I had one of these recently, well multiples rolled into one more or less. I didn’t expect it. I stepped out onto my deck, once I opened the door it hit, like time had frozen and all of the shit that I’d been carrying that I thought I’d smashed the fuck out off went flashing before me. Everything that had created that block that kept me from being fully present.
I let my walls down and let show my underbelly a day previously in writing about something that made me so goddamn uncomfortable. Shit like that I bury and hide, it was the last of my torments to purge. Like that projectile vomit after eating something rotten. Now after that all I had left were remnants of things. Residual anger and then that glorious revelation of why I had felt bogged down, blocked and like shit for the past four years. I realized it wasn’t just COVID, it had been four fucking, goddamn years of shit and being in a haze.
I hadn’t written in almost four years, I hadn’t been creative. When I left New York all things creative died. I stopped performing, I stopped creative directing shows, I stopped working on my apothecary online store, I quit the magazine I wrote a monthly column for and I quit posting on my blog, I didn’t write anything. I didn’t do shit creatively at all. Not a goddamn thing. And that shit took me out. I was in a fog. I lost myself, I saw how it made me only be half of me, hell, maybe just a sliver. I threw myself into the corporate whore world and let myself get caught up in it. Killing all things creative. No matter how much I’d meditate, practice within the Occult, shit was never really there, I wasn’t there. I couldn’t connect. I was just this weird half human wandering, day in and day out, angry and empty.
It wasn’t until I started writing again, that this side that had died began to come back, rear it’s head like a fast asleep dog you manage to jostle just a bit.
Granted in those four years I thought of writing, but I didn’t. I couldn’t. I would just stare at a blank screen and say fuck it and slam the computer shut and tune out. I’d get some ideas and then back into the stupid ass management job I’d go. Day after day.
Standing there under the full moon I saw where I got lost, I saw the shit that I still hung onto, the shit I was still terrified of and the shit that had held me back. The wind picked up, I could feel it all release from me, and when the wind died down, my eyes were wide open, I realized where I really was, (physically and in life), fully present, full of energy, that spark igniting into the fire I felt burning 9 years ago that would last for years. The one that produced three books, a monthly column in a magazine, a modeling career that blew up to it’s highest level, my performing at it’s highest; anything I thought of, I made it happen. That all came back. That tenacity. The knowing. No haze.
The tenacity I thought I still had but didn’t realize how lost I was or how dulled down it was, was made blatantly clear in that moment. I could see the future, exactly where I wanted to go, what I wanted to do and that fierceness and will to follow it all through. I had spent four years in the dark, stifled by a normal life to some, one in which I realized I could never do. But, and there’s always a but; was I angry that I wasted that time and let myself get sucked into thinking I had my expiration date due to my age and had given into the corporate shuffle? Sure. But at the same time, grateful. If I’d stayed in NYC and not moved back to Seattle, for the some of things, (mainly modeling), there would be an expiration date, and while it paid for me to create and have time, freedom, I would have gotten lost in something else or in an oh fuck what do I do now state. Who knows what would have happened. So maybe, just maybe, I was meant to give into the corporate whore world and let myself die, only to be reignited with that fury and fearlessness I had harnessed so many years ago. And truthfully, there is no maybe. While it was hell, I needed it to get my ass going, but grounded in myself and present at the same time, seeing and experiencing everything. No more lingering in the fucking thick and heavy fog.
And you never know how lost you are until you find your way out, like being stuck in a corn maze, one that comes with agony, anger and then mindless wandering, then the fuck, get me the hell out of here and the pick up in the step but you’re still in that well, fuck mindset, and then you end up coming out of it, going oh shit, and looking around. Then you turn around and see the monster of a maze behind you, analyze the it and light a match, flick it in the maze, watch it burn for a second and walk away with a hustle up in your step. But towards something, not away or trying to get out.
I looked at my full moon app. It had gone full 20 minutes or so before I went out on balcony. The many night drives I made up to the mountains in the darkness to beg the universe for what my purpose was and aid in the journey I wanted to manifest into reality had hit. As an occultist, I knew this was no coincidence, it was what I had asked for. And I was, (and am), so goddamn grateful. No matter what comes, I’ll keep going and know I can build an empire from the ground up like I did once before without doubt, not alone and not bogged down by stifled creativity. Something I will never let happen again. I know what killed me before and I’ll be damned if I let it again. There’s no salary high enough to suck me in. I don’t need to do anything “normal”. I can get by with a job that pays just enough and build just as I had done before.
I let the past hurt and anguish and hatred for shit go through my mind. I dug up the graves of the skeletons I thought I’d smashed to pieces, seeing that there were still remains. I mentally pounded them to dust and watched them blow away. The graves left empty. I had to destroy the residuals. And there will be the residuals. If you have one of these moments, one of these epiphanies, don’t forget to dig that shit up, look for the residuals and crush them into nothing.
Now, in my post last week, that wasn’t a skeleton in a grave, just something I held inside and let slowly torture me by never talking about it, never opening up. Hiding that side of myself from the world. I meant every word I wrote, and that release helped me in clearing out the remaining bullshit in my mind. I opened Pandora’s Box, and after sitting in fear for the 24 hours after I posted it, the rest hit me. I wasn’t held down, I wasn’t hiding, I was no longer vulnerable. I was fucking free and it allowed me shake off the other things still lingering within me. I guess love can help with that… or finally admitting I could. You rip your chest open, manifest what you want, leave yourself open and bam. The epiphany hits, you’re open to receiving that higher vibration and clarity.
The fog has lifted and should that fog start to roll back in, well, I won’t walk into, but walk away, give it the finger and say not this time, mother fucker, but nice try.
It’s never too late to come back to life. Sometimes, it’s months, or like me, years, but it’s that time in the darkness that we can be fully ready for when the light seeps in and becomes a blaze, and we take flight.
So if you’re feeling shitty. Bogged down or like you can’t get out of the fog, rip yourself open, (not literally, that’s a mess), lay it all out, your innermost vulnerabilities, put it out there, even if it’s just to you, say the shit out loud, write it down. And the rest will pour out. And after it’s seeped itself out completely, you may not feel anything, but then out of nowhere will come that total knock out, the one you come back alive from, clear, light, but grounded and into the full self and ready, fueled and chomping at the bit to take on whatever it is you desire and to make the life you’ve always wanted, unharnessed, unleashed, uncaged, unburdened. You are free.
And for me, I’m so goddamn grateful. I lost myself, but in losing myself, I found myself again, but this time, with more knowing, more experience and more tenacity than ever before. Here we fucking go.
May you find the same. To open up and let it all go and if you’re not there yet, know that you’ll come out of the metaphorical corn maze soon enough, and when you do, you’ll be ready, the pack of matches will be in your pocket that weren’t there before. Hell, your mind, body and soul won’t give you a choice but to do anything else but be completely free, more than you ever have been and allow you to set the past on fire. Your old your graves unearthed and empty, the fog cleared. Alive in the life you've always wanted and the tenacity to create it.
Until next time…