No one is on my team.

Everyone is against me.

No one hears me.

I am just not that important.

Hence, I do everything in my powers to be there for my children. They are so very important. I said yes to bringing them into this world KNOWING whatever is coming down my birthing canal is made of stardust and extraordinary.

I am present for all those I encounter feeling deeply convicted that the kindness and grace I bring in every interaction, the other has felt how important they are in that moment. I so love connecting and going deep in the moment.

And I seem to forget myself in the midst of it all. I don’t feel neglectful. I don’t feel needy. I just don’t shine the attention onto myself in a way that I feel is worthy. I don’t even think I know how or what it could possibility feel like — full, unadulterated self importance — wow! What the hell is that?

In the shadow of my father. Not fully embraced by my mother. And then falling into the “clan” of family mingling about feeling a part of a whole group but not fully honored or praised for being me.

Life on planet earth is hard. It actually sucks and is very painful. So for half a century I have been able to keep myself from FULLY incarnating. I have touched on it. I have others express it to me. I feel it when I sing and dance and laugh. I can be present, willing and able to meet you here. BUT doing that stuff alone is scary stuff. Why the hell would I come here to do all that hard stuff on my own?!? And how quickly I was let down by people I thought I could trust and loved me. What a fucking silly dilemma I got myself into in Oct of 1970.

Pam, I hear you on the alone. Betrayal rings a bell as well, Eric. Jen, how to NOT fit in to fit in—not really sitting well with the disconnection.

Open has been holding the mirror up called BRUTALLY HONEST.

I am working with the word SOBRIETY. I feel that my innocent honesty and willingness to openly trust only to be totally steamrolled or thrown under numerous buses leaves a bad taste in my mouth.

Honesty has kicked my butt.

Being sobered up though, that I can sit with. I can recall the numerous drunken nights in my early years and feeling the pain in the morning. Real feelings of nausea, headaches, ridiculous talking, fuzziness and exhaustion. Somehow, I can feel into the grace of sobriety. The blessing of returning to purity. Its a crystal clear moment like an ice bath or deep sigh after being so raw after shedding a waterfall of tears. Its a sobering moment when there is $13.42 in the bank acct or totally accepting that I will never be with my children day to day as I thought it would be so long ago.

I don’t often look forward to those sobering moments. In fact, I have numerous ways to turn off the spotlight headed for them; create stories and distractions to preoccupy me for eternity it seems.

When I do open up and allow the sobriety to come a callin’, when I feel supported and safe to crack open the chill of getting brutally honest, there is always joy and sighs of relief on the other side.

I have childlike optimism that there is a tipping point —a place of no return that once I have sat with sobriety long enough a gift will surface. That downpour of never-ending peace and love I have heard of will shower me once and for all.

#COREWOUND #NOTINKANSASanymore

When I signed that contract I asked for first class and unlimited champagne NOT a cross to bear called CoreWound sitting in the aisle seat. I forgot to read the fine print or something.