Blocked.-*listen to Hair Down by “SiR” while reading this.*

S1 E2 “Blocked”

Medusa sits up from her sofa as her trainer breaks the conference call for lunch. She is relieved for a break but not so much hungry. She rather write since she didn’t get a chance to this morning because she was busy doing her makeup to put on a show for her present audience. She picks up her phone and begins a voice memo to herself that will probably never see the light of day.

“So, I blocked him. I had to. I had unfriended him on snapchat and I lost my nerve and added him back, (which is why I always have guys add me because then you can remove them and add them without them realizing. That way if they pop up in your “best friends” and you don’t want the agony of having to see the fact that they are your highest snapped person and you don’t have the confirmation of the mutual love with the yellow heart that turns to red after two weeks then you can just remove them as a friend and add them back and they won’t be in your “best friends” anymore. You’re welcome ;o)

What I was talking about to my sister this morning, I was looking in the mirror and I finally understood. I GOT IT. The reason people say “you have to love yourself before you can love anyone else isn’t because you have to accept yourself or learn how to deal with yourself or whatever. It’s because of what I was saying before about us all being a collective consciousness and the universe splitting us into a thousand pieces all embodying the energy of the collective whole. But we get caught up in the importance of our own energy that we become selfish and try to monopolize all the power. The power in the relationships, the power in the communities, countries, the world. If we don’t first LOVE OURSELVES, we are not grateful for what the universe has provided which is a vessel to embody this consciousness. If we don’t love it, we are not grateful, then we do not take care of it. Our bodies are our own ecosystem. What happens when you allow garbage in your ecosystem? Pollution, toxic relationships, toxic friendships, gossip, complaining, etc. But if you love yourself, you take care of yourself. You create cycles and routines for yourself. You practice self care. And then, the universe will grant you more access to another person’s universe to begin to help take care and cultivate their universe. But you should only join together if you are on the same level of caring as them. If they cannot keep up with maintaining and cultivating relationships with their own friends and family members, how can they possibly cultivate healthy sustainable relationships with you? Watch how often they check in with family, how much they listen to their mother or father? How much they share with them? Is everything a secret? Do they put on a personality in front of them that completely differs from their daily personality? Is everything an act? One boy made a comment one time about how my socks were the cleanest socks he had ever seen in his life. And that’s the thing about me, You can see the outside, you may see my dumpy apartment in the ghetto, you may see my old shoes that I wear every single day. But my things are well taken care of. Because I look at them as a blessing that has been provided to me as tools that were gifted to make my life easier by the Creator. I am always giving the artist praise for their great work. And guess what? That makes the Artist want to give me more. Stronger lead roles. Because I appreciate what is given. And that’s why I had to let the Spartan go. He is a warrior so he is war minded. All is fair in love and war but love and war are not fair. He must focus on what’s important now. We are only distractions for each other. He makes me want to run back to Chicago every other moment just to touch him or kill him. But he ignores me then posts on snapchat he’s driving me crazy. So, I lay it down, the power over me is only from the artist. Not from my lover, not from my circumstances, what I see in the world today. My help comes from the Creator. My sufficiency is in them. So lover, know your place and be here nestled next to me. Be not Adam losing your way with words stuck in your throat like the apple. And I be not Eve wandering to snakes for advice because I want knowledge and attention. Can we just lay naked in Eden together living our days sucking juice from the gifted fruit, making love in the shade of paradise? Why must you play these power games and devil tricks? JUST LOVE ME.”

Medusa hears her class start to reassemble at their computers after the lunch break. She wipes the tears from her eyes, Takes a tissues and dabs her running makeup, Smiles widely and turns back on her computer camera.

Triggered. -*listen to Nights In White Satin by ”The Moody Blues” while reading this.*


S1 E1 “Ignored”

Opening: Medusa laying on bed in apartment. She has no television, so she must create her own drama. She is triggered by this quarantine because her law enforcement father had raised her in a corn field secluded from society being homeschooled.

She meanders around her apartment all day, messing things so she can kill time cleaning them.

She dances to Controlla by Drake playing on repeat for literally hours straight. She is just like her grandmother

Cut to downstairs neighbor being in love with her but his girlfriend PISSED all the time cuz the same song on repeat.

She tries to dance but she has half white girl rhythm. She enjoys island music the best. She loves being on the beach. There’s some kind of magical spell that comes over her when she’s at a bonfire on the beach. It’s like sex the whole night, nature making sweet love to you, lighting you on fire then calming you down with sweet ocean mist, only to rise you back up to wild flame with one gust of wind.

That’s how he feels, like a beach bonfire. Sweet Aries bastard.

She can’t stop thinking about him. She sent him a bunch of sexy memories on her snap only to realize that it was 35 messages, So now he will wake up to so many notifications thinking they are texts. She rushes to delete them out of snap only to realize she looks even crazier because now he sees that many notifications and sees deleted and thinks she probably had text in there the entire time. She checks her story, He didn’t check the last pictures. The only picture he saw was her first post of the day which was the love letter she wrote about him. Great, She scared him off. Oh well, that only means that he couldn’t handle her like she thought he could.

BUT… what if it’s just because he’s been working crazy hours since this disaster. Being a hero is always an all consuming responsibility. SHE WANTS TO BE HIS PEACE. So how can she calm her own storm? She starts to dance again. Practicing for the next time she will be dancing for him. For the way she will seduce him and create their own universe in which there is no pain, no crime, no virus, no worry. Only sweet love like honey, soft, slow, sticky, HOT.

She grabs a fistful of her thick thighs she squeezes, almost hard, and shakes vigorously. Thinking about him always puts her in the craziest mood. Agony, anger, angst, longing. She wishes she could climb into his lap. She falls in and out of sleep, candle full at first then shoot to 3/4 burnt away.

She looks it’s now 3:23 AM and she has an awful feeling. She knows she just needs to hear his voice and it will calm her. She knows he could soothe her fear. He will be up, he’s working. She calls, no answer. Doesn’t he know how scared she is? She can’t call her daddy anymore, he’s getting old and she doesn’t want to wake him and worry him. Doesn’t he understand how badly she needs someone that will always answer her call? Because she only calls when she absolutely has to?

She’s a good girl, She’s crazy, but when she’s crazy about YOU, man, you don’t have anything else in the world to worry about. She will move the heavens and the earth for you. He just doesn’t know her yet. He will understand, she just has to be patient. She talks herself back to sleep, tears in eyes.

She wakes in the morning, 5 something. She isn’t sleeping for shit. She punches her firm brand new mattress and it barely budges. It’s so stiff she wonders if that’s whats keeping her up. She puts the turquoise teapot on. grunts, trying to stretch awake. Check phone, no notifications. She’s tempted to call someone else. She’s tempted to post the video she made of herself dancing, booty looking like a plump peach ready to be bitten. She wants revenge for being ignored. Being ignored reminds her of her father. He always had something better to do. But is this comfortable for her? Because she can convince herself that he’s out there saving the world and thinking about her? She’s more of a Cat Woman or Poison Ivy than a Louise Lane. She wanted to be wild and rebel just to see his reaction.

She knows the only reason she behaves with him when she hasn’t with anyone else is because the only thing she fears is God and the badge. That’s it. More respect for the General than the king. She always has. And He is the fiercest soldier. Hard body, Hard face. Pure. sex. god. She starts to rub her thighs again. WHAT THE FUCK IS HE DOING?????? 11:11 AM. He’s asleep. They live in two different worlds. Why wouldn’t he call her back if he was just working? It takes 20 seconds. Wasn’t he wondering why she was up? Is he not concerned about her in a strange city by herself? Does he even care at all? She posts a sexy picture to snapchat. She lets an hour go by, she regrets it. Does he really not want her anymore because she cares deeply for him? What is wrong with the world today that pure deep true love is a threat to someone and not a blessing? She doesn’t want to hurt him but he is hurting her. She needs attention and she doesn’t know how to tell him that. He must know. He has to know. He doesn’t care.

She lays back on her bed and tries to touch herself. logs online. Nothing is turning her on. She starts to think about his smile, his strong arms, the first time they went to see a movie and his big arms wrapped around her, she sunk into him so deep and felt so safe. She felt something cold and hard, his gun and badge, wet. She let the memory intoxicate the air and her patience grew. How long must she wait? It felt torturous.

A letter to my lover.

It’s so hard to let people know who I am. Why do I believe that I have magical powers? Why do I believe I was chosen? I was born from love. So many people are born from fear. Love vs. Fear. Light vs. Dark. God vs…? U feel me? Love is two young lovers laying in the grass finally finding the love they’ve been longing for because they’ve only known fear and abuse their whole lives; having a baby. A beautiful baby girl. Of course she is the most gorgeous thing that walked the face of the earth. She will spend many of her years fearing she is a siren. But she is an Angel. And because of this, she must be the guardian. She must be Medusa. She must be able to protect the family. She is fierce. Her lover is a Spartan. He could end anyone’s life in an instant. And he has the snake by the head. He is loyal and just. He has a heart of gold that he only shows his love. The rest of the world sees his shield because he is forever protecting. She wants him to feel the freedom of love, to come and go as he please because when he is free to chose he always chooses her. Never pressure or obligation. The freedom of choice. To Chose every day to love someone. Even if some of your other choices make you feel like you were going to pick someone else, but at the end of the day, when you laid your head to sleep at night, you chose them. The freedom to be human and make mistakes and learn. To learn to teach another person your boundary and why those lines are put there in the first place and to cross those lines would be grave betrayal. The intimacy of nakedness with the lights on. Medusa loved him like that. Because she was made from love.

I hate using my powers for manipulation. You don’t see right now, who I am. What I am capable of. The Evil One tried to use my power for his own gain. Every day you choose to do good. That’s why I love you so much. Your heart is just so beautiful to me. I know your love language isn’t gifts. But that’s the best I could do right now. I can’t wait to be there and touch you. I am sorry that I wasn’t. I have been allowing fear to control me. I am giving my heart to love. And following love. Because I am a child of love. My parents were making love when they were making me. The reason the second time was so much better than the first was because you were making love to me. That’s why I wanted it to be you in the first place was because when we were in the back of my car, the way you touched my body, I knew you loved looking at me and feeling me, you treated me like a piece of art that was on display. Gentle, respectful, caring. You listened to how I needed you, and you complied. Every moment with you is like a beautiful love song. Your voice gives me a tranquility that could only compare to Jesus whispering into the ear of Peter right before he walked into a miracle. Your body is like my miracle. I miss you so desperately. I want to melt into you like coconut oil on your Carmel skin in the Texas sun. I cannot wait until we are touching. Your strong hands in my hair, turning me forcing your kiss to my playful resistance. Your lips sucking and biting the places I was so insecure about before I met you. I find hickies in the strangest places. It’s like a gift of desire for something I despised before and now all of a sudden it’s my saving grace. I love being with you and being without you has been one of the hardest things I’ve ever done. But I had to prove what I would sacrifice for love. I had to show love that I would move when told to move, and bend when told to bend, knowing that love would never break me. Only train me, and teach me, because it loves me. I am learning so many lessons with you. Patience, kindness, not envying, not boasting, being slow to anger. I only pray for the willpower to continue to walk in these lessons. I always want to choose love. I pray that love has chosen you for me. You are what I want.

Medusa origin story

So, I don’t know much about Greek mythology. Anything I read, I run away with my own imagination so it’s always hard for me to decipher what I actually read, or heard or what I imagined in my head.

Medusa was a woman who kept getting raped by Poseidon because she was so beautiful. So, Athena, the goddess of wisdom, turned Medusa’s hair into snakes and gave her the ability to turn man into stone with one look into their eyes. A lot of people confuse Medusa to be a seductress or a siren. She was a victim of rape, violence, and the attack of male energy. She became a warrior and to protect herself, she turned into a monster. I know all too many women that share this same story. My writing is about giving a voice to women who do not have a voice. To speak out against the violence and the abuse. To stand against being treated lesser than the goddesses we are.

I am a story teller. A wordscrafter. Once everything else is destroyed, the only thing left of history will be the worlds that people like me used to describe this time, this place, this hour, this feeling. Individuals will not be remembered because none of us are memorable. And yet we are all individually remarkable. We come to this life with a task, an adventure that is only ours. On our quest, we are sent to many different mini quests. Some teach us who we are. Some teach others who we are. And some build us. And some tear us down, to our core, crush us to dust, and we must start all over again from scratch.

It’s amazing how I was trying to do things MY WAY for so long. I thought I was building a firm foundation. I thought that I was creating a security. I questioned the Creator about EVERYTHING. Why do I have to do it this way? Why do I have to go here? Why do I have to say this? I don’t want to do that. I want to do this. Selfishness my modus operandi. I still fight against that each and every day. Once I learned to let go of my agenda and trust that the Creator ALWAYS had my BEST interests at heart, then I saw that the blessings I was given was way more than anything I even imagined for myself. I never knew hunger, or lack. Just followed my instincts which were aligned with a greater flow, a greater divine. Tapping into a consciousness that is higher than my own need, my own materialistic nature, my ego, and look to the higher calling and purpose, I was lead to places I never even knew existed and feel more fulfilled than any amount of shopping, eating, dancing, reading, partying, drinking, YOU NAME WHAT PEOPLE LIKE TO DO AND ITS BETTER THAN THAT. Now, those things are important but when you are on a MISSION, every interaction that you have to share LOVE with people, that gives you more connection and satisfaction than any false reality, false idol, fools gold, fleeting feeling, forced emotion could ever do for you. It’s genuine, it’s real, it’s deep connection for others, for yourself, you plug back into this GRID of energy, electricity and your eyes become open. You start to see where people are sick where they didn’t even know they were sick. You see the blocks of flow in their body. It blocks the flow of energy, they could be holding onto unforgiveness, bitterness, not letting go of a childhood trauma or a time of abuse. When you are connected to this love energy you can see ALL of that. You can see when people are being influenced by evil spirits. When they are being tormented from them. Negative thoughts and emotions controlling their behavioral patters and they are alone and isolated in these thoughts because that’s what the enemy does is separate you from your connection.

Usually people’s first connect to love is their family but if you grew up in abusive circumstances that connection is frayed. So you have a hard time connecting to that current because you don’t trust it. That’s why it’s so important for you to experience real love. It’s so important for you to seek out true connection. And the only thing that could possible show those true connections is TIME. There’s not a simple test. And you shouldn’t be testing love anyways. Because it’s never looks the same from two people. But when it shows up, you’ll know it. Because it’s a mighty force that nothing in the world could every conquer. Not even coronavirus.01683B5B-DF4E-49F0-B2CA-1398019771BD

“I saw a dead man in New Orleans.”

I never know where exactly to start. So, I will start with the dead man.

I saw a dead man in New Orleans. It was right before New Orleans was shut off to the rest of the world with virus. There was a man walking out of a bar, he was stepping off of the curb, into the street, he lost his footing, hit his head on the way down on someone’s car bumper, then fell to the ground and started convulsing. Some passerby started doing CPR. They ran to get “drug” and only had the nasal kind. There was blood and vomit coming out of his nose so they were not able to successfully resusitate him with that method. They had called the ambulance but it took about 20 minutes for them to get there. There was a man who went live on facebook witnessing the whole ordeal. I was walking to Cafe Du Monte to get beignets. I just couldn’t look away. I wanted the paramedics to swoop in, do some magic and me see the guy sit up straight with a smile on his face and a thumbs up.

But he didn’t. He just laid lifeless as they tossed him around like roadkill. Like they were just scraping the trash off of the street. That was the first time I ever saw a man die. Then, I went to get the beignets. I must say, they tasted like sweet lumps of heaven even tho they were not fresh or hot and I waited about an hour for them. But they tasted so sweet because I was alive and that man was not. For some reason his decisions summated to the same fateful street where his life was ending and mine was just about to start.

My name is Medusa. And I just moved to Houston Texas. I stopped in New Orleans on the way to see my good friend Gertie. Who use to be a boy but actually never really was a boy. At least, I never felt like she was. She didn’t want to go with me to get beignets so I was all alone when I saw the man die. It was my first experience in New Orleans. When I told Gertie what happened, She said, “oh, that happens all the time.” I guess people are starting to put Fentonol in the heroine to wipe out all the junkies in NOLA. Gertie has lost many friends to the drug. It’s an issue everywhere.

I wonder how far we will turn from the Creator before we realize what’s happening. They say New Orleans is the biggest number of people with the virus. But I felt a demon on the city before this virus got to be what it is today. See I left Illinois on March 11th. I was running away from a broken heart and broken dreams. Little did I know what the universe had in store for me once I let go of what I thought I wanted to released myself into the flow. Soon, I would face trial after trial. I really am learning who I am throughout this whole process. Where I want to stand, who is on my side. I am finally feeling like I am standing within myself. I have felt a separation mind body and spirit for a long time. There was a point in time where I was so tormented and toxic that my spirit was literally trying to sever itself from my mind and body. You cannot walk in the darkness if your spirit is of the light. It’s so important to feed yourself light. Because you are what you consume. If you’re constantly listening to certain music, watching certain shows, letting certain spirits into your attention, they can easily influence you. It can make you imbalanced. If your gut isn’t balanced, you won’t be able to decipher right vs wrong. Your instincts will not be sharp, you won’t sense what’s around you. Everything is tainted if one thing is off. Align yourself, mind, body spirit. Consume light, center, know yourself. Know your energy and stay in tune and in sync with that.

that Xx

My dear, sweet darling,

What have you done? I did not know you would burn the whole world to the ground if I left you. You evil, genius man. But what is Mother Earth without her children? She will always come to rescue them. Even if it means her death. We must save Mother. We must save the world. Stop this hatred and strife. I loved you deeper than the ocean’s pull. A love like the ocean. Murderous waves crashing against you hard. Making your body unstable and shivery. Pushing you away, pulling you in, catching you in the undertow, Almost drowning you. Wanting to take your life and give it back to you to show you my power. But love was always stronger and I threw you against the shore daring you to ever enter my waves again. Where is your courage? Where is the man with enough courage to love me? To tackle my waves? Why am I braver than a man? That I would rip my heart out, Then cut it out again. Why can I still fight with festering wounds? We need peace. I have to heal. And I need space to do so. My wounds are as leaky as my eyes. I can’t shed myself over you any more. There aren’t enough hospitals to heal me. I must heal myself.

Daddy Frank

Valerie had long brown hair that flowed down her back and landed just above the plump of her bubble butt. A butt that in middle school got her made fun of by the boys in gym only for the same boys that are now scruffy, dirty red neck men to cat call her when she leaves the bar. Her lips are plump and juicy and the shade of an October Georgia peach and just as sweet. She has thunder in her thighs and lightening in her eyes and all the men watch her closely with anything she does, even taking a deposit to the bank. Which is her favorite thing to do.

Valerie got her hustle from her best friend Ben Frank. That of course wasn’t his real name. His street name because he loved MONEY. And Valerie loved Frank. She loved his smooth deep south dark skin and his accent. She loved how the gold he draped himself with would gleam and the contrast of the gold on his dark skin turned her on. She knew that he set a standard for any man she would ever chose to be with. Not because she loved money, because no, Valerie was a strong praying woman and believed the love of money was the root of all evil. But Valerie knew what it meant to have gold and jewelry and nice clothes. She knew it meant a man worked HARD. And nobody worked as hard as B Frank. And that was her BABY. She loved him like a mother loves a son. Like a lover loves her beau. Like the sun loves the moon and knows she can rest while he’s around. B Frank was the kind of man that would take care of business and he reminded her so much of her own father. But they were on different sides of the law. Her daddy was Captain of the Police department in Melbourne County, Alabama. Everyone in the county obeyed him, everybody except for Valerie. You could always find her in a bar, three sheets to the wind, rolled blunt in her ear, with all the men in the place just bowing to her every whim. She loved the outlaws. She loved the rebels. It was in her blood. See her daddy transferred from Chicago on a drug unit before he was a career boss to Huntsville Alabama where there was a serious heroine issue. He was a fresh 22 and he ran into Valerie’s mother Jonnie Faye at Alabama A & M football game. Jonnie was the head cheerleader for the Bulldogs. She had long blonde hair, straight as a bone just like Valerie and she was a southern bell if there every was one. They fell in love instantly and Captain decided to make his home in the south with his trophy wife and their suppose to be perfect, G fearing children.

All six of the kids turned out to be degenerates. All of the pressure put on them while growing made their egos to be deformed like hunch backs, elephant men, bearded ladies. Freaks of nature. Only to be accepted by the dregs of society. The kings and queens of the outcasts. Because they associate more with the losers and no the winners. Because they only got to see themselves from the eyes of their perfectionist and overbearing father and selfish and self absorbed mother. So they never realized they were actual kings and queens. Too smart for most of society so they were ostracized because of course the ignorant expel what they cannot understand. Try to exterminate what they cannot comprehend. So they all enjoyed putting on a show. Brilliant minds often left unstimulated turn to lives of crime. The excitement is most of the time what gets them. And that’s what it was for Valerie. She did not care about the money. But she loved the thrill.

She breathes in the fall air. She can hear the beating trap music in the distance and the purr of Frank’s hemi engine turning down her block. Here comes the thrill blossoming in a place below her stomach making her feel a warm rush south. It’s the excitement of a run, a hit, a lick. Doing what she’s not suppose to do. It use to be to get back at her father for not giving her enough attention. Now she was just addicted to the thrill of it. Nothing could compare. Not even sex.

Frank pulls up and reaches across the passenger seat of his black Bentley with peanut butter leather seats and pops the door open for her. She gets in the seat, clicks her seatbelt and looks at him. He’s wearing a coke white T, his huge muscles bulging, some black dress shorts, gold watch, three gold chains, gold grill, and gold pinky ring and black Salvatore Ferragamo’s on his feet. “You ready?” He asks Valerie as cigar smoke billows out of the open door. She she grabs the door and pulls it close, grabs the cigar from his lips and takes a slow pull. “yeah.”

They zoom off to the west side. She knows it could be one hour or a week before she will return home. She doesn’t mind. Nothing is waiting for her in that tiny apartment. But the world is waiting for her on the passenger side of his car.

Healing – first steps


I recently read a meme that said “I could not heal because I kept pretending I wasn’t hurt”

I allow myself so many distractions, my cell phone,

I literally just clicked out of writing this to scroll thru Facebook. Social media is SUCH a distraction. But I will even distract myself by doing daily tasks. I am the kind of person that I do not want to SIT in my pain. I hate being sick I feel like I am a prisoner. But there have been very pivotal moments in my life where I have been ignoring something for so long that the universe really SITS ME ON MY ASS so that I can pay attention to the things I have been ignoring. Makes me conscious to my own toxicity. I believe dealing with these heart issues, that now is really one of those times. I will consume and consume without giving much thought what goes into my body AS LONG AS IT TASTES good. That’s like drinking watermelon flavored poison. I really have been thinking about my decisions and my future. I was doing so well for so long being conscious of every little thing that I was doing, financially, spiritually, eating, sleeping, but it just became all so overwhelming trying to track and trace every little decision so I kind of just gave up on everything because I allowed myself to be distracted BY A MAN. And the universe knows this is my greatest weakness is men. I become so obsessive. Trying to find validation in men, trying to seek love from men. Trying to MEAN SOMETHING to a man. My existence cannot be validated from anyone other than myself. I recently have been reflecting on so many things I have not forgiven my father for, all of this pent up resentment inside of myself because of mean and hurtful things he has said to me. BUT EVEN THAT is just a distraction. See, the shadows try to trip you up with old things you thought you laid to rest, especially when you become stronger, and you’ve already overcome those things. I want to blame all of these negative feelings on my past, on my father, my mother, past lovers, past hurts, past offenses. BUT I AM THE ONE ALLOWING THE FEELINGS. I must resist. I must not ignore though. I think That you can’t just say “oh yeah, I am over it” and just keep saying that to yourself until you convince yourself you believe it but the problem is still riding on your back. You have to acknowledge. Acknowledging is YOU taking back that power. So, here I am dissecting the issues. Was I given enough love and attention when I was a child? Absolutely not. Do I have a healthy relationship with my parents? Absolutely not. But I can sit here and cry about it until the day they die and then be devastated I never got the chance. But I recently told my father, “hey, I need consistency from you. I need to know you want a relationship with me and that you care about me.” That was a HUGE step for me. And realizing that I have to release all of this anger that I have towards him BECAUSE HE HAS HIS OWN BATTLES. He has his own broken relationships. He has his own past hurts and past offenses. We so often ignore our own pain so we also ignore the pain of others. We are walking around with our bloody guts in our hands because we are so wounded that when we pass by others that are falling, we cannot even catch them. So, this is going to be a new part of my routine, recognizing and acknowledging my pain so that I can heal. And Also becoming more emboldened to let others know how they inflicted pain on me. So that maybe in return they can have the courage to share with me how I may have inflicted pain on them so that we can both grow together as oppose to going to war with each other to see who can inflict the most pain. So that we can forgive each other and learn our own toxicities and clean our own messes before we infect others.

about generational curses

I have been thinking a lot lately about generational curses. I allow the shadow to get me so distracted from the light. I will have every single intention to write but I will get on my phone, check all my social media, remember to text someone, get a call, think of chores I need to get done. I swear, I can never remember more vividly what I need to accomplish more than when I am trying to write! And I keep thinking about generational curses. And how do we break generational curses if we cannot figure out what they are specifically? But I believe that the more we study ourselves, the more we will be able to identify those curses within ourselves. I have been so reluctant to write about this for so long because I believed that these were stories that were not my own so I had no right to tell them; this is my story though. This is the makeup of me, my history. The things that were accomplished, the origin of what makes me who I am. My grandfather had an immigrant mother. She did not speak English. She would read the newspaper and pick out words to learn, she would translate them and that is how she taught herself English. They were poor. Like real life poor, homeless. My grandfather vowed to himself that he would never allow his children to see the things he saw or have the experiences he had. He strove for a greater life, and he accomplished it. His experiences hardened him like a warrior. He had three soldiers as sons. The eldest being my father. I don’t know what it is about a girl and her daddy but I swear that man can do NO wrong. And because I felt like this, I overlooked a lot of very toxic behaviors that I considered “normal” because they were my experience. And when you are a child, you know nothing else of the world except your own experience. I really did not understand that it was not a common experience until I was older. My father was incredibly controlling. I grew up in the middle of a corn field. My father is from the city. My grandmother use to joke that we were the “children of the corn.” Hahaha I will never forget that. My father had his own experiences with witnessing the worst of people’s shadow self in the city so he wanted to make sure that his children were protected. But I was not socialized until about the age of 13. I was homeschooled with a Christian curriculum so I literally knew nothing about anything except the Bible. I LOVED TO READ tho… my mother would take us to the library a few times a week and I would get 3-5 books every time and finish them within hours. My brain could not get enough words. I could travel all over the world from the corner of my living room. We use to have this coffee table and I would put a blanket over it and lay under it or lay under the dining room table and read my books. I had no other place to be alone in my house. I had 5 siblings so it wasn’t exactly peace and quiet. It’s crazy how your tribe has such understanding for you because of all your shared experiences. I don’t believe anyone in this world understands me more than my siblings. I was the only fire sign, so I got left out a lot. My father was an earth sign, along with my best friend/sister that was directly under me in age, and also my baby brother. My mother, my oldest brother and my younger sister are air signs. And my baby sister, the funniest of us all is a water sign. When I was younger I never understood how she was the only one who could calm me when I was in a complete rage like she did until when She was about 15 and I about 24 started getting into astrology and figured out our elements and how they respond to one another.

Discernment of spirits
My grandmother and my mother would call them “visionettes” which was basically being able to see something that is going to happen before it happens to warn those in need. Or like seeing the outcome of a certain situation to be able to prepare the family. Or being able to see something thats wrong that people don’t know about yet. Like, they had “visionettes” about my sister having a girl before we did the gender reveal for my niece. That’s just a small example.
Perseverance through excruciating circumstances
Abundant love
A heart to help others
A colossal love for music
The ability to think quickly on my feet
The ability to stay calm in a state of crisis
The gift of story telling
I will add to this list as I think of more

The demanding need for control
Easily angered
Easily distracted
Manipulation to seek for my own will
Sharp tongue
Emotionally distant or unavailable
Hold a grudge (for literally forever)
Not tell people my true feelings about them to protect my own heart/ feeling like I am giving them control if I let them know how much they mean to me.

So, as you can see the good wayyyyy outweighs the bad. BUT the bad is still bad. These are things I seek to remedy inside of my soul. So, embarking on this journey to rectify the things I want to break with this generation. But I will stand up and say NO MORE. I want to be very honest with myself in admitting these faults and even bad characteristics I have picked up that started with MY generation that I do not want to pass down to the following generations. I think that identifying the problems are definitely the first step. So, maybe you could create a list like this too. And of course as you think of more things you can add it. But the things that come first to your mind are probably the biggest things you can start to slowly work on. At least, that’s what I am going to do.


I think I am avoiding writing because I honestly don’t want to think about you. It’s been days since I walked away and I do not even know if I will ever see or hear from you again. 18 months meant a lot to Ty Dolla $ign but I am afraid it doesn’t mean shit to you. “Although my heart can’t take no more, I keep on running back to you.” 
I can never tell who has the bigger right to be mad. All the ways you betrayed my trust and left me out in the cold to fend for myself. But yet you always thought you were protecting me. I am so furious at you. You have done and said things that I would have never thought would come from you. But I know I drive you crazy. I know you don’t understand me because sometimes I do not even understand myself. But when I look at you, I can’t help but love you. I keep expecting you to peek around the corner and do something to annoy the shit out of me. But you’re not going to. And how am I just suppose to forget about all of this? You say you don’t care. How could you just not care? Love is not suppose to keep a record of wrong, but after I saw all the things you said about me… you’re a coward. You were writing about how horrible I was when I was writing love letters and poems. Why must I continually go through this cycle? I have elevated. I have ascended beyond this behavior. Why is it still a struggle to find a man to be equally yoked with? Does he exist? It’s like either a man child, a cheating whore, a mama’s boy, an asshole, or a closeted homosexual. Where are the men of valor? Where are the gladiators? Why do they all trick me into thinking they are then they just turn at the first sight of war? Sometimes I can’t help but think it’s my fault? I am suppose to be the queen that speaks to the king in him. I find myself losing patience and engaging in the childish games. Practice what you preach, girl. How do I break these generational curses if I am too afraid to identify them? I look at my parents relationship and how they were CONSTANTLY fighting. Never any peace. That’s not the life I want to live. 18 months literally drained the life out of me. I do not want to blame the heart issues I am having solely on this but I know if has to be a huge contributing factor. The stress, the resentment, the unforgiveness. What is the Author’s purpose? Do I learn to love and forgive him? Or do I love and forgive myself by walking away from the toxicity? It’s not my job to change him. It’s not my responsibility to heal him. He has to heal himself. But my heart misses him so much. I need more answers and I just keep getting more questions. I am trying to seek first the kingdom, but I feel like I have been on community service duty picking up all the trash in the ditches around the kingdom. LET ME IN!!!! You can show up to this party anytime you wish, Universe, we’d appreciate the help.