Rise Up & Take Your Place in the World

I felt sad yesterday.

Trying to find my place in the world is turning out to be tougher than I had feared. I just graduated from the #1 public university in the world, you’d think there would be some transitional assistance or that I would have greater confidence in my ability to land an awesome life-affirming job. Rude awakening. We were homeless last October, we are heavily relying on food stamps to get us by, and if it weren’t for the generosity of my friends and family I would not have been able to pay my rent the last 2 months.

I am hanging onto faith with every last ounce of my being, and let me tell you, some days it don’t look pretty.

I was thrilled when a little girl from Izzy’s new school invited us over for a play date. I was so relieved because I feel awkward and shy as a mother.  I am afraid of having conversations with seemingly “normal” sheltered parents in the suburbs. I am afraid they won’t be able to see me for my shocking yet brilliant awesomeness, and end up sizing me up to a hood rat mother, a washed up prostitute, or some other in human creature. Needless to say, I was relieved someone reached out to us first, yet anxiety ridden to have to socialize too while the girls played.

Sure enough, I was my regular honest and transparent self. I avoided shocking details being revealed in my responses and comments. I held my self together and felt brave until little by little I was noticing how much I am struggling financially compared to this other family. I began to feel ashamed when the mother asked me if I had Izzy signed up for any after school programs while she explained how good it is for them and how her kids go to this expensive program that shuttles them back and forth to activities. Meanwhile, my life looks like scrambling to get time to take a shower, do the dishes, and work on the computer for couple hours while Izzy is at school because I can’t afford childcare let alone extra activities. There’s never enough time to do it all in that 4 hours and looking for a job takes up the whole time some days.

I let myself feel sorry for myself. I felt ashamed that I am 30 yrs. Old and can barely provide for my child despite my extreme success in college recently. I felt powerless that I can’t even buy mascara or anything I was used to before. I felt sad that we can’t go to gymnastics or art classes. So, I cried to my boyfriend.

Truth is, we have everything we need. Makes me cry tears of gratitude to say that. I chose to make this sacrifice when my trauma brain told me to go back to commercial sexual exploitation. When my low self-esteem creeped back in and told me I was nothing but a whore and that’s the only way I can provide for my child, I told it to “F” off. I fall to my knees and I give God my life, over and over again. I remember that I am not only good enough to have a heart throbbing magical career, I am MORE THAN ENOUGH. I have proven that to myself. I am doing the unthinkable one day at a time. One hustle at a time, I am making ends meet.

Reality is, it’s hard to thrive economically as a single mother. We have to push harder, stay stronger, ask for help, and humble ourselves enough to receive it. We are phoenixes who are born from the ashes that burn us down to nothing. We rise and rise again.

I RISE AND RISE AGAIN.

I know my time is coming and this is all part of the plan. To let go of everything I think I need, to let my ego die completely, to surrender fully… because the joy in living is right here, right now with or without financial security. The lesson is to awaken to the fullness and richness of who I am. I am a warrior mama! And, I will fight for what’s right and just in our lives. With the strength of the people around me loving me, I can wipe my sad tears and take my place in the world without shame. There is no shame in sacrificing comfort for the great calling of my heart.

Thank you Pipi and my dearest Ashley for being my mirror when I forget.  

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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. 

What makes a good Mother?

Some of us are naturally drawn to children and mothering leaving the rest of us wondering where this domestic gene came from and why didn't I get it. It's not fun to me to stay home and cook and clean and change diapers. Well at first it was because it felt like playing house and izzy and I were exploring this game together... Until shit got real!

Nights awake crying, college deadlines, welfare deadlines, dating nightmares, lack of sleep, and of the most challenging... Facing childhood trauma when I look into the face of my hysterical child feeling ever ounce of terror I used to feel as a child. I have worked so hard to learn a healthier way to nurture my child especially through difficult times. But when the rubber hits the roAd I gotta tell you, I tend to  fall apart Inside. I sometimes loose my temper and fear I am the monster I've been dedicated to shielding her from, I shame myself for being ill equipped to be a mother, I tell myself I'm damaged and I can't do it. In those moments I feel devastated like I've failed my life's mission by breaking down when she needs me. But this is the dance. The dance through trauma, the dance through life. I pick myself up off the ground, usually after calling a trusted friend or my soul mate, and I do my very best to nurture the after math of a storm. I hold my daughter and validate her feelings, I admit my wrong within minutes, we make a plan of how to support each other better the next time and we express love. That's the best I can do wit this healing heart of mine. I still try to run from the voice that tells me I'm not a good mother and never will be... But as I wrotea one page summary of my life yesterday for a friend who does documentaries, it hit me like a ton of bricks of why everyone says I'm a good mother and how I know it's true. I voice texted this revelation to myself as I cried and it goes like this...

"I'm a good mom not because I'm supposed to be looking good on the outside and well from all my past but I'm a good mom because I love my daughter so much that throughout this pain I never give up on her or myself. I'm a good mom because it hurts so bad and it's so hard but I don't stop. I'm a good mom because I care so much. "

I will hold this revelation close so I'm ready for the next obstacle as a parent and as a warrior. 
"

Trikonasana

I wish I were an everyday writer. I have been writing all my life, but the magic of story telling only comes to me during a pivotal point in my life or revelations. There’s something magical about the fire that burns in the bottom of my heart when I decide to write about what I feel. Maybe it’s a gift. Maybe my sensitivity and openness is a curse. Maybe it will save someone’s quality of life. Maybe it’s saving my own.

I received a hateful message this morning on Facebook from a younger cousin who has anger and alcohol problems. I should be used to the whole slut shaming and virgin/whore dichotomy by now… but for whatever reason it stung like 10,000 be stings into my intestines this morning upon awakening. My body began to tremble and my heart race with fear. I was triggered. That life threatening, survival instinct had kicked in. He talked about the well being of my child. My child, the only reason I have life at all right now. The very thing that pulled me from the gates of hell, and gave me the inspiration to fight mental illness, addiction, failure, and trauma, was my child. Is my child, I should say. I still fight these things, but I am WINNING.

Later this morning, I bowed into myself on my yoga mat in a class of thirty people or more. I have not been practicing much lately because I have been running from my fear so fast I haven’t been sleeping well or breathing well. So to finally get on my mat and be fully willing to surrender my things to do list, my anxiety about money, my fears of failure and inadequacies, was a relief.  I dropped into my breath over and over trying to let go of fearful or anxious thoughts… and then it happened. As I closed my eyes and gracefully leaned in & opened up into trikonasana (triangle pose) my heart metaphorically ripped right open to the ceiling. Tears trickled down the side of my face and onto the floor. There I was, shinning brightly, beautifully, radiantly , and I knew it! This is who I am. I am never the things I fear or what people have told me. When you are graced with that glimpse of who you are, the moment that can barely be described with words, the only option in to weep at the revelation of your own power and beauty. I’ve been running from my beauty and running from my power because it’s frightening. Frightening to think, I might just experience even greater love, even greater success. I might just fuckin pull it off again this whole “after college thing.” The fear that I will be abandoned by everyone I love if I truly fill my life with what I love and desire. The fear that if I don’t have another degree or save some children in Africa, that I’ll disappoint everyone who has cheered me on.

I am so scared, but as I stepped back like an acrobatic dancer into down dog & whipped myself back upside down into wild thing… I almost yelled out loud as I said in my head with my eyes closes, “THIS IS MY BODY. THIS IS MYYYYYYY BODY. THIS IS MINE!!!!! THIS IS MY LIFE. THIS IS MY HEART! THIS IS MINEEEEEEEE!!!!!” But, I just whispered it to myself. This is the yoga. It never fails. Somatic therapy. Connection to something greater. Tapping into power.

I have so much more to say on what was said in that message & my experience of female objectification and parenting, but I am really excited about organizing my room right now and shaking my ass to some dub step. … until next time.

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