My gift

Ever find yourself in a room, filled with people, and your level of discomfort is so high that you miss the cues and dive straight into ugly troll inner voice and bitch and complain and judge everyone around that is holding confidently their piece of the space? Like a feral animal, attack.

There is medicine here.

My mother was crippled with anxiety for my entire childhood, and it had nothing to do with me. It came down our maternal line, planted there, as a means of self destruction to silence the strength and wisdom from the spirit within that each of us carries.

Magic lives here.

Part of my journey has been to see this curse, embrace it, love it and accept it. Not as a permanent peice of who I am, but as it’s own entity. So that it may achieve its own independence, much like what I had been seeking my entire life.

Freedom to connect.

There has always been a deep motivation to move towards community; throughout grade school, high school, bar scene, university, business groups, and houseless people. Ive been lucky to share space and time and experience from each group, though in each misshapen circle I infiltrated, I felt fake, and waiting for the veil to be torn from my existence, called out for the fraud I feared that I was.

This was part of the curse.

No matter what space I found myself in, I was driven to hate myself. Haunting voices I never knew filtered through my mind, and built up reasons to help keep me walled in and disconnected.

Yet my light shone bright.

And many times before I integrated, and now as I continue, my ego rises up. thank you. I remind myself it is not to be judged, but to be observed, for there lies my power. What do I see, how does that feel, and where does it live in my body?

Healing journey.

A road crooked, bent, cobbled, puddled, and filled with wildflowers.