In The Beginning

 I'm not spoon feeding you my experience for you to make a judgement about me and to tell me about myself. That is kind of what therapy is to me. Therapist don't actually take the time to know you. You tell them things, they form opinions and diagnose you essentially. What I needed was for someone to say, "Fuck everyone around you, and focus on you. Cut all ties and go into self evaluation." They can't do that though right? What is the point then? I realized nobody knows shit and no one knows me better than me. How obvious. 

I honestly didn't realize how blessed I was for living to be true to myself. I was being true to myself in my actions and words, but the world was saying no, because of their inability to be true to themselves. I told people about the abuse and molestation. I was told I was shaming my family. I didn't want children, I was date raped and got pregnant. I apparently shamed my family more by not choosing to live in the ghetto with drug addicts, alcoholics and predators. I was such the bad person. Never allowed to be the victim of all the abuse, I was shamed for it. I am most grateful for my inner light and divinity that said, fuck you. 

It is guilt and shame that created a split for me as a child. I knew internally what I was witnessing was not aligning to what the external was displaying. This great duality, light and dark, yin and yang, all the things presented to me at a young age. Yea, I was strong, and I won't be shamed for that either. I made choices, they were mine to make, I didn't ask for the opinions or judgements of others. It has become obvious to me now, that I didn't care. I truly didn't. Because if I did, I would have made the choices that everyone pressured me to. I would have went along and did what I was supposed to do. I am so glad I didn't. I am already the iconoclast. I was that every time I was true to myself and went against the world. That inner power is intoxicating, but I don't give in to it. 

My outer body does not reflect the inner discipline I have. Perhaps I have neglected the body because I was so focused on the inner self. I remember the first time I met the woman who adopted my daughter. It was a strange scenario of events. We met at a hotel in North Little Rock, on the Arkansas River. There was a Justin Bieber concert in town and our hotel was filled with screaming teenagers. And I was about to meet "mine." The mother asked me, "How did you know at such a young age to do this?" I answered "God." That was always my short answer. No one could argue with God right? Maybe the bigger question was, "How have realized the reality so young?" 

I've been thinking about "my story" quite a bit lately. I finally feel this "disconnect" with it. I feel as if I finally cut the sacred chords that attached me to karma. "I fulfilled the contracts" is the clear internal message. That is it. Inwardly, I know the contracts. They are so expansive I couldn't begin to even try to convey them. All I know is my experience. My experience has not been limited to just this short time. I know very little about genetics, scientifically. But, I understand a great deal personally. For me, it is about reconciling what that is between the two. I came in through a spiritual door, into this body of current experience. 

My experience was seeing flashes of things before they happened. I was recognized as having "psychic ability" and was participating in organizations that fostered this. As dark age as it sounds, I was referred to as a witch for this and was punished heavily by my step mother for this. The same cruel woman that tortured my dog almost to death until my brother went to save her. I have witnessed the most wicked in all the people who called me these kinds of names. She also called my a mongoloid/half breed. I never fully understood that, but she had a deep hatred for me. 

I had "outside school" curriculum that helped me develop these skills. Though, I thought they were a joke sometimes. I had a couple of friends from school who would sit with me and work on trying to put objects into each other's heads as part of my weekly assignments. Cards spread across the table and I had to match them face down. It almost gives me as much anxiety as math does now. I didn't know then that this wasn't part of everyone's experience. It wasn't until I was shamed and called names that I realized I was different. It was the outside world reflecting something different than I knew internally. But, it was only with people. Nature was reflecting the same beauty I felt within, that fostered connectivity. Nature never called me names.

We used to live by a creek that wound through much of my childhood in different areas. It was the Gulpha Creek that eventually ran through the Gulpha Gorge, or vice versa. I knew it, and the name, but never until this moment of writing actually put it together with my past. This was the same creek I bathed in when we didn't have running water. The same creek my half brother was ordered to drown my dog in. I saved her that time. The same creek I got lost on and was falling off a train track when a giant shepherd dog showed up out of no where and pulled me up the steep hill. The same creek I played in. What the hell did Gulpha even mean?

My grandfather on my father's side worked in the bathhouses downtown most of his life. Burt Abbott was his name. He was married to Gracie, the grandma that hung my moon. It was her love and safety that gave me some of my most precious childhood memories. Burt was mentioned once in a book about the hospitality and healing waters of Hot Springs. I always pitied the energy of the city of Hot Springs. It feels like something very pure that was exploited. Maybe I identify with the city as a whole. The water, the land, the minerals, such an integral part of who I am. Even now, I am sitting with my back doors open, to be next to the trees and plants outdoors. I love nature. And what is interrupting it now? Sirens. 

The sound of the sirens bring me back to my present state. I worry I haven't printed a schedule for this week and have a slight fear of loosing myself in thought all day. Lost in my mind and completely ignore the physical. That is my battle now, balancing the physical. This feeling right here is the returning feeling of not being able to fall into the digital waterfalls. Chop wood, carry water is the internal dialogue. Schedule time for writing says common sense.