I learned a few years ago, the first thought is your programming and your second thought is You.
It’s like when you comment on someone’s outfit or job and then you remember that isn’t what you actually believe, you think everyone gets to wear and do what they want. You got that first message from the people you grew up around, at home or school, possibly television and the radio too.
My second thought is me.
I have let so much go. So much, it’s quite incredible, really. As I am writing this, there are tears, and I’m choked up—I’m moved by my own dedication!
I spent the first couple of hours of today and most of yesterday in the old thought. Wretched place, I hate it.
I wanted attention from “not me,” and I wasn’t getting it. I spent many days before it and the rest of today, as my new independent self.
What’s that look like Samantha?
I see myself.
I give myself the attention I crave.
I take great care of me.
I radiate love.
I am the woman who faces her sh*t head on-and says, yes, I f*cking did it.
Yep not as long, but sadly still the same damage, it pushed someone away. I am transparent.
And I am crushed.
I always ask. What’s your part in it, Samantha?
I know it stems from my mother wound. I want my mother to see me and love me, and it hurts deeply that she does not. This wound is sensitive and freshly opened by her, and me. We do it together, I am stepping off but I fell. I tripped. It happens.
The current Mercury retrograde is designed to help us clear these things. The state of the world has intensified everything.
I am working on forgiving us and being the love we both need, it is my usual place these days.
I am human. I fell back, and I waited. I got lost and that feels like rushing—and it feels like needy. It’s yucky.
Now, I am found!
I did my work, and I was gentle.
I had to dig deep.
99 percent of the time, I have one more in me.
I don’t give up, I’m a warrior.
Hey, look at that, I am not my mother.
I am the person I need, and I am f*cking wonderful.
I did yoga in the sun in my underwear and headphones with my eyes closed. That’s what I like.
I drank the green juice and the tea. My body likes that.
I released the trauma within. I sounded like a little girl. My little girl, Me. I remembered her cries today and I remember when she was made to stop. She got scared. Oh no.
“Hey little Samantha you can cry here, it’s safe, I’ll hold you,” I said.
And we did that until she was finished.
She feels okay now.
Maybe we could have a cupcake?
Yes, of course, bunny.
We’re all going to be fine because I am the person we both need.
I hold her hand, I listen,
I am here. I am here.
I live for her. I love her. I am love. I am grace.
And it’s really, really, really a lot.