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My First Blog Post

Secret Admirer

Mystery creates wonder and wonder is the basis of mans desire to understand

— Neil Armstrong

This is the first post on my new blog!!! I owe alot of this initial execution to a mystery admirer. Not the kind of admirer that obsesses or loves me romantically. The kind of admirer I dreamt of without knowing I so deeply did.

I am not sure what my content will be. I am not sure what I will write, but write I will. I am backed by all the fears necessary to quit or never start. I may never have followers or other readers, and even then I know thats not true, I will have me.

So I will start this blog and maybe even one day end it being the sole writer and reader, and maybe through this, give myself the greatest gift.

Thank you Mr. C for my book you sent and the spark it ignited to start this blog.

Aug 18th 2019

Dear Grandfather

Have you ever wondered why? Why something isnt adding up. Something doesnt make sense about my family. The slight intuition even as a child, and soon as you start asking….
The ignore. The shhhh. So non chalently, you think your just making it up. Your life has already been labeled with, “overdramatic” and thats even what you see in the mirror, so you dont believe yourself. You stop asking, not just out loud, but stop asking even within yourself. You chop it up to life. Life doesnt make sense. It doesnt always end up working out for everyone. People get lazy. Thats the only reason why siblings dont talk to each other, why I sense awkward energies all the time.
It became so quiet, I completely thought life was normal. Disoriented became normal. Until it became so thundorously violently loud inside.
My “crazy” came out. Familair with that term? Was it said about you? Do you say it about someone close?
The life I was supposed to live and want to live and the desparate rebel within my bones. A chaotic dance between strong internal voices of 2 characters who detest each other. My life bleeding out as an immoral party girl, reputation destroyed with the cliches, death breathing down my neck waiting for me to spread my legs once again.
What does this have to do with families and secrets? Generational Trauma. Trauma bonding. Words brand new but instantly understood. 4 words that without further explanation other than language, I knew I could write books on.
I no longer am asking for what happened. Im demanding answers. For each secret shaped me, each secret embedded into my DNA. I made theories, the more I asked, the more my theories were correct. The first, that my grandfathers were abusive. This happened within the last year. One insomniac night and it was as if I could see old memories. Leaving me queasy and nauseated, a whirlwind of dizzy, a part of me floats half out of my body and my toes tingle. Though that sounds flirty and free like, it gave me great fear, for it both meant my intuition was spot on and it meant that in one second, I felt the pain of 17 children, and over (40) grandchildren, all at once. It was too much for my untrained body to bear.
I have just started. I carry no hatred. I will love fiercely and forgive even the undeserving, for they are gone. I will however, uncover their rottenness poison and break this generational ghost that lingers. I will send them off with love for they too, im sure, a part of generational truma. Their pain and shame does not go un noticed.
In this journey, the pain I feel is intensifying, but I for the first time, feel a love for my bravery, and I trust the river within me to get me through the upcoming hard stones, I will create a waterfall and carve rock so that future generations will feel peace and refreshement admist rocky shores.
I write these stories for those who hunger for real stories, so they can possibly understand and journey through the chaos within themselves. My stories wont be eloquent. They may not flow. Prepare for it to be a bit messy and scattered, I trust that for the one who will enjoy, you will follow right along. We will share the deepest joys and pain simultaneously, that we will wonder if we have found the key to filling the insatiable void or just made the numb so intelligent, our black hole has become us. You in?

Secrets…

Who likes a juicy dark sexret? 😳😯My phone autocorrected that word to that… and well… its fitting.

Secrets. 🤫

I always need a secret. Through trauma work and healing, I have learned I hold secrets. I feel disoriented, left without purpose, if I dont have a secret. I hold many for my friends. I dont enjoy holding destructive secrets because it will eat at me and put me in a place of confused responsibility. I do enjoy being a place of safe confidence. To know I am flexible in my ability to be a large container for the souls I love. So they after long weeks in our lonely society, can sit with me, masks off. Knowing I will love the darkest ugliest parts of them and see their beauty. (I will never share theirs, nor feel it a burden to hold them.)

Lately for a year, I seem to have none. Its been like walking around naked for a year. An itch that you cannot itch away. A energetic ball of inner angst bubbling out into melancholy and lost purpose.

I dont want the burden of living a double life. I both crave and fear that world. Dressing provoctively around some and chaste around others. Seepish smile today and vixen grin tomorrow. Its fun, intoxicating, and destructive to my soul. Let alone others around me.

Yesterday I felt that craving satsified momentarily and felt a complete soul release. Tonight I prepped my sacred bath with a special blend of salts and herbs to nourish a depeleted soul. Lit the matching incense and grabbed my phone. Not for the usual social media binge but for my new secret. My nervous, decadent secret…. My new blog.

I couldnt wait to put my heart to e-paper. The anticipation to journal all my desires and intermost emotions onto a public internet database. Yet, No one knows …yet. How long will I hold onto this? Will I want to free it to those I know or only to strangers like I have with past indulgences? Will I be embarassed once I share it and feel the shame of a failure. Will I hold my head high and love the brave me within, who so couragelously risked it all … (really nothing but the fear of being rejected and failing) and will I commend her?

Yes. I. Will.

I celebrate thee. I celebrate this new secret and soon… all my secrets will be out and no longer contained and will no longer prison me with its invisble talons of misery.

Just one more secret…. shhhhh 😉

I am a River

In summer I am full and boistoruous with strong currents, cool and refreshing
In winter I am a light stream with a melodic song as my gift
I am ever changing and the only consistency is my inconsistent nature
When the world tries to stop me I thunderously carve rock into a breathtaking waterfall
If you navigate me well I can be serene and calm
Misunderstand or misjudge me and I can carry you away swiftly with rapids of destruction.

I wrote this a couple of years ago and kept it in my Evernote. I think of it often, as being compared to a River has help me navigate myself. I can help others experience me without fear or damage. I read this now and see errors. I see missing words and thoughts. I want to quiet that criticism, because this is where I started and I want to document it all. How will I know where I have improved, unless im willing to show up and brave it all?

Finding my creative expression through words

I started this world as a child hoping that I would write amazing books and create worlds to travel. That quickly got squashed and invaded by a realist mother and grammatical criticism. I left that dream until recently. Decades have passed and my heart burns ever more to share her secrets.

I will be writing about embarassment, failures, dreams, random thoughts, connections and new worlds.

Of course I would love known worldwide as, “one of the most soulful humourous writers of her day” so then all my haters can eat dog poop when they see my name in Book Store Windows. Ha. Well… at the very least, I would like a place to release my words and know that I tried. The pride in oneslf of knowing I will ALWAYS try. I aim for failure.

Some goals I have to increase my writing ability for 2019/2020:

*Take writing courses. Grammer especially.

*Create an inspiring space

*Write a minimum of once a week

*Share this publicly by Jan 2020 😬

Thank you for stopping by.

Mellie