Tag: black writers

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January 2, 2020

I prayed hard on my way to work.
Feeling at home while talking to source.
Connecting to source.
One day at a time?
One choice.
One decision.
Today at work I will eat my food and drink my tea.
I’m going to dance and write.
Open me up. Recreate. Revamp.
I have some thinking to do with the woman I want to be. I am holding space for all I am in every moment. Maybe this year I’ll find my niche.

I don’t want to get sexually and romantically distracted. At the same time I don’t want to shame myself for wanting to be intimate…I want to break free from the belief that I am only desired physically. I want to also hold that men are attracted to the physical first. It’s survival. I’m mad sexually appealing, healthy, and warm to look at and so it makes sense if that’s what pulls one in. I have programming that has made me unsafe with the idea of men being attracted to my physical and being lusted after. Which is honestly unfair, unreasonable, and ridiculous. I can sense lust and genuine interest in a second.

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June 27, 2021

I placed a glass of water on my alter and prayed. This weekend without a phone. Silence. Mindfulness. Sadness. I finished the book X borrowed me “Celestine Prophecy”. It left me open and searching.

Right now I am numb, asexual, emotionally unavailable, confident, sure of myself and my experience. Validating this period. I feel as long as I can see my growth no matter how seemingly inconsequential. I have to temporarily cut off X and X for my sanity. It honestly just hurts to be disrespected from them both to the degree that they do. In retrospect life is great.

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Ours

All passing

Is ours

Forever

From hand to hand

We pass the cup of eternal life

And you’ll know it well then

You’ll know then, it’ll live forever

Lay down a piece of heart

Of truth

Never dying in the game of death and rebirth

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The best lover

I told myself I could be the best lover

Listen to me

I told myself I could form the fairytales with words and my own hands

With imagination and soul

Choosing to go where the sky bends

And the water calls me out and balances me

Soothed over as honey

On a chest so sweet

So deep dark and brown

Sitting under crowns

Floating on clouds

I believed it, yes I believed it

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October 15, 2018

I pray this is the last time I have to break my mothers heart… I can’t think of anything… What is the way? I’m trying to make a relationship work, everything in me tells me it’s wrong, but something is telling me not to give up.

The most difficult part of healing is the era right before the climax when the voices begin to sound the same and you must learn discernment. It becomes a strain to hear the truth; to know right from wrong.

This baby inside me is right, right?

What am I going to do?

Prepare for either and decide later I suppose.

I really need to show up for myself now. I have to prove to myself that I can do it, that I will be a successful mother. That I can be me. Whoever that is.

I pray to find myself.

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August 12, 2019

Today I decided to take time to myself; although I walked only down the street, it felt nice to leave X with X and I’m happy I toke this time.

I feel like X reflects my insecurities and he’s taking me outgrowing him personally. It seems his anger stems from who I was before the baby, who he wants me to be. I’m positive I’m just out growing him. We aren’t on the same frequency anymore. Pregnancy and birth has straightened me out. X’s birth gave me life. I am aware that I have an energy I give off but it’s because shit has changed. I’ve changed….

Regardless I know I judge him for not growing up, I just would really love for him to be walking our paths together. I told him that years ago when we were just friends. I told him I’d leave him behind if he refused to grow. He could’ve been….

I’ve decided to transmute the energy I’m trying to force between us; hurt energy as well, into something that’ll benefit me. I’ve decided I’m worth it. The life I crave to live I deserve it.