By the Door of the Music Room

by the door of the music room
what does one do
when sound hums like prophecy
to the rhythm of one’s soul

spoiling all the way home
anointed with myrrh
a finger on the temple

what does one do
by the door of the music room

Sacred Beauty, Silent Battles

I was taught to be beautiful, no matter what I was going through.

A sacred ritual passed down—lipstick, clean clothes, perfume. Even in despair, my outer world had to glow. I’ve mastered the art of seeming fine.

High-functioning depression means I show up glowing—
even when I’m collapsing on the inside.
Because I was taught: no matter how you feel, look good so no one would know.

People assume I’m okay because I look okay.

Because I’m pretty. Because I dress well. Because I smile. Because I post.

But that’s the mask. That’s the part I learned young:
if you look put together, maybe no one will ask too many questions.
My mother raised and instilled in me to always show up looking good—no matter what. And so I did. Even when I was quietly dealing with depression, eating disorders, suicidal thoughts/attempts, a bottomless abyss of self-hate etc. I never wanted anyone to know. I just wanted to survive.

And now that I’m older that’s backfired. Now when I say, “I’m not okay,” people respond with, “But you look so good.”

As if beauty is proof of wellness.

As if pain can’t wear lipstick.

Not all sadness screams.
Some of it moves quietly—wrapped in silk, masked with laughter, walking through the world unnoticed.

High-functioning depression is being praised for your strength, carrying sorrow with elegance. All the while drowning in silence.
It’s shining bright, yet being invisible because you’ve mastered the art of seeming fine.

It’s exhausting.

Heavy

I want to be seen through and through

I want to have enough, never stop

There’s pauses in my membrane

I don’t recall the order of fate

How I wish it’d play out

How I pray to erase

Escaping is the back door

Unspoken

I beg my soul to be revoked and

The soul never wanted to carry me anyways

It names me a burden

Dead weight

Hips in heaps of heavy and a bit unsteady

Listen to the soul

Listen closely to the soul
Who only knows the splitting ground
And seeks refuge in the thoughts of others
Wanting nothing more than milk from paradises breasts
Harvested by her own pair of hands

Karma

(I) receive one blessing
(I) give to one-thousand
(I) give to one
(I) recieve one-thousand blessings

January 18, 2024

What ever happened to “If you don’t have anything nice to say, don’t say anything at all”.

To this day I honor this wisdom. Yes it’s okay to vent but overall social media is a prime example of the dangers of gossip and comparison. I’m reprogramming myself to not have so many opinions. I don’t need to judge everything, especially things that have nothing to do with me; which while living a more simple life I realized not much has to do with me and I’m quite irrelevant to the next passerby. Idk I’m really dedicated to not exerting my energy when I don’t need to which I’m finding out is more often than not. Weening myself off of the “tea time” dramas I’m currently attached to, I must admit Im not perfect and like a little drama here and there. But I’ll just keep it to myself.

Why are we attracted to drama? What is so appealing about it?

January 21, 2024

I’m learning so much about my family since opening my home to my little sisters. It’s been hard but also a big opportunity to grow. Ive decided to recreate my role in my family. Moving away from being just the relatable safe big sister to accepting my role as the matriarch. I’m seeing first hand how these kids are being neglected by parents as well as the education system.

The kids are not the problem. Society is failing these kids.

Growing to be the bigger person to take on the role to guide instead of getting stuck in triggers and ego and allowing us all the remain stagnant. I’m realizing my siblings have no real home training and lack basic respect. I work hard to not blame them for what they haven’t been taught. I find joy at the same time in providing a safe space for them. Goodness though it’s hard being to others what you’ve never received but alas, the fate of the healer I suppose.