Loneliness is the ache for connection.
Solitude is the space where connection with self deepens.
“Loneliness is the ache for connection. Solitude is the space where connection with self deepens.” - Unknown
“Cuando te vas a casar, cuando te vas a encontrar un hombre? Cuando, cuando, cuando? - When? Well, my standards are much higher than what they used to be, which was a desperation for anyone and anything to love me. I now know that I was, and am worth more than the way I was allowing myself to be treated. The solitude I have taken is a testament to my standards, it’s not a tragedy.
Precise movements help my focus and concentration when I go into change limiting beliefs that have had a contribution to the shaping of me. I’m precise and intentional about the dialogue I have with myself now. Consciously speaking to myself kindly. Kindly speaking to the voice that was brutally belittled. Celebrating myself when no one is looking. Hearing when I’m faking. Kind of like dressage for a horse, it's also building my confidence. Precision has me hearing the ways in which I have been a contribution to pouring gasoline to beliefs that shrink my existence. Beliefs that have shrunk my family's existence. Beliefs that have shrunk and diminished the Indigenous existence. Human beings, especially women, most especially Indigenous Women, Most especially & MOST DEFINITELY BLACK WOMEN who have been emotionally wounded are wired to please. I renounce this way of being, forever and always.
Change is hard, it just is. There’s no two ways about how uncomfortable growth feels. That even when the foundation from within feels built up enough there’s something that thunders the uncertainty out of the choices I’m making. But that’s when Faith, a blind faith, starts to take shape. It is brave to change. To let go of what’s weighing your sails down. To let your own flotilla of truth sail as far and wide as you dare to sail off to, no matter how many people are trying to projectile their shit on to you so you no longer exist, which just exposes how much much they loathe their own existence. To take the bridle off and go bareback into your unknown. I know - does that feel selfish or what? Yes, because that’s what we were conditioned to feel.
This season of eclipses has felt like two tornadoes closing in on me. It has felt like lightning striking, and not at the time I was most certain that it would strike at. To then feel the wind whip a resounding whisper through my locks “All in divine timing my dear” - Ani, I miss you. Lighting has struck in green - to remind me to ground even deeper because I have three hot legs and the neutral is to remind me to keep centering into that grounding that might not feel fully locked in. “Anchor the green in love.” - Wendy, I miss you. The center of the tornadoes have been revealed - Van Gogh's Starry Night. I can smell an ushering of giraloes, and I have no idea what awaits me other side - other than life & death. One thing I know is that I will show up for myself at the end of that threshold. Arms wide open, clapping. As a former person who lived with the ideation of no longer wanting to exist - that means quite literally everything.
I don’t know about you but existing has felt quite - MOST DEFINITELY excruciating these days. On my own Homefront and afar - there is no different - we are all interconnected. PTSD is bubbling up in all facets of my body. Hang in there, you got this. Stick around♥️
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