Showing posts with label single mother. Show all posts
Showing posts with label single mother. Show all posts

Monday, March 9, 2015

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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Wednesday, December 17, 2014

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!!!!!

Thursday, December 4, 2014

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. 
"

Tuesday, November 4, 2014

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.