I Come From The Mystery

I come from the mystery. I come by way of a womb I refused to leave for two weeks past my due date. I come from Taurus rising in the season of Scorpio on the eve of the full Taurus moon. I suppose you could say I come from the paradoxic depths of the transformative Bull, astrologically speaking.

I come from a family that believes in unconditional love and tries its best. I come from a sister that loves me forever while insisting I’m the monster of her childhood trauma. I come from fierce sibling rivalry born from vying for the finite attention of an impressive career mom who escaped into Harlequin to cope with the rigors of impressive career mom life. Consequently I spent my tween years rummaging through stacks of books in the hall closet and my early adulthood believing the way of romantic love was formulaic and the ideal partner a cross between Fabio and my father (on horseback or aboard a pirate ship of course).

I come from a boarding school high school full of exceptionally smart, creative, independent, and rebellious troublemakers who taught me it was possible to not fit the small town conservative rural mold and still be accepted, celebrated, and loved.

I come from a small group of chosen family who know everything about me and love me because of me, not despite me.

I come from a growing understanding of unconditional love.

I come from a love life history full of passion, curiosity, exploration, ecstatic joy, heartbreak, mini dramas, and plenty of catfishy what-the-fuck moments sprinkled with the occasional educational porn to help me understand the physics of some of the more creative proclivities one stumbles upon in the wilderness of internet dating. I come from the realm of Never Again with a dramatic increase in standards.

I come from a growing sense of self worth.

I come from my first taste of deep grief in the unexpected death of my best friend at 32, the first of my chosen family. After months of tears every night I found a determination to live a life I choose to live over a life I am expected to live. I moved an hour away to New Orleans and embarked on an exploration of every creative outlet I could find: drawing, painting, photography, sculpture, dancing, and synchronized swimming.

I come from learning to do what I love.

I come from the most loving relationship I had known, a relationship that nearly made it to marriage before it ended in bipolar tragedy and suicide. I learned the meaning of codependency and that I hadn’t yet discovered the meaning of a healthy relationship. I found myself living the dark night of the soul holed up in a hoarder house.

I come from no other choice but to dedicate myself to the healing journey.

I come from a tiny spark of a tingle 3 Mardi Gras later that showed me I can feel again and will be capable of loving again. That tiny spark of a pseudo crush pointed out there was an awesome yoga studio in the New Orleans Healing Center before he ran off into the sunset with some other Jennie.

I come from following the breadcrumbs of inspiration.

I come from a whole new level of hope and dedication to the healing journey, to growth and transformation. My journey into yoga shows me an excavation of emotion and a bathing of my heart in healing tears. I often feel like a lifetime of lessons led me to this precious practice that in itself feels like beginning again with a whole new lifetime of lessons yet to come.

I come from an undeniably resilient heart that is itself a miraculous characteristic of humanity.