And She Whispered Loudly

I am beautiful… I am free.

If everything is really a lesson working on my behalf to better this life, then my lessons just keep getting sweeter as the years go by. And by sweet, I do not mean easy, just juicier and softer on the eyes of my heart.

Relationships tend to be one of my biggest triggers, and that makes sense for grown children of traumatic upbringings. And for everyone for that matter. No ones had a perfect life. If the people who were “supposed” to love me and teach me the world was safe accidentally created the opposite scenario for me, of course as I grown up I will not trust, I will struggle to let myself be loved, and the way I view myself will fluctuate in the face of human interactions.

 One of the symptoms of borderline personality disorder is a fluctuating sense of self. It’s where one’s self-perceptions and way of viewing the world change from situation to situation based on the level of perceived safety and/or triggered trauma. I dare to say fuck the westernized diagnosis and disorders… is this not the human experience of many? Especially those who have been beaten with the words and the names of things we are not and never were? Whore, thief, liar, bad girl, bad boy, delinquent, F’s, learning disabilities, failure, depression, cancer, not good at math, stupid, bitch…. Etc.

We were taught to go against our innate nature and to create contradiction exasperated by worldly confusion within the deepest parts of our belief systems. 

So then, if we are so lucky, we choose to embrace our hardships and triggers to break free from the bondage of disillusionment. Last night, I was triggered by telling this beautiful and gentle man the details of my recent past. It’s a heavy thing for newbies in my life to process, let stab them in the gut, and then willingly let the pain drift away like a message in a bottle holding my history… for someone else to pick up one day and find the truth in it all.

I read his voice and became fearful that he will not accept me. I became consumed with the feeling that I am tainted, that I am not “normal,” and I can never tell a normal story to someone I love about my past. My stories are outrageous to say the least and shocking. When you think I couldn’t surprise you more, I do. It’s my life… it’s my story. But, who am I without my story? That is the real lesson here.

Last night I sat with the fear and the sorrow I felt for myself. I felt sadness for the things I put myself through, and I felt regret. Then I realized, this man is not judging me. I am judging me, still. Yes, I have grown by leaps and bounds and have moments of true self-love and miraculous earth shattering revelations… but my insides have not let completely go of the story I tell myself. The story of who I believe I am. The story of how I see myself and relate to the world.

 I sat to meditate on my heart space this morning. I knew the work that needed to be done was inside of me. Whether people judge me or not, whether this man stays in my life or not… the way I view myself and my life does not need to fluctuate.  I REPEAT: it does not need to fluctuate. I need no fixing, no undoing… only the letting go of what IS NOT TRUE. Just be Robin. Nameless, faceless, full of fire and energetic magical spiritual stuff… just having a human experience.

As I sat with my eyes closed in dimmed light before the sun came out, I asked my heart how it was inside. Usually I feel pain in my heart or heaviness, but not this time when I checked in. It had been a while since I checked in with my heart in silence. I felt almost nothing, and I thought to myself, “Is this what openness feels like?” And then a voice, my voice, said loud and clear, yet with no warning, and with the gentleness of a sweet confident whisper “I am freeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee.” Ok heart. I must be doing a good job; We are free.

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I will be doing everything I can to fight the good fight. Help me make a difference. 

The Gift of Desperation

Desperation. One of the most wonderful gifts we can receive. We cannot muster it up, or fake it. We can only wish for it silently. Desperation paves the way for surrender which paves the way for a miracle... a shift in our existence, world view, bodily sensations, & heart.

I have so much to say, so much to write, so much to express, but I just want to be concise about this pressing fire in my heart right now.

Recently, I was on a mission to discover my sexuality and ethical boundaries as far as "sex work." All of this inspired by a class I took at UC Berkeley on sexual cultures. It made me feel like sex work might be ok for me again, maybe even a savior for a single mom with dreams of financial independence off welfare, travel, and surf adventures! I knew it may all be a big mistake, but I am a seeker and ground breaker so I figured to thine own self be true- go for it Robin. I wanted to know how I truly felt about it after all these years being out of the life. I craved to know. I dreamt about it many times and felt the rush of adrenaline I always got to step foot on stage or on camera. I craved validation from men & a sense of belonging. -That's the main question- where do I belong in this world? Long story short- I fell on my face spiritually, literally with a concussion, & financially. I found myself homeless and on emergency welfare sleeping on my girl's floor and clothes piled in my car. I felt so alone and desperate and hopeless when renter after renter told my daughter and I NO. I sat in the parking lot of a religious science church and just wept to my best friend on the phone while my daughter sat in the back seat full of life and hope. GOD HELP US!!!! I would cry.

One morning, I woke up and literally sat straight up as my heart told me to look for a job. Immediately this yoga dude texted me, and I told him of my new inspiration. He just so happened to be an expert on non-profit work & sent me some links. I started searching and searching for some job listing to make me excited. How can I work a "normal" job if it's uninspiring. F that. I began to feel defeated as I ferociously sifted through ad after ad of bunk jobs. Finally, I thought to contact the people I used to to human trafficking work with and more specifically a woman I connected with at a MISSSEY Gala I helped with. BOOM! The magic began...

I spoke on the phone to the founder of an organization called Runaway Girl; how perfect, I am a runaway girl. I felt vulnerable on the phone with her and embarrassed I had gone back to adult biz work. I felt hopeless at one point on the phone when it sounded like she couldn't help me find work because I still had one foot in web camming & I almost hung up the phone. Some strong part deep inside me refused to give up, refused to hang up, so I sat through the pain of that moment. Eventually she said these words that pierced me... "You know, you don't ever have to do that kind of work again if you don't want to. You're daughter will be ok. You will be ok." Well golly jeepers... that had never accrued to me in the last 6 months. I didn't have to do it? No, you don't understand. I do have to do it, I thought. I came back to America graduated, off financial aid, off welfare, and $1100 in debt not to mention my old DUI repercussions. But in that instance, the thought and possiblilty flashed to me that maybe I had been deceiving myself out of fear. How do I really feel? I felt helpless, beaten, down for the count, abandoned by my family again, failure as a provider, dirty, alone, panicked. I decided... OK. I surrender. I surrender to this woman's faith that I will be provided for and something will help me. I fucking surrender. My way never works. I can't even find a job or a house or gas at times. I can't save, I can't show up when I am hung over and depressed, I can't be the woman I want to be in my friends & families lives because I am stuck in survival mode. This is the cycle of my life that I repeat over and over. Success scares me so bad that I go back to the 13 year old little girl who fights to survive at all costs. She will stoop to any level she needs to to get her needs met and to escape injustice and harm. It's what I do.

I was inspired to show up at a human trafficking event last Tuesday morning. With my tail between my legs I asked the father who's giving me silent treatment to watch my daughter so I could go. The simple act of me waking up early humble and hopeful provided a platform for me to choose to step into my greatness and remember who I am and all the work I have done to heal and heal others. I was treated as a colleague and survivor expert at this conference. I received gifts and took pictures and laughed with other girls like me so hard! I felt a deep sense of belonging. I even spoke on the panel briefly on my research at Cal (in front of hundreds of people). As my heart raced and dizziness hit my brain, I remembered who I am underneath the fear. I am a warrior! I step up to any plate & I fight whether it's for me, my blood, or my sisters. I am the brave one. Tears well up in my eyes when I type that because I know it's true.

I left that conference in awe, $150 check, 2 job offers, gifts, new friends, and most importantly HOPE.

 I got paid to show up and shine. Something that was said that broke me down was when the speaker and president of Not For Sale said something about women in amsterdamn discovering they too were not for sale. It made me think, wait a minute.... sexual adventures is one thing, but do I really want to be for sale? For today my answer is NO. I don't like the way people have been treating me or how I have been stretching my boundaries to accommodate stigma and unspoken protocols. I don't truly want to be for sale when I think about what that means because what is inside me is so much deeper then what the eyes can see and the body feel. This is a long journey; I may get scared again and go back. I may think I can have that money again innocently, but this lil experiment I have done has led me to desperation... no accidents, no regrets because as always, I am brought back to Truth with a deeper understanding, a deeper experience of joy. Miracles. My life is miraculous. Just wait until I tell you whats brewing this week!!

Growing Into Myself Hurts

Dang. Where do I begin... this journey gets deeper and deeper the farther down the road one gets. It happens to be a series of events and experiences topped off by this class on the sociology of sexual cultures that has my mind, body, and spirit blown.

I am just going through some type of anger process. Anger at culture for tricking me into believing me I have reason to be ashamed from a young young age. And even now, to have people judge me, call me names like whore, garbage whatever when they are mad, to have my daughters teacher judge her as having a princess complex, to my friends and family tell me what type of career is or isn't acceptable. What does MY heart say? What does MY body want? What are my desires erotic and non-erotic? Why do I have to choose an identity to label myself as straight, bi, gay, or just hyper sexual? Why do I feel bad for gaining a little weight this week? Why do I feel bad about cutting my hair and feeling fear that no one will be attracted to me now & that that might hold some kind of status for my well-being if I am not? What the fuck. This class has taught me about social construction and I am having my mind blown. Ideas that I took for granted are coming to my awareness and I am questioning them...

I want to be FREE God Damn it! Don't judge me people... let us be. Let me love who I wanna love, let me have intimate encounters with who I want to... let me honor my body and my life in the way I see fit, and when I don't... still leave me alone because I will find my way. If you love me, then let me be. Be there when I ask for help or I get confused or I need you to remind me of who I truly am inside without all the glitter and guts.

I'm choosing to let this anger unravel... this betrayal I feel from culture & society. Everything is make believe. Everything is socially constructed from what we think is right and wrong to what we believe we need to eat for dinner to what we see as sexy or not sexy. Moral or immoral. Good parenting or not good parenting. Im angry that I have wasted any ounce of my life on feeling bad about myself, or my choices. Because in the stillness of my soul, I know who I am. It has no words, no images, no plans... but it feels good and right and beautiful if there were words. I am learning that its ok to be and do what feels good and right to me. Its my job to navigate that, not yours. I happen to desire to be a kind, loving, and truthful person. So in order to do that... I need the freedom to just breath. The freedom to be as wild and as radical as my lil spirit wants to be (hopefully without getting arrested). The freedom to love and guide my daughter with my bestest intentions and thoughtfulness. The freedom to connect with people the way I know how and love. The freedom from social or moral restraint.

Thanks.