Poltergeist

The entities I attract tend to be of the light. They aren’t dark or malevolent. I don’t typically feel threatened by them. There really are no words for the heavenly presence that deceased loved ones bring with them when they visit a psychic medium. I mean, I really can’t describe it beyond that cliche word, “heavenly”. That right there should tell you that our minds have yet to expand to even be able to process world’s outside of us.

I have had a few poltergeists or darker entities come through though. Once you’ve opened yourself up to it, you allow the good, the bad, and everything in between to visit you. Or use you, for their own after death purposes, whatever that may be. I’m not sure they’re always in need of leaving a message exactly, other than to let you know they made it safely to the other side.

When I lived next door to a funeral home I definitely saw more activity than normal. I tend to feel a sort of kinship with the dead, as I’m like the last person they talk to before they are silenced forever by death. And that’s a role I don’t mind playing, once I get past the worry that whomever I’m delivering a message to will attack me for it. I’ve never had that happen, but there’s a first time for everything, right?

One of the darker energies I dealt with while living near the mortuary was a young man who had committed suicide as revenge for his older lover cheating on him. He was very good looking with dark hair, dressed in a crisp light blue button up shirt. He actually insisted I get my phonebook (the yellow pages) to look up the phone number of his ex.  He desperately wanted me to deliver a message from him. I told him I wasn’t allowed to deliver messages unless they were to comfort the living. It just seemed like the right thing to say, I don’t know. I actually sat there and talked to this dead young man about his death, his pain, and why it was time to move on, the same way I would talk to a friend who was suffering. Defeated, he left his earthbound pain behind for good.

When I was 16 I lived with my mom and her boyfriend at my grandparents house, for a short while. There was a poltergeist, who bore a strong resemblance to the man in the hat in the movie Poltergeist, other people had seen there (didn’t know that at the time). I think he appeared to me that way because my mind would identify him correctly. I’m not sure if this is an entity attached to me, as I saw him on two separate situations, in two different places, at very different times in my life.

The first time I saw him I was alone in the kitchen when I became very aware of him. No matter how many times I blinked he wouldn’t disappear. I began to hyperventilate and took off running in no particular direction, looking back as I did. I somehow ended up with a black eye under the kitchen table with no recollection of having fallen and hitting myself on the edge of the table. I’d even knocked he garbage can over.

The second time was much the same. No matter how much I blinked he was still there. I walked from room to room only to run into his gloating face surrounded by crazy white hair, a black hat on his head. He laughed at me without laughing. Then he attacked me. I flew onto the living room table, screaming and clawing at thin air. I’m sure I’m like the biggest Nancy from A Nightmare On Elm Street fan, because I strongly relate to the bullshit she went through!

This past summer I discovered a man in my garage, who is very attached to the torn apart volkswagon bug. Like, he fucking wants to buy it or something. He wears a brown leather jacket, and I get the feeling he was very much into a life of crime. A real scumbug, as he seems to even maybe sort of fondly, think of himself. For a few weeks he visited my hallway and watched me in my room. I ignored him, but he gave me the creeps. It’s not worth angering someone over, you know? He’ll eventually get bored and leave, right? And he has … for now.

When ghosts come through they often do as their human selves. They do so in order to be the same person you know and loved. Someone once questioned my authenticity in this way, because they felt someone who has passed on should be angelic. I can’t help it if your dead friend delivers a message by calling you a “pussy”, they way he did when he was alive! He obviously didn’t like you. I’m just the messenger.

One of the saddest experiences I’ve had wasn’t with a dark entity, but a woman who had been murdered. She’d been robbed at knife point in a crowd of people, and initially allowed the thief to run with her purse, until she remembered her granddaughters school picture in her wallet. The thief didn’t take kindly to her suddenly trying to pull her purse away from him and stabbed her. She died instantly. She was a woman in her mid-forties with dark hair and stunning blue eyes. She had really enjoyed every aspect of her life. She was one who had a hard time leaving her earthly body behind. It sort of broke my heart. Most people seem to be pretty okay with leaving once they understand they are dead.

I don’t tend to see the darker entities, though I consider myself a darker person. I know wonderful people who do see things you couldn’t even imagine in your wildest nightmares. It’s so different for us all, and I love that. I love hearing stories that blow my mind. I’m used to the strange and unusual, but someone else’s strange and unusual is still unique to my own. I wish everyone felt comfortable saying weird shit in public. I think we’d find out we’re not so crazy after all.

Namaste, Ghostbuster’s!

(I had to say something)

 

 

 

 

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Traveling Soldier’s

This weekend I went hiking at one of my personal favorite spots in the salt lake valley. And attended a monthly art gallery stroll downtown. This weekend I was also suicidal. Before you offer any well meant advice, or recommend the nearest mental institution, what you have to understand that those feelings are quite normal and frequent for me. This has always, since the beginning of my time (nearly) been the case. I’m frequently suicidal, but without the intention of taking my life. If that makes any sense.

I value my life. I want to live. I have every intention of watching my children grow up. I would never want to instill the kind of hurt in them that taking their mother from them, would make a very painful reality. They don’t deserve that suffering. I will break the chain, and give my children a better life than was given to me. I have no intention of honoring any suicidal feelings in the future. I am safe, and so are my children.

What has happened, is that my cellular walls have become sort of a trap, filled with memories of a painful life. Memory after memory of being hurt is stored in my cells. Eckhart Tolle explains the pain body in his book, The Power Of Now. I step in and out of my pain body, like everybody else does. Only mine is concentrated with experiences like rape, and more rape.  It isn’t easy to fix something like that. I feel like I’ve tried everything,  even spirituality hasn’t healed the wounds over completely, yet.

Once I decided that I want to live no matter what, the fear of ever acting on a suicidal impulse has given way to a tolerable and dull ache for something that isn’t here. So many of us comment on wanting to find a place we call home, that we have never known. I’m no different. I envy and have trouble being friends with women who’s fathers not only loved them, but helped them create love lives that feel good. I fear that will never work with me, as the earliest seeds planted in my cellular wall are abusive.  That is what I’ve always attracted to me.

This weekend I watched lovers hold hands in public. Something inside me hated them for it. I hated seeing something I’ll never have. I hated the way I felt as I watched them together. I hated even, that I didn’t see love as a beautiful act, but as something that inevitably depletes one. As in, it steals from the lovers, leaving them hollow shells of who they were before they became so intertwined they strangled the life out of one another. And to be honest, lovers are disgusting.

I’m trying to be positive here, you guys, but I’m just at that point in my life where the cuss words flow easier, and the rawness of my pain is visible to anybody who is aware. You can only hold it all in for so long before you self righteously feel the burden shouldn’t be carried solely by you, because you’re not the only one responsible for the life you’ve lived. Try as you might to rise above yourself, you’re just … bitter.

“Real people” seem to like me just fine. In fact, I’m often a breath of fresh air to the right kind. They stifle laughter as their truth comes flying from my mouth, the things they would say if they felt they had that basic right to. Adulthood is barely bearable. We’ve made life so much fun that nobody wants to have to be grownup.

Like the birthing pains that come during labor, the pains that arise with a suicidal episode are similar. You breathe through them, knowing what awaits is relief. And you do it as often as you need to, because life is precious and you are needed in your beautiful authenticity. Canned versions need not apply, though you never feel canned to me anyway. And I like that.

Pain is funny in the way that we feel like it’s inevitably going to break us, that we’ll crack with the pressure of it. What actually happens is that is pushes us until we break open and are living a life that feels good, in moments. We become masters of our emotions. I hear, It’s a little bit like surfing. We feel a wave coming and know when to stay still and when to act. We begin to feel our way through life, and nothing really surprises us anymore. We fall and stand back up as often as we are called to. Because that’s all part of the experience of surfing. We accept that.

At one point during my hike I lost my balance and almost went sliding down an embankment because of a small patch of ice and snow.  $14 boots don’t have traction, I guess. I stood up, took off my boots and socks, and walked the rest of the way in bare feet. I hate feeling so limited in my actual life, I wasn’t going to tolerate it in my hiking. The payoff was feeling like a badass, because weird things make warriors incredibly happy. Some people will never understand small victories, but to me … that’s all there is.

I’m not sure what comes after the rain, but it seems like a rainbow is a good idea. Something with layers of colors in it, and maybe a pot of like, gold at the end of it. Wouldn’t that be cool?

Or a butterfly. Whatever.

Namaste’ traveling soldiers!

 

 

 

Asleep At The Wheel

When the energy of a soul becomes a master it is then able to split and be in more than one body simultaneously. The energy of Jesus Christ, for example, is already walking the Earth again, while people wait for “the second coming”. His energy has split into twelve bodies, and these masters are becoming our newest spiritual guru’s. All in broad daylight. Some of them have made it into the spotlight, and some will be forever remain unnamed.

When I think of some of the current spiritual teachers, I am a little saddened by the amount of attention some of them have needed to feed their ego’s, as Jesus Christ wasn’t about his “followers”.

It is hard to follow a master who wants for you to bow before him. Or anyone on social media, really. When a message becomes about self promotion, it loses it’s appeal to people like myself. We aren’t able to keep up with everything that world tells us makes us matter, why would we want our spiritual teacher’s to possess the same ego of the world?

And when you can see through people, you realize most of them are nowhere near as perfect as they want to appear to their followers, anyway. It’s why I write authentically. Have you ever been with someone who is about to take their own life, and tried spouting cliche’s? Their expressionless faces say it all. “I’ve heard that before, it didn’t help.”

What I do for people, whether it’s necessarily approved of or not, is help others get to the point of wanting to live again, but with honesty.

The world often feels cold and lonely in America. I wouldn’t be here if my calling weren’t the same as many of us here, to wake this miserable country right up. We’re igniting the flames of change during the course of this part of what will one day be a memory, for future generations. It’s the small people who have been pushed aside since the beginning of time, but their voices grow louder all the time.

In my last life I was alive in two places at once. I was an old Hollywood wanna’ be star, and my own great grandmother. I once questioned how something of that nature could be possible, but with my life spiraling into the deep abyss that has become my spiritual journey, I wonder no more. Life has become very strange, and I truly wouldn’t want it to be the way it used to be. That way of life was very much a life of service to a master called the ego, and that ego didn’t care what was right or wrong.

I’ve been called out of body to help people going through traumatic events while pouring myself a cup of coffee. I am literally standing in my life, in my body, feeling myself do whatever it is I’m doing, while seeing through tunnel vision, a completely different scenario where I’m usually speaking very calmly to someone who normally couldn’t hear me, but suddenly has the ability to given the dire situation they are in.

This is the life of a guide, and more people are doing it now than ever. I have friends who don’t ever share that with others, but have with me. I am constantly receiving messages from people asking me if they are crazy or gifted. I am always happy to remind them that there is much more to this reality than we have been taught to accept as real.

Once you get the self doubt out of the way, life becomes sort of worth living again. Awakening isn’t for the faint of heart, but were you not supposed to be serving a bigger purpose here on this planet, it wouldn’t be happening to you. We are being lead straight into the darkest aspect of our collective soul by a man named Trump. This is reason enough to awaken! Only the sleeping, and fearful, self hating type of people would have voted for a man like him.

This is a very scary time for us, as he shows no sign of opening his eyes while driving a vehicle we are all strapped into. There is no reason we should have a leader like this in the year 2018, other than the masses who sleep while he swerves and stomps on the pedal. Ruthlessly, without consideration for the lives he is supposed to protect. He may very well be subconsciously suicidal. No better than the men who strap bombs to themselves in the name of hatred. This is the product of someone who absolutely fucking hates himself.

It’s easy to see how a man like Donald Trump ended up hating himself. He was taught that wealth and power were what mattered. He was probably shamed out of anything that wouldn’t lead him into wealth and power. This became his reason for existing, and anything that threatens that, must be stopped violently in it’s tracks. He simply couldn’t fathom being poor, unnoticed, without meaning to a world who has it’s priorities all shades of fucked up.

If people have to go to war, send their children, starve to death, to serve him and his mission to keep himself in a position of authority, then so be it!! He is worth that.

I hope that this presidency is enough to wake more people up. I hope they see clearly one day how wrong it was to vote into a office someone who has sexually assaulted women. And I hope the next president can still rectify whatever damage he manages to cause while he drives with his eyes tightly shut, snoring at the wheel.

Namaste’

 

 

 

Utah, My Home

I’m feeling like a vacation down south is imminent. In Utah, during the long winter months, south is the place to go. It’s a nice warm respite from the below freezing lows in Salt Lake, and only a three and a half hour drive. People come from all over the world to see the beauty in the red rock that is Moab National Park.

I’m lucky to have embedded myself into a community where the people are active. Utah is known for it’s great outdoors, and pushing extreme sports to the a new extreme. The Godfrey family brought us Nitro Circus. Now the Nitro World Game’s ignites downtown Salt Lake City every year for a three hour event, packed with motocross, BMX, and even scooter tricks. I know a guy who knows a guy who gets us tickets every year. I’m not a name dropper. I love these types of people. The kind who are so passionate about one particular sport, that it becomes their life. Though it is usually the only thing they’re good at.

I was able to shake the hand of, and genuinely thank, the young man who shares his wealth with us, at the world games this last summer. He looked a little frightened. I have a bit of a puppy like personality, and I think it often confuses people about what I’m after. I’m just excited, man.

As I held his hand, I could see an unhappiness blooming in him. Everything has always been accessible to him. Whatever sport or thing he could ever want to do, was an option. He had made a name for himself in his early twenties. He literally had it all. And yet, like everyone else, I could see something was missing. I could see that he would be gravitating toward more charity work in the future, and that would be what he ended up really passionate about. He has actually proved this theory true, but a lot sooner than I imagined he would.

I love these young souls here. They are exactly what the world needs. They seem to get it sooner than my generation has.

Park City is a magnet for celebrity faces amongst the commoners. It’s like a safe haven for them, away from the fast paced city life of L.A. My cousin see’s a pop star in teal pants on occasion, and probably has met some of the people who are featured in sports magazines, without realizing she had. She’s not allowed to talk about it, but if teal pants comes through, she kind of has to give me hints about who it was, right? Park City in it’s self is a sight for sore eyes.

I used to want to be a somebody. I used to imagine it was my name in lights, but I have met enough people who got exactly what they wanted who are still unhappy. There really isn’t anything outside of you, that can bring you inner peace.

I sat next to a stunning model, and girlfriend of one of the athletes at a biking event. Everybody, including pre-teen boys, stared as this woman literally strutted. She sat two seats down from me. Being an empath I connected to her energy instantly, and suffered it for three hours! I could feel that she was anything but confident. Her energy actually revealed that she was incredibly insecure about her relationship with the athlete. She was afraid that as his star continued to rise, he would leave her. She was already feeling ignored by him, as he was starting to be pulled away by new friends and opportunities. Beautiful women are a part of many of these events, and the young men (who really are just boys) act like young men do when surrounded by fake breasts and hair extensions. That’s not easy on any woman’s self esteem.

Her body language was stiff, as she had to be seen at her best angle at all times. I peeked at her and noticed that it wasn’t a beautiful woman sitting next to me, but an awkward girl with deep insecurities, and layers of makeup covering very bad skin. Her breast implants didn’t really flatter her super thin body frame, and looked sort of painful to carry around all day long. She literally had her nose in the air, as she expected that was the main attraction.

I wanted to reach out and grab her hand, reassure her that no matter what happened she would be alright. And yet, at some point you realize life is what it’s supposed to be. It’s a learning experience. That young woman likely will find herself single at some point. She will look back on that relationship and see all the ways in which she sold little bits of her soul at a time, to make it work. We fuck love up in our youth, because we don’t even  know or honor our own code of ethics. We don’t love ourselves.

The camera man wore a cheesy smile and aimed his camera at this woman the entire time, as he was instructed to do. He played the role of actually giving a shit about who the young celebrity’s he found himself surrounded by, were. I wondered to myself, how he could be such as sellout. His mother was in the hospital battling cancer as he pranced around with a camera, probably unable to afford the treatment. When that thought surfaced in me, his face changed. For just a small fraction of moment his exterior matched my knowing. He appeared sad in just a glimpse of a moment, and I realized I wasn’t the one who thought he was a sellout. He was.

This is my life. I leave events like that drained of every last drop of energy. I fall asleep fast, and to the sound of the motocross bikes still humming in my chest. And the stadium lights warming my soul.

Utah, is a state that will be growing and evolving same as any place, so long as we keep pushing our boundaries into the unknown. It’s as much a place to call home, as anywhere else in the world. I love this place. I’m lucky to live in one of the prettiest states in America. A state many people put on their bucket list, and only ever dream of seeing.

Namaste’

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Warriors Wash Dishes

I’m Wonder Woman. The real life Wonder Woman. No, really I am. How else do you explain me? Also, I’m a very stable genius.

Today it’s gloomy in salt lake city, Utah. A perfect symbol of my current mood. Winter has only begun and I’m already tired of being stuck indoors! Right before Christmas we developed a major drain clog. The bathtub is constantly full of black water, as I attempt to keep the household supply of never ending dishes and laundry clean. It’s rare to have the shower available for human use, so everybody smells.

The furnace hasn’t been working in over a year. It has to be lit by hand every single time. We borrowed a couple of space heaters, which work fine because of global warming. This winter hasn’t been as icy as in years past, but real snow may be a thing of the past too. I was horrified to learn of the current skiing conditions in Park City. My cousin works for a resort, and she revealed that they possess and actual snow making machine. Modern times call for modern measures, I suppose.

My cousin wants to take me skiiing, but she had to insist that we wait until there was snow, so I wouldn’t end up hating her for introducing me to the sport at the wrong time. I’m absolutely terrified of trying it out, because I’m not the most coordinated person. I’m rarely fully connected to my human body. I know that sounds weird, but a lot of people are actually like that. They live in their heads. I’ll be sure to write about the experience when it happens.

I decided to sit in my gloomy mood this afternoon, as I wasn’t inspired or motivated to accomplish much beside my basic duties. Some days, you really are on empty, and there is no moving forward until you’ve replenished your fuel supply.

I have loved being a warrior, but even warriors become tired of constant battle. I want to accomplish great things in this life, and yet I find that the struggle to make even the simplest things occur on my timeline, is overwhelming and unrealistic on my own. I choose to believe in the divine timing of it all, but I don’t know sometimes. Should life be so unsatisfying? Is it really necessary to have to struggle through so much of it?

I sometimes wonder if God, whatever that is, actually does want me to achieve any of the noble things I had hoped to in this lifetime. And if so, why has he not opened a door? Or even a window. I’m scrappy. I could climb right through that son of a bitch. No problem. And then I feel The Universe laughing at me, like “this is so fucking perfect, you whiny bitch!” Excuse me …

I griped to a friend an hour ago, “you can be everything, but without a little help, accomplish nothing.” Maybe that is an excuse. I don’t know. I’m on a journey. And I won’t know until I do know. This train could lead to nowhere. It could be a train that is going around in circles. One day I’ll look out the window and be horrified by what I see. The same old landscape it’s always been. “Hey! That’s my front yard! Again.”

Or it could be a train that is flying off the tracks as I write, ready to take flight. Not that trains should be flying. And I’m the little engine that could.

I think some days are pushing our boundaries, perfecting our bodies, our career aspirations, for feeling fly as a motherfucker. But some days are for sending another down and gloomy friend, pictures of the sunsets you have seen. Being a reminder that life does often feel kind of shitty, but that you are not in it alone.

Ending this blog, screaming, “Warrior  vibes!!!”

Namaste’

 

 

 

 

If I Were A Boy

He walks amongst mere mortal men, a beacon of light for women everywhere. The Divine Masculine.

I speak so highly of this mysterious creature for a reason. I suppose there is something to be said for allowing people to “grow up.” Maybe though the divinity is inherent, time is what really ages the “immature boy” out of any man willing to learn through trial and error. An evolving man is a man worth knowing and loving.

If you’re alive, you are well aware that the divine feminine is fully awakening at this moment in history. This is no little thing.

GIRL POWER!!

As nice as it is to sum up the potential of women in one little catch phrase, the suffering of women is what brought us here. How many rapes had to happen before this? How many boundaries have been crossed? How many crude comments about a woman’s sexuality, appearance, and worth, have been tolerated as self esteem withered away? How much did she lose? How many little girls carried the weight of the world in silence, before she (the she that is one) was FORCED to use her voice?

How painful has this journey been for every woman here today?

The women are speaking up. Though it’s not what some want to hear, it’s all that’s left of them. The scarred remains of the naive girls they once were, if they were ever that lucky. Some men are saying “it’s a dangerous time to be a man.” Welcome to the real world, where it has never yet been safe to be female.

When the #metoo hashtag was created by actress, Alyssa Milano, the shit really started to hit the fan. I lost a few friends that week. When a man compares being used for dinner money, to being “raped”, he has some growing up to do. The hashtag even became a joke to a few men. I don’t understand how the gravity of the amount of #metoo in their newsfeed’s didn’t actually alarm them. These women are your friends, your aunts, your sisters, your “better half”. The women you would hope would stand up for you when the time came.

It is our hope as women that our pain becomes the burden of the men we love too. That they stand up and fight with us, beside us, and for us, like grown men. It’s the least they could do for the women who birth them. That is the heart and soul of women, they are the mothers of the world. We couldn’t birth a new world without women.

A message to women reading: Stay busy loving yourself. Speak up often. Do not settle. If ever there were a time to use your voice, unedited, pure, and full of your truth, it is NOW!!! It is that important.

It is the divine feminine that will awaken the divine masculine.

Namaste’

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chronic Pain

My most revealing blog post yet!

I refuse to check the stats or comment on my blog right now. When we compare what we feel we are worth with what the world sometimes reflects, we can forget why we do what we truly love to do. And I’m just not willing to risk that.

I’ve spoken about my history of suicidal thoughts, depression, and ptsd. I haven’t detailed that day to day struggle for pretty much anybody. I’ve lost my battle with anxiety a time or two. I’m not on medication, because after a decade or more of trying everything and feeling nothing change (and discovering good old fashioned spirituality), I’ve decided that it’s just not for me.

Anxiety – I try not to let anxiety get the best of me. Sometimes, I leave my house in the middle of a full blown panic attack because I really do want to go shopping, etc. I’ll browse aisles while trying to even my breathing. Praying nobody triggers me into an episode. A part of anxiety that most people can’t deal with is a triggered person, one who becomes volatile in mood and perhaps lashes out in fear, which can be confused as anger or worse.

There are rare instances when I wind up in tears behind a closed door because it’s just not my day. And so, tomorrow it will be.

I find that lying down beneath my blankets in a place I feel safe, with all the doors locked, can help me get back to normal quicker.

In high school a boy reached out and touched my ass as I walked past him. I flew into a rage, cussing at him, hitting his hand away from me. Then I curled up in a fetal standing position against a wall and covered my face. It scared the shit out of everybody. One student even started to call for help on her cellphone. Talk about embarrassing moments!

I ended up explaining a small portion of my life to a class full of strangers (while my teacher dealt with the boy who had grabbed me) that day. Instead of being afraid of me as I left (and never returned to that particular class again), we stood there and listened to one another talk about the things they never told anyone before that, because they had previously felt too ashamed!

I loved that teacher. He handled the situation not only the way he should have, but with a personal attentive care to me as well. I ended up giving him a couple of gift cards given to me for Christmas. He told me he had been worrying about how to feed his family until his paycheck came the next day. Everything happens for a reason!

Depression – It’s an emotional cancer that literally robs you of your natural inborn joy. The life you had hoped to live.

There is no easy way to combat a mental illness like Depression. Many people take anti-depressants and never discover the one that actually heals them. I have mixed feelings about medication and depression. I’m not going to shame anybody on that journey, but for me I always felt like I was trying to cover a gaping wound with a band-aid.

I think sometimes you just have to get right down to business, and heal by walking through the fire, rather than attempting to avoid it.

That’s where spiritual teachers come in handy, in case you wondering what the purpose is of somebody who rises above so that they may come back with answers only the truly healed can share. And it’s never a band-aid answer. So, if you’re following a band-aid spiritual teacher, please don’t. It can worsen your condition. I will always be real with you, and you will know that you are fucking perfect no matter what condition you show up in.

PTSD – My unfortunate type of ptsd is complicated, meaning there isn’t a lot of research on it yet, therefore not a lot of helpful information. It’s a really personal experience. When I was younger I would often hide in my bedroom closet, or behind things. I was triggered by unannounced guests, and even just really tall men.

Dissociation and Seizures – Part of being triggered for me at times, has meant falling to the ground and having a seizure. Trembling, eyes closed, the whole she-bang. I literally can’t move my entire body or talk during an episode.  Though not an everyday thing  for me, as you can imagine, this changes my lifestyle a bit from one of freedom of a normal healthy, functioning adult, to one that makes being on my own a little harder. I don’t drive, because to me it’s not worth the potential risk.

I am sure anybody reading this can relate to parts of my story with the repercussions of an abusive childhood. I honestly don’t recall life ever feeling any different for me. It is my life. It is my struggle. It is, in moments, my triumph.

You are not alone. The conversation has started. Let’s just continue it when and where we can. I like reassuring people of their perfection.

Nahko (the singer) says, “You got the keys, but I’ll never keep my door locked, you can always come right in. And if my arms are full you can bet your sweet ass I will drop that shit right then.” – Black As Night

Namaste, I love you and your perfect souls.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Stitched Together At The Seams

My entire life can be summed up in one word; painful. I once prided myself on my misguided attempts to beam sunshine from every pore, and basically shit rainbows. Everybody liked me back then. Of course, I was chubbier and of no particular threat to anyone. And people like people who shit rainbows.

I, of course, am also an eternal optimist. As in no matter how bad shit can get, I’m sure my rainbow is out there waiting for me to discover it.

This year is the year of the rainbow. Teal wrote a blog about how it is the year of the butterfly, which is nice, but butterflies are a little overdone in my book. So, I’m calling this the year of the rainbow, as in a happy ending to a shitty ride. I don’t know what that means exactly, because I no longer trust my intuition after it has dropped me off at every asshole’s house it possibly could before I ended up pretty much the same place (ahem, exactly the same place) I was when I started. Where are you rainbow, why can’t I find you?

I stopped looking for my worth in others, because when you find yourself once again removing a so called friend from your life, because as hard as you tried to ignore your intuition for decades, you always knew you were being used as a reminder that no matter how bad their lives can be, at least they’re not you, you start to get it once and for all. The world may never see your worth as you do. “Say-a-fucken-nora, bastards!” I can’t even say it right, I’m so mad.

Why do we have to do that, you guys? Why do we have to pretend our lives aren’t as bad as they feel? I know if these friends would look within, they’d know they’re judgement’s really are about them.

I have been ruminating lately, and pondering the sadness I feel at this question, Isn’t it odd that we’ve managed to create a world where we spend more time trying to talk each other through our lives, rather than one that authentically feels good to any of us? What kind of world is this? We should just rename this planet, “I hate myself.”

God pretty much dropped me out of the sky, as I begged and pleaded for him to reconsider this one last trip to planet “I hate myself”. And then I decided fuck it, what else was I going to do? And so here I am, chilling in Utah in my fishnet stockings, trying to get people to respect me as a woman and mother despite my partially bare legs and bad reputation.

I started out telling you how painful my life is, which is true, but I truly make the best of it. I am the warrior. I live with intention and wear my heart on my sleeve. I just wish other people did as well, so instead of being used as a buffer between their shattered hearts and mine, they could just look in the mirror and say, “I’m a fucking mess, bro.” And like how beautiful is that?  What is wrong with seeing the truth of your life? What is it you’re trying to escape?

I am stitched together at the seams, made up of the places I love, and broken dreams. I’m not afraid to admit that life rarely goes my way. I find myself gagging on the short end of the stick often, and I pray that one day I’ll put all these pussies to shame with a golden moment that belongs solely to me. We all deserve a moment like that.

I wish we could walk a mile in each others shoes. I wish you could wear mine, and I yours. We’d all be singing the rainbow blues!

Drumroll!!! the point I’ve been dying to make all night long! Though it can be said that my mouth is foul, my spirit sore, I am still winning at life, because my existence belongs to me and not to the ideals the world places upon our shoulder’s.

I enjoy raindrops, and burritos, and seeing people “get it”. That moment when I bridge the gap, or bring forth a reading from out of the blue. I love when my intuition does add up. I love my strange and unusual life. I don’t love at the age of 33, still being considered a loser because most of society hasn’t awoken. Like, I’m sorry I’m just a pimp ass psychic.

Let me know if you need a reading from your dead mother someday. I’ll have to charge.

Namaste; Fuck you, but I love your dirty, filthy, fucked up soul!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Through The Veil

Friday’s are my hiking/soul rejuvenating day of the week. I take this very seriously, as it instantly realigns my mood with great inner peace that carries me through the rest of my often mundane and annoyingly repetitive week.

Two Friday’s ago I chose the location, Suicide Rock. I challenged my cousin to a little rock climbing. She loved the idea of tasting danger, and happily obliged. She succeeded and me, well, there’s a little video clip of me with my ass planted firmly to the bottom portion of the rock, the cold biting my bum through my thin yoga pants. I appear to be laughing, but really I was silently licking my pathetic wounds. Not so gangster now, are you?!

We decided to continue our fun hiking through the wooded area behind the rock Melissa had just conquered. I think she basically called it a pebble. I walked ahead of her as she found random bits of nature to snap photos of. She is a stone cold lover of all that the land offers so unselfishly to our often ungrateful eyes. She sees it all and her photos are always super aesthetically pleasing.

I stumbled upon a small almost sheltered circle like area, full of rocks that looked likes they could be seats in a church. It would make the perfect outdoor gathering spot in summer for the small groups of teens and young adults who tend to overpopulate this park in the warmer months of Utah. I instantly stopped walking, and listened to what the silence was telling me. I felt I was standing on sacred ground, but couldn’t quite grasp why.  Nonetheless, my full respect was being summoned from deep within automatically. I declined taking a photo, though I distinctly had the thought that it would be fine to do so. One does not take photos of a place like this, was my reasoning.

Melissa quickly caught up and stopped dead in her tracks too. She actually was the first to say something about the feeling she picked up as she walked “through the veil”.  I’m always happy to have confirmation about what I’m sensing. She said it almost felt like she was standing in a church.

We continued our fun hiking through the rest of the woods, and turned around. As I stepped once again “through the veil”, I was hit with an onslaught of new feelings, visions, and emotions. I was surrounded by figures drenched in white light, who parted on both sides to allow us to pass through, as if doing so out of respect. They called me an Angel several times, which is weird no matter who is saying it, and kind of nice too. We were their guests and they were more than happy to entertain us.

Melissa thought maybe the land had once belonged to pilgrims, but I saw the woman on horseback wearing a brown vest and cowboy style hat, suggesting the old west instead. She actually escorted us out of the veil and shared her story as she did. There were no words, but the story came to be that a group of travelers had actually become trapped on the piece of land where they perished. Knowing they wouldn’t survive the situation, whether it was due to bad weather during travel or they had become prisoners, they accepted their inevitable fate and made the last days of their lives about praying and being at peace.

The unmistakable feeling of the area being sacred was indeed correct. It was the final resting spot for the poor souls.

 

 

 

 

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