It is 09:28 AM and I am sitting on my bed naked, drinking honey-sweetened Green tea, and listening to “Bigger” by Jekalyn Carr after an intermittently sleepless night. I find myself in a limbo of sorts, a period riddled by scholastic burnout, indecisiveness, uncertainty, ego rearrangement, and soul deep orgasms. I’m surrounded with plant babies that are somewhat thriving, although begging to be transpotted because they’ve outgrown their initial homes. In the midst of being showered by my Ancestors with blessings, some I didn’t even have to ask for, I am also faced with trauma-based emotional frequent flyers, the relentless memories of multiple mediums of abuse that swing by to remind me of the inescapability of humanity. Not that this existence is a prison, but there were seasons spent within this meat sack that weren’t much less than war zones. On one hand, I am proud of myself, while on the other, I am indifferent. I keep asking myself, “where exactly THEE FUCK am I going?” Sure, I’ve got a plan- one that’s working so far at that- which is why these moments of questioning my journey always confuse me. It’s easy to remind myself that none of us know what the fuck we’re doing, but if honesty is to be the foundation of this platform, you can agree that that fact isn’t always comforting.
Being a late 20-something comes with the pressure of having all your shit together. Social media would have us trapped into the belief that if we don’t fulfill an itemized checklist of accomplishments by a certain age, we are incompetent. What this itemized checklist does not take into account, however, is the mental, emotional, spiritual, and familial trauma that manifest into physically debilitating obstacles- most of which we don’t even see coming. While I have been and continue to be a brilliant nurse, self-healing agent, and advocate for holistic wellness, if you’ve read anything I’ve written before today or follow me on social media, you are well aware that getting here has been a glorified shit show.
As the year comes to a close, I’m realizing that the self-induced stress that laces the previous paragraphs is a direct result of being nurtured in a capitalistic environnent. The pressure to lead a life that feeds a system that sees my body as a mere commodity for consumerism has gotten out of control, and I’m not here for it anymore. I’ve concluded that this stress shit ain’t for me. Now, I know that not all stress is bad, as there are circumstances in which heightened emotions serve as catalysts for manifesting greatness, but the shit we’ve been fed is a hard hell nah. I refuse to continue to subscribe to an existence that breeds patterns of lack, debasement, and harsh conditions. So before the year even ends, I’m making a proverbial 180° turn and reconnecting with my authentic Self. The Self that loves quiet mornings, the smell of dewy grass and post-rain foliage; the Self that squeals at the sight of flowers and relishes bird songs and the midnight choir; the self that melts in sweet whispers and hearty laughter. I’m returning to the Self that adores soft touches, hugs and kisses, success through Godfidence, and the fragrance of lovemaking. I’m returning to art, passion, deep, honest conversations, and intentional living. I’m returning to intimacy.
Tis the season of growth and expansion, fuck ups and beautiful lessons, great dick and uncomfortable, yet elevating exchanges, rebirths and erotic climaxes, cussing and releasing, hot chocolate and cute outfits, degrees and certifications, building and destruction, failures and reroutes, vulnerability and honesty, ass grabbing and gentle rubs, and many more experiences that ground me in humanity, while raising me in divinity. The cosmic balance in my life is being illuminated, and I’m grateful to be alive to feel it all. Sensuality encompasses all senses. As a Venusian, I’m well are of this, but childhood trauma and unresolved pain have a way of disconnecting us from our Star Player. Relearning to live in love, without biased projections is an arduous process, but I’m here to make it happen for myself by any means necessary.
© 2021 The Evolving Goddess