Saying those really hard goodbyes. Bee is always one of the hardest but all of the Familia Time was soul healing and necessary.
Reza and I went to see The Lion King broadway production and it was everything that I dreamt of and more. It was goosebump, tear inducing beauty. So glad I shared that experience with R. bucket list ✔️
Being a Costco Chillona™ with Ginny. Man, that woman is the kind of woman so many people wish they could call “friend”. She may be friend to some but to me she is family and watching her evolve, grow and transcend…. you fucking WISH you had that kind of force of nature within your hemisphere. I am fortunate enough to have that and more. traviesas4lyfe.
90 day fiancee trash sessions, rare steak and sweating my ass off with my Birthday Twin who was a total delight to host. Easy and respectful house guests make the world go ’round. Sometimes dating apps give you best friends. Who would have thought?!
Early Grey roses. Where have these been all my life?! Haunting. A pale shade of lavender grey like the way lips change colors from a final breath of life. The way the Atlantic looked at me for the first time or perhaps the way the sky looks before she is about to part with fury. That’s what they spoke to me before I even brought them home.
Aubergine shaded tresses for Fall because Jason wills it so.
La Jolla Cove tidepool toe dipping on a scorching day.
Plan solidification for the next adventure that no doubt will be transformational. I am absolutely jumping out of my skin for all of it.
The way the Coven rallies for one another. We lost another coven familiar this week and my heart breaks for our girl who was, and still is the best cat mom ever.
Something I have been really coming to terms with is teaching myself to trust vulnerable exposure with others. Holy fuck is it a hard thing to do. It is not comfortable in any way and to have it welcomed with open arms free of judgement? My ladies got me in all my tender facets. The more I surround myself with positive male influence, be it friends, partners, lovers… the more I come to terms on where so many things had gone wrong for me. I would like to think that I have overcome some of those wounds but every now and then one of them inadvertently step in my mine field that was left behind. Mines I didn’t even know were there… and then the chain reaction goes off. I thankfully have the wherewithal to recognize it’s not about *them* but more about *me*. And that’s when the shovel comes out to start filling the holes back up… with healthier things. When you get used to the being treated with dismissal and invalidation and then you don’t? When you’re treated from a place of complete trust, consent, respect for my safety? Talk about a mind fuck. The best kind of fuck. And as much as it feels frightening, I’m allowing myself because it’s what I need and deserve until this muscle is nice enough to flex.
When I’m poetically written about.
Unexpected and necessary rainfall and the petrichor it unearthed. I took myself outside and stood in it. No cares about how wet I got, or how frizzy it made me. There’s something utterly medicinal in rainwater, freshly painted toes and bare feet on wet concrete. It was a baptism and cleansing this Harvest Moon eve knew I needed.
When R and I get chills and tears from the exact same moments.
Resuming back to some semblance of normalcy. Routine can be beautiful and grounding, too.
Pairing the perfect fragrance/song/mood to the weather. Today it was Jonny Cota Parfum + Echo and The Bunnymen’s “ocean rain” + longing + summer sprinkles.
Your port in my heavy storms
Harbours the blackest thoughts.
When that song comes on that I wish I could share with you but I can’t and don’t. So maybe I will smile or cry or perhaps? Both. Not from sadness though, because I know we’re free. Today it was a Soft Kill.
Our neighbor community that I will never stop pinching myself over. This space and the people around it has held R+I up in so many ways.
I am getting really tired of people with no boundaries thinking I am like them. Please don’t come at me with things I never asked for or chose not to share with you. And it being paired with passive aggressive comments, manipulation or excuses is something I am not here for. I can smell that shit a mile away now. I may share a lot but when it comes to the those things and people I hold ultra close, I keep those things private or in the confines of trust for a reason. Fostering emotional safety is a goal. My peace is fucking important and I protect it, fiercely. There is always going to be someone who wants to roll up and shit on your lawn when all you’re trying to do is hold your keep only to get gaslit when I say “hey, not cool” or perhaps say nothing at all. I am fucking exhausted and honestly, heartbroken. I know where my place and level are. I wish I could say the same about everyone else.
When you’d rather be told you look “happy” instead of “good”. Lately observations about my “glow” have escaped the mouths of others and I can’t help but beam more because I know how it got there. A month late from the anniversary of my mental break from 4 years ago… and I forgot about it, which I guess is a testament of the tremendous and painstaking effort I have sunk into healing myself. Because looking forward is a much better place to be, even if I have to look over my shoulder from time to time.
Today a core memory was made. I was listening to the new Holy Fawn album. A rare San Diego summer storm was coming down thanks to Tropical Storm Kay. I knew it was coming. I opened up the envelope in my dripping doorway. And there I am, looking back at myself, and wept profusely. A proverbial shower of salt and sky and my new passport in between my fingertips. Drenched. It may not feel like a monumental thing to anyone else but this was the very last piece of a former life that needed changing. The weight of seeing a name you don’t identify with anymore is a heavy one and today is not that day. Not anymore or ever because Garcia is who I am. It’s who I always was. The first stamp that’s going in this baby is going to be glorious.