Cold milk…

We want to warm the landscape of the devilish purity of your skin…

Angel/Devil, cold and warm

We want it all…

Lather you on my tongue, paint you on our skin, your life essence…warm milk. We want both..

Angel/ devil

Cold milk, warm milk…

Your chaotic landscape, your fuck it mouth, burning us with your earthy brown eyes and freckled shift..

Angel/Devil, cold and warm…

We are down on our knees, mouth wide open..wanting to choke on your cold milk, and your warm milk…

Sweet submission..mutual dominance…an ecstatic meeting of minds and souls, passion unadorned with bullshit. 

Only the purity of want and need, yearning and desire…mutual sweet release..

Lotus Libertad

Now I understand why our hearts ache...

 Hmmm...I think the reel below really nails it. Now I understand why our hearts ache...I hope that life proves us wrong. May we know tenderness, safety, and love. It is written. May it be...

https://www.instagram.com/reel/DTR-vCAlIeR/?utm_source=ig_web_copy_link&igsh=NTc4MTIwNjQ2YQ==

Once upon a time....

 

Once upon a time, since childhood, I learned to swallow my own bitterness and the bitterness of others.  I had to be strong.  This was hard for an empath, for the black sheep of the family that observed too much, grew up too fast, and knew truths adults were afraid to face.  In my early 20s, I became very depressed.  I had no idea what was happening to me.  I would cry, I was fatigued...the stress from a first-time job and living on my own was scary and exciting.  But I didn't know what anxiety or depression was.  I'm so sick of those terms...and fck trauma and everything it steals.  The one thing that was a force of love was my cousin and the unexpected arrival of my sister.  She broke my heart wide open...there was light and love in those turbulent times when we all did the best that we could.  She saved me with her love...my siblings saved me with their love. And yes, I grew up too fast.  I'm more at peace with that...no sense to hold on to anger...it shaped me, in part.

Once upon a time, I learned to suffer in silence.  I did not want to bother anyone. Being strong became survival and my default.  Being strong, well, there is a price to pay for that.  It will manifest in so many ways in the body... sometimes years later, when you least expect it.  Like today, the ache came back.  My heart felt itself breaking.  Maybe this is a release of accumulation...my brother's death, among other things.  I know this pain and heartache have a purpose.  I pray the pain alchemically transforms to love...that all this release is making space for more love...and may it be a reminder that in the beginning, I was loved, and I loved hard...that little girl inside me still wholeheartedly loves. That is my natural state.

So today, I changed direction.  I told my baby sister how I felt.  About the negative, intrusive thoughts that come with depression...that come with this release, with processing sh*t  I am yet to understand, due in part to heated rivalry...the yearning for connection and vulnerability.  And the simple beauty of this story.  So, I shared my feelings.  The dark night of the soul...the ache, the breaking of my heart...the grieving of things I can not name and the crying of years of unshed tears.  And I can see the joy on the other side, waiting for me....I understand the yin and yang of our existence....Today, I did not suffer in silence.  I reached out.  I was vulnerable, raw, and fragile with my poor adhd sister, who nervously tried to support me by holding space and recommending meditation.  I was so gagged.  I have created little self-healing monsters...so proud of my siblings.

So, once upon a time, this late afternoon, I reached out for love and support.  I sat in front of my sister unfiltered and fragile...delicate and trembling with strength...even as my voice cracked with emotion.  And my heart is full.  So full.  I will not fear this ache, this yearning, this grief, these feelings...I will sit with them tenderly and let them push me through the muddy waters...I will rise a liberated lotus...because of the mud and tears and darkness.  That's where seeds grow before they bloom..I will rise from grief and pain, like a lotus on fire...burning through the bullshit and what no longer serves me.  I release...I bless it.  I surrender it.

And most importantly,  I surrender to love...and one day, may I be brave to let someone hold me, be there for me, kiss me....anchor me.  I want that...I open my heart to that...I will do it afraid..I will do it when I want to shut down or run...I will do it with this delicate heart of mine....I want the peaceful balm of a lover's embrace, a sense of safety, and the feeling that I am home in their embrace.

I call myself back to myself...

 Today was a hard day.  It was hard to get out of bed and shower.  But I did it.  I am wearing my brother's shirt for safety and comfort.  I sleep with his hat under my pillow.  He died in 2020.  And he was my whole heart.  One of many things to grieve, to process....but also to rejoice.  Yes. I cried, and I ached again today.  But I also practiced grounding myself on my way to work...I also called for referrals to a therapist.  I am gently moving into my day....and trusting my body knows what it needs to heal itself...and to rejoice.  There is hope in healing from trauma...and that is not the lens I want to view the world.  Let it always be love.

I want tenderness.  So I will be tender to myself.  I will do the things that make me feel safe.  I will wear my brother's shirt.  I will hold his hat tonight because I want him closer.  He would know my heart...similar to his...feeling everything.

I was not expecting to dump everything here, but I can not feel shame for what spirit has demanded to be released.  So, Heated Rivalry was the catalyst that burst the dam of all my fcking emotions for all these years...and I have to live through the ache and questions and being with my spirit. There may be answers or understanding. I may become lighter, freer... I may be making room for the new...I am not rushing to be fixed... or thinking that I need to be fixed...I just have a plan and small action steps.  And I welcome signs from a higher power that I am not alone....I don't want to do it alone anymore....and I am thankful for giving myself a space to write fearlessly, achingly, tearfully, without stressing grammar or fcking correctness.  I am thankful for my aching, fragile, tender heart that feels so much....and I forgive you and thank you, my body, for protecting me.  I welcome my spirit back, I welcome wholeness, love, and spirit.  I call myself back to myself...

Lover, You Should’ve Come Over...

Looking out the door I see the rain
Fall upon the funeral mourners
Parading in a wake of sad relations
As their shoes fill up with water

Maybe I'm too young
To keep good love from going wrong
But tonight you're on my mind
So... you'll never know

Broken down and hungry for your love
With no way to feed it
Where are you tonight?
Child, ya know how much I need it

Too young to hold on
And too old to just break free and run

Sometimes a man gets carried away
When he feels like should be having his fun
Much too blind to see the damage he's done
Sometimes a man must awake to find that
Really he has no one

So I'll wait for you, love
And I'll burn
Will I ever see your sweet return?
Oh, will I ever learn?
Oh-oh, lover, you should've come over
'Cause it's not too late

Lonely is the room, the bed is made
The open window lets the rain in
Burning in the corner is the only one who dreams
He had you with him

My body turns
And yearns for a sleep that won't ever come
It's never over
My kingdom for a kiss upon her shoulder
It's never over
All my riches for her smiles
When I've slept so soft against her

It's never over
All my blood for the sweetness of her laughter
It's never over
She is the tear that hangs inside my soul forever

Oh, but maybe I'm just too young
To keep good love from going wrong

Oh-oh-oh, lover
You should've come over, yeah, yes
Yes, I feel too young to hold on
And much too old to break free and run
Too deaf, dumb and blind to see the damage I've done
Sweet lover, you should've come over

Oh, love, well I've waited for you
Lover, lover, lover
Lover, love, love, love, love, love, love!
Lover, you should've come over
'Cause it's not too late

Songwriters: Jeffery Buckley

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HxfE6PJmGS8

Grieving...

 

It is nice to know that I am not the only one feeling like a hot mess after watching Heated Rivalry.  Today, I cried, and I ached.  Someone posted something about grieving for who they did not get to be, or fully being able to love because of homophobia.  I felt that...and then there was a hockey game with a kiss cam showing Scott and Kip kiss...and then two men in the crowd kissed.  How incredible how people are being moved during such a chaotic time. 

Our insides are being scrambled, and we are thinking about what was...past interludes of desires...awakenings, innocence, connection, lust, love...

I need to take a break from watching heated rivalry content because it hurts...it aches. And I don't know why.  I go from dissociated to feeling every fcking thing suppressed for years because my body is always trying to protect from external dangers...even if I was safe....even if things were calm...it became my default.  So, I'll let these tears flow...I'll write, I'll talk to a thrapist, I'll continue moving forward as my armour continues to break, as the ache continues to break me down naked and raw...to forgiving my body for the disconnection when all it did was try to protect me...to the grief that I feel of what was and what I ache for...to time wasted and not wanting to waste anymore. I welcome comfort, safety, understanding, and tenderness...I want more.

Windows open...

 

I opened all my windows in my apartment to let air in, to let life in...open myself to the world. I look out, and for the first time in a long time, I feel lonely. I have relished the silence of my room and bed. Of my nervous system being soothed by a cocoon of protection. And since my "wake-up" call or emotional implosion, my appetite has dwindled, and my heart continues to ache. And I will sit here with my emotions, knowing I want more...no more hiding from myself, from the world...from love. I am scared...I haven't even watched the new Dracula movie because, you know, feelings. I actually have a story idea I want to put on paper before I watch it. But I digress...

I recall my first implosion. I was in H.S. I was in an argument with my mom. And that destructive energy took over. My room was covered in posters of Nirvana, Pearl Jam, and Soundgarden. Everything that I loved, all that I had cherished...I destroyed that day. I raged...I destroyed....because I wasn't coming back. I was subconsciously preparing to leave for college. I left my walls bare...

A second implosion was coming home from the hospital during my sophomore year in college after a PE traveled through my heart. I lived. But Medicaid cut my coverage just when I still needed blood thinners. Each night, I was afraid to sleep. Afraid to die. I was angry at God, at life...I wasn't a habitual smoker, but I said fck it. I'm not living a half *ss life. I smoked...I was reckless...I dared God and cursed him....and I thought I was being punished for the times I was so depressed, I thought I could not go on. I thought this was my punishment. And healing came unexpectedly when my bff took me to the hospital when I had chest pains. There was someone sick next to me in the ER. They were vomiting and crying. The smells...the noises. I hate hospitals to this day. I was screened, had chest x-rays, and no clots were found. They dissolved. I was relieved. We went to get chicken wings...I sat down with my bff...we ate in silence..I had some healing peace...and my bff was one of the first people I let in, that I let love me in all my phases and stages of life...

A notable time I raged was when my girlfriend and I were together. That's a whole other chaper but I did get upset and fcked up everything in my room after I was pushed to my emotional limit. Not coming out to myself while living with your girlfriend, who is a born-again Christian, that you loved but lost yourself in, was some sht.

With Heated Rivalry, I just want to cry. I can't stop. How did I get here? A part of me misses my 20s. It makes me happy to see two young actors embarking on a new adventure...and I miss that in me. I am jealous sometimes. And that's okay. I can't change that I grew up too fast, or went balls to the walls in my 30s when my girlfriend left, and the pain I felt... was indescribable. And worst of all, I couldn't cry. When she left, everything was stuck in my bed. I was not a drinker, but that was the only way to find release at that time...and it became problematic...I didn't know how to move forward or heal, but I bought self-help books anyway. Attended support groups...endlessly seeking to fix complex trauma so I could finally live...and I had fun, and I was reckless and I didn't give a fck sometimes...and it's made me who I am today. And I've abandoned the notion of always seeking to fix myself because, at the end of the day, no self-help book can teach me what I know now. I am worthy. I have always been worthy. And I deserve love and happiness. I love my life, and I am thankful for the catalytic energy of fcking rage.

And this ache, this loneliness borders on anger...rage is close by. I want to take every fcking self-help book and throw them out. I'm sick of trauma and therapy and all that bullsh*t....

But, oddly enough, I might start therapy while I have insurance. I want it...because I want to understand the cracks in my armour...my need, my desire, my wants...how did I get here? I don't want to do this alone anymore....I feel like I'm in a different vibrational level...everything continues to be foggy on the outside, but my emotions are front and center.

I wish someone would hold me...protect me... take care of me....I want tenderness...I wish I weren't alone tonight...There, I said it.

I want more.

I want more.

I want more.

Releasing since heated rivalry...

 

none stop vomiiting of things suppressed. Fck.

silence is suppression...

crying it out, talking it out, writing it out...

Happy...

Trauma can be a thief of joy. I fcking hate it...it's made me stronger, and the strength has cost me...but I don't want to be strong all the time anymore. I'm done...I am...more. I want more.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IK8OOpeYHC4

The anxiety and depression that follow. The dark nights of the soul and the endless thoughts heavy with worry and doubt. How easy it is to slowly detach from ourselves. There have been times when my mind protected itself by separating from my soul and body...from everything. Detachment, distance, fear of vulnerability, and a period of self-destructive behavior due to unresolved pain turned inwards. Self-forgiveness is a balm...hold yourself in compassion for doing the best that you could at any given time. And there were beautiful, reckless, raw, and sometimess drunk filled moments...It hasn't all been pain...but there has always been a push to be unapologetically me. Loving myself as I am while being a work in progress is such a beautiful place to be...From thinking I could not survive myself to not wanting to be anyone else but me right now. I love this life, and I have fought endless external and internal battles to get her. Can I be me forever? Can I go back in time and hold the little girl, the teen, and twenty something year old me in tenderness?

And finally, I am writing. I write only for me. Bleeding on pages again. Trying to be fearless again. For years, I've had ideas for books and stories...characters and scenes waking me up in the middle of the night. I can be angry that trauma robbed me of things, but it made me strong. I can be mad that I didn't begin writing again sooner. But what matters is now... just fcking doing it now. I continue to forgive myself for all the walls I put up out of need or fear. And healing comes with writing and being as barren as a tree in winter. No leaves, no flowers...only a silhouetted black trunk with lovely branches caressing the sky, whispering to the wind, "spring comes soon, and we will bloom once more when sleep births us by nurturing darkness."

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BvGbmEuV_lA

#craveheatedrivalry

B*ssies activated...

 and p*ssies too.

Fck you and thank you, Heated Rivarly. You got us sweating, swooning, and reminiscing about our younger selves...the times we were magnetically drawn to an other....of weekends long spent fcking and napping and fcking and eating...

About the innocent moments of intimacy..of leading with the heart and other body parts...

Of complete nakedness of self in front of another...whispering insecurities and desires...kissing your lover where it hurts, where there are scars, where and when they don't feel beautiful.

You have us missing what we had in the wild and beautiful time of fearless and sometimes, very stupid, youth...

But there is something so tender to see such a beautiful love story unfold...we yearned, we craved, we cried, we ached, we longed...we watched with heat and tenderness...and I can feel the collective desire for a HEA for them, for us, for those rediscovering themselves, or afraid to let someone in, or only fck because fcking is safer than what intimacy entails. For the gays, the queers, the questioning, those hiding, those not out to themselves...those surviving while hiding for safety..not wanting to get beaten, kicked out or worse. We deserve our HEA.

We need...

We want...

We deserve...

And we will create, while we love, and fck and fight, and hug, and fck...kissing our lovers, yelling their name...no shame, no apologies...just beauty.

So fck you and thank you, Heated Rivarly. We are all activated in every sense of the word...

In the name of....

In the name of the Father, the son and the holy spirit....

and blessed be the womyn told to be like Mary, both pure and with child. The contradictory messages has fcked someone of us up...because we are full womyn, we are more than the expected pious women, mothers, señoritas...we are so much more than biblical origins of shame, virtue, silence, quiet, obedience.

So blessed be the putas and patas, those forced into nunnerys or could only find freedom and knowledge in a monastery...blessed be the rebels, the first to say "no!" in families, not to marry, not have children, and be okay with that choice.

Blessed be the ones who learned to own their voice, stand in their power, and be liberated by knowledge of self-love and self-worth.

So blessed be the putas, the patas, the ones who suppressed their true selves because of Marianismo...and then said no more, this sh*t ends with me. I will not be silent, and pure and virginal...I will be a full-fcking human being.

In the name of la puta, la pata, and the womyn who said "hell no!"

Still crying...but with sacred siblings.

 As I leave my sister, she tells me it's okay not to be okay. It hits different to be on the receiving end of those words. I still don't have all the words to describe how everything outside of me is foggy and vague. All my spiritual attention is laser-focused within. I feel raw, naked, still purging, and still crying. This is the second sibling I cried to about where I am at this moment. The price of being strong when faced with trauma. The ease of losing yourself within yourself. Until the cracks start the necessary process of grieving what was, and what you want for there to be. Maybe this will be a healing journey in the ways we show up for each other as siblings. Maybe our healing selves in turns heal our ancestors...of our grandmother who lost her mother shortly after her own birth...how she then lost her father to an evil stepmother who cracked her head open...how she never learn to read or write but was fearless in leaving toxicity behind when women did not leave their husbands (I channel that fearlessness)...for that ache of wanting to be cared for, wanted and protected...to lean on someone constant..someone you can feel so safe around that you breathe fully for the firs time. My siblings are sacred space...we will be that for each other. And this older sister can no longer be the "strong" one if it costs me my well-being.

So fck you and thank you Heated Rivalry for fcking up my sh*t...in a good way...in the only way the universe saw fit because I was slowly dying while living...so far removed from my own self...and I will continue to cry..because it is sacred...and I am sacred...and my tender heartache is sacred space...and I am so fcking thankful. It has been so long since I have felt my own delicate, awe-filled existence relative to my place in the cosmos.

Thank you, sacred siblings.

Thank you, sacred space.

It's okay if you wanted more, abuelita.

I want more, too.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Fjm93-0ssFo

#craveheatedrivalry

"The tragedy of life is not death but what we let die inside of us while we live." Norman Cousins

I saw the trailer for Heated Rivalry a while back and was excited to see what it would be all about. But, for some strange reason, I kept avoiding it. I saw clips here and there, but I kept postponing watching it. Even after all the posts about the show and during my long vacation, my spirit was like "nah." My spirit knew, somehow, before I did, that my armour would crack. That I could no longer hide from myself and what I ache for. That this show would unmask me, undue me, leave me suffocating with rawness and longing. And I have cried for these past three days because of this fcking, beautiful show. Because it shattered what needed to be shattered. It has unveiled me to myself and all the things that I have buried deep. And I guess the universe gave me this wake-up call in the form of this show to understand that when I buried my desires, needs and wants, I buried the essence of myself....and I mourn that free girl I was and the free girl I am becoming again. And as painful as these revelations have been and will be as I unpack and truly sit with my emotions, the purpose of this pain, of this fire that spread without warning, is to burn away what no longer serves me and reclaim the things my silence has protected me from and has slowly suffocated me...leaving me buried, while alive. And in that fire and in that darkness, I will grow. I will reclaim, and I will come back to myself.

Ito

This fcking blog or whatever is dedicated to fearless metamorphosis, and my awakening. I want to thank my little (tall) brother for holding space for things I am still trying to articulate as a result of suppressing all the things I yearn for but have denied or lied to myself about for far too long. Thank you for listening as I fell apart and ugly cried while vomiting my emotions to you. You are sacred space.

A reclaiming...

The universe has always sent me books or shows that I have needed on my spiritual path. These books or shows were sent to break me open, expose a truth or send a message. These books or shows have nudged my attention like an inner compass pointing towards my own inner true north. When I first read "The Alchemist" by Pauhlo Coehlo, I knew deep in my bones that it was meant to be. These works of art have been healing...a personal awakening of a Lotus becoming Liberated. Understanding, healing and revelations arrive when you need them the most.

And Heated Rivarly has been a declaration from my Soul to wake the fck up. I was lying to myself these past few years that being alone is far less risky than intimate vulnerability in a relationship. The tears have not stopped flowing since watching this series. A long time ago, I would bleed my feelings on the page. I would not hold back...my release, my writing, was for me. I was fearless, and I didn't give a fck. And I've stopped writing and doing the things that made me feel free and whole. Afraid of judgment...or simply just afraid. So, I am reclaiming those parts of me in this space. I write to come home to myself, to bleed on the page, to rise like a lotus towards liberation of self. To be fcking honest with myself, that opening up, connection, and intimacy is scary. And Heated Rivalry, this beautiful story and journey of discovery and vulnerability has left me aching with loneliness and with the truth that I ache for more....I want more. And I will unpack this here. To go back to that girl who stayed up reading books or writing in notebooks. I want more, and that involves bravery and authentic expression...without shame, or fear of judgement. I write for me, and this is my fcking reclaiming. Let there be tears, and let there be truth. Let the truth that I have suppressed for years break me open and, like spiritual alchemy, leave me transformed. Let the fire burn away what has kept me hidden and living a lukewarm life.

I want more.

I was more.

I want more....

я хочу большего.

я хочу большего.

я хочу большего...

Lotus Libertad

#craveheatedrivalry