Naked thoughts?

My thoughts race faster than the Seattle wind. None of it slows down, so I’m always more cold and tired than I am able to feel much more than the gloom and those thoughts I won’t pay attention to long enough to sort them out. I’m naturally paranoid, I don’t know if it’s mental illness, but thinking of it now it reminds me of my mother. She used to tell me not to do the most ridiculous things and she was incessant about other things. It literally drove me nuts. I can hear myself yelling at her to stop now. I’m glad I don’t do that. These are things I don’t know if they are important to remember or not.

Voids so many voids. I heard somewhere that if you don’t have doting parents, you have to work harder to prove to yourself what makes you special, what makes you worthy, what makes you just as good as the next person. Joy Behar said that. I love that woman. I’d love to meet her, but she is mostly a harsh comedian so she might disappoint me. So maybe not. She never fails to speak up for the underdog, though. Especially when it comes to systematic oppression and the under privileged. She’s in her 80’s and a white woman who was telling the truth long before people had to be pushed to do it now. I love her for that. I feel like all everyone I admired has either passed or will be passing. I was a lonely child so those people made me feel not alone growing up. It’s because I’m an old soul. And it sucks. The millennium is not the time to be an old soul.

Lifetimes, so many lifetimes in one. I’m even older than I am. If there was a picture of a child being birthed inside an adult, that would depict how I’ve felt. My life. Far from normal.

I’ve found myself discussing societal issues with a lot of really painfully ignorant people. Can’t save them all. I don’t even want to hear about it anymore.

Seattle is so white. So white it’s agonizing. My goal is to create a plan that at least puts me in another state at least a good portion of the years ahead.

I hate when people worry about me. How could I let you down, when no one held me up. Where does the nerve come from. Oh, it’s love. It’s love not nerve.

I am scared, but I know that elevation happens when I walk in grace with God. I am not graceful often.

People who’ve got me all wrong, don’t know me. And I owe them nothing. I believe that there is good and evil in this world. Bryson said bad people were developed in life and not from the womb. I waved the tears from my eyes thinking about Jonelle’s story. I said I’m sorry, I don’t know what’s happening to me, he said it’s beautiful. It’s a shame what we do to each other. I believe that there are “good” people who have cruelty in them. I believe it takes a internally hard-working person to walk the walk. To never lose sight of what’s important in life and spares nobody compassion. I don’t think it’s natural.

Ghandi was racist and a sexual predator. Mother Teresa was no saint either.  People are flawed. Like ‘Pac said, even our “heroes” fall.  That’s why I decided from an early age I would not follow anyone’s lead in this world. There is no one I wanted whose footsteps I wanted to walk in. I’ve never had a true hero.

I know that I have a spirit of generosity and from a young age had a love for all people and all kinds of things, but it’s quite the same anymore. So maybe life breed good and bad.

I know that I am a very good person.

A strong, broken, hurting, angry, frustrated, isolated and good person. I am working to un-do the rest of those things. I have never lost my generosity or care for others. I can be proud of that. That those are the two things I never had to work hard to maintain.

The world is a scary place, though. There’s nowhere to run. I’m truly alone in this world and I have truly walked the road less traveled. Unpaved, I got lost so many times. It’s made me who I am today.

When I think of myself in the world, I think of a little tiny me, 12 years old starring into the sky. So alone. Everything was always so hollow and empty.

My friend and author Ruth Marimo says she is everything expected and unexpected. That she is a loner with a million friends. Heartbroken and ye tin love.

How does something empty radiate love around it. That was me.

I know I probably sound like the most depressed person. I’m not. I’m excruciatingly honest though and I’m hoping vulnerability is un-doing all this shit inside of me. It is rare for me to get deeper than the surface.

“Do you write? Do you meditate?” Those are the most common responses to me talking about my depression. The others are about tea, yoga and exercise or have I ever thought about seeing a counselor.

 

Maya Angelou said when people show you who they are, believe them the first time. I think I’m naive because I give everyone too many chances. Maya is gone, too. I kicked and cried when I heard the news. A very sad day.

Fond memories are painful. Gratitude hurts. Everything’s always more bitter than it is sweet. I think special times remind me of not so special these times are, but sometimes later these end up being special times. I can remember the moments in my life when time stopped and I was able to truly appreciate the magnitude of what was happening in them. There weren’t too many of those moments. So deep beneath my pain, I still cherish them. And always will.

I think about Mrs. Higgins and become afraid she will pass when I don’t know. I know she knows I will always love her so, though. I couldn’t have said it more. An angel.

I wonder if Annie, Sofia, Sarah, Hannah, Ashley and the rest know just how much I loved them. How much I will always love them no matter what. It’s one thing to call people your BFFs, it’s another thing to make sure they know it. I don’t think I could love them more, yet be so detached from expressing it at the same time. I know they felt it in the times we shared.

I never stopped telling T or M how much I love them. They probably knew more about me than I knew about myself. God was so gracious when he gave me them. Seriously thank you God for that.

I’ll talk to R Thursday. It’s been a long time coming. Maybe then we can just let this all go and start anew.

Ase. I think I want to name my daughter that. It is African and it means the power to make things happen produce change. That’s why I keep saying it.

w/ lots of love –

Ase.

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