed and I was asking for forgiveness because I am sure that being married to me is like having a partner with dementia. You do everything for them and they keep forgetting you. I often forget. I get caught up in my world and my ways and let my spark on my end of the marriage fizzle. And because He loves me so, He is always there ,even as I let Him fade into the backgrounds of the forefront of my mind. He knows I will never leave and I, Him. After, He told me to come here and lay down. He tucked me in and held me till I fell asleep. The feeling if spiritual-electric-fire (I’m sorry there are no words equivalent) coursed through my entire being. This is called, exchanging fear for love.

Everyone who has a relationship with my husband has their own thing, I guess we’re Poly. In real time I’ve anticipated my death for some time, only to be reunited with my true beloved. I’ve wanted nothing more than to ask His hand for a slow dance.. I just want to gaze in His eyes, rest my head on His shoulder and smell His hair…

type love.

Day 3: Whips and Chains Excite Me.

TRIGGER WARNING

The first time I saw intimacy between two women was in the cover of night. In secret and in Awe. My first and only one night stand.

—I was only 5.

Girls Gone Wild changed my life. And like a stranger you never forget, I may not remember the women in entirety, but I will never forger how they made me feel. They were blonde. Thats all I know. I still remember the feeling, because the feeling never left. Something changes in you when you discover porn for the first time. There is an awakening that happens. All these new sensations pop up, and your little body doesn’t know how to handle it. Feeling pleasure for the first time. It stirs up complications, questions and for me, shame and anxiety. Shame and anxiety are for the daytime but in the cover of night, once a discovery turned fascination blossoms into an addiction.

It was a healthy sexual experience with a woman that broke my secret addiction to lesbian porn. Would you like to hear the story? (comment below)

I’ve had vices ranging from Coca-Cola to a human being. A more illusive stronghold was my taste for the Macabre. My interest peaks at the uncanny, supernatural or horrific. Growing up, although I was afraid, it never stopped me from seeking out horror movies. I was particularly drawn to movies involving spirits and demons. Being raised in the church you are taught that you are spirit that is constantly being affected by the spiritual realm around you. It was enthralling searching through the works of different directors who could give, (what I felt), was the most accurate depiction of what real demons and spirits look like. However, I have found that the real demons in your life will never show their face…

As I got older, my fascination with the human experience and the psychological implications of human suffering only deepened. Along with my understanding of the variety of evils inhabited on this planet and their ability to alter the human psyche and spirit. A little over a year ago I was introduced to a youtube channel that my system reacted to like a drug itself. Soft White Underbelly, by Mark Laita, is a collection of filmed interviews. These interviews are conducted out of a privately owned studio in Skid Row, LA. The studio space is a safe space for those living in the Skid Row area (and other locations in the US) to be paid to share their stories. Interviewees range from, prostitutes, drug addicts, pimps, sex offenders, tricks, escorts, gangsters, trafficking survivors.. and the list goes on. Some of the stories shared had never been told before to anyone, ever. You can and cannot imagine the experiences that some of these people have had. Most have been sexually abused as children. (TW) For reference to the graphic nature of the videos there is one story in particular that will never leave me. A woman named Latoya, born of incest in Louisiana who was then working as a prostitute said that all she new her whole life was “fucking , sucking, in the butt, all that.” She mentioned that in elementary school she was assaulted so badly and frequently that she had one continuous hole from her vagina to her anus. Something broke in me hearing those words and watching her say it. Man has the ability to carry out the most unspeakable acts. Vengeance is the Lord’s and I don’t believe in cursing people but in that moment I wished a horrible death upon the man that did that to her (and I still do.).

Why is it that we absolutely can not help but look at a car wreck? I have tried, I have, but I can’t resist. In 2010 when our townhouse burned down people stood outside from the start of the flames to dampened smoke. We can’t resist a tragedy — even if we mean well in our hearts. For a year I binged their traumas and deep shames. I began to feel a connection to the channel. They have pain, I have pain. They’ve been through it, me, not as bad so I find safe space in their vulnerability— silently comparing my own addictions and using their stories as leverage to convince myself that I could be worse – a shameful practice. The Children of the Night. Those who are bound by addiction, their addictions grew to be mine. But not without consequence. You don’t hear about about child rape without visualizations that don’t haunt you. There is a a price to pay to the delight in the pain of others. The delight is in the inability to look away, to take the vulnerability of another and entertain yourself with it and keep coming back for more.

But I wasn’t unscathed. After a year with the countries top broken hearted, I wasn’t feeling well in my spirit. My overall light was affected and I could not figure out why. Because I had to the option to close my laptop and go bed at the end of the interview that meant that I was at a safe distance from it all.. But why do I feel so.. dead. Seeking God revealed one answer— I had grown to become addicted to pain and it was killing my spirit.

I took a good look at my Netflix account, nothing but true crime. Documentaries on cults and serial killers. The latest David Attenborough on how we’ve fucked ourselves even further with the planet. All tethered to pain. And all tethered to my own.

Abolish SHAME.

What addiction have your overcome?

Note to the comment section: All comments are moderated. Absolutely no hate in my space. Your voice is welcome here.

Day 2 | pt. 2 |: Emergence

Have you ever been transformed? Felt rejuvenated? Had a personal enlightenment?— It is a strange phenomenon. There is not just one experiential definition, but endless. We are all constantly evolving and when we shed the skin of our before, the feeling settles differently in us all. The feeling I feel today is as if scales have been pulled from my heart and suddenly I can breathe again. I have to ask myself, just how bad was I?

I would like to offer context:

The small portion of the world that has been a witness to my journey over the past few years, through the peephole of social media, has gotten bits of a narrative following a woman who looses her mother , defy’s the odds of grief and goes on to obtain her Master’s Degree. A degree courtesy of the “illustrious”, “mid-western jewel”, Cranbrook Academy of Art [not a jab, per-say ]. Our heroine, then receives what would be considered the opportunity of a lifetime for a recent graduate and is relocated by way of a new teaching position, and she lived happily ever after. Right?

The Lord giveth and taketh away. A new posting is granted but proximity to the familiar is stripped. I am no stranger to being relocated. In 25 years I have moved 16 times. I suppose I was never meant to be stagnant.

An even stranger phenomenon is the undoing power of isolation —slowly revealing the complexity of self identity and bringing it all to question. While my unravelling was not pushed to the point of “redruM”, buried in the deafening silence of my solitary was the undercurrent for the perfect storm:

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Fear: The Reason for the Season.

Fear for my physical safety. My thoughts say: I could get snatched up at the bus stop and trafficked. I live on the first floor what if someone breaks in through the window. Can’t trust anybody, shouldn’t trust anybody, don’t trust anybody. Fear of the unknown. I need to know what’s going to happen next. I have to be able to make it happen myself. Fear of potential. I’m afraid i’ll loose relevancy. I don’t have any ideas. I don’t have the energy. Fear in being alone. I’ve been told my entire life, “You are not alone”, okay, yes, but, in this moment, I am a-l-o-n-e. There is no one here but me. No one waiting for me at home. No one to cook for. No one to touch me. No one to take care of me and no one to take care of. Fear of aging. This is all too much and I am not ready. It’s not fair that I’d don’t have a mom. I still need help. Fear of letting go. Fear of moving forward. Fear of being forgotten. Fear of the sound of my own voice. Fear of being a fraud.

Soil that has been tilled in Fear is soil able to harvest Addiction— But we’ll save that for tomorrow.

Who do you become when faced with yourself? — is it not who you’ve been all along?

Day 2: Good Morning

It’s just about a quarter to 5 in the morning. In an effort to not go mad and suffer from a deadly cocktail of isolation, monotony and Daylight savings, this winter my body adapted a semi-nocturnal circadian rhythm. Falling asleep just as the sun goes down and causing an early early morning rise. These correspondences from myself to you are crafted in the stillness of night. For some reason I find that the atmosphere is all the more peaceful when majority of the region is (presumably) sleeping; I suppose there is less emotional energy being exuded into the air..

In the spirit of transparency: There was no planning at all with this effort to break my silence. It just simply, happened. I have always struggled with finding my place in the social media world. Its capacity is limitless — my threshold has boundaries. I can’t continue to try to reward myself with 2 seconds of your attention. With this said, no, I am not leaving social media, but I fear that we may never be fully acquainted if the only way was to clamor for the spotlight. My darling, I simply cannot, I just don’t have the energy anymore.

I must find space for myself.

What does finding space for yourself look like?

Consider this digital space my open journal to “the world”. However, it is not the world that will read these words. No, no, thats far too macro, true intimacy is micro. It is, You. Whatever your name is. Before I take this a sentence longer I would like to say,

Good morning, Thank You & Welcome.

Day 1: Stepping into Newness

I thought about making this an open letter to myself. Full of written promises and sweet nothings from me to me, all awhile using You (yes You; the invisible audience and your perception of me) as a way to leverage accountability for myself. To place You at the center of my change and growth would be to perpetuate the same performative cycle I am yet trying to break. My love of validation cannot be deeper than the love I keep for myself. Who’s really the influencer? The love filling my reservoir within must be cycled back into the system, lest the balance be rendered acidic. Seeking balance between all the moving parts.. Considering myself in the process.

So going forward, what does it all mean? This is my informal and formal reintroduction. I’d like to invite you in. Into my mind, a space I hold dear a space full of potential that I have kept mostly tucked away. This blog is my pushback towards leading my life with the pressure of societal social standards. I am that I am and that is many many things but what I shan’t forget that I am Greatness embossed in Light.

(saying it for me, and not for you. What do you need to hear yourself say right now?).

January 1st, 2022, it’s here, that day is here..the day where we are gifted with the bliss of potential, possibility and wonder, for we know not what tomorrow may bring, but today, I choose me.

To choose God is to choose myself I have found. To love Them in spirit and in truth is to truly love myself. Forgetting that we are one is the death I pray to die daily, but instead may my steps be aligned and the path straight. Jesus please make me New, amen.