What does rebirth look like to you?

to let go

who i believe myself to be, appears to be codependent on others’ opinions of me. it is sad to say. i fear to admit. but i cling to judgements of others like a newborn that can’t hold their head up on their own. i become obsessed with the potential thoughts in someone else’s mind. key word - potential. i ruminate on guessing. my own thoughts no longer belong to me.

this entire empire - the empire that is me - was built on the expectations of others. and the notion of free will or freedom of choice is solely attached the idea that i can make other people happy by revolving around their needs. and after a certain point, we no longer know what we want, or who we are. we only know how we want to make other people feel.

i used to believe that i knew what i wanted. i used to hold dreams close to my heart. i used to carry fervor & self-determination as easy access tools on my belt.

but i slowly shrunk, this world was no longer safe to feel big. to be grounded. and i slipped away. disappeared. retreated into hiding. and i drank. a lot. just to cover the pain of detaching from myself. and i began to slip away even further. i became scared of people. i had nothing to hold on to. when someone asked me questions, i had no answers. a void full of loss.

i fear that after all these years of healing, people still see that. they still smell my fear. they watch my shoulders shrink when i speak. they see my eyes glaze over when i fall into old places of self-dislike or judgement. my depression still puffs up when i get somethihg other than unconditional love from a total stranger. low standards, right? in case you can’t tell - my sarcasm is thick.

my expectations of the world accepting me is still framed in black & white. all or nothing.

but each day is a chance to let go of these scary thoughts from old places. each sober day is a choice. it is a triumphant act. it is an opportunity to continue to shed.

and so - to answer your question. i always thought rebirth would happen in a moment. or maybe a few hours. a couple days at most. similar to labor. but what about the 9 months of growth that happens before the birth? what are we growing, within us, over time, that we are bring forced to push out? to release.

it’s never a quick shift. and sometimes we don’t know what is going to let go until it is gone. and sometimes we have no idea how great it will be until we are on the other side. it is never painful. it is never easy. but i have found that, yes - it is worth it.

A letter to my crush

dear crush,

I think you already know. I think i have made it clear. But perhaps the only thing i’ve made is all of it up. perhaps you’ve forgotten my name. or perhaps you don’t know what it feels like to have someone lust for you. i seem to have forgotten what it feels like to feel anything for anyone. i go on dates, and i feel numb. i have sex, and i feel numb. no one makes me feel anything anymore. so? i tried sex work, because i might as well get something out of feeling numb. i had hoped the rush of being paid for sex would break through whatever walls i had put up, but alas - there is only numbness. sometimes fear - because i am scared that i will be this way forever. afraid of losing my sexual & romantic desires for the rest of time.

but then i met you. at first? nothing. and by the time i realized i was feeling anything at all, you were gone. but that wall? it had cracked. just a tiny bit. enough for hope to run through. it took me days to realize - to check in with myself & say - “oh my gosh, i have a crush.” and once i came to terms with it, i couldn’t let go. but you were already far away. now i imagine your touch & the way you would look at me while i’m driving. I imagine the feeling i would get in my stomach when you kiss me for the first time. i’ve pictured our first kiss over & over. i dream of reading a book next to you, first thing in the morning, on a vacation, in the mountains.

but it is only imagination. this can only bring me so far. i long for the actual experience, so i sit in my bed & visualize it happening. they tell me that doing this will yield actual results. they tell me that if i feel it, visualize, and ask for it - the universe will give it to me. i have been doing this everyday - but i have yet to receive anything. and i come to terms with the fact that all i am doing is laying in bed dreaming about things i don’t have. and you? well you are probably living your life. you are probably having actual experiences. probably not thinking about me.

so i go on more dates. some actual dates. some dates with men who pay for my time. and each time, i feel a deep sadness. mostly because it is all a game that i don’t want to play anymore. and also because i wish it was you, sitting across from me.

and when they touch me, nothing happens. not happiness. not disgust. not fear. not lust. simply nothing.

when i imagine you next to me? my whole body lights up.

but you are over there. and the truth is, I barely know you. you barely know me. at this point, I fear i have created a reality in my head that isn’t destined to exist. i have clung to a dream that will never bear fruit. but what if it did happen? i am, perchance, more scared of that option. because then I’d have to show up. I’d have to tend to an open heart. and that, well that feels unpredictable.

let me put it this way - if you do come to me. you sit in my house. you ask me questions. you attempt to understand who i am. i fear that you will not like what you find. and perhaps part of that fear is that, i too, will be disappointed. or that i will be numb, just like the rest of times. and my wall will go back up. and i will have to start all over again.

so i sit here & dream. because that is safest. and that is where i feel the most.

a letter about my sugar daddies,

the first daddy I facetimed wasn’t able to meet me anywhere but his house because he was on house arrest & wearing an ankle monitor. he told me he had gotten into a fight with six policemen after posting a tiktok supporting the theory that karen read was framed. he said he was interviewed in a netflix docuseries about it, but it landed him in jail. he said he made 1 million dollars per month. he lived in a double-wide trailer in the suburbs of boston.

“you can’t make this shit up.” after I ended the Facetime. but I think he had made it all up. the irony.

he asked if he could call me again. i said no.

the next date was at a public park. he bought me a falafel & showed me photos that he took of naked women while he was fucking them. he explained to me that he had a remote attached to the camera that would snap the photo at the exact time the women were climaxing. he told me he wanted to do this with me. the sauce from the falafel dripped down my hand & he watched me intently as i licked it off. he told me that he would rent a hotel for the evening for us to take photos & fuck. he had kids at home. he had a wife. he assured me that his wife was aware of the situation. but what does he wife say about their monthly budget being blown on fucking other women?

the next date was at a bar full of screaming 21 year olds. he bought me water. you told me that regular dating was intellectually under stimulating. he was bored & annoyed with normal dating because all the women wanted marriage. he said he had no problem having sex for free with people he was attracted to. so i asked him why we were even meeting. he said i intrigued him. he outlined a full assessment of the type of person i was. i told him it seemed like he knew enough already.

when he spoke, i had to actively keep myself from falling asleep. even in a bar full of piercing noise. when i spoke, he looked away in disinterest.

he showed me pictures of his truck and his dog. he told me about the things that made him light up. he screamed in my face when i didnt have any answer for what made me light up. he kept asking ‘what do you want?’ and shamed me for not knowing. i wanted to cry, but not because of him. mostly because he was right. i should know what i want. when i blurted out ‘to travel & see the world.” he told me that i wouldn’t get any satisfaction from it. he talked to me like i had never on a plane. little does he know, i travelled to africa, alone, at 18 years old. but he didn’t ask.

this man told me he doesn’t like people who think they have the answer to everything. but every time i said something, he would talk at me like he knew more than i did.

he asked me for a ride home.

i gave my sugar daddy a ride home.

when i told him my price, he said he didn’t know if i was worth that amount of money.

he told me what he thought i was worth, which was half of my rate.

i drove home & went to bed. i stayed in bed until his face was erased from my mind.

he still texted to me ask if i got home safely. he then texted me a list of the services he would like me to provide & asked me if i felt i could fulfill his needs while being submissive & at his mercy for spontaneous meet ups when he was horny.

he still offered half.