These 3 things

Shes healing and peace building and thriving

Healing is not the easy way out

Its the poking and prodding at the holes I've patched over to ignore their existence

Its the opening up the locked doors to rooms I've since forgotten

Its the sitting in the unkempt

The peace building is the cultivating of grace

Its the lessening of judgement to others and mostly myself

Its the realization the more gentle I approach my darkness the less harsh i become when confronted

With the darkness of others

Its the learning i don't have to carry the responsibility of someone elses healing journey

Its the learning that i can observe not absorb everything

The boundary setting and keeping

Thriving is a word I can feel overwhelmed by

Almost as if its out taunting me

Ready with its stoic stance to discredit me

To mock me

Its the giggles in the background

The scoff

So I cower and ignore its existence

Thriving scares me because I fear I'm not it

I fear its report card as if it has one

I'm weary at the thought of not making its final cut

Thriving may be many things

But it is not the taunting villain

Its more of the supportive audience

The getting of your jokes

The wooing and clapping

The hyping you up

Thriving is stoic in its stance

But only to assure you that your trying is not in vain

You are healing and peace building and thriving

Kindness for Me Too, Please

Mi abuelita, que dios la cuida, siempre decia que necesitabamos perdornar las personas que nos hace mal, las personas que nos hace dano. Ella era una guerrera. Paso por tanto en su vida. Tenia tantas historias que debian estar en un libro. Tantas veces que estabamos sentadas y me contaba momentos de su vida. Si, una guerrera. Una luchadora. 

De ella agarro el esfuerzo para continuar cuando pienso que ya no puedo. Recuerdo que tengo la sangre de ella corriendo en mis venas. Recuerdo por lo tanto que ella sufrio y todavia segilla. Segilla y segilla adelante aunque estuviera pesada con tristeza y dolor. Ella empujaba y trataba para un dia llegar a dias mas comodos, mas relajados y llenos con paz. 

Maybe the perfect life doesn't exist. Life is way to unpredictable for that but I can get to easier days. I can get to much more comfortable days. Glass half full of peace. Traumas barely occupying space kinda days.

I can build up and out instead of hole up in whatever shit lifes thrown at me. We don't have to live that way. We can move on. We are allowed that.

A friend messaged me tonight needing some support and I realized once I pressed send and read it back to myself that I needed it too. Thought I'd share:

Quarantine & Chill? CHILL?!?!

The corona virus has disrupted the worlds rhythms. Most people are in quarantine now if not out working. I am still going out and working but when I am not there I am home, in quarantine. There are memes everywhere making fun of how some people haven't had to change much of their lives with the quarantine order in effect and let me tell you that is me. Other than the fact I can't go to Target just to walk around or to the swap meet/flea market on weekends, concerts, driving somewhere; my life now in quarantine and out aren't too different. Isolation is kinda my thing apparently.

I mean not that I wasn't aware but also I didn't realize how intense it was. HAH. Let a pandemic make you ask yourself some important questions. Also, I spend way too much time on my phone and it pains me to say but watching Netflix too. I wanna finish all the books I have just waiting for me on my shelves. I want to spend more time outside even if its just spent staring at my plants, reading, or listening to music. I bet my mental health would appreciate that much more than switching between the same 3 social media apps until it gets dark while also watching shows on Netflix. I also obsessively watch the videos of past concerts I've been to. Its weird kinda but also not? Listen I have clinical depression and motivation runs away from me. I have the intent but the actual scene of how it plays out usually looks like me laying on my bed staring at the ceiling thinking how much I want to or should be doing this or that. I was exercising at home once before bed too. Nothing extravagant but through an app on my phone I would do a set for like 15-20 minutes. That was stooopid but it was also good? Piece of advice, living upstairs isn't great for at home exercising. If I wasn't so anxiety ridden and self conscious about people looking at me then I could maybe try the gym again or even just out in my patio area.  Also, the app kept a calender and marked each time I'd exercise and sadly looks like I had a pattern of once every 2-3 weeks. I WAS TRYING OKAY?! I don't know if its my over critical part of myself or what but I always feel like I am always landing short of my potential. I'm always just missing the mark.

I'm always thinking of how I use my blog as an outlet. I say how I love writing and how it feels like an itch I can't scratch until I do it again. I've been wondering though if maybe I could start going to therapy and how that could possibly change things. What if the only reason I've felt so passionately about writing is because its my only safe outlet? What if what I thought was a passion of mine turns out not to be? Then what? Also, what is the use of being passionate about something if you are the only one who benefits from it? My writing is more self serving than anything whether I do it or not won't ripple effect anything. What the fuck am I good at then? What am I supposed to be doing?

Whats my purpose here? Everyone else seems to have their shit together (wrong) and I don't. Everyone else seems to be working towards something and what the fuck am I doing?

“My vulnerability is natural and permissible and beautiful to me, and it should remind you of your responsibility to behave like a friend to me and the world.”  -Jenny Slate

Maybe the capitalist mindset has brainwashed me too much because my productivity level dictates how I weigh my worth and purpose. I don't think that's right. Right?

I may not be in college working to get a degree or rising up in the ranks of my job but I am working on things inside. There's a construction site of healing and recovery happening somewhere people can't see. Isn't that okay?

"Being vulnerable is clumsy but it is the only thing worth anything. "

I think thats it for me this time around. hey, I should write on here more now that its not my choice to self isolate and everyone else is doing (or supposed to) doing it too. Yeah? Yeah, Ima do it. 

Whats Happened With You

Isn't it interesting to think about how quickly things change? How from one moment to another things can become so different?

How the world can be kinda ok one moment then within a couple weeks completely change??

People are like that too but somehow decades feel like days. We can hold onto how a person was and continue to compare them. They were okay then so then what happened?

How did they go from point a to point b? The reality? They already went through the whole alphabet 3x over but times distorted and point A felt like last month. We missed it but yet we were a witness?

Ive been thinking about how there are so many people out there who are struggling with broken family members. Ive noticed a pattern we either completely cut ourselves off from them or continue to drown ourselves in the belief they are so close to being saved even though its keeping us from moving forward. Theres the guilt for both situations. Theres the confusion of how someone you love can be so fucked up and how you simultaneously hate them AND care for them. You repeat the excuses you've compiled together of their lives to create the conclusion of who they are now. You think if only-if only.

I am stuck in limbo. I have a foot out the door to move forward and a hand keeping my family afloat. I've thunk myself cold. I've disassociated so hard I'm unsure how to come back from it without professional help.

Is it normal to consider everyones life story when thinking of the hurt and wrong they've done to you? I guess thinking of their perspective to try and justify the pain caused is the purpose for this but then it leaves me heavy feeling with everyones' life along with my own.

I don't know how to make everyone's pain stop bleeding on me.

How do I learn to ignore the red, the stain, the stench?

Or do I not but then how do I move forward knowing they don't have a chance?

How do I move forward knowing they are going to stay behind? 

That the idea of them eventually moving on to healing is only but a daydream? 

What if their damage is much too much? I move on anyway? Just like that?

How do I bare that kind of everyday reminder that my happiness and my peace serves as the reminder of the complete lacking of theirs. That you know deep in your bones they lack love and how you wish it was enough to help them.

Then how do you not let it fuck up everything you've ever worked for?

 How do you not let it fuck your heart and head up?

Where does the line get drawn from self preservation to selffishness? I would sure like to know.