Fractured

Train ride home. 

Feeling soft and vulnerable and exposed. 

Not sure I like it. 

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Lonely Roads #2: Migration

On the bus again. 

Solitude beckons.

Heartache shared.

I’ve screamed. I’ve cried. I’ve left.

I’ve hurt. I’ve breathed. I’ve let go.

So many regrets

Live inside the place

Where Hope should have thrived.

I am human.

I’ve made mistakes.

This bus ride

Is not one of them.

For weeks I’ve listened and watched

The Canada geese fly south.

Migration.

Homeward bound.

Eminent.

Wings spread in formation 

Sure of their path

And their place

In the grand scheme of Life.

The first and the last

Equally important

For the survival of all.

Bound by nature.

By familial bonds.

By something

That has no word in English.

But as much apart of them

As their regal crowns.

As I boarded the bus

I found a feather.

Tucked it in my pocket

And wished to belong to something 

That has no word in English.

Moon Love

Since Rhonda’s death, and subsequent Celebration of Life, when I hear friends who I myself introduced to her, and who barely knew her, laugh and talk of her last few years, I just want to scream.

When they speak of the bond they shared over music, conversation and coming out, I am overwhelmed with such a raging sense of betrayal, broken trust and abandonment that the loss of my friend itself has become almost secondary.

Almost.

In my woundedness I fell into a place of childlike pain and reflection. Of helplessness and lonesomeness. Lost in despair of broken trust and the pain of abandonment. I cried so hard and so deep and felt such pain that the bowels of heaven and earth must have shifted in empathy to make room for more of my tears.

And I started talking to the moon. Again.

Then I found this beautiful read.

An imagery that captured my soul and spoke to my 4 year old self. Funny how stuff just shows up when your heart needs it most. It’s not luck, or magic or coincidence. It’s the Universe at work with the law of attraction.

In reading Jessica’s story, which found me online, I recognized that I too have talked to the moon since childhood. Private conversations that honor my deepest feelings. Existing otherwise silent on a plane buried deep within my 4 year olds recognition of being unloved and unwanted. It is a hurt that has no remedy. No platitude. No fix. Buried deep in my psyche, entrenched by the magnificent volume of sheer repetition.

I don’t know if I can ever heal this wound. It bleeds with such little provocation. So deep and raw is the source.

My friend, my truest sister, left me alone to suffer a cruel punishment for a crime I didn’t commit but one I will pay for whenever I think of her now. Hear her name. Or learn of another life experience I should have shared with her. The suffering is acute. The questions endless. The pain familiar. The hurt stings my eyes in overflow.

It is not merely a jealousy that others were privy to her company the last few months of her life and I was not. It is the deeper, unbearable knowing that I was not wanted.

And I have nowhere to put that.

Nowhere at all.

So, it hangs in the quiet luminescence of conversation with the moon.

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I just found and fell in love with the mind of Stella! ❤️

View story at Medium.com

She just resonated BIG time today. All week has been a struggle with one thing or another blog related. Ugh. I think she might have a wee drinking problem lol, but otherwise I love what she’s written in this post.

Setting Of Intentions

Last week on The Buddha,  I wrote this in a puff of deflated, uninspired breath.

Well, This Week Kinda Sucked

Finding Stella J. McKenna today on Medium was kismet.

It’s a great post!

Reminds me not to take myself so seriously. And we ALL need a reminder of that sometimes.

See ya soon!

R.I.P. Rhonda Patterson

I just lost a friend. My soul sister. And a big chunk of my heart. About 10 days ago she came to me 3 nights in a row in beautiful dreams filled with fun, laughter and the pure joy of childlike love, and we danced the perfect dance of true friendship. She was happy, healthy, energized, full of vitality and a wicked sense of humor. They were powerful dreams, so vivid and real and filled with an unconditional love I can not explain. I awoke feeling such an overwhelming sense of gratitude and happiness that I was with her again, living in the essence and innocence of our true friendship, that I refused to let darker thoughts of her possible death enter my mind.

We hadn’t spoken in 4 years. She was unwell. Mentally. Physically. Spiritually. But mostly, she was an addict. And stupid shit got in the way. Arguments mixed with alcohol mixed with anger mixed with fear from a body shutting down, one organ at at time. And denial. Lots and lots of denial. But I prayed we would talk and laugh again. That we would make up. That somehow with love and patience and kindness and compassion those of us reaching out to her could heal her with our intentions and intervention. I reached out over and over and over. Sent emails and phone messages and work messages and messages on Messenger. But she wouldn’t let me back in. Couldn’t let me back in. I understand the whys and the hows and all the big disturbing realities of her life. I understood that her illness was addling her brain. That she was beyond repair. That it wasn’t personal. That it was the booze. But that didn’t matter. Hurt is hurt. It hurt then. And it hurts now. Deeply. But being ever the optimistic and never one to give up on a friend, I hoped beyond hope that we would reconnect and that I’d see her again.

I believed, like we all do, that we still had lots of time to reunite and make amends.

Until yesterday.

Her daughter contacted me and soon afterward I was told my friend had passed away on an undetermined date. That she had been found dead in her home and no-one knew how long she had been there. The details are being evidenced even as I write this but the coroner thinks anywhere from a week to about 10 days.

About 10 days.

We don’t know the time or cause of death yet, but I do know, without an ounce of doubt, that about 10 days ago my beautiful, loyal, giving, broken, passionate, tortured, loving friend came to me and said goodbye. And we played and joked and laughed like children. And it was beautiful. And I will forever be grateful for our last dance.

I love you, Rhonda. Thank you for being such a beautiful light in my darkest times, and for sharing my passion for storytelling. Thank you for making me belly laugh and nearly pee my pants. Thank you for midnight runway cat hunts and teaching me not to be afraid of the BBQ. Thank you for encouraging me to sneak out of the group home just before dawn, walk to the beach and wrapped in a blanket, sit and watch the most spectacular sunrise I’ve ever seen ~ before going home and getting grounded. Thank you for believing that I could leap tall buildings in a single bound. Thank you for telling me about the pleasure of inner orgasms and that making love isn’t sex, but a merging of two souls deeply connected. Thank you for fueling my need and desire to dream fantastical dreams as only a Pisces can do. Thank you for being the voice of reason when my fear stopped me dead. And thank you for showing me that living in your truth takes courage and an indomitable will. You taught me so much much more than this and I will be forever grateful for having you in my life.

Even as I write this the tears are streaming down my face as the memories of a 40 year friendship come flooding in. I know that you loved me and I am as equally important to you as you are to me. But this is so surreal. I can’t believe you’re really gone. I’ve missed you so much and will continue to miss you like mad for the rest of my life. Rest my friend. Enjoy exploring the wonders of the Universe. And if you can, send me a sign that Life After Death friggin ROCKS! If anyone can, it’s you. I love you. And I know we will dance again. ❤️❤️❤️


We’re planning a Celebration of Life after her cremation and if I know Rhonda, she’s hanging around just waiting for the party to get started! And to all of you, let me just say right now, that if you have someone in your life who you are on the outs with, no matter what the reason ~pride, arrogance, defiance or just plain old holding a grudge that you aren’t mature enough to let of. Dig deep; grow up and let that shit go! Reach out and tell them you forgive and love them regardless of whether they accept it or not. Do your part to heal the rift.

Cuz after Death, there are no Do-Overs.

 ❤️💛💚💙

rhonda2

Goodbye my friend. See you on the other side.❤️

I Need My Space Back :)

So…after debating on this issue for the past week, on and off, I have decided that Coming Out Crooked needs to go back to it’s original format. My reasons are simple. I need my space back. This space was never meant for business consumption. It was meant to be a personal space for me to work out my shit. To capture the journey of my coming out and my life, with all the pain, the sadness, the joy and the love that has been in. I think it’s important that I keep this space for me.

This message is specifically for the followers that have joined ‘my tribe‘ in the past few weeks based on the positivity messages posted here in my JUST DO YOU newsletter. I have a new home for those messages, and for the newsletter, and it’s intention is clear. If you’d like to continue to follow me on that particular journey which is catered more to positive personal development and the power of self-talk, then please find me here!

www.thebuddhaneuron.com

It’s a brand new site. A new venture. A new journey. And it’s literally being built as I write this lol so it will be changing constantly until it’s all done! But the BLOG is up and running and new posts will appear on Tuesdays and Fridays. Right now, it’s where my true focus is so please feel free to join me. Everyone is invited lol. The Buddha Neuron is just as much a part of me as Coming Out Crooked. It just has a different focus. I’m a Gemini. Nuff said! Lol

That’s it!

Have an AWESOME weekend! And perhaps I will see you on the other side!

hugging_face_emoji

 

Ashes: Pt 1

My mom died.

The relentless one.

The one I’ve lived a lifetime it seems, trying to please.

And failed.

Jennie Griffiths. RIP.

You were a tough love. But you were the only woman who felt like Mother.

Sad. Confused. Completely.

Been a bit of a struggle to get back here since the news. Lots of feelings swirling and fogging up the windshield. Working thru it…and Wow is all I’ve got.

Can’t see clearly right now.

But I’ll be back.