I Fought for You

I'm lucky lately when I don't go immediately back to bed after giving a morning stroll to the kitchen for some water or healthy wake me up snack. I'm a month and a half pregnant, scared, insecure, and experiencing chronic depression which I previously thought not possible. I thought my darkest days had been left long ago in the streets of beautifully polluted Los Angeles.

I was wrong. That darkness, that gut wrenching pain, that out of control lost feeling is back, and I am fighting everything and everyone like a cat clawing its way out of drowning waters. One day, I literally felt like I was drowning in hell with no one to turn to. Like what it might feel like to watch your child be murdered in broad day light & your screaming for help and everyone sees you, but no one does a thing to help. Ya, that's how I felt a couple weeks ago, but about myself. I'm still recovering from that day with scars to prove what I am going through is deep enough to penetrate all layers of my happiness and hope. I've been searching for the lesson in this all... feeling paralyzed with fear and exhausted with anxiety. There's people screaming they love me, but it sounds like the quietest pen drop muffled by my resentment that I am even going through this.

I have everything good in my life I thought i'd never have. A really handsome brave man trying to love me, my chance at stopping the cycle of abuse in my family, a college degree, a loving relationship with my daughter....yet my self destructive patterns show their true colors again. This time with vengeance.

Tonight I dragged my gloomy ass to a restorative yoga class once and for all with the intension to be unified with God. I felt my heart calling me home immediately as I placed the eye covers over my face.

On my way home, I was driving hearing my own thoughts. I thought to myself, "jeez, I don't even know what it feels like to feel loved. Have I felt loved before? I must have; it's just been a while I've been depressed that I can't remember." I was searching my memories of feelings trying to remember what it felt like to be loved, and I was having such trouble jogging that feeling. Until all of a sudden, my voice said so loud and strong and clear, "I LOVE YOU ROBIN. THAT'S WHY I AM STILL HERE FIGHTING FOR YOU."

It was strange. Had I thought that thought & then told it to myself or was it God? I don't know, but I felt it like a ton of bricks made up of truth. I thought to myself whoa, that speaks to me. I know what that means... and its right. Something inside myself loves me so much that throughout my whole chaotic, traumatic, beautiful, ugly, crazy life, something keeps putting up the fight for me. Something drives my ass to a yoga class, or a nut house, or a therapist. Something empowers me to overcome addiction, bulimia, society's ridicule of my exploitation. Something stopped me from taking my life more than once. Something keeps me hanging on to hope because it believes in my freedom & happiness. That something is inside of me, and even if I can't feel the love of anything else... I can know and feel that love I have for myself to keep fighting for my life.

This time my strategy is not violence, but to make friends with my demons and see what the mother fuckers wanted from me this whole time.

Like a Warrior Goddess.

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. 

Accidental Magician? God?

I swear I believe in magic.

There's no way for it to not exist. I have experienced it over and over and over again throughout my life even as hellish as it had been for most of it. Whatever I create in my mind, in my heart, proceeds to manifest. Is it God helping me fulfill my lifes purpose or passions? Is it simply the law of some kinda meta physics, quantum physics, whatever you call it.

One day, I decided to take a leap of faith and walk away from the industry that I thought I knew so well. It's the one where its all been done before, it's all predictable, it's all, I convince myself, I know, but that was a lie. You see, I am learning, now, just how deep the struggle has been trying to survive through this thinly disguised misogynistic life. I can testify to how long and hard the unveiling process can take for someone who was once a seemingly troubled child. How long it will take for a runaway to find a place to call home in the world and in her own heart. How long it will take to get the death grip of security to release from the commercial sex business. How long it will take to to find one's worth after a lifetime of trauma and never-ending hurdles. I'm living it. I have invited the world to watch it unfold.

I had dreams of being a performer as a little girl. That was my number one dream. I knew i'd be a dancer of some sort or an actress even. My most prized and most watched home video is of my whole family being "circus kids." My dad played the music on the guitar, my mom was a bear, my little brother was the trick rider or something, and I... I, of course, was the elegant tight rope walker/dancer wearing nothing but a red Brazilian thong bikini. I was the star in my mind. In this moment, there was no pain, no fighting, and way before thoughts of suicide. I was free still.

This is one of the few happy memories I can remember as a child. I trained hard as a dancer. I was a natural they would always say, but year after year I died inside until one day I quit. I've tried to go back, but felt so crappy about loosing my technique.

Throughout my time as a runaway child, escaping the horror of my home, I was sexually exploited in more ways than one. Finding myself institutionalized multiple times a year, I got used to the system meanwhile missing out on normal activities like school and socialization. By the time I found the adult industry , I thought so low of myself from all the years of abuse. Blaming myself above everyone else, I let the self-hatred sink deep. I thought the adult business all I was good for and it was the only way I could have a tiny piece of that dream. I knew I was meant to shine for the world. That's the only way I could come alive out of my shyness and sadness. Of course the manipulation and exploitation I experienced during my life has gravely contributed to this involvement, but I never told anyone about this being my cop-out deal with myself. I needed to justify my “choices.” I was making these choices now right? Or was I? Are agents traffickers? Are the men who sent me on trips traffickers?
 

      Recently, I was journaling asking the "spirit guides," whoever they are, to guide me to my next moves and to show me the way. I was instantly inspired to put the pen down and reply back to this yoga/circus movement gig. That night I dreamt about circus all night long; I even had a circus themed wedding in that dream. When I woke up, the magic began. Someone I was thinking of strongly contacted me at 7am with advice of how to train for circus performances. I was on it. Then I was asked to shadow a that gig I responded to, and the trainers sweatpants said CIRCUS on the butt (as a preschooler so bluntly pointed out to me). I've been racking my brain all day, how can I afford to train at this studio and play and have fun with my body? I just am so scared, yet my heart racing with excitement like a child. THEN... I got an email from the one circus gig I got to do recently instantly inviting me to join them on their New Years show! Now, the other part to this story is that a porn site had also invited me to do their end of a New Years show & something inside me just couldn't settle with it as much as I need the money... now I don't have to settle or worry about having integrity. The decision is all mine. Now if that is not 2 days of some serious manifestation... I don't know what to tell you people. I swear. I have to write this all down, so I can believe its real. I have to remember because dark days will come again... I have to remember the magic is always there when I reach for it.

PS I got a gig this month getting paid to.... dun dun dun.... WRITE!!!!!