decieving projections of strength.

i always find myself in this space, critically breaking down the happenings of societal archetypes and human emotion.

these ephiphanies may never find the light of day outside of the interactions of healing i often find myself in, being the go to person when trouble is afoot. 

I love that somehow the universe created this space for me, to track the magic of connectiveness, and truly understand the power of inner-standing. 

so here we go. 

my girl broke down today. 

And she broke down about things that have long been gone and done. 

she cried about her childhood guilt, childhood fears, and childhood mistreatment. 

it nearly floored me how much pain she was carrying from what seemed like lifetimeS ago. 

and finally. In that space of grief, i understood in some capacity, my Mother. 

My Mom cries about the same childhood traumas during every peaked conflict or familial challenge we incur.  

i get so disappointed by the way It possesses her presence.

she projects no emotion, because of her overwhelming emotions of anger, grief, sadness, bitterness... unacceptance.

she is led completely by her emotions and masquerades within the world as a brick house, needing nothing and no one.

my girl was crying over something that happened 15-20 years ago.

she cried so hard It completely enveloped her present happiness. 

my mom has been carrying stuff for 40 plus years. 

her Ego has learned to spin things to satisfy her projection of self identification in such a way that she can’t help but find a multitude of routes back to that comforting space of “Me and mine”  “MY PAIN” “MY STORY” “MY RIGHT [to be a shit person because I’ve been shitted on 40 years ago]”

i don’t know what type of magic my Dad spoke into my life as a child. At a very young age, i felt compassion for the parents that birthed me, their story, their trauma and tragedy that arrived me into the loving arms of my adoptive parents (who are nothing short of my parents Parents).  

But at a tender age i knew Acceptance. 

my birth parents were critically unhealthy, run entirely by their weaknesses, and could not care for me. 

some kids, let that make them feel inferior, they got lost in that narrative of “i wasn’t good enough for even my parents to change” 

but at that tender age, i was grateful for the Love that surrounded me. 

grateful for the parents that took me in, grateful for the story we have struggling in this dog eat dog city.  

My girl reminded me how important ONE voice is.

the voice she hears in her head is her step mothers, never good enough, never valuable. 

the one i hear that has led my life is my fathers. 

Valuable, exactly the way you are, special, beautiful, phenomenal, outstanding, wondrous.  

We cant go back and change what has already happened, but we can choose to be better today. 

choose to listen for the sounds of Love that we have right now.

And forgive with such unprecedented acceptance.

to be capacious *in my Angela Y. Davis voice*

im so lucky to have had that ONE voice that has helped to shape the entirety of my life.