Read my diary.


Drove away from my sister last night…

We hugged more than once. Holding each other in our arms. My throat swelling.

We drove away. my lips quivering. My mind started to melt into thoughts as I contemplated my emotions. “Are you and your sister close?” was the question to which I responded to the world, as I have said many times to prove how much I want people to know my very thoughts and words intimately once they are close to me “I used to have her read my diaries.” From this flow countless childhood memories of us, as we shared a room for many years, me sitting on the floor as soon as I got back from school, spilling every single one of my thoughts, reading your stories… A couple weeks ago I posted something here that I didn’t share on Facebook. It just seemed like something I needed to blog about but also seemed to scatter brained emotional whirlwind to say “Look, I have good thoughts on this subject, I’d like you to consider them”. As I was writing the blog I wondered if the entry would be best suited for my personal journal. Not necessarily but slightly because no one might actually caaare but just because they are thoughts for myself, they are landmarks for myself to perhaps look back on and realize… But last night I realized this blog is my journal, my diary… And I want you guys to read it. I want to be totally genuinely transparent and open and real here and in my life.

I am good at saying things about myself. Most of the time. There are specific situations where I shut down. I’ve been digging and working at those blockages.

  • The first would be when I say goodbye. I’ve spent my whole life saying goodbye to the people I love, flying across the ocean, it became mundane. I hated saying goodbyes and I hated extending them and I was surprised this Christmas that I cried leaving my family. Because I have left them many times and this is the first in a very long time that I actually let myself feel sad about leaving them once again. This ability has spawned from many things. For one, letting go of the fear of linearity. You can feel more than one emotion at a time. You can feel pain and let it pass through you and it WILL PASS. Living in Thailand, dealing with the horrors of sex trafficking and broader exploitation of minority people groups; not having any of my go to uplifters I HAD to sit with the overwhelming SHIT feeling. I asked my beautiful friend Bethany “So I just sit in this crap? Does it eventually go away?” when I was craving wine, dance, people, laughter, yoga, art to just evacuate it. And I couldn’t do any of those things. Even then. It did pass. One day, coming back from the coffee village where we had spent such good time, nearing the end of our time in Thailand, I walked to the edge of the rice field, to the crematorium, to sit in the sun surrounded by the trees, at my spot on the swing. And cried. I used to cry a lot. I’ve started to let myself cry again. I go somewhere to cry alone though ahaha. Crying in front of people is something else. Which will bring me to my second blockage. But the goodbye thing, the ability to let myself feel the pain also really came to me from something my mother told me. We were speaking one day last summer I think it was, back home in Nice. We were talking about missing Thomas and Elyssa (my brother and sister) maybe also about me missing lost friendships. If you don’t miss them, if you don’t hurt than that wouldn’t be true to what you feel for them. You love them and you want to be with them and missing and hurting because of that is the echo of that love. It wouldn’t be true to not miss them everyday. Last year I was surprised when I told someone who was praying for me that my family is in France (easy explanation) and they said “that must be hard”. It is hard… but it is what it is… literally how can one said every day this is hard and not be resentful and still be joyous… Because things are not linear. And when we forget to say “this is hard”, we have this sort of layer of skin of pain and ignoring the pain that builds and you forget that whole that was dug and your tightened shoulders that cover your heart. You are strong. Saying this is hard does not take away from that. Sometimes we are too afraid to say it is hard, it hurts, because the prospect of admitting it brings the fear of being stuck in that. But it passes and it flows.
  • I remembered a while ago as I jolted down a note on my phone that I used to write notes on my phone about my feelings of a situation when face to face with the guy I was in love with… I smile and chuckle at the fact now. He would see me writing something as we sat in his car and tell me “what are you writing, i know you’re thinking something”. And I could not bring myself to tell him. It was about my fears, my pains, what I didn’t understand about what we were, what he felt… Later on it came to the point of when I was around him my mind was actually paralyzed. I couldn’t say things. I couldn’t write things. I didn’t know. When I come face to face with one individual seeing my pain? I shut down. I can’t cry in front of people. In Thailand I practically had a panic attack as I felt tears coming forth in a meeting about my internship. I ran out the room. I HATE IT. I don’t think mostly because of a fear of weakness. I think it melds itself to fear of no one picking up the pieces and mostly to an awareness that crying makes people uncomfortable and I don’t want to make people uncomfortable. So. I got this, I don’t need you it’s fine it’s fine.  Used to people not being there. Used to being alone. Being alone, Being self aware is good. I just wish that I could cry freely for the pain of others and I could trust others enough to be real about how emotional I am.

Today I woke up a little groggy. I was annoyed at this as yesterday was so beautiful and blessed and happy. Many different things hit me pretty quickly and I was totally derailed. I couldn’t figure out why I was sad and overwhelmed. Sad isn’t bad. Really. It’s not forever. I realized I was sad with reason because my sister left last night. Attached to this was the reality ushered in that I have no idea what I will be doing and as much as I hope I see my sister in August in France I don’t know if I can stay that long in France. I had been beginning to make plans in my mind about coming back to America mid August to catch the tail end of festivals. As we were walking down to the parking lot to leave last night Elyssa said something about a hefty amount of writing to do. And I echoed with how much I have to do for research for jobs and life and thought about how I don’t want to do that and thought about how I need to do that if I don’t want to be “lost potential” and then thought about our little lives as humans and how weird we are and how maybe pathetic it is that we each have our little lives and little ways and little worries when there is a UNIVERSE. This morning I awoke to feelings of entrapment and swirling and inadequacy and pointlessness, loss of adventure… Trapped with the feeling of being totally lovingly present where you are and knowing when to leave. Longings for my loved ones. Wondering if I am on the right rail. Weighted chest. And then I flash to the strong sense of gratitude, peace, happiness and joy I felt yesterday and the core of it being in how blessed family time is. That this time in California with my family has been truly a great gift that has helped me see my roots in insightful, beautiful, light shedding and comforting ways. Family is a beautiful thing. I realized driving back from my cousin’s, speaking with my uncle who used the word “our tribe” how these are truly my roots. How I am lucky. That I can grow in this. No matter distance, time, trial. We grow together. That not everyone has these tight knits. And I am thankful for them. That I live far from much of my family and don’t see them often but many people often say goodbye to their families as well. Perhaps pain is a blessing. It echoes the strength of the bond. Just be sure not to ignore it and let it harden and be filled into a thin layer of hardened dust covering the air from that whole of pain.

So. It’s subsided a bit as I let myself be grateful, as I let myself understand the turmoil of my heart and soul, as I look forward in hope and still let myself miss my loved ones.



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 486660_10201213670090376_1552126337_n 971636_10201213669130352_215675404_n 936808_10201213668930347_669819248_nPhoto on 12-19-11 at 4.07 AM #2215626_1033157395744_6819_n41103_1605699859908_5633435_n10818270_10205705091093094_8339894925267043459_o


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