I used to tell myself as a young girl, “nothing good happens in February.” I wrote that in my diary citing that this was the second February in a row that a big event had happened — and last minute, I got grounded. I was a pretty damn normal girl at the end of the day.
My parents wanted to see me as this tyrant of the household when their emotions were constantly being projected laterally onto me. It felt more like my “moods” were self-defence. Sometimes it felt as if they wanted me to be ill.
Did they want me sick? When really — I feel simply neuro-divergent. I have weird thoughts; odd fantasies of what could have, should have been. I am a daydreamer and want to live inside a lucid dream. ((Not this god forsaken hell of a place they call “Earth”. ))
I’d like to walk amid the streets of gold; the kingdom of heaven — yes, it’s even in the here and now. A shift in perspective turns nightmares lighter shades of grey. It’s almost as if shade is necessary when drawing. The shadowing allows the light to dance along the page.
When I gave birth, I all of a sudden wanted to be happy; deeply — and fully. So, I chose to see the emotional bullet wounds. I laid them out for you in these diary entries I’ve kept over the last year or two... or three. This is the hero’s journey through the valley of death.
I hope to look back on those shadow of the night journals — when I am 102. I’d be the oldest woman in my family if I lived until then. I desire peace, inside myself.
Who am I?
That’s been quite the question on my mind since 2020. And I feel really grateful that I am able to express myself fully; I want to heal. I desire to start eating again. I desire to love myself — truly and fully for who I am. I had to embrace the good and the bad of me. I had to love my flaws; not only that.
Ihadtobegincallingthembeautiful.
Who am I? I am just an ordinary girl using this extraordinary humanoid body of mine.
I self heal.
I self repair.
I grow.
I rebound.
I am strong
I am capable
I am loud
I am proud
I am the child of the universe
Whateverthefuckthatmeans.
When I was a child, I used to say — “nothing good happens in February” because I was conditioned to expect disappointment. I was expected to fuck up. I was expected to be the bad kid. I was expected to be this narrative of someone I was not. But, I ate it up. Because when I took a spoonful of that poisonous external validation; I revived love and acceptance from my parents. I could not survive without them.
That life is over now.
I think I am beginning to understand what “born again” really means.
Because I am not the same as I used to be.
February is a good month.
“what is good” anyways?
Besides the divine matrix.
Every day that I am alive
Is good.
Life feels like it is moving around;
As if I am standing in one place —
Shifting from west to north.
I am allowed to rock the boat
and swim free on the open waters.
I am no longer scared of the darkness in life’s mystery.