Jester’s Privilege and Artists License. I need to remember not to leave home without my card reminders…that includes going to bed I guess. I am a mess. My brain and body seem to torture me from the inside whenever I try to sleep. I wake up crying and angry. The exaggerator in me would like to say that it’s getting worse…though even she would admit that it has been worse at times. I have survived worse, made it through worse…Buck the Fuck Up, Buttercup. Get shit done. Come on. You got this.
Giddi-up.
I really need a fucking hug. There are none available, and those that would have been have all gone cold and toxic and guarded. No one has touched me without kid gloves on in a long time.
Alright. Self-pity aside, I have lots of ripples and waves to ride. Last night was the first night of the season cold enough to accumulate some whiteness–a light snow I guess we could call it, though it’s that styrofoam, nearly hail, tiny frozen light sleet. I bet it has a better name. I’ll call it a light tiny popcorn snow.
I need to get more disciplined with myself regarding my interactions with other humans. I keep trying to base my decisions on past interactions, things I thought I knew, former identities and timelines, then the lurch of unmet expectations and disillusionment knocks me off course. Too many times a day most days. I can get regulated. Focus on breathing. Relax. Move. Strike a pose. Yoga. I need to stop interacting with people who only see some fractured aspect of some former me I think, if I am to complete this metamorphosis. I think I had started before Alex came around activating so many old wounded patterns in me…the girl that wants to be loved and never will. She falls for a talented playah every time. We were a perfectly toxic match, as it turns out. Again.
Oh well.
I give myself permission to grieve the person I thought I was, the person I thought I would become, as long as I need, and also, get up, get up, get up, get the fuck up girl. The hour is late. Bigger waves are on their way. You won’t survive such a great fall. Not this time. Not likely at all. I choose to survive another day. I want to thrive. I must step aside. In time. The right direction. Quickly now.
Ironically, I think trying to integrate my parts has been detromental to my survival. At least it feels that way now. I have learned my brain is super fallible, if, and as, I have learned nothing at all. I fractured into those parts for protection, in order to navigate this insanity we call human civilization. I don’t think a whole person can survive in it on their own, not without at least one partner–one other reflection that is trusted…
That can’t be it. Only a few humans get that kind of partnership and even of those who do, very few have each other all along. I think that kind of partnership requires two whole selves. This is what I continue to believe. I am aware it is all made up, or again, it sure seems that way to me. I am sure I don’t know.
This is what people imagine gods for. Alright then. Back to creating my very own fantastic goddess. My ego wants her to be me.
I feel I understand wanting to get rid of what is not helping. Casting me and every other broken or even questionable human out. This is the mindset of eugenics. I make a good case for their point. Wild-Wild Me.
This is an ongoing struggle we will probably never solve. Waste…this and negative numbers are constructs I have been contemplating lately…they seem human made, and like they don’t serve us all that well, at least, not when it comes to cultivating self-worth and community. Not able to face our own coldness, we grow colder…cancerous. I choose something warmer, something greater, something more free. I choose love. I choose me. I choose us.
That fractured teen aged rebel side of me, the wounded child who rises, who rose, who would burn it all down rather than watch it suffering–that is the part of me he loved, and so it makes sense he cannot see any more of me.
The vibrational quality of things is the key…I think it must be the smaller me–egoic self–that feels it might be helpful to share, to be relatable, to belong, be part of the tribe…
I listened to some comedy
and some Abraham
and remembered that it is not the words, it is the vibration…not that I forgot, but, I remembered it in my body again
calibrate in any way you need to…I definitely think I will change parts of my routine.
nmgal007 ~Angel Lilly, Performance Poet, Speaker, Songwriter, Singer 