I have been working so hard for so long to get through school. Or at least it feels like so long. It has been since September, 2019. I have been working on my master’s program since September, 2019, a year and a half ago. I was overwhelmed from the very first assignment.
I would go through a cycle of anxiety pre-classes starting. Anxiety ebbing after the first week. Anxiety peaking again with big assignments. Half way through, I made a decision to just accept that I was going to get it all done and it was going to be stellar work. I finally realized and accepted that I do the same cycle of anxiety and calm before the storm, before I settle down and breathe through each bigger and more intense assignment.
Throughout most of this master’s program, I have been living through a pandemic as a psych nurse at a campus of group homes for the chronically and seriously mentally ill. It has meant increased work load from testing, vaccinating, exposures, and staffing crises. In addition, my family has experienced severe mental health crises.
Oh, and I went through a break up, production on my festival was shut down due to the pandemic, my social group had zero events, and my co-producer resigned. The festival lost a bunch of money due to circumstances beyond the scope of this blog and way more than i want to detail because sometimes you just gotta let it go.
Needless to say, my life was stressful. I had zero balance. I try to listen to audible books when I drive so I have some amusement. I found “get away moments” by zoning out watching mindless shows on Netflix, Prime, Hulu, where-ever, and overeating on crappy food. I did a couple 40 day yoga challenges. When I did it, it was wonderful and I felt better. I try to walk at least 3-4 times a week. I got outside sometimes, to find some grounding out with Mother Earth.
Most of those things were my saving grace, helping me to feel that I wasn’t just all work and no play. That was far from my story. I did find some fun and juicy. But I wasn’t doing much to take care of my body.
That is where I forgot how to find balance. I was stimulating, working, and enhancing my mind. I was finding ground, meditating, and doing some yoga to feed my spirit. I worked on my inner self, learning to forgive myself and others, reveling in a new love, embracing healthy boundaries and communication, and nurtured and embraced my emotions.
But my body? I was not taking care of my body. I could not find balance because I was not truly caring for my body. All parts of me are important and necessary. I am a complete woman. If I don’t care for all parts of myself, the other parts will suffer.
This week, I have remembered to take care of my body. I started fasting again. That always helps me to have more energy and feel better. I feel energized, spirited, motivated, and focused. On the day I broke my fast, I ate healthy food. I didn’t deprive myself but I ate as much healthy food as I wanted with a couple kisses for dessert. I have walked several times this week. I have done a least 15 minutes of yoga every day.
This trusty and strong vehicle that has served me so well for so long. If I hope to continue to dance, frolic, and find juicy, without experiencing chronic pain, I need to care for my body. It’s time to get in shape for work crews. I want to feel good, healthy, and juicy this festival. It’s time to get in shape for me so I remember to love this trusty and wonderful body. It’s time to find my balance again. So today I started doing HIIT again! HELL YES!
I feel so strong. I feel so accomplished. I feel so IN MY BODY and grateful. It was hard. I sweated. I took a bit longer breaks between the last couple sets. But i freaking did it.
I’m going to do it again. #dawnsjuicylife #mindbodyspiritemotions #balance
I DID THIS TODAY! Today was day 1. Who wants to join me for this 12 week Challenge?
I am worried about staff in my facility and other facilities. Our mental health is NOT okay.We are not okay. We are fucking tired. Each day there is another call in or 4. Or more throughout the full 24 hour cycle of group home care. There are more people quitting and less people filling out applications. The people who are hired do not last long. If they even make it to the floor.
I am lucky. I haven’t had to work the floor yet. But I feel the strain of everyone. Shorter tempers. Less trust. More distrust and anxiety. Weariness.
The clients are starting to act out more. Is that covid related? Directly? Like they are stressed because of the stress of confinement? I don’t know. I don’t think so. They are restricted from visiting in the other homes, the other licenses, until this week. But still they can see everyone on campus. And most have their community time again. So is it directly due to Covid? I don’t know. I guess it depends on how you define directly.
Are the clients acting out more, in part, due to the stress of the staff? Most probably so. How do you measure it? How do you quantify it? You just keep seeing the staff….that aren’t there anymore. And nobody fills their spot. Yes, the clients are feeling direct Covid impact. Many very beloved, dedicated, and skilled caregivers have left because of the stress of increased covid demands.
It doesn’t seem to be getting much better. Things are opening up, yes, they are. But we are testing weekly. We have gotten the vaccine but i test our staff weekly, and visitors, and any suspicion, as needed. And that takes more times. Lots more time.
So it’s affecting me. I matter too. I personally am working longer hours, increased duties. And it’s affecting my trust in people. I don’t feel appreciated. I don’t feel necessary or seen.
All this is true and it is my truth.
But it is not the complete truth and that is the truth.
It’s all a personal problem. At least for me. This is my story. This is more of my truth.
It’s my personal problem. Maybe they don’t apprecaite me. Maybe hey do. It doesn’t really matter. Because when I remember I am enough. I am enough. I am a freaking enough. That I am enough in the work that I do. I am enough in the effort I give. I am enough when I make mistakes and I am enough when I do a perfect job, if ever there is or was one. I am enough.
I forgot. I forgot. I freaking forgot. I got wrapped up in what people thought and how i was perceived and what i should be doing and what i thought others thought i should be doing. I forgot. I forgot that I am enough when I remember I am enough, I act like I am enough. It perpetuates itself in my enoughness and my belief in my enoughness. I said what I said. Enoughness.
I want support. I want love. I want affirmation. I want external feedback. But here is some more of my truth. External feedback will never be enough to fill a hole in me if there is a hole in me needing to be filled. It’s an inside job. I need to remember and believe and know.
98% defeated. Or 98% redirected. 98% ready to just chuck it all in the fuck it bucket. 98% believing that it’s just not worth it anymore.2% opportunistic and believing.2%No comment or rah rah’s necessary.I have tried, and tried, and tried.Intentions are misconstrued. The same forgiveness and compassion is not equally extended.Double, triple, or quadruple standards levied depending on your original point of reference means either way you are fucked coming or going because you are never truly seen.Facebook, social media, and fucked up communications without any radical listening or understanding have shown me that what I believed was hapening and imporTANT are not important to anyone but me.Or at least the same compassion is only extended to people deemed worthy of the compassion.I’m not one of them.Whatever, whatever, i own my shit, how about you?#vaguebooking#dontcareanymoreI can with 100% truth report I have tried my best and have examined myself and will continue to do so.I have listened to critiques without the same courtesy being extended to me.I have rejected the summation while listening to the presentation and still have arrived at the same conclusion:you support it in theory and in big loud words but not in actual action.Every person has the best way to be and is willing to share that freely while not applying most of it to their own presentation.That’s okay.That’s really freaking okay.At night, i go to sleep still questioning myself becasue my trauma runs deep and i am more than willing to believe that I am the problem. Yet….if you are not in the mother fucking arena, why do i care what the fuck you say?Yeah, i pulled out a dirty brene brown quote.Get in he arena. Or get the fuck out of telling me how i’m doing it wrong.#ISaidWhatISaid
I woke up this morning, 3am, in a hotel in Grand Rapids. It was a planned New Year’s Eve romantic get away with my love. I booked the hotel, got a great rate, 4 ****, I was so looking forward to this time away, relaxed, yet focused with my favorite.
Get aways haven’t always been a relaxing and soothing experience. My dad told me yesterday, I find drama whereever I go. He told me this after I shared the experience I just experienced while checking in to the romantic get away hotel.
this is how it all began. January 31, 2020. The last day of the longest year of this life.
I met my love in the parking lot. Set the stage: long, sexy kiss in the parking lot, hey baby, want to get a room with me? I wanna spend some time with you, alone and naked. Oh yes! That’s exactly what I wanted when I booked the hotel. Sexy solitude.
We went inside to the desk to check in. There was a young, beautiful, black woman with her right arm in a sling. She was talking to the clerk, relating the details of her accident that morning. She walked out of the back door of the hotel. Fell on the ice. “I don’t know how to handle this ice and snow. it’s so cold here and it’s slippery. I fell and I broke my shoulder. I missed my flight back home. I have to keep the rental car another night, my account is goign to be overdrawn due to new unexpected charges. I don’t know what to do.”
They agreed to give her another room for the rate of $60/night. It was a heartbreaking story and i was a little choked up. She walked away, softly crying, and obviously in pain, wanting to lay down, and let the pain pill kick in. I walked away from the clerk at the desk who taking my ID and checking us in. “Maam! Is there anything you need, right now? is there anything i can do for you?” She replied with tears in her voice, “Would you pull my hair back into a pony”? She had long, long, long braids, thick and gorgeous. Are you kidding me? “Sister, yes. Yes, I can do that. I have 5 (brown) daughters and I have done hair more times than I can count!” I scooped up her beautiful, wild hair and gently pulled it together, taming it temporarily so she had one less thing to think about and one less thing she had to figure out how to do without any use of her right arm.
We got checked in. We went to the car to get our bags and move in to our room. It was on the first floor, 150. We moved in. the refrigerator didn’t work. It was dirty. It was an accessible room, yet there was no phone. It was such a disgusting, disappointment. And not workable. I wanted a refrigerator that worked. the phone was inconsequential but when the door fell off the cupboard. I couldn’t take it anymore. We went to the desk. My love got us another room. One floor up. We started moving. I took the first load while she packed up the rest of the stuff.
When I went up to the new room with the load, the door was wide open. I walked in, freely, unencumbered. there was no TV. What the hell is going on? What the fuck is going on? My romantic vision was melting and not into a puddle of PJ in my bed.
We both went to the front desk this time. As soon as I got into line of vision of the desk, I think they knew I was quite upset. This was room 2 and it was shit too. There were two people already at the desk, one of which was the young woman, Elizabeth, that had broken her should during a slip and fall in the parking lot of the lovely romantic get away hotel.
I pulled out my phone. I started recording and this is what I said, “I can’t believe this. This is the second room, there is no TV and the door was wide the eff open! In addition, how the hell are you going to have a slip and fall in the parking lot, resulting in a broken shoulder on this young woman! Even though she is incurring additional costs as a result of this slip and fall, you are still charging her for the room!!!”
Then i continued talking while recording a video. I talked about the hotel. And the lack of customer service and caring for this injured woman and the lack of cleanliness and attention to rooms at this particular hotel.
I walked back inside. I looked at Elizabeth, still standing at the desk. And she looked like poo, still beautiful and brave through the pain, but obviously faint and weak looking, like she might fall out. And that’s what I said. I walked up to her, while recording, asked her if she felt all right. She said but i said you look very weak, would you like to sit down. She demurred and denied. I walked away, back to my 6′ distancing (we ALL were masked!). The desk attendant, Emma, called me to the desk. She had a room for us. She asked her coworker, Nate, to go check out the room for us, to make sure it was okay, before we moved AGAIN!
He came back. All is well. the room is ready. Follow me, maam!
I follow him. We walk to the room. He opens the door. Holy freaking shit.
We were upgraded to a king suite with a whirlpool tub. It was absolutely GORGEOUS!!
Holy shit. All of the calamities had lead up to the amazing upgrade. Yes, it was a pain in the ass. Yes, I was in some chaos. Yes, I had a wee bit of crying and upsetedness. Yup. Shit. More chaos? And yet, here we are, in an upgraded suite with a king size bed, bigger refrigerator, kitchenette, and a whirlpool tub. Ahhhhh, this is beautiful.
Fortunately, during the long walk to the room with Nate, almost a city block, and up two flights in the slow elevator, I was able to joke with Nate and the tension was slightly relieved. We got to the room. It was acceptable and good and romantic and YAY! I chatted with Nate. I shared with him that I hoped his New Year’s Eve was calmer and easier. He replied that this was a perfect evening. He shared that it was the first new year’s in a year or so that he was clean. He shared that a year ago, he almost died in front of his son during an overdose and that he was clean now. he was clean. He was alive. And that this was easy living compared to what he had lived. He got choked up. I got chills and choked up. He tried to run away with his feelings. As the tears started to fill his eyes, he tried to leave, “I gotta go! Happy New Year, maam!”
OH HELL NO!
Get your ass back here, man, you don’t get out of this without a hug.
And we hugged and I told him, “I’m so glad you are here! I am so glad you are alive. You don’t have ever to use again. I’m so thankful for you, man. My partner is in recovery and keep coming back. Love you, man”. And he hugged me so hard like he was never going to let go. he gave me this hardcore NA hug. He went back to the desk. He left and we forever were bonded in a way that holy crap, I didn’t know it was coming but each part of this debacle of the romantic getaway hotel lead to this moment of connection, support, yes, love. Because we need each other and we gotta give each other love when we can. I’m thankful for this freaking moment right here. Thank you.
He left. My Minnie finished moving us into the room. We settled in. Putting items in the refrigerator, cooler, starting to run a tub, because guess what? We were blessed with a whirlpool in the room and i was going to absolutely take advantage of that blessing.
i went to the window to see if it cracked or opened at all. Ya know? Can I kind of get away with some recreational activities without freezing my ass off or would I be banished to the arctic area out side the exit.
The window was fucking broken. Wait. What? The window had a big hole in it. A punch? A head? What the freaking hell.
Is this for real? Wheere is the camera? Who the frick is punking me?
I look at Minnie and say, what the hell do we do? Tell them? they might move us AGAIN! and the room might not be as nice, it might not have a tub, and are you fucking kidding me? I want to settle into the romantic weekend and get my sexy juicy on!!! When does the romantic getaway even happen? When? Sheesh.
We take pictures because we don’t want to be held liable. We walk down to the front desk. Emma and Nate look at us and duck and hide. Yup. We have become those people. Bitching and complaining people. Sigh. But it really is not my fault!!! lol
I show Emma the pictures. She tells us that we have to move because it is a safety risk.
NO MAN, NO!
I cannot move again. I don’t care about the risks. I am a mom of 8. I have dealt with so much glass. I don’t care about the cold. We didn’t feel it. We are menopausal. What the helllllllllllll NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO. I am crying and pleading at this point. Please don’t move us again. Plastic it. Just let us stayyyyyyy.
These were my pleas to Emma & Nate. Please. Don’t. Move. US. AGAIN. Please let the romantic get away begin.
I walked away. I don’t know what was said after I left but I wanted to get a tub in before we were moving again. My Minnie returned and told me it was taken care of. She told me that it was okay and they are going to fix it. So yeah, we weren’t going to get much privacy. And yeah, we didn’t know what time they would be back to fix it. And yeah, it was disruptive. And yeah, it was a little chaotic. But it’s okay. I’m getting in the tub while we wait.
They called within 20 minutes saying they were on their way. YAY! They were being timely and attentive. I like that!
Emma and Fernando (maintenance guy) showed up, masked and sort of ready to go to work. They stared removing the glass. Neither one of them had work gloves. WHAT??!
They were not very prepared. But BOOM! Here ya go! I provided them with MFR Warrior Work Gloves. Yup, shore the eff did. I got you BOO. No cuts or injuries on this nurse’s watch.
He put the gloves on and they got to work. It took him awhile to get the window pane/frame out of the track. He had to break some of the glass. Emma was very supportive with her designer back pack and phone flashlight. She was funny. She shared how all of her hotels were having issues. LOL ALL of her hotels? oh, yeah, they have 18 and each one was having issues: key card machines out on the blink and offline for a huge Holiday Inn Express and flooding in another location.
Seriously, 2020? Staying strong and spiteful til the end, aren’t ya?
He finally got the window out. They cleaned up the glass. But they didn’t really have a plan. But wait. Can we take this window to another room and take he window out of that room and bring it back. Heck yes, we can!!! Solution found and carried out. We were in business with an enclosed, unbroken window. They left. We laughed. We bonded. All is well in Wyndham.
But wait! There’s more. the window STILL OPENS! how rare is it to find an opening window in a hotel on the 3rd floor? lol Thanks Goddess for arranging for cross draft to air my room out so I didn’t have to brave the cold for my recreationals. #thankful #findingmyjuicy
We settled into our room. We had a romantic picnic. We watched Grease. We got some sexy juicy and then some more.
It wasn’t all perfect. The people below us partied all night and got into a fight at 3am and destroyed the rooms ($700 worth of damage!!!) So I was awake a lot. But overall…
When I think of how I left 2020…I was snuggled up in a big cozy bed with my favorite, safe, grounded, satiated, and juicy af. That is a good way to welcome 2021.
Welcome 2021! I look forward to all of your juicy adventures! Bring on the magic and the miracles. I love it all. It is all juicy!
I planned a work crew for today. I planned it as a gathering of women during a time of uncertainty. Uncertainty due to Covid. Uncertainty due to new roles & expectations.
I have never been sole producer of a festival. I have co-produced with a fierce & extremely competent womyn. She was blessed with mad skills in electrical, carpentry, mechanical, plumbing, and just general fix it skills. And now, I am left with the blessed responsibility of rallying the tribe and recruiting 6-18 people to do the things that were within her scope.
I showed up at the farm today. I started to unload tools & supplies. Whoa. Back up. I was solely responsible to plan the work & to plan for the tools & supplies we will need. Shit. Okay. I packed two of my small tool bags. I packed an air compressor, drills, circular saw, and sawzall. I didn’t bring a charger. But I really didn’t think we would need the drills. I just thought I should be prepared, even though I wasn’t quite sure what I was preparing for since this part was mostly all new.
But it wasn’t all new. I had been training with M for years for this. In years past, I asked questions. I asked about supplies, tools. I asked how to use them and I asked why we used those particular ones. I asked lots of questions. I was blessed with really thorough answers.
Today, after unloading tools & supplies, I walked through the spaces. I surveyed PC, trying to figure out the best “plan of attack” for what I was trying to accomplish. What was I trying to accomplish? I thought I went there with the idea of moving soft or cloth items out of PC and over to She-Shed. I walked over and surveyed She-Shed.
I broke down crying. My thoughts were slightly panicked and I just kept thinking, what the hell am I doing? how the hell am I going to do this by myself? Why the hell am I even trying? I don’t know enough. I don’t have enough. I am not enough.
Then I came up with a plan. I remembered that I SHOULDN’T be doing this alone. I remembered that this is a community project. This is a tribe job. This is something that should be built by the community. This somehow got lost and sidetracked when we got into a stress & clutter of rage, anger, frustration, and broken expectations & disappointments. We forgot. I forgot that we should never be the ones that are doing the majority of the work. We forgot because there weren’t volunteers. I forgot because I was tired and I had expectations and ego. I forgot that the community will work for what it wants and if it doesn’t work for it, then it’s not my job to make it happen. I can’t make the commitment. I can’t make the community feel the excitement and the dedication if it doesn’t want it, need it, or desire it. If the community doesn’t support it, then it’s time for me to let it go.
I stopped crying and I got to work. People showed up. We built a shelf. The women showed up and we already had the supplies. And I had grabbed drills and other tools, just in case. I planned for something that I wasn’t sure was going to happen.
And I, no, we were ready for it. I learned more than I give myself credit for and the community will step up, if we give them space to take the steps.
Today, I thought we were coming together to move items from PC to She-Shed. I called it MFR moving day. I realized the real reason for coming together today was to move my attitude of belief & faith. It was a moving day from the vision of how MFR was put together and moving into how MFR is going to come together and how that can and will look.
My mind has moved from a place of not know how I could ever do it without someone, how I could do it on my own, to a place of belief in the power of womyn & community and my own gifts & talents. I am gifted, talented, and skilled in my own way. I have moved to a place of believing that my gifts, talents, and skills are just as valuable and worthy and wonderful. I have moved to a belief that I have the skills to gather the womyn & witches that will electrify and enliven this Framily. #mfrmovingday
the biggest heartache of my life is to be a mother. The overwhelming, total body encompassing, heart full, body full of love that happens when you meet your baby is only a small iota of what happens when a woman becomes a mother. The love is expounded and multiplied with each smile, coo, laugh, toddle, crawl, walk, and graduation. That describes only a small fraction of the love a mother feels for her child.
But there is also pain. Being a mother means you are now responsible for another person. You are responsible for their physical, emotional, spiritual, and psychic growth. You feed and clothe them to the best of your ability which has wide variance, as we all have felt growing up with more or less material wealth than our peers. Each mothering experience is unique and special. It is challenging even with the best planned support team. The experience is strewn with varying levels of guilt, insufficiency, doubt, insecurity, and what the fuck am I doing at any given time.
And this is what an “ordinary” mother experiences. But what is an ordinary mother? Is a stereotypical family with two parental units, a home that is mortgaged, normal amount of pets and kids and debt, an ordinary family with a ordinary mother? But I digress to an equally important point but not the one of this blog.
I am not an ordinary mother by most people’s standards. (Again, I must repeat, As if there truly is an ordinary mother). I raised 8 kids by myself. I raised 8 kids without support from my ex-husband and with quite ridiculous obstacles from seeming support people. My parents were way too active in my life and the lives of my children due to close living proximity and the erroneous belief that they were trying to help me with my family.
Sigh. AGain, I digress with another important facet of the complications and tribulations of the raising of the Dawn Smith children. Another day will bring that chapter.
It’s hard on the heart to have a lot of kids. Yes, they are all grown. But they are still my children. They still want and need their mother for love, support, advise, and sometimes, financial help.
I’m thankful I am in a position to help and support my kids. Times are hard right now with Covid isolation, chaos, and confusion. Navigating this world of racism, poverty, hate, and despair is hard enough, throw in a pandemic requiring social isolation and anxiety and depression are having a field day on people everywhere and specifically in my family.
As much as I love being able to emotionally support my kids, I also have my own feelings, emotions, and life. I feel some kind of way now about the balance of adult kids and my life. Raising teenagers was such a drain on my spirit, compounded by the obstacles that my parents through into the mix by undermining me and filling my kids’ heads with disrespect and hate of me. They were filled with the normal teenage angst, rage, and hate for their mother. In addition, they had a higher level of disrespect because that’s what my parents showed them by gossiping in front of them.
Although I loved my kids, it was hard to raise them alone. It was hard to keep it all together. I cried a lot. I felt guilty a lot. I felt overwhelmed and incompetent. a fucking lot. And I cried and overreacted. I had uncontrolled anxiety.
As much as my kids think I fucked shit up with my anxiety filled tantrums, they have no idea how much it fucked me up knowing the full extent of how much work it entailed to raise 8 kids by myself. It was hard. It was scary. It was unappreciated by anyone. The kids hated me (i know they didn’t really hate me but their rage was convincing enough). My parents didn’t think I was doing it right and constantly undermined me. My ex-husband never missed an opportunity to bad mouth me, harass me verbally, or through the courts demonstrating to the kids repeatedly disrespect of me. I felt like I was against everyone just trying to do the right thing: raise my kids to be kind, loving, respectful, hard working people.
I was just trying to raise my kids to be responsible. I was just trying to spend time with them. I was just trying to be their mom. Imperfectly but doing my best and trying to do better. And I was alone. I was alone for a lot of the time, arguing and fighting with the kids, for the kids, against the kids for the kids. Always fighting.
Now they are grown. I am tired. I want to help them. But life is hard for me right now too.
I know I am resilient. I know I will get through this. Hell. I know THEY will get through this. Because through it all, I did teach them to be strong, to be resilient, to keep working through it and to it.
We will get through this. I hope to get through it with more self-awareness, self-compassion, and self-forgiveness. I hope to remember, then and now, I am doing the best I can do and as I know better, I do better.
It’s so damn hard to be a good person when I am in pain. In my head, heart, and soul, I am a kind, loving, and FORGIVING person. I don’t hold on to grudges. I release and let go. I am enlightened. My past does not determine my present or future.
Those are the stories I tell myself. And these are the goals I set for myself. I read the mantras. I repeat the mantras,
I read the empowering memes and repeat them to myself, knowing they are powerful and truth.
There are so many ways to learn to release resentment and let go. There are so many quotes. There are so many memes and mantras. Most of which are powerful life truths.
And yet, I still feel angry, hurt, confused, and resentful because of the pain I feel from past experiences with people. I feel resentful that it is tolerated. I feel resentful at the fakeness. I feel mad that they are lying and manipulating. I am angry for all the crap that I experienced at their “hands”, i.e. hurtful, abusive words, manipulation, meanness, and mind fucking.
Am I angry at myself for allowing it for so long? Am I angry at others for not seeing their fake bullshit and cosigning their bullshit? Yes, yes, I am angry at others for believing their crap. I am angry at people who are friends with my parents since they are racist, homophobic, abusive, and neglectful to their daughter.
I am fucking pissed and I want everyone to hate the people that hurt me.
But that’s not the whole truth.
While I have these feelings of hurt, rage, and resentment, I also have feelings of love, compassion, and acceptance of people right where they are. I have lots of love in my heart and I am loving to lots of people. But then I get so angry.
Which just goes to show (me) that it is a process. Forgiving others is a process. While I would like to meditate on “release and let go” and “forgive and be healed” and poof, those feelings are gone; the truth is those feelings persist unless I consciously work on changing my attitude, my beliefs, and my thoughts.
So every day, I will continue with my mantra to release and let go.
Every day, I will do loving acts for myself to support me and love me the way I should have always been loved.
Every day, I will meditate, forgive, and release myself and others for their (my) treatment of me. I will correct my stinking thinking as soon as I feel it coming on.
I will change my thoughts every single time. I will practice the art of forgiveness. I will practice the art of compassion to myself and others. I will practice forgiveness, over and over and over until past hurts don’t creep in and cause me anxiety, insecurity, and stress.
I don’t want to be a grumpy, resentful, cantankerous old biddy.
I want to be my light-filled, juicy self. I am my light-filled, juicy self. I just want to keep reminding myself of who I am and who I want to be and who I called to be:
I am called to be this and I will do the work to fulfill my calling. I want to be all that I can be and all that I deserve. I don’t want to feel mad AT MYSELF for not taking the time to do my work because