What is Joy for a tortured soul?

It's always entertaining to go back into the bucket of moments, the places where I allowed the honest to flow thru me. To actually laugh at myself and maybe even cry. The raw honesty of this, plus the depth of so much life being experienced, it's so interesting to see your portrait in the words on a page in the months apart. 

December '21

Ha. As a passionately loud human, it’s often assumed I’m an ‘excited’ or ‘happy’ person… but I am so often far from it. I love love and definitely spend time in gratitude when I’m feeling immense joy; however, rarely ever do I get ecstatic or enthusiastic to express a feeling of joy in simple moments of humor or day to day interactions. When I first noticed my own lack of enthusiasm it was watching her get so excited about EVERYTHING and OH DEAR can that be jarring for those of us that do not have ability to empathize with that energy. Not until recently, did I realize that both people that hold space in my heart and I in theirs, that this lack of enthusiasm created cracks of doubt or assumptions that I didn’t find things funny or enjoyable that they want feedback on in some sort of emotional response. 

Growing up, I was ALWAYS told I was “too much”, too loud, too hyper, too ADHD, too this or that; and I’m now curious of how much that hindered my ability to be soft and impacted to express how I really feel. Ooof…. Shit hit today as I realized in my own story telling that maybe through the years, as I’ve held so tightly to being loud and passionate, that I have left no room for other feelings of enthusiasm on the fly. Is it in fear? Is it in guilt of how much space I take up in a room? I’m not sure. There does seem to be so many deep layers of ways I’ve curved my own enthusiasm through the years and I be damn if that ain’t some joy sucking hell. 

The biggest indicator of this curved enthusiasm is deeply rooted in so many fears inside of me of my own space, one that’s so clear is how being ashamed of my own identity as a queer in my growing years. Not only did I curve my own enthusiasm to how much I loved her from the moments in a bunk bed in north east Texas to, finding him and neglecting excitement as well because, wait - aren’t you gay?! 

I’m comfortable reconciling that I’m not often “happy” because my mind is always on the larger picture of pains, trials and you know global fucking doom in this gross ass patriarchal/ capitalistic bullshit society we are enrolled within…however, what we NOT gonna do is address the reality that I feel deep in the pit of my being so much of my enthusiasm has been suffocated out by my own doing. My own fear of how much space I take up. As a true advocate for owning the damn space you desire, regardless of others opinions, I’ve too often failed myself. 

I want to live a life of enthusiasm! I want to be ecstatic with giddy pleasure when something makes me giggle, I want the pleasure of feeling the smile warm me from the inside out, versus a facial reaction that has no depth. I want to enthusiastically consent to my partners, to be present in pleasure & excitement. Owning how I feel and what gets me going from the inside out. 

July 28, 2022 - New Moon LEO 

How to make it all the way to Radical Joy? What's the path - months ago the above, still rings so true - doesn't make me cringe and yet here we continue. 

It’s in the moments - the potatoes. 

There’s so fucking much to mad at, 

To be angry about, the sadness is literally oozing 

As the temperatures rise daily - and the ice disappears. 

But the moments - the friendships. 

It’s the small moments, sunset bike rides and mountain gazing.

The song lyrics, that make you smile and physically feel as if you are with the people you love. 

Art work that carries the weight of not only the soul of their creator, 

But also of the ancestors that made them - 

Choosing radical joy - picking the narrative, choices. 

Dreaming of sunsets, when there is only fog. 

Seeing the smoke roll in but yet trying to capture the gold at the end of a rainbow. 

Present to see and hold the humans around you, but lost the will to see life as a gift.

Holding to the moon, as much tries to distract and priorities compromised. 

Reseting to remember, it’s in the potatoes. 

The Moments - sunsets and rainbows, dancing. 

Honoring the universe for the gifts. 

Provision to prosperity. 

Radical Joy.

Thank you to the ones my soul love and those that love my soul so well. I am honored to travel on this journey with you. Prioritizing the moments. Honor. Gratitude. The Sun & The Moon. Thank you, Universe.

                                                    

Angry, tired, over it - no silence!

Performative FUCKING Activism… 

You may be sicker than fucking blatant racist. You know what, actually you are. 

White moderate. 

“First, I must confess that over the past few years I have been gravely disappointed with the white moderate. I have almost reached the regrettable conclusion that the Negro’s great stumbling block in his stride toward freedom is not the White Citizen’s Council-er or the Ku Klux Klanner, but the white moderate, who is more devoted to “order” than to justice; who prefers a negative peace which is the absence of tension to a positive peace which is the presence of justice; who constantly says: “I agree with you in the goal you seek, but I cannot agree with your methods of direct action”; who paternalistically believes he can set the timetable for another man’s freedom; who lives by a mythical concept of time and who constantly advises the Negro to wait for a “more convenient season.” Shallow understanding from people of good will is more frustrating than absolute misunderstanding from people of ill will. Lukewarm acceptance is much more bewildering than outright rejection.” http://okra.stanford.edu/transcription/document_images/undecided/630416-019.pdf 

“Writing with the light from the sun that fell through the cell’s bars, King quoted from memory biblical passages and quotes from Socrates, Martin Luther, Thomas Jefferson, T.S. Eliot, Thomas Aquinas and St. Augustine to bolster his argument. He wrote:

We know through painful experience that freedom is never voluntarily given by the oppressor; it must be demanded by the oppressed. Frankly, I have yet to engage in a direct action campaign that was “well timed” in the view of those who have not suffered unduly from the disease of segregation. For years now I have heard the word “Wait!” It rings in the ear of every Negro with piercing familiarity. This “Wait” has almost always meant “Never.” We must come to see, with one of our distinguished jurists, that “justice too long delayed is justice denied.””

https://www.washingtonpost.com/news/retropolis/wp/2018/01/15/martin-Luther-king-jr-s-scathing-critique-of-white-moderates-from-the-Birmingham-jail/ 

How many have to die? Will you still always only say his name now? George Floyd, ‘in light of,' in the injustice of is even a littel more tolerable, but fuck you literally are going to call the “in light of," - SO many of you do it and keep doing it and yall its fucking gross. At least start owning the moments your experiencing? Or how about you PAUSE long enough in your day of earning money to present an illusion of life - to who? For why? But wait. Pause go to this link and see all who have been harmed, the injustice served to SO MANY HUMANS and you only want to sit here and say “in light of," in awakening of… HOW the FUCK have all of these humans died, and you still don’t wanna. But Here I digress, again go to this link - say their names. And this are those just at the hands of injustice and consequences of over policing. Say their names… I am still in tears because I haven’t even puased long enough yet to say their names all - it hurts. Sorry is not enough. 

https://airtable.com/shroOenW19l1m3w0H/tblxearKzw8W7ViN8

It’s not in the light of but really we are here just in the ‘pistol smoke’ - fools. 

More than 23,000 people have died to Gun Violence just this fucking year and it’s not even Leo season - this is merely to acknowledge we are not even fully 3/4 thru the year but even if we were to we accept this number. I suppose if my life is just political. 

https://www.gunviolencearchive.org 

But here we are supposed to still wait. GAWD, how many damn times someone has told me to calm down or sit down, or to maintain the peace for someone elses comfort.. — Yet here the injustice is served. 

It’s fucking hard to exist in a space where debt over takes the will to purse desire. As we find it our purpose is what? To create that whimsical life — ha, homies’ dead and gone — but the MARCH goes on. 

And here I sit, in the shame turning my head from side to side, as where to perform. Because I must be able to support it — you know that thing, an identity that relates? But, maybe I am lookin’ for a father — ha. The fact that I am supposed to exist and sit with a reality that someone harming my mom — the seed of which made me? Reconciled by ‘daddy in the sky’ — still disconnected still gone, but yet we need to create. 

If I should do, who will I always love? But will it be to what I was connected? Is it from the dust I came? As I laugh out loud, but I really don’t audibly — but the scene in my head where she’s running this script — where she’s entirely alone — like in the field of Pushing Daisies intro - Now that did just make me chuckle, I felt it in my belly. 

I sit alone, or truly with ONLY people I want to because — tolerating anything less the desiring freedom for ALL, you disgust me. I may break, when I fall but to the earth I return. 

Do better — white folx - SHUT UP unless every fucking word is FREEDOM, JUSTICE for ALL - not just the ones that look like you Hitler. Tired. 

Post traumatic stresses - what all stresses - as if just existing isn’t enough - we get significant injustice. 

And then I realize I create such a very intentional life and it’s one in which I want to be part of and when there are scenes or chapters that include nasty people or stupid ass things that shouldn’t even take up brain space - I hate being jerked around by issues of politics - as if my very fucking existence is political and kinda since I am a rape product I am literally currently stuck circulating in space as a political statement even if only to myself - untangling that. I am tired.  

Momma Love!

 Well damn. It's less than 2 weeks from being one year since my momma took her last breath. I know that transition for her meant a peace beyond - but it doesn't change that it hurts. 

Over the years, my mom and I did not always have the best habits in communication and connection; not the normal teen drama - but true deep hurt and pains that made it difficult for us to coexist. However, there was never a time that she did not position us for more than she could do. 

Grief is so damn bizarre - it's DEFINITELY not linear that's for sure. For me I am learning that "stages of grief" does not fit this experience I am in, as the grief is a damn force and sometimes the anger, sadness, pain & acceptance may be present. 

In the last year - I have sat in my emotions, sat in feeling the pain of what it feels like to rediscover your heart without any maternal blood connection left present on this side of existing, I have avoided my emotions some days and made myself so busy I became sick, the list goes on of the many ways I have tried to survive/cope during this time; but I do NOT think it will end anytime soon. & I have resolved to accept I will live in all the feelings of what it means to not have a momma, and I will NOT subscribe to a world that ask me to compartmentalize to make others feel more comfortable. I do this with confidence because of the life my mom decided to live her last few years. Don't get me wrong, Patti was always nice (NICER than I am) - but she had a LOT of shit to unlearn from nasty ass upbringing to many life tragedies and a fuckton of trauma NO human should have to experience. But in those last few years, even with her health issues and her financial disparity, she chose to dig deep and unroot the bullshit & LISTEN. She LOVED to pause and listen to other folx experience! 

My mom started hospice early June 2021, her choice... She was so tired... Hell I was tired for her and I respected her getting to make the choice to mitigate the pain in whatever way she needed to, because she DESERVED to make a decision for herself and be supported, as she rarely received that in her years of living. Many folx considered her crazy or unable to be human because of the diagnosis she received or the way she navigated addiction; but that was such shit response to a human that wanted desperately to be seen, heard and loved as much as she had love to give at the capacity of what she knew it to be. 

In the almost 3 years my mom got to be in Denver, she would tell you she finally got to LIVE. Actually LIVE, like adventure, make decisions for herself, explore, build community - authentically build community. She got to exist with people that accepted her for all parts of her - and CELEBRATE her for her. It was truly healing to watch and be a part of for those years. It was NOT easy for me, as the person I got to know the last few years was very different than the person I grew up beside in MANY ways; but I leaned into being open to extend grace to my mom for I know she did NOT have an ethical support group most of her life. As I opened with grace as I knew how, we were able to navigate many uncomfortable situations together - truly I say this often but it's so real my mom and I had NO stone unturned. LIKE NONE. We probably talked about things that would maybe make some daughters cringe to even consider discussing with their mom, but Patti & I both knew hurt really deep and she knew the sadness of unanswered hurts & truths with her own momma - so I am fucking honored that she chose to do the HARD work to exist with me. 

A year and 2 weeks ago mom was still living in her own space, it was Pride week in Denver and she was able to get in some last dance sessions at #Vybe with some of her favorite guys and she got to shout with joy in celebrating all of our queerness, and some moments even with a heavy heart because she had some shame around the time it took her to get to the place of celebrating - but for me the work she did, does NOT excuse the past but damn was it beautiful to get to see someone learn to grow and love so much. During the week of Pride there was one night I was out with a few friends and we needed to go check on mom before going home and walk Mia (Maya); we get to mom's studio well after midnight and she's cutting veggies, like literally sitting at the table prepping veggies for a pot of spaghetti, and I was LIKE "Mom, what even???" and she responded "well aren't you hungry? I knew yall would need to be fed this weekend and you wouldn't want to have to stress with crowds and takeout so I'm making you a big pot of spaghetti to have!". That moment may have seemed even so simple then, but I look back on that week and have so many tears... sadness but also joy. Having spent many years of my life confused at what really being loved was because there were so MANY conditions to love given from blood relatives - that moment, that night at my mom's I saw the depth of her love for me in a new light. It was a damn gift for sure because the proceeding weeks still go down as the hardest fucking weeks in my life. 

Patti was the damn life of a party, and my FAVORITE vodka drinking buddy. I am thankful I am a weirdo spirit person and believe that she's still having vodka's with me when I make the choice to sit alone and just pause with my feelings. The process of actually processing so many of the truths we sat in - is a fucking BEAST some days, for real almost crippling. But there's so much to sit with and be entangled with from my own creation story, to the many things my mom experienced - it's heavy. But I have this memory from last June - the month Momma did ALL the things that she could to enjoy Colorado with the people she loved the most - but one night in particular we were out having a margarita, of course also chips & salsa, and the convos were real heavy but mom and I went to the bathroom and as we left she asked me for permission to hug me (as I did have pretty hard boundaries with her around hugs, because she did NOT hug me often as I was growing up and that shit sticks) but that night I hugged my mom and watched the tears fall down her cheek with joy that we had NO walls between us, and it's that moment I cling to more often than not to know she was holding me while I have to hold all of the pain we experienced. 

I spent many years so hurt by her and the transition to being so hurt to not have her, is fucking intense. But I can't help but try desperately to cling to a narrative of appreciation - because Patti was a fucking champion. I am clinging more and more to her life & love lately, as I know the work she did was not easy but she showed me I do NOT have to tolerate HATE or bullshit. If momma could do it, NOBODY has an excuse to not do the real work - the hard work to be a decent fucking human. I honestly am thankful that my empathetic momma hasn't had to live through the last year of dumpster fire shit the world has had to experience. But it doesn’t change the fact that life transition to not having a momma present, is SO hard. 

Today, I am making the conscious choice to share my feelings, feel them all and send out gratitude to my momma! 

Hug the people you love and hug the ones you have been scared of hugging even tighter - the vulnerability is WORTH it. 

Cheers, Momma & thank you for doing the hard work to always do better when you knew better!

Thanks for your Mamma love, 2Pac! I don't know that I would be the same without this track.