Be the change you want to see.

i am not my family. i am not my friends. i am not my hair color, or the melanin in my skin (or not) or the number on a scale or in the back of my jeans.

i am my scars. i am my choices, and my mistakes, and my experiences, and my adventures, and my successes (and my failures.) I am my own striving. I am what i hope to become. I am what i hope the world should become: trying and sometimes failing, apologizing, making amends to make the world better and more humane. I am the love i give in the world, the compassion and the yearning.

i am my own words on the page. I am my own colors on the canvas and on my own skin. I am my intention, my will exerted upon the universe. I am the magic I need to see in the world. I am the work and the connection, I am the kindness and the trust and honesty that i bring to the discussion. I am the questions that help understanding.

I am between the truth and the lie. I am in the middle of the becoming.

I am the compass needle pointing North.

old ghosts (tw: termination of pregnancy)

I was looking in the mirror one day and thought, "I would have none of this if I hadn't ended the pregnancy."

I was 25 years old when I got pregnant.
Can't decide if I should phrase that as "had an unwanted pregnancy", "got impregnated", or what. "got knocked up" isn't quite appropriate for the situation, because I can't afford in telling this story to be too flippant.

it was 1995. My dad had been dead less than a year, after being sick from diabetes and liver damage for several years, declining worse each year.
Mom and I were living together, in the house on Papaya Drive with the 1970's Spanish tile floors and the little fish pond and waterfall in the back yard. I had a great view of the green green green backyard, and had the constant waterfall noise in my ears every night as I fell asleep.


The smell and the feel of that house inform my memories of the time.

Brian and I were having sex and he didn't tell me that the condom broke, till after. Like, it still puzzles me, he says he felt it tearing, he says it was actually kind of painful for him, but he kept going.

He told me afterwards that he thought I wanted him to, to keep going, which yeah, who doesn't wanna get off, but seriously WHAT KIND OF ASSHOLE DOESN'T TELL HIS GIRLFRIEND THAT THE CONDOM BROKE. I still ... *makes incoherent rage noises*

You know how I learned that the condom broke? I reached down to hold the top of the condom when he went to pull out, and the horror of it was that all there was to hold was the ring that was the top of it. That was all that was left. … we had to dig inside my vagina and find it to pull it back out….

I could try to put possible reasons on what he was thinking, maybe it was as simple as HE wanted to get off too so he kept going even without the condom.

But I don't really wanna think about his alleged motivations because **I** was the one who wound up pregnant.

I felt the change in my body almost immediately. Within just a few days after the "accident," my boobs got bigger, the nipples got softer and more tender. My pussy and labia were constantly hot and tender, and I just had this internal *awareness* low in my pelvis and belly. And I had so many feelings about all of it.

mostly I came to a sudden and crystallized awareness that, more than not wanting to have to raise a child, I didn't want to spend the rest of my life with BRIAN. And I knew immediately, at a gut level, that in some way or another, no matter what else, I'd have to deal with Brian forever if I chose to have this kid.

and it was almost inconceivable anyway, (heh, yeah I went there) to think of having a kid. You spend so much of your early adolescence and twenties controlling your fertility really tightly, worried about the what-if. And sex is mostly fun, mostly meant to be fun, when you're not in a serious relationship and *planning* to have a kid…*

I had done research for a paper in college into medical side effects of being pregnant, it's no kind of easy walk in the park! There's real risk of gestational diabetes, blood pressure problems, varicose veins, digestion issues, likelihood of daily vomiting over months, *massive* mood swings and hormone changes, I mean the number of side effects you have to suffer through for a WANTED pregnancy, not to mention the non-zero risk of DEATH, or single parenthood, or ... all the different ways your children hurt you or break your heart.

That little... blue line on the pregnancy test. Oh my god. Possibly the scariest thing I've ever seen, and I already even KNEW. Like, there was no MISTAKING what my body was doing. I had this swirl of emotions going through my brain and body.


And I left the test on the bathroom counter, under a sheet of newspaper.(back when we still took the paper) Like I had zero idea how to talk to my mom about this. I was terrified I was going to be a disappointment to her, but I knew without thinking that if I *didn't* conceal this test, she would find it and know and help me. (and it turned out that she did find it, and she did help me, which I'll talk about at the end)

I can't even tell you about all the other things I was feeling then because even now, 25 years later, it's still hard thinking about that time in my life; emotional chaos and turmoil, still angry and grieving my father's death, along with everything else. I know I haven't quite forgiven myself for my own ignorance (and what feel like bad-choices when I am being hard on myself).

Though, trust me I do know all about the extenuating circumstances. I know why I made those bad choices especially because I have gotten therapy and done a lot of self work over the last two decades. I can see my own patterns and recognize where those impulses arose from and I don't let that part of myself drive the bus anymore, because I've healed a lot of those childhood injuries, or at least mostly healed them. Largely through talking and writing, both writing the blog and longhand and poetry. All kinds of ways.

I was 25, and Brian was 28. Theoretically that was old enough to know what we wanted, but both of us were dumb and inexperienced in relationships. We'd not really thought and especially not talked about what we wanted at the time or at any time in the future. We were just slinging along together because I think both of us thought we were the best we could do.

But we were old enough to decide if we wanted to have a child together and we met at Tower Cafe in downtown Sacramento to talk about it. about two weeks after the condom broke and a few days after I had taken the test. I'd said "we need to get together and to talk face to face" and he said yes, so we scheduled it. We hadn't even sat down properly at the patio table when Brian said, "You're pregnant, aren't you?" and I said yes. I don't remember exactly how the conversation went but I remember it wasn't a difficult or stressful one.

We were unanimous, that we didn't want to have a child (together), and we were both relieved to find that out. That neither of us had to try and convince the other to keep or to terminate. We were agreed to terminate.

I made the appointment. I had to stay pregnant for a total of eight weeks before the hospital could perform the procedure. I don't remember why that was.

To his credit,(Brian) did take me to the appointment, and did get me home safely.

My mom, and this makes my eyes fill up with tears, had a heating pad, an extra blanket, and she'd set up her bed, the big bed, for me to have a nap. She brought me a bed tray with my favorite tea, some toast with jam, and a little rose-bud in a little vase. I absolutely did cry from that, and everything else.

Brian stayed with me there on the bed until I had the snack and fell asleep. It was dark when I woke up, and he wasn't there anymore, and I was disappointed and angry, but realized there was really only so much I could expect from the guy.

Mom was good to me. No judgment, no anger, just support. She had my back. I had her back. We were a good team back then.

I don't like contemplating alternate universes for this story. Like, the what-if game doesn't work out well for me.

in 1995 I hadn't gone back to school to get a teaching credential.

I hadn't met my first husband, or even the boyfriend before him (who was and is a better human being and more thoughtful and kind than either Brian or my first husband).
I hadn't started my spiritual journey that gives me so much richness and meaning in my life (and which I was turned on to by the boyfriend I mention above)///
I hadn't started getting therapy for my relationship with my dad and my inability to grieve him or to get out of the anger stage of the grief.

My mind shudders away from the idea of having had to raise a kid in the conditions we were living in. Not that those were horrible, but it would have been stressful, hard work. And while I know motherhood is supposed to have its rewards, I just don't even know how I would have coped, without the skills that I have been able to acquire BECAUSE I didn't have a kid...

It's this fork in the road that my life took, and I DEFINITIVELY chose the one path and left the other path behind.

I'm glad I am HERE. I'm glad that THIS is what it is. I'm glad to have Eeyore and my priesthood and Burning Man and a lot of beloved friends. I'm glad to have the writing, and the making and the sewing and the dancing, and the work toward social justice.

The ability to choose when and whether to have a child is HUGE in your ability to determine your life's path. HUGE./// 12 Minutes

I don't have any kind of snappy ending, except that I am grateful that I got the chance to have the choice about whether or not to have a kid, and I will continue to fight for other people's right to chose whether to have a kid or not.

NOTES Performed this on the spoken word stage at center camp, Burning Man 2019 Mon August 26. One woman thanked me and cried. One man told me about, before he knew he was gay, his girlfriend got pregnant, and when she miscarried, they also cuddled in bed with the heating pad. And a couple that were pregnant (8 months) and beautiful "the first one I've carried to term"
But the last person said, "did you do this as a TED talk? It feels familiar" and I said no, it was a blog post and he said "huh well I guess we know what comes next"
SQUEEEEEEEEE

TAGS abortion, actions have consequences, anger, becoming, challenge, children, choice, dad, death, designing my own life, feeling some feelings, feelings, guilt, karma, life is good, making things, mom, open hearted, pagan practice in everyday life, paradigm shift, parent, past lives, pathwork, personal cartography, pregnancy, probably more than you really wanted to , sad, self, self-worth, spirituality, state of the liz, stomping brain weasels, stream of consciousness, taking care of business., truth falling out of my mouth, what doesn't kill me makes me stronger, words, spoken word, burning man

it's the dark of the moon. Time to release what we don't need in our lives.

I release fear of making others angry/unhappy/dissatisfied
I release fear of what happens if I try something new and scary
I release fear of feeling alone, feeling useless
I release fear of risking and failing
I release fear of not-enough, of lack, of scarcity
I release my attachment to four full BOXES of paperwork that are just taking up space in my life
I release my attachment to dozens of books I don't read and I give myself permission to let those go out into the world
I release my attachment to old roles I used to play, old scripts I used to follow, old masks I used to wear
I release my worry of not being good enough to even TRY
I release my worry about my future and welcome in hope
I release my sorrow at all those old paths-not-taken, the old regrets and splinters-of-the-soul.

You are obstacles. You impede my footsteps. You are hurdles to be removed. You do not serve me, I put you in the fire with the other things that are in my way. Ashes to ashes. Feed the soil with the ashes, and grow something new.

the prompt for day 9 is "Spider Baby" but I looked that up on Wikipedia and reading the entry is plenty enough horror/scary for me. So from me, you get Spider instead, today.

Spider:
I know you,
I know how you move.
That skitter-pause, skitter-pause
Or the swoop-swoop-swoop of the daddy-longlegs.
*
Spider, I know you.
Your webs are annoying
and also beautiful.
Deadly, and a reminder
of how life has rhythms of birth and death,
of feeding and being consumed.
*
You are tiny. Usually.
Why do folks fear you so?
What makes the shudder go down their spines?
*
I mean no shame
to those with a full blown fear
but I trained myself to be kind
when my mother mentioned you eat mosquitoes.
(because MOSQUITOES, ugh)
*
I use the cup and paper to relocate you
I deal with your incursions in my house
and I roll my eyes at the giant fake spiderwebs for Halloween.
*
I am not afraid of you. <3

whoops I missed a day
i might have gotten ridiculously PISSED OFF AND DISTRACTED BY POLITICS this weekend GODDAMMIT
*ahem*

Day 6: Prompt: Ghost

Lives I never lived:
Memories of Might-have-beens.
Imagining filled in the blanks...
*
It is what WAS. But, you see...
What I'd hoped for is no longer real.
What WAS became What IS by different paths
Than my expectations and dreams once mapped out.
*
This life is a good life.
I've no need for ghosts of former dreams.
Who I am now came about because of paths I trod,
And trees I climbed, bones I broke and set and healed.
*
I'm older now. Wiser? Perhaps.
Sometimes afraid, sometimes fearless.
I've banished those old ghostly not-quite-selves
And I open the gate and step into the light of NOW.
*
whoops, wrote these out of order. But it was good for my head. Ending on a hopeful note for the night.

5: Laboratory

I'm so angry today, and disappointed.
Tempted to make some hackneyed reference
To the Laboratory of Democracy
That America is supposed to be
But the time machine struck land
November 9, 2016
And now we live in the alternate timeline.
And this ain't the GOOD timeline.

for Inktober, a meme crossed my dash on FB

i wanna write short pieces for each of them

day 1 is Witch

I didn't plan to become a witch
but the pain was too much
and it had to go somewhere

you flayed me open
pushed inside and
burned my heart

I pulled myself back together
grasping at ragged frayed edges
of my dignity and personhood

and then I finally got home:
told you what I thought of you
and burned the last vestiges in the sink.

wiping all of your fingerprints off
may never be completely finished
because fuck this stupid world anyway

getting bad-touched again and again
till you can say no and mean it
and make it stick (goddamn those who push straight to hell)

goddamn me too; I try to do right/write/rite
without the language to call it what it is
and so I study the secret words.

Power. Words are Power.
Name it. Hold it still.
And someday? it will do as you will.

hitchhiker:
March 17 at 12:14pm ·
I've always felt there should be a better term than "hallmark holiday" to describe the mainstream commercialisation of holidays like St. Patrick's Day and Cinco de Mayo that have actual significance to a group of people. labelleizzy just came up with the wonderful "plastic holiday", which describes the phenomenon to a T.

7 You, aelfie, wuukiee and 4 others

Comments

R A: I have to think about this. I'd prefer a term that more clearly underlines the way that crass commercialism has co-opted what had originally been a genuine celebration or remembrance.
Like · Reply · 1 · March 17 at 12:17pm

M E H: Hmmn. I have only heard the term Hallmark Holiday used to refer to things like Valentines Day or Mother's Day.
Like · Reply · 1 · March 17 at 12:54pm

hitchhiker: yes, precisely, which is why I was reluctant to use it for this. it's a different problem and should not be conflated
Like · Reply · March 17 at 1:46pm

wuukiee: Mardi Gras, too
Unlike · Reply · 2 · March 17 at 1:03pm

labelleizzy: My dad used Hallmark holidays to refer to Valentine's day, mother's day and father's day, all of those.
We didn't grow up in any faith system, so holidays always felt like going through meaningless motions. I've had anger at how St Patrick's​ has been advertised and made commercial, also Cinco de Mayo. They're not real cultural celebration, they're not authentic, they're plastic, fake, not nourishing.

Like · Reply · 2 · March 17 at 1:05pm

Hera and Zeus in establishing conversation: digression, deflection, bragging, outright lying and misdirection, condescension and patronization…

“Oh, sweetie?” Zeus said from behind his newspaper.
“Yes dear?” Hera replied, in a syrupy sweet tone, not missing an iota of nuance.
“I thought the boys and I might go up to Lake Tahoe this weekend, do a bit of skiing and drinking. Did we have anything on the family schedule?”
Hera is irritated. “Why didn’t you check with your personal assistant? who is it this week, Brad? or Carmen? You know that Iris always makes sure to update and sync our calendars. Everything is already on there, you just have to LOOK.” … you moron, goes unsaid but clear in her tone of voice.
He lowers a corner of his newspaper and winks at her. “But sweetie, you KNOW I always trust Iris to keep the calendars pristine/complete/professional/whatever/elephant. She’s an absolute PRO.” He smiles, so close to sincere that someone who hadn’t been married to him for 25 years might even believe him. “I was just wondering if you had anything that hadn’t made it into the calendar yet, or if any of the kids had called and wanted to come over. I would change my plans if any of the kids had made plans to come out?”
Hera barely restrains her eyeroll, maintaining eye contact and elevating one eyebrow slightly. “But DARLING,” she said with only the barest hint of sarcasm, “I do KNOW how much you adore visits from our progeny. I would definitely let you know if any of them had plans to come say hello.”
She tossed her napkin into the middle of her plate, and gestured for Gerardo to come clear the table. “Feel free to have fun playing with Cy and Des. Y’all don’t stay up too late, and drink your water before passing out tomorrow night, okay?” Genuinely irritated now, She rises and stalks over to the crystal vase of lilies and irises on the sideboard, rearranging blooms and pinching off browned petals, collecting them (the petals) in her hand. “I’ll see you when you get back, then. Drop me a text when you have an ETA.”
Glancing back at her obliviously smug husband, she slipped out the doorway before any of the servants could see the frustrated tears fall.

38873 words as of today.

MAUNDER: to mumble; to wander slowly and idly. (Can this apply to how slowly I've been drinking my tea this morning?)

Cy walks slowly along the waterfront, patting his niece’s hand where it is tucked up in the crook of his elbow. So good to have her here with him, they get along so well, essentially solitary people whose business it is to work with groups and survive the elements… Artemis is such a lovely person. She smiles up at him, and leans playfully against him as they approach a lamppost. “Whoa!” he protests. “Have not got my land legs back yet, apparently!” as he bumps her shoulder with his ribcage. She’s so tiny compared to him but she has absolutely no fear in her. And she’s tough like madrone roots, tough like her hiking boots. And yet, she’s not the littlest bit bitter. (what would she have to be bitter about? elephant elephant) They grin at one another as they walk into their favorite bar and get their favorite table. The barmaid slaps two coasters down and confirms: Coffee porter for him, habanero cider for her. When the drinks arrive, they toast and clink: “To family, chosen and blood.” They always toast to the same thing.