Documenting my process of working with fear

I feel so weepy. So tired, so wretched, so heartbroken, but soft and strong below that.

I'm going to do an Isabella suggested practice.

I am going to incorporate space to notice my beliefs right now. I'm going to notice this part of me that feels so afraid and not good enough and talk to this part, write it down and let it go. Making deliberate space to allow the clamped places to open up and evolve.

What feels very hard to see right now within myself?

This part of me that just feels like - Is this okay? Is it okay to be this not okay? Is it okay to be this removed from ordinary ways of doing work and functioning? Is it okay to make THIS little progress, to get THIS little done? What if this means I am a completely dysfunctional person and if people really knew what I was like, they would be horrified? What if they knew? What if I am a complete failure?

Hi - I see you, fear. I see you, small scared terrified part. I hear that you are feeling super unstable and not okay. I see that you are quaking at the core. I am here to breathe with you, to hold space for you. I see that you feel completely unseen and invisible and written off. I feel you. You feel very familiar. You feel like a small scared part of me that had no measure of okayness to lean against while I was growing up. You feel like a part of me that was constantly given the message that I wasn't enough, that I needed to look outside of myself. I feel flickers of anger, protective rage. You were told that everyone knew better except for you, that everyone else had it together somehow. And you were terrified at being found out that you didn't.

Let's breathe, slowly, gently, together. Feel our belly move out on the inhale, in gently with the in breath. Feel our body resting on the chair. Yawn. Yes, that's good. 

What if it was okay to be a mess? What if it was okay to not be put together? What if we didn't need to compare ourselves to anyone or anything?

But then how would we know if we were okay?

It's a good question. But how do we know that we're not okay? It's by comparing ourselves to something else that makes us feel not okay, too.

True. How do we even know how to feel at all?

Maybe.... curving gently back into our own knowing? What if we could trust our own instincts about how we can feel?

Like right now... with the cello music going, with the soft autumn night, writing about these things and feeling my stomach slowly unclench in the dim kitchen glow... maybe we feel okay.

Maybe we feel alright. And maybe it has nothing to do with anything we did today.

Feeling my fingers on the keys. Smooth, light. Piano notes moving, cello arcing in. 

Metallic accents on the pinecone on the table.

I smell faint whiffs of pumpkin.

Cool water on my tongue.

I did do some soft things today, and they mostly felt good to do, even if they took a number of spoons. I really liked sending off Bill's stickers, actually.

I am having a funny time, but it's maybe okay. Slowness. It's not sexy, but it's whole.

Going to pour some tea. 

Some reasonable affirmations...

I am good enough just as I am right now.

I am doing my best right now.

I do not need to earn rest or things that make me feel good. I deserve ease and joy all the time.

I can manifest my life's work; and I am Already whole.

I belong in this work. In this world.

The aspirations of my heart can be aligned with Divine Will, and because of that, they can come true.

No ache or creak or stiffness or brain fog or general bodily malaise means anything about my worthiness and belonging. I get to be here on this Earth, just as I am right now. And this too shall pass. Everything difficult will change and evolve.

How does the fear feel now?

It feels a bit soothed, not entirely gone, but relaxing a bit to recognize there might be other ways of looking at things, that it might not all be one way. 

I recognize that I do not need to meet my own expectations perfectly to have room for all of me to exist.

~T

On work addiction and waking up into a cloud of anxiety & internalized capitalism...

hi loves....

here I am writing at 9:34am on a semi cloudy morning. Palm trees through the window. Still can't believe I live here. What is my life? A glorious, quietly triumphant one.

I want to write today about work addiction. About the tiny incessant call of my dopamine receptors, bound to a systemic drip of productivity as happiness, as self-worth.

I woke up after not enough hours of sleep, and as has been happening lately, a small sleepy peek at the morning light turned into a jolt of adrenaline as an anxious thought ran through my whole body. I don't remember what it was; it doesn't actually matter. What matters is that it woke me up, the damn monkey mind.

Awake now, I watched with envy the slow rise and fall of A's sheet-welted body beside me in the soft light. The cat snoozed, a tortoiseshell crossaint, in her adorable resting spot between our two pillows. And my mind continued to whir. I checked the time - hours before my alarm was supposed to go off. I worried over an unresolved conflict between two friends, rekindled by them both inadvertently showing up at a virtual workshop we did. I lay in the rumpled blankets and wondered about the possibility of naturally falling asleep again. I'm awake, my mind insisted. I'm dead tired, murmured my body.

Then a gem flashed through my mind, and momentarily erased my worries.

Remember the workbook on "working softer" that you're creating? It whispered, gleaming. When it was clear it had my attention, it dropped some shiny wordplay into my consciousness. "A break in the moment is worth two in the mind."

"That's good," I replied. "I should write that down."

Suddenly, I didn't feel tired anymore. Even though I resisted immediately writing it down (thank you, years of healing my tendency to just start working while still in bed), I mulled over the quote in my mind and thought about a few other things I needed to do for the workbook. My mind briefly wandered back to the anxiety-provoking friend situation, but then I went back to thinking about the workbook. A moment later, I grabbed my phone and typed the quote into my note app, so I wouldn't forget it.

Before I knew it, I was flashing through possible launch strategies, thinking about the sales podcast I wanted to listen to, and mentally re-arranging layouts for the workbook pages in Canva. In a last ditch effort to get myself back into a more restful state, I opened the #SelfCare app on my phone and drew a virtual tarot card:

The Devil: Materialism, Addiction, Ignorance.

"Don't give in to temptation."

I frowned. Tapped it again (because sometimes the AI gave different - better - messages the second time). 

"Don't give way to impulse."

My breath caught as my brain finally registered the word "addiction". In an instant, I remembered my body, lying on the bed. And I asked her - how are you doing?

Exhausted, she said. 

What do you need?

I need to rest!!!

Oh.

I clicked off the phone and I lay back, feeling gravity gently pull my back against the mattress and the crumpled sheets. I thought about how conditioned I am to subconsciously equate any hint of productivity with excitement, how it conveniently masks my other emotions, how it makes me forget my body and my need to rest. 

And I also thought: it's not my fault. I'm doing my best to heal. This is not about me; this is about capitalism, and the way it gets into our heads, latches onto our unresolved stuff.

I wish I could tell you that I went back to sleep, but whatever weird thing is going on with my body and morning anxiety patterns lately prevented that. But instead, I listened to my body, moved out onto the couch so I wouldn't disturb A with my restlessness, petted my other adorable sleeping cat curled up on said couch, did a bit of soothing breathwork, and gently reflected on the insidiousness of internalized capitalism, which led me to journaling this piece.

...

and of course that same dopamine drip is saying:

PUBLISH THIS TO PATREON AND MAKE MONEY HONEYYY

BE THE NEXT BESTSELLING AUTHOR OF WORK SOFTER

GET EVERYONE TO SEE HOW WISE YOU ARE SO THEY'LL FINALLY NOTICE AND APPRECIATE YOU

.... oy.

No, I'm gonna post it to the kitten blog... and then maybe do some more breathwork.

I love you, my love.

You are good.

I know that it feels good to write, and have big ideas, and potentially be able to share it with others in a way that feels reciprocal.

You get to have that. And also, you don't have to get love that way. You are already loved. I love you. You're safe.

We can do this our way, capitalism be damned.

And I'm giving that part of you that didn't get your needs for love and safety met as a kid, as a teenager especially, who thought she had to work to get those things, a huge hug. Rest now. You get to be loved even as you rest.

<3 T

Changing how unwell I must be to how well I am

Something that keeps coming back to me is Marlo sneering how unwell you must be to kick me out when I am in this position. How unwell you must be to need so much space!

We had been sitting around a fire when she said this, the last fire, the last meal we would ever have together. Despite all of the hostility that had been arising, the three of us (Marlo, Kevin, and I) had managed to come together to dig a fire pit, and cook an actually delicious meal. It had been cold and rainy and it felt like the warmth we needed to get everything moving. As the veggies grilled, and the curry simmered we suspended the tension to actually laugh, take in the mist moving across the mountains, savor the smokey eggplants and eat till we were full. We even told ghost stories, talked of transitions and cultures that have honored them. Let the wellness come that was simple and needed, while noting the unrest in the silences. For me this was connection staying in line with my boundaries, happy to come together to share this moment, and when the moment faded into the next to reveal what was really needed the Mother came to me in the fire. Flashed before me to reveal the catalytic tension once again, revealing She was behind this movement, and holding all of us right in the right way. Her dance in the tension affirmed this transition was necessary, not just for me but also for Marlo.

That was when Marlo and I started talking about breaking ties. Which she was not okay with. Why do we have to break ties, break up, sever it? Why can't we just clear out the rotten ties? My whole body said NO. No energy to commit. Does not fit in with needs of the group. And I needed her to get moving.

It was clear to me I had a hard boundary. and it was not just to protect me, it was also to protect them. The maos were telling me that the work I am doing is grounding shamballa energy, and I am gateway for it to reach into the these parts of the Mother that really need it. I have the capacity to work in the energies of the separation wound because I have been living with it and growing with it for years, but for others who have not, to live with this energy can be really dangerous. The work I do is literally about working with the unmet needs and traumas of the Mother, allowing them to come up to take as much time and space as they need to heal. It is deep shadow work, and it will inspire the shadow to be revealed in others. And yes this will not feel good to others who do not have the skills and capacity to hold their shadows with love and be able to integrate it. Trying to do this work while others are freaking out about how horrible my energy feels to them is just not going to work out for anyone.

I was trying to explain to Marlo the lessons I have learned with maos about severance, separation and repel. I tried to explain to her the laws of magnetism. (ok yeah, this is how quad-aquarians break up with people, in a detached manner from the lenses of esoteric science but hey that is what is meaningful to me!)

Yes attraction is sacred and we all love it, it feels good, but repel is sacred too. Strong repels can send us exactly where we need to go, they can help us shift in deeply needed ways, move out of stuck places and open up to new opportunities. I was trying to say hey let's shift away from the personal for a moment, I know you have pain, oh god I know, because you are projecting it onto me, can we look beyond the distorted images you are creating of me and connect with this sacred drama? Will you dance with me and the Mother and appreciate what is really needed? I think this was the first time I have ever had to draw a hard boundary to protect myself, my work, and other people while getting blasted by others unresolved emotional trauma at the same time. It was like having a hoard of  demons being unleashed upon me while trying to protect a delicate bud flowering that all the demons wanted to devour. And hold the integrity of nurturance and care for this bud and the fragility of the people attacking me.

Sheesh-Ka-bobs!!!! It reminds me of the conversation I had with Atlas on the phone when we were talking about the practice of feeding our demons. The practice of getting to know them, giving them offerings, keeping them close, creating bridges to these parts of ourselves that are hungry and not feeling well. Saying hey I love you, and my definitions of love do not exclude you. I am really seeing that when we don't do this, or do not know how to do this then those inner demons and unresolved traumas really lash out. And when we don't take the chance to get to know them, then we have a harder time seeing how we project them, and have a harder time taking responsibility. We will then keep projecting that responsibility onto others. We have all done it, which gives us opportunity to understand it and let go of the shame to welcome in new perspectives.

That morning colin had been talking to them and let me know they were creating all of this distorted imagery of how terrible I am, pouring their unresolved pain into these images, and demonizing me. Even trying to get Colin to side with them. I could feel that while I was at the farm, and it was fueling my YOU NEED TO GET OUT RIGHT NOW rage, and also making me really physically sick. Definitely creating a stronger repel in the currents between us.  But the thing is...I know my demons and I have integrated them. I have created the bridges to the dark places within me and created a relationship with acceptance and love. I am not afraid of them and the reason why I was able to hold my own, and not lash out back is because I have already held the most hurt in me, and met how this part of me relates to the most bitter and callous. I even have an name for this person within me, I named her Severine. You could call her one of my demons but she prefers to be called the queen that she is, and she has a black black heart and a poisonous tongue from all the bitter pain in the world that has ever cut through my soul. And she has acted out at times when I did not know this pain well, and she would slice you up with her cold stare and silent wrath but she does not have to. Because I love Severine and we have formed a great relationship and now together Severine and I have surrendered to the softness. Now Severine and I go to the spa. Now Severine and I laugh, play dress up with my inner child. And we cry too to draw the warmth of the inner child back to us. Meeting and owning this character within was a big part of my healing with maos, and learning about the sacredness of severance. And also needing space to heal.

I am coming back to how well I am that I know I need space.
I am coming back to how well I must be know and assert my boundaries.
Yes the Mother within me, within all of us is and has been very unwell and,
How well I must be to hold her and love her into healing.
How well I must be to take on this responsibility and carry her wounds forward.

How supported I am to have this space and resources to do this work
How well we can all be when we are aligned to the work we are called to do!
How well I am to have carried this through creation, not just resilient, not strong,
but fucking well to hold this

I am well when I am tired and feel broken and invite love anyway
I am well when I feel the pain and hurt and sickness and take the time it needs to heal
I am well when I feel anger that tells me I need my space right now
what is unwell is denying this

what is unwell is believing my wellness means looking like something, or someone that is not me, or what I need in the moment.

What is unwell will always heal when we let it, and tries to as it moves within us to get our attention

and lastly what is truly unwell, deserves love, not shame

So that is what I have to say to that message trying to shame me for being to unwell to hold something I KNOW IN MY WELLNESS is not appropriate for me to take in.

I know Marlo will find the right healing space she needs, and the people who need her, and that is why she had to go, to move with that need and find her just right place.

I am welcoming mine too :)

I am sure my lessons on boundaries are not over, but I will let the cycles of learning continue on into resting my case. lol

 I love you, thanks for listening. This has been a pretty intense process and I appreciate all of the love and support that has come to me from this triangle to hold this space of wellness. <3 <3 <3 xoxoxo
kisses and hugs, smooches, and tickles <3

The In Between Time

Hello loves.

Writing from the strange in between time in which I find myself, where my semester is over but not totally over and I'm getting better after being really sick but not totally better and my nervous system is calming after being really activated a lot recently but not totally calm.

I'm also going to get my period any day now, and I'm feeling the flux of hormones in my body, the extra sensitivity and irritation and difficulty sleeping and mood swings and deep sadness and anger processing through me. I'm thinking about how in tune fenix is with the rhythms of their bleeding cycle and how much permission they give themself to be with what they know they need in different parts of their cycle...I don't feel as much awareness around my cycle, except in the week leading up to it, when it announces itself with sore breasts and sore pelvic bowl and extra irritation and migraines and mood swings and trouble sleeping. And sometimes, like this time, with getting really sick.

I had been going non stop for a while, though trying to pace myself, motivated both by self-care and love and by fear of getting really sick if I overdid it. It was going alright, but then the workshop that was supposed to happen in March and had to be rescheduled (for obvious reasons) snuck up and jumped on me. Workshops in my program are intensive all-day things that happen on two consecutive Saturdays, and this one had been rescheduled for the last two Saturdays in the semester.

So my careful rationing of energy, fitting everything I needed to do into the time I had available with enough time around it for me to take care of myself, fell through the floor. I started trying to readjust things and postpone things that could be postponed to make room for it, but in the end there was no getting around the enormous drain on my energy.

The workshop itself was actually really wonderful, it was on Facilitation and Dialogue, and run by my adviser, a very cool person. It was his class that Tessa and I sat in on when we came to visit the school in 2018, and that was the main reason I felt really good and excited about actually enrolling (because the weird tour and everything else was so unimpressive lol). But I hadn't actually had a class with him until this, so I was excited about it. It was really lovely...he always makes time for everyone to free write while listening to beautiful music, and he uses storytelling to teach, and he arranged the structure of the day really well, trying to take into consideration that a workshop via zoom is a different kind of thing (he didn't actually have us be on zoom from 9-5 for instance, just from 9-2:30, which was really helpful).

But in between the two Saturdays, I ended up having to spend hours and hours prepping for the final assignment in my Media and Conflict class, which honestly I had been struggling with and dreading all semester. It was about monitoring and analyzing mass media, and everyone had picked topics at the beginning of the semester to monitor. I had, unfortunately, picked the primaries, because I wanted a topic I really cared about, and at the time I very much thought things would go differently. And because our professor wanted us to do this with partners, one of my class mates signed on as well.

Even when things with the primaries weren't total shit, though, I was having trouble engaging with the three news sources we were supposed to be monitoring - CNN, NBC/MSNBC, and Fox. Ugh. I honestly hate all of them with a passion, and find looking at them physically toxic. So I hadn't really been keeping up with them all semester, and my partner hadn't really either, what with all the disruption, and also because we hadn't really narrowed down our specific focus until the very end.

We decided to focus on the media's treatment of Bernie before and after he dropped out / before and after coronavirus. So I ended up going on each of the three media sights and searching Bernie Sanders and going through months of articles, copying and pasting the ones that seemed relevant.

God, it was exhausting, disheartening, depressing, anger-inducing...and I did this for hours and hours over several days...I hate mass media so much, wow. I mean, it was certainly interesting to see the extreme machinations of the corporate media glamour machine, but it was also really hard on my subtle bodies.

And then I had class and then I had another workshop and then my partner and I met to try to get somewhere with all of this and she had started putting together a power point but hadn't been able to narrow down which articles we should focus on so we ended up spending the whole time figuring that out, and drawing some preliminary conclusions. I was trying not to feel frustrated with her, because she's super super busy in her last semester of grad school and trying to help her sister keep her restaurant afloat, I honestly have no idea how she's doing all of that. But at this point I did kind of feel like I had done a lot more work on this project than she had. And we only had one more day before we had to present it.

Aaaaand....the next day, the day before our presentation, when we were going to try to finish analyzing all these articles and putting it all together and everything, I woke up so sick I could barely move. I could barely open my eyes or get out of bed. And I still tried to start doing the work. But after awhile I had to recognize that there was no way I could do all of that and probably no way I could even show up to class to present.

My partner and my professor were very understanding, at least in their texts/emails. At the time I didn't even feel conflicted about it at all, because it was so clear that I really had no choice in the matter. I took it very easy that day and the next day I slept through almost the whole time that I would have been in class.

I realized at some point that what was going on was this virus thing that I've been dealing with off and on for a year. It starts with a rash, and then I feel a little extra tired, and then it hits me like a freight train. And I think it almost always gets me right around that week before my period. And it definitely gets triggered by stress, so the stress of the end of the semester and the workshop and not sleeping enough and really, the stress of those fucking news articles...the grief and pain of what the fucking mass media did to Bernie's campaign, the lengths they went to to stop him and then to turn around and flat out deny that they were trying to stop him...the gaslighting, the baldfaced corruption hiding behind layers and layers of intricately recursive glamour...god, it was evil, and it was awful to go through that in depth tour of it. It made me so, so physically sick, and I'm still dealing with the ways that it effected me.

And I'm also dealing with my feelings about having to miss that last class, the last class of the semester, and feeling guilty about my partner having to present half-prepared by herself, and feeling like I have no closure, and still not being sure if we're going to have to redo the presentation and send in a recording of it...which I really, really don't want to do, because this fucking assignment made me sick to my soul. But another part of me really wanted to do it, wanted to fucking officially analyze how shitty and screwed up the media is in their treatment of Bernie. But I don't think I actually can do it. It hurts too much.

But this whole thing is also bringing up all this stuff about having to miss so many things in my life because of being sick, and all of the misunderstanding I've gotten about it, and I have all of this fear come up that my partner hates me now and thinks I really let her down...and then I feel angry because I did so much hard work on this assignment that it actually made me sick....and part of me feels like my contribution is meaningless now because I couldn't do the final part...but I don't think any of that is really true. My partners texts to me were really understanding and she thanked me for doing so much work on the articles. This whole situation just brings SO MUCH SHIT UP from so many different angles, so many different times in my life...

And now I have one final assignment from that class before I can be done with it (unless we have to redo out presentation, which I really hope not), and that's to write a one to two page paper just reflecting on the class and my experience and what I got out of it. He changed that from having to write out a more in depth analysis of our mass media project, which I am grateful for, because again - I don't think I can touch that subject anymore. But even this reflection paper was feeling really hard, because I had all of this stuff in the way, all of these intense feelings about how this final assignment went and how I got so sick at the very end of it, and couldn't even finish out the class with everyone. I wanted to be there at that final class, get to discuss and debrief the semester with everyone, get to say goodbye. Now it feels so strange for it to just have ended....no more waking up at eight AM and rolling out of bed and onto zoom....haha. But I'll miss it, as strange as that was.

Talking it out with Tessa really helped though, and writing it out here. It's been a really overwhelming couple of weeks. It's been a weird fucking semester. I started it out feeling so crappy, and I was having such a hard time for the first half of it, because I just felt so physically awful and I didn't feel like I could get my momentum going and I couldn't keep up with the mountains of reading and was struggling emotionally with feeling like I could do any of it. Then the pandemic hit and campus shut down and sent everybody reeling, but weirdly that actually really helped me, because suddenly I had permission to be struggling, there was so much understanding, because everybody was now struggling. That was actually really healing for me. And I no longer needed to actually get myself out of the house and drive myself to school and struggle to find parking and walk up a giant hill to get to class, I just had to get on zoom. And partially with the help of these things, and partially because of the natural cycling of things in my body and in my being, I started to feel way better than I had in quite a while.

And I spent most of the second half of the semester feeling really good, navigating lockdown really well, feeling really close to Tessa, feeling really hopeful and happy about school. Before these last couple weeks that really overloaded me, I had been feeling consistently better than I have probably since I was a child. And that's really amazing. I'm trying to remind myself of that, and remind myself that it will come back, even as these last few days have been really hard, since I got sick and am going up and down a lot as I heal. But even with that, I'm healing faster than ever from one of these virus episodes. And a lot of the physical pain and discomfort I've been having I think is really related to all of the deep emotions I'm processing...

I want to feel good. I want to dance. I want to be in my body. I want to play music, I want to sing, I want to create tools and spaces of healing for people. When I'm not feeling good I have so much stuff come up, from all of the years that all of those things felt so out of reach. But I know they're actually closer than ever. I know I'm getting ready to actually move into my power and my flow.

I miss you, Isabella. I loved your last post, by the way. I haven't been able to comment because things have been so crazy and I've been finding it hard to communicate. But I loved it, and I read it at a time when I really needed to hear about the things you were talking about <3 <3 <3 and the story that you shared about the belly and the head and the heart was sooooo nourishing and real and good and part of what I'm going through too.

I'm reminding myself that it's okay not to feel good. It's okay for things to feel hard. It's okay not to know how things are going to turn out. It's okay to slow down and rest. It's okay to just breathe and enjoy the moment. It's okay to feel weird and sad. And things are healing at a deep level within me. It's been a weird semester, but I have done a lot of amazing things with it, and there are more amazing things to come. It feels weird to feel so hopeful and positive in the middle of global crisis, but in some ways it's the global crisis itself that's making me feel so hopeful and positive. I've lived so long in a constant state of personal disruption, to have that disruption mirrored on a global scale gives me hope that things are cracking open, that things are getting ready to change in big ways, that there will actually be room for change and possibility for change in places where there wasn't before. For sure, nothing will be the same after this. And I'm glad.

Love you both so much.

<3 <3 <3

Alia

Bee-ing, simmering old coals, learning from lizards.

Things I want to say about being a busy bee, resting, letting things be. There's an infinite Google doodle game live today for Earth Day, and it's fun, but also kind of exhausting. You guide a bee to pollinate many, many flowers, and it's hard to keep up. After awhile, you're led to a mandala where you get an educational fact about bees, and {most importantly} you can rest.

I am so tired, even though I've been getting enough sleep. My body is weary from processing so many old stories. And though I know I am pollinating future flowers by gathering the data now, it feels disheartening because all week I have been struggling to feel able to do external things, to feel like I can make progress. It's also hard to make words come out, because I want to write about the process. I did write a whole post yesterday about working softer for the Rain Blooming blog. Currently feeling frustrated because it feels like I am externalizing pieces here and there, but they're not coming together yet into a whole.

Pulling wool feeling out of my ears with the gadget that sucks pressure out of headaches. Power tool buzzing outside. Am I in Seattle? /sarcasm

It is hard to feel like this because it's how I felt so many days living in the Northwest, struggling to be okay even though I couldn't think or do anything. Alia says to be with myself, to try to feel into inner tugs, and know that even working softly I may need to overcome a bit of inertia, but it's okay if I'm following the inner pulls towards what wants to happen.

There are things I want to say - about living through a pandemic and revisiting everything I have learned from chronic illness about making it through, day by day. My mao tells me that the world is getting ready to want the things we have to offer, that we're creating. And to trust that things are happening at the right pace, even when it doesn't feel like it.

But I want to cry with frustration, being inside this numb blank woolly feeling, while knowing with this sort of awareness external to my agency that there is so much that I want to do but it won't go. I'm pushing again. Let me try to talk to the numbness, feel into it. What are you? What do you need?

It tells me that it's trying to process the intensity of everything that has happened to me, that it needs me to be very patient and very slow, that it has things to teach me.

I cradle the hurting place in me that screams at me to go faster. I tell it that I know it hurts, I know this feeling state doesn't make a lot of sense, that the incongruence of thought and ability right now is super painful. I tell it that it's doing so well, and that I'm proud of how it breathes and tries to be okay with what is, to undo the conditioning that tests its limits.

Under the surface, I can feel grief. And I gently disarm the inner critic who has learned to resist grief, to apply labels of "too much" and "this again?". I invite the grief to arise as much as it needs to. It's tricky, trying to feel into this grief - it's like a shy animal that retreats. Like the lizard we found in our apartment this morning. It ran outside and hid in the shadows of the balcony. When we tried to grab it, to take it back down to ground level, it retreated into a rain-hole and I saw it from the other side of the balcony wall, poking its head out of the rain gutter, its little tongue darting out. That's how my grief feels. Maybe this lizard is coming to teach me, today. Maybe it's teaching me about lying fallow, about befriending the place in me that feels skittish, hermit-like. Actually, the tarot card I drew today was the Hermit. Well then.

Trying not to judge my writing, the stream of consciousness. Sometimes I feel so non-cosmic in what and how I process my day to day, compared with the two of you - especially you, Isabella. I have been struggling to feel like I can meet you in the esoteric web you're aware of weaving with maos, and I've been feeling guilty about not replying yet to your post.

But I think I need to find a way to honor the fact that I have unwittingly been in retreat this past week, inside the dome of symptom flares and intensive trauma healing. These threads go back so far, they pull at ways in which my being shut down when I was 7, 9, 12, I don't know. All I know is that I am trying to consciously be with, for the first time in many years, these subtle gradients of pain and depression and fog living.

(I guess this is my version of working through the dark place right now, the way it's manifested concretely in this life for me.)

Puttering around. Writing and planning bits here and there. Making little foods. Just finished eating some stir-fried kale and celery with Momspice and a few smoked oysters over rice. Already feeling hollow again inside. I've been so hungry all the time, and it's not really just for food. There's so much I'm craving, have been craving for so long. I'm missing my home, my roots, having a conversation with Jess about trying to trace back our indigeneity. Breathing with all this complexity. Sitting in the 80 degree heat that is San Diego heading towards summer. A deeply quiet, hot day, simmering things inside like a wood stove or maybe a dragon.

<3 Tessa