a very heartfelt gift

went to my therapist today and received a gift that made tears fall from my eyes…she once took me and group of other inspiring goddess’s to a book store to explore the universe. I found a nice spot to sit and found a book on goddess’s. It was The Goddess Paintings by Susan Seddon Boulet and Michael Babcock. this field trip was over 6 months ago. excited, embarrassed and nervous, i peeled back the tin foil wrapping and saw the book that I had enjoyed that day at the bookstore. she remembered. i couldn’t believe my eyes… as i opened the book, the smell of fresh paper pages overwhelmed my senses and i was touched to see a handwritten note on the inside of the cover.

the inscription that she wrote validated my every effort i have and will make to continue my journey of growing into my skin. this is what she wrote:

“a happy 40th birthday to the woman who helped me believe that goddesses’ may actually be real. it is an honor and pleasure to accompany you on your courageous journey of transformation…”

i can’t even express how important it is to have a sacred space with another human being that holds and supports you in every way possible. i am so lucky to have been gifted this space of sacredness. my gratitude i send out into the universe for all that i have…Image

please check out this book for a deeper understanding of the feminine and masculine archetypes that are a part of us all…


…the beginning…

…In another part of my racing mind are the thoughts of writing this book, putting down in words what the world is like for me, through my eyes, so maybe this misunderstood woman might have a voice.

The years of trying to prove my goodness and my ability have exhausted me, I feel old beyond my years. Things that once energized me, even the thought of them, almost bring me to tears. My body can’t keep up with the simple tasks, let alone facilitate the ever enticing screenshot of me running away from this world and this life, off into the sunset, just like Forrest Gump.

So far a pretty negative picture, honestly, I wish it was just a hook to get you to feel sorry for me, but here’s the thing, this is my reality. Most would argue that I am not good judge of things that constitute reality, but I am the only one that sees outside of these eyeballs, the shit brown ones, the ones that I have been looking out of for the last 39 ½  years, the only lens I stand behind. I have fought so hard to make what I see, hear, feel and believe fit into others interpretations of them. It doesn’t work. I still finding myself fighting, so I guess there is something to that.

I think that people will eventually give up when they have argued too long about something that they don’t really believe or believe in. That makes me think that I really believe in some part of myself because I still haven’t stopped. The argument still makes sense. The way that I feel my life still makes sense, maybe only to me, but shouldn’t that be enough?

Now, I’m not arguing that it all feels right or comfortable or even sane, but it is all that I know, it’s the only way that I’ve felt. Sometimes I think I am aspiring to something that I don’t even know how to feel, that I have never tasted, something that I have no inkling of insight into. That has made it hard to know where to start, where to stop, and what the journey actually holds.