It takes a trip home to finally take the real step forward toward healing, or at least seal the deal on my own self-healing. Home truly is where the heart is, and at my home where there are no walls, everyone knows my heart was hurting. Calvin penetrated every nook of my house, and after driving on familiar streets, it's easier for him to penetrate my thoughts....However, this is better than being at UCI and I nightmare about him. Why? Because all the mental reminders and notes make it easier for me to think about him and let that thought go instead of unconsciously thinking about him and having my subconscious ruin sweet sleep. This is truth.
I want to let him go. I want to move on. My gramma sat me down this morning, catching me at a very vulnerable state (when I am the most receptive to intimacy) and got REAL. She asked me if I talk to him still (via AIM, text, phone call). I tell her the consequences of those moments of weakness. Yes, but Calvin will never trust me again; he has changed; and he is happier (without me). With that she said that if I am down on my knees begging him to come back and he doesn't accept, then eventually you have to get up and walk away. A person can only take so much rejection and there are plenty of loving arms who won't reject you. Thank you friends who remind me how precious true friends are. This is truth.
Another truth is that age/time does bring change. My siblings have definitely grown into themselves and it makes me happy to see that. I gave them all strengthsfinder and understand who they are by how they work. My gramma had heart surgery the night before I came home. We also celebrated her 86 birthday this Thanksgiving. The doctor said she put on an extra 5 years. It's pretty spectacular hearing, "I put on 20 years!" rather than "I put on 20 pounds!" to me. I always make this dang resolution every year too: exercise more. Exercise in every way--physically mentally intellectually emotionally and spiritually.
In my self-healing, I've realized how much breathing, meditation, painting, and reading has helped me. Stillness. I runaway, stowaway, and flee like steam from a hot pot, evaporated water in the air. But sometimes stillness does a body good because all that invisible evaporation condenses into visible dark rain clouds, then the clouds can fully rain, and at the end of all the sadness comes sunshine. The weather reports for this weekend were right: 30% of rain and storm coming in. There were small bouts of showers in this heart-to-heart with mi abuela. At the end of it though, I feel a lot better and the bay, the heart of California, is looking fantastique!
My gramma keeps me real. It takes my gramma to tell me to move on and for me to listen. We can talk about death, money, and love--fully crying (without touching)--and it'd be okay. True acceptance. Oh! Also, my family has realized that I actually don't have a bed or room in my house therefore it is reasonable why I don't come home often. Of course, I told them that I'm the first bird to fly from the nest and that will probably be the case if I ever did come back home. No lie, I'd probably live in Berkeley. So for this Thanksgiving, I would like to suggest being REAL and trying to integrate that into every part of our lives.
I dunno how long it'll work. for now, I feel like I slowly let the door of my heart chakra open.
Saturday, November 28, 2009
Tuesday, November 17, 2009
soul searching.
sometimes it takes one person to be real to make you realize that it's okay to let all the layers of ego fall away. undress myself for you to see that inside i'm still broken. even as a strong independent womyn, i hurt just like any other. in the whirlwind of extra-curricular-activist-reclaiming-spiritual-gaining, something deep within me feels loss. i loved a man and a friend and a child who aren't tangible to my fingertips, to my lips, to my lover hips.
to fill such a void, i've immersed myself in community, engaged myself fully in the struggles of peoples so that i don't have to focus on my own internal struggle. but it isn't as satisfying; it is temporary. granted, i am blessed to have the opportunity of being surrounded by the most beautiful people in the world, but these people are not living in my house. when i come home at night, there is no one to hold me, to cuddle with, to eat dinner with, to run their hands on my face when i'm sleeping, to rub cold feet against, to love like lovers.
to be intimate with. yeah i want to share intimacy because it is a manageable, micro-revolution of love. and though i made the choice to live alone for introspection, shit, sometimes independence falls into loneliness and before you even know it, life has moved on and left, forgotten about you....
people mistake me to be a happy person, a warm energy, and it is there, however it came from a deep darker place where children cry, people die, and there ain't no one i can depend on except myself. so it's hard for me to trust others, the warmth others give me, the attention others give me. is it real? at what point did i start to exist? at what moment am i me? i am scared of what is to come knowing there probably won't be anyone to come with me. calvin would've dropped everything for me, and did drop his dreams just to be close to me, but how is that fair? and i couldn't even talk my fears out with him either, i just pushed and pushed and pushed the same way i did with all the others and it's the same damn cycle. fuck my cycles, or "in loves gone bust." everyone knows that one shouldn't judge on identity markers, so why is it that this patriarchal, hypermasculine, slanger, get-by, worker whom i loved was not enough? why am I not enough for myself?
where are you god? and what spaces do you fill? i wanna believe in the silence again. the hum of my laptop isn't enough. are you in the colors of the sand? the scoop of a wave? the light behind the clouds, the cloud itself, the mouth of a boy chewing, the eye of a sewing needle, the laughter of a child, my own laughter?....
after putting immense amounts of energy in caring for Ava, I come home to no child of my own, and i don't know how to describe the smile, hug, laughter of a child but it's pure...holy, sacred because she knows how to be in the present. god, how can i bring a child into a world that knows no justice? that has perils and pain? why am i in this world? what is my calling?
i am drawn to the domestic. i wanna be a mother, i like to cook, notsomuch clean, kick it with my kid, and just play yet something in my soul stirs because there is work to be done; superheroes can't take a break. so do i surrender to your power? my own power?
i'm afraid of what i am capable of.
sometimes it takes one person to be real to make you realize that it's okay to let all the layers of ego fall away. undress myself for you to see that inside i'm still broken. even as a strong independent womyn, i hurt just like any other. in the whirlwind of extra-curricular-activist-reclaiming-spiritual-gaining, something deep within me feels loss. i loved a man and a friend and a child who aren't tangible to my fingertips, to my lips, to my lover hips.
to fill such a void, i've immersed myself in community, engaged myself fully in the struggles of peoples so that i don't have to focus on my own internal struggle. but it isn't as satisfying; it is temporary. granted, i am blessed to have the opportunity of being surrounded by the most beautiful people in the world, but these people are not living in my house. when i come home at night, there is no one to hold me, to cuddle with, to eat dinner with, to run their hands on my face when i'm sleeping, to rub cold feet against, to love like lovers.
to be intimate with. yeah i want to share intimacy because it is a manageable, micro-revolution of love. and though i made the choice to live alone for introspection, shit, sometimes independence falls into loneliness and before you even know it, life has moved on and left, forgotten about you....
people mistake me to be a happy person, a warm energy, and it is there, however it came from a deep darker place where children cry, people die, and there ain't no one i can depend on except myself. so it's hard for me to trust others, the warmth others give me, the attention others give me. is it real? at what point did i start to exist? at what moment am i me? i am scared of what is to come knowing there probably won't be anyone to come with me. calvin would've dropped everything for me, and did drop his dreams just to be close to me, but how is that fair? and i couldn't even talk my fears out with him either, i just pushed and pushed and pushed the same way i did with all the others and it's the same damn cycle. fuck my cycles, or "in loves gone bust." everyone knows that one shouldn't judge on identity markers, so why is it that this patriarchal, hypermasculine, slanger, get-by, worker whom i loved was not enough? why am I not enough for myself?
where are you god? and what spaces do you fill? i wanna believe in the silence again. the hum of my laptop isn't enough. are you in the colors of the sand? the scoop of a wave? the light behind the clouds, the cloud itself, the mouth of a boy chewing, the eye of a sewing needle, the laughter of a child, my own laughter?....
after putting immense amounts of energy in caring for Ava, I come home to no child of my own, and i don't know how to describe the smile, hug, laughter of a child but it's pure...holy, sacred because she knows how to be in the present. god, how can i bring a child into a world that knows no justice? that has perils and pain? why am i in this world? what is my calling?
i am drawn to the domestic. i wanna be a mother, i like to cook, notsomuch clean, kick it with my kid, and just play yet something in my soul stirs because there is work to be done; superheroes can't take a break. so do i surrender to your power? my own power?
i'm afraid of what i am capable of.
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