Libra Full Moon Eclipse, 3.25.24

I let them pray for us at church today, and I'm not so certain I felt anything.

I let them pray for us at church today, and I fell to my knees. I cried out, I collapsed.

But it wasn't because I felt any "Holy Ghost". The "Holy Ghost" is something that I feel on a regular Tuesday afternoon; I keep hearing your name on the radio and seeing "222" everywhere...

Am I feeling the Holy Spirit, or having a manic episode? 

That's all part of the game. That's the fun part.

The real reason my knees fell weak and my sobs were from the gut was because I am so desperate to bring you home safely. I am in such intense mourning; mourning that I have been running from for years. 

Maybe I am having a manic episode. That doesn't discredit, however, the very real experiences I've had and the insane research to back it all up...

I'll set aside my ego for another part of this story, I suppose...

What is it going to take? I have been on a roller coaster created by the Universe, itself. I have no control over how the book is written; and yet, I am the one holding the pen.

So that leaves Us with the question: Have I been fucking everything up this entire time?

Do I really want to dive so deeply in to whether or not I'm just crazy? Because that's where my thoughts are headed.

I just wanted to see if it would work...

Why not release as much of that emotional baggage while I have the chance, yes? 

Lay in the floor. Sob until your chest hurts. You don't even have to say anything. Just cry out.

Tell this crazy, shouting man about your sick husband. Let these kind ladies put their hands on you and cry out with you, asking "Jesus", "God", to magically heal all of your troubles. 

This is exactly how I used to do it in the privacy of my kitchen floor, just after my son would fall asleep. I would beg, cry, and pray in to the air to the Universe, Mother Earth, God, whatever It was that I could feel like a firework going off in the pit of my stomach and magically controlling literally every single thing around me. 

I just wanted the empty place that you left inside of me to go away. I just want that slow, dead hum of white noise that buzzes in my brain to stop.

I try to write my book. I try to work on my art. 

But what is the point when this whole world is just a matrix and nothing is real except for you?

Of course, our son, too. Don't even go there. Trying to explain this is hard enough.

I've spent the last half a decade, now, doing everything I can possibly think of to make it to any successful destination the Universe could possibly have written for me. 

I attempted a "hoe-phase", but that lasted all of three seconds.

I've spent 99.7% of my time focused on being my son's mother, of course. 

All whilst saving him from as much trauma that I can muster, considering he is being raised by a mama that is losing her mind due to technically losing her husband.

A lot of this was karma, too. I'm not going to sugar coat a damn thing.

My husband and I were both absolute bitches in our early and mid 20's. 

We both started to grow up and shed away our egos in opposite ways: Yin and Yang. 

So does this mean we always continue to go opposite ways, forever? Do we ever meet in the middle? Are we meant to be together in this lifetime at all?

This, too, is the fun part...

I'm truly just following what my heart tells me, at this point. I think that's what I've been doing this entire time. I'm doing everything I can to trust that this all happens for a reason, and maybe this will help me work that much harder towards forgiveness. 

I've made my mistakes, but you've done some pretty wicked things...

Forgiveness and trust will be our two most challenging assignments. I trust the Universe, though. God. Jesus. Spirit. Anscestors. Angels.

"My Higher Self", is another good one.

All of the above?

I'm feeling guided back towards you for a reason. So that's what I'm going to do.

We'll wind up where we are meant to wind up. 

Don't forget our free will, along the way...

I keep feeling so foolish for allowing myself to be so vulnerable at church. Everything about the entire day felt very silly and "not real". 

Maybe I did feel something?

I couldn't understand, truly, what the ladies were saying. I don't remember what the man preaching said, either. I just know he asked for your name. I was already in shambles.

I just remember thanking them for being there during my melt down. 

Everyone is crying out to Jesus, thanking him. 

What assumptions are they making? Do they know why I am here? Do they understand why I am crying out for help and having a mental break down in the floor? Some of them are looking for credit. Some of them are looking for my soul to be saved. I just know I've mentioned a few times that I'm desperate to save my husband from a number of addictions.

I know demons are real. I've seen them.

I know angels are real. I've seen them.

I've fought them. I've had conversations with them. I've sat with them alone in a dark room.

I'll do whatever it takes, and fight whatever fight I have to fight.

But must I go on about this part of the story? I had something else to say, and...

Oh, that's right. The guilt. The absolute guilt has consumed me, if I allow it.

All of my insecurities as a mother tend to eat me alive. If I allow it.

I do everything within my power not to allow it.

But what can I do? Affording a place to live in the city became so... impossible. 

Not meant to be. There was nothing I could do. I argued with the angels until my voice ran dry. I put up with things that I should not have for a lot longer than what should have been allowed. I made everything in to an adventure for my son, and tried to make sure he had the most fun possible, during the in-between. 

We lived in a hotel for weeks. I tried to keep him in his favorite school for as long as I could drag it out. 

We were on the waiting list for that apartment for so long. I was so angry that it didn't work out. I was so angry that the price of everything is so high that even sacraficing every single second of every single day at work couldn't keep our heads above water.

I loved my job. I loved the people at my job. My son loved his school. We both lost so many things and have had to make so many sacrifices. 

How did we get here? We are safe, here. But it still doesn't feel like "home". We couldn't find a home where home was felt. I still search for a home in you. Our son finds home in me.

I pick up your slack. I don't resent you for it, anymore. I do everything I can to defend that you aren't the bad guy, you're just sick. I'm not spiteful. I'm not angry. I'm slightly terrified and incredibly sad. I'm trying so hard to understand why cutting ties with you has had to be so difficult. Where are all of these feelings of hope coming from?

And, again, with the guilt.

What am I supposed to do when I am so desperately trying to find a way to crack this code through church, find a job, remember to get my dad a birthday card, and get my son prepared for his Kindergarten Easter party all at the same time? I'm trying not to fail as both a mother and a father. It's easy to feel like I'm just fucking everything up from all directions.

I often wonder if it's healthy that I find so much comfort and confidence when my six year old tells me what a good mom I am? I question myself in to more guilt wondering if this counts as relying on my child for emotional reasurrance, which would make me feel terrible.

See? Maybe the fact I overthink everything so much means I'm a good mom.

Jesus, I don't know.

I wake up early this morning and let my son sleep in. Is it really the end of the world if he misses the bus? Haven't we been through enough? He had a stomach ache and a fever all day yesterday. Give us a break..

I hadn't drove him to school in a while, and it was nice. He says he likes the bus, though. He doesn't want to be a car rider again. Trying to view this positively, I remind myself that he needs to find enjoyment in things about his new school as much as possible. He has had to change schools far too many times, now. He's had to leave friends and teachers that he truly loved behind, and I would rather feel every ounce of pain he feels for him so he doesn't have to carry it.

I have to look back at everything we have both gained and lost throughout this journey, and try to understand that everything I've lost will be replaced. It always is.

I'm just tired of always having to lose everything, and then start all over. Lesson after lesson, I honestly believe I've finally lost my mind. 

I've applied to every job I could possibly apply to within an hour of all directions of here.

"Sorry, we have no positions available."

"Sorry, I'm looking for someone with a different schedule that what you can manage."

"I'm so sorry, but I'm going on vacation in a week and have no hours available."

Then why are you accepting applications?

"I'm sorry, we are always accepting applications. I know it is frustrating, but..."

I just can't seem to find a job anywhere. The Universe isn't allowing it, and my problem stands with not being let in on the plan and having to just blindly trust.

I'm behind on both my storage unit and my car payment. What am I supposed to do if I lose everything in my storage unit? I already barely have anything left. All of my most important things, and my son's most important things, are in that storage unit!

What am I supposed to do without my car? I've spent so much on it, already. I worked so hard to save up for it and make the payments every month. Now what? 

Ugh. I suddenly think about my mother's eyes bugging out, as she shrugs and throws her hands up. All of her diamond rings on every finger are clanking together and she has a smirk on her face. Her body language is a very spiteful, "you're screwed, now what? Life is hard. Get over it. Boo-hoo."

I could go on and on about her energy, the things she would say. As if I asked to be here, and you didn't get pregnant with me on purpose to "fix" your relationship.

Yikes, I'm cringing now. Can we change the subject?..

..Another thing about the storage unit:

I searched far and wide for my tattoo machine. That would be a calling for me, right? I can go back to tattooing. I've been seeing signs and signals pointing in that direction, right? 

I can't find my tattoo machine anywhere. Of course my first fear, the first pit in my stomach, is that my husband stole it.

Drug addiction. It isn't an excuse, just a reason.

Deep breath.

I can get a new machine with my tax return, but when will it ever get here?

I filed months ago...

Without an income, I feel useless. I feel weak. I feel out of control. 

As much as I don't care about money, I currently need it to survive in this fucked up world.

Maybe I am shifting to a timeline where I no longer need money? How long have I been manifesting a tiny house or an RV home in the forest? Traveling? Homeschooling my son?

I still keep getting those feelings of, "I want to go home". 

So where is home? Am I still on my way? 

I feel incredibly silly for everything that happened in church. I feel incredibly silly for all of this desperation and hope consuming me. I'm trying my best to keep fighting, even though I don't even know what's going to happen if my prayers actually are answered. 

I don't care what other people think or what anyone has to say. My story is not their story. So, I have no need to feel silly if I really think about it. Because when they learn of the things I've survived and I begin to send out a frequency that attracts others like me, all will make sense again. Following the signs has brought me a very long way.