processing, reflections, and phoenix

im processing …. and realizing there is a pulsing in the brain that is now abscessing, and simultaneously fracturing the essence of structure, …. breaking down all the zoning and the breakage causes a puncture,  the very core of stabilization… the shaking of the foundation created the shattering of the perfect reflection… only seen in the mirror of self preservation…. preserving the perverse and twisted of versions, the self visualized identity, … as the remnants lay at the floor of our souls debris… the destruction occurs naturally…. only chaos comes from the natural being while intentionally, reaching for the metaphysically, observed,  and released,  for the physical attendee to record visually… purposefully arising from the ashes with intent and poise, silencing the piercing shrieks that explode from internal noise….. with louder and more quiet, with peace and partaking of personal riot, the duality sits in one seat but has a co pilot… flying this aviation device in natures glorious defiance, navigationally pleading for direction or guidance …..while holding out for the results of this test, the years of experience are the only reliance….. relying on the self, based on what was once true, only leaves making the fool make a fool , the fool sets the new standard of what not to do, raises the bar of what to make sure to do,  ensure the new place in the opportunists new dormitory, a broken improvisation of “new” in an old story, a horror story, where peace is misplaced and love is brutal and gory, engorged, in self servitude and division of self sustainment…. watching the self try to rebuild within itself is devastating entertainment…. without the leading of the game of blame,  it seeks its own demise… falling further into the fiery path no longer disguised, and once again, out of the ashes with a smile, the soul will rise

Better yet?

I guess I just felt that I should have more closure today. Instead I find myself diving further into the unknowns… I go there frequently and sometimes resurface from the depths with a new understanding of the foreign entities I have encountered. I have made more friends with the oddities and theories than not, as of late. While I explore in this spiritual and transcendental in-betweens, I have learned that there is still so much more to be seen that could never be spotted by the laymen human plateau that is often referred to as the heart…

I thought that I would feel differently now. Perhaps I feel that people feel I should feel differently by now. But, I don’t. I remember about four weeks after Archaea passed that I had a day that I woke up and didn’t cry. I thought, that’s it, I’m done crying now apparently and I have this grieving thing over with….. It wasn’t much further into the day that I bawled. Same thing happened about 3 months into it. Again at 5, 7, 8, 10 months…. Then the anniversary week came fast and relentless… So naturally, at one year and three days, I assured myself that I was good, and that now I can move on, breathe… What better time for me to be done with all the pain and sorrow and crazy? A year has come and while others are only reminded because perhaps of my constant reminder that is my being, I remember everyday. We all know that.

So I sit in this struggle. The battle forging between my soul and my soul to be… Whomever it is that I am going to become next is strongly weighted with the iron boots cast on from the previous battle of who I was before. Of course I see the waging of war within myself. Of course I want peace. However, the only way to know peace is to know chaos… or so they say.. … Whoever they are anyway.

I will never know here in the space I am what the space prior was or what my future space will be. I don’t know if I will ever return to myself or evolve into a more enlightened version of myself, but I do know, that I have become more accepting of myself with the feelings I have. I am free to be stagnant, I am free to flow, and only I at the time that I am who I am, can determine what I will do, be, think, feel…..

And today, I am angry. Again or still… and that is absolutely beautiful…

write or wrong

At a steadfast pace in this existential race, I’m ever wandering on a path that steadily, is being erased.. I jog along trying to keep next to my mate, but that map is quickly being misplaced. It’s in the plan to exacerbate, forget to mediate and just begin to elaborate like my ears are a fresh slate.

I’m irate.

I’m needing to medicate and replate this dish thats been served at my table. The one that has a misleading label. It comes with a menu that is written in fables. Words so smoothly ejected that they make your understanding feel disabled.

Without the able.

Locked in a stable and stuffed in a cradle to be kept at bay, while all the nay sayers neigh, and display the inability to articulate the right thing to say. It all comes out in disarray.

Today. Not today. Someday. Some way.

Weighing the past to the future while missing the present, the reality being filtered by resent. The distance growing rapidly by coupled dissent.

I relent.

I indent my paragraphs to acknowledge priority of speech. I use this avenue to release.

Please.

I am incarcerated by your freedom of speech, and the twisted justice has my faith impeached. My body beached. Floundering in the chaos and fleek. Flock, forgoing the family flight. Standing still while watching lies pass me by, reeling from plight or a lack thereof. If there was pride from the guide, there would have been love.

one week, again

In one week I will be trying to honor Archaea on her day of birth….

In one week I will be trying to keep it together for her brothers and sister, so they too can honor her, if they so choose….

In one week I will be desparately clinging to anything I can find holding some semblance of peace or love…

In one week I will be reliving last year (as if I don’t daily) mentally over and over again….

In one week I will no doubt be overwhelmed and dissatisfied on how I chose to honor her should have been 1 year birthday…..

In one week the day that has been trudging through my mind over and over will whirl away as fast as I can think of it…..

In one week I will be so terribly sad and trying terribly to get the “should have beens” out of my mind….

In one week I will be devastated and horrified that we will not be honoring this time together as a family….

In all the days that have been passing as this day approaches I have been learning….

In all these days leading up, I have been preparing….

In all these days coming through I have passed through with them again desperately trying to find the love and hold that….

In all these days I have battled to do so….

In all these days I am learning to honor Archaea I am also wondering what that even means….

On this day I have broke down more times than I care to admit…

On this day I have been more angry than recent…

On this day I saw how much my children love me regardless of my anger…

On this day I realized that there was more of me that could still be broken, since the day he said goodbye ….

On this day I saw that I am certain I may never heal from this beyond brokeness…

On this day I decided that this process is my way of honoring her and that is raw…

In this moment I am lost, but still looking for a compass

the Tolerance of Crazy

“We are all a little crazy… it’s just what kind of crazy can you tolerate..”
This was a topic in a conversation I was blessed to have today…

It’s true.

We are all crazy. We all have our issues and baggage and common droppings of batshit that cover our crazies. I guess that is why I write. To eliminate the intensity of the ideas or the insistency of which my brain urges me to operate. Regardless of how much I write or talk or think about the overbearing thoughts in my brain, it still doesn’t relieve me of the moments when I just need to scream or cry or disappear. Those moments are as unpredictable as they are predictable. I have especially learned within the last couple of weeks just how vulnerable I am within the confines of my own cell, trying to break the bars. It feels as though I am reaching through the slats just close enough to make the key chain of freedom dangle, but not quite within full grasp. So as I watch it swaying I become hypnotized envisioning what that freedom looks like.

It looks like this….

The girl who sits behind the veil of her own shade and is welcomed at that nature and not forced to be in the light.

The girl who disappears behind the nightshade of her own shadows now steps into the light and never casts a shadow.

And still that girl will wax and wane and the world will sway with her song and maybe even attempt to hum along to her song.

Just a little bit of what freedom looks like.

Sometimes.

“Overall that is the epitome of what it means to be me, or in my company. While I sift through the definitions of what “is” and redefine what it means to “be,” I reflect and am reminded of my vulnerability. What is the tolerance level that equates and vibrates with my personal mental tyranny? ……. “

still screaming, silently

We just go on day by day. Well, I mean, you do. You think I do. You see me in the “everday,” so I must be going on too. Moving on. Every one just moves on. So typical. I am in no way judging, it just is what it is….

But today was like it was just yesterday.

To me, it was just yesterday.

How could it not be?

Sometimes I think it gets harder. There are so many expectations of me, and now more.

I just cant even imagine…. could you expect this of yourself?

I have a plan or rather a goal, but I have to reset this goal every day because each day it amounts to a pressure that breaks me down. Again, I have to rebuild.

This just happened yesterday because I have to live it every day. Each day I wake up, and all three of my earthside children wake up, I, remember the one who never woke up…..