The Quiet Things pt 3: DEATH IS A BUSINE$$

Emotions were scattered but there was no time to address them or explore them, and it all became a blurr. In some ways, it was a lot like a car crash. you become disoriented and everything, including time, is being pressed into one frame. I saw you pick yourself up and muster up all you had within you to walk into that building, sinking heavily into the role of big brother one last time.

Families weren't allowed to be with their loved ones during this time because of Covid, and a doctor we met previously granted you access. I sat in the parking garage for what felt like 45 minutes.. We got the call, we raced over, and here we are. Staring straight into the abyss of something you're never prepared for. And so suddenly, you are robbed of the sanctity and divinity of this moment and this being in such a transactional moment for western medicine. I think about this moment deeply. Where you are given the most difficult choice when you don't even want to say goodbye. For some, saying goodbye is without choice, for others, it is a connection that is never severed, but only strengthened through space and time.

When you walked back to the car, there was a feeling of, "what just happened? this is it? i come out with my hands empty, and all this pain is what i get to take home?"

In the following days I heard you yell into the sky, "you weren't supposed to leave me!", and "what am I supposed to do now? life has been on-call and on hold for so long i dont know what to do with my life now."

Home became dark and I couldn't help but think that everything happens for a reason and in my own healing i understood that having an infant here would be so much harder. loss after loss after loss after loss.

you go through trauma and the world wants you to start taking medicine for it rather than to process it in its own time. healing isn't on a time schedule you can create on your excel spreadsheet. creation and the divine don't begin on a computer, it does not have a liquid bandaid you buy at walgreens- it scars over with its own magick in its own time.

Trust and a Rush of the Flood

Everything changed when I met you. I don't know who I was or where I had been up until that point. I was a completely different person when we met, and in many ways I didn't acknowledge that until you showed me a mirror. I was constantly running away from the past that I had become so removed, even from myself. Now I find myself staring in my mirror in awe of who I am and the way my reflection looks new every time. This isn't to say that I've changed because of you, but it was because of the support, love, and trust that was embedded into our union that allowed me to catapult into the being I've slipped into today. A sweet friend of ours looked at my natal chart once and unbeknownst to her, she changed my life with her words. "There will be a lot of transformation in your life." Boy was I incredibly naive when I met you, completely oblivious to the rush of flood I was about to face.

Sine the very beginning of our fateful meeting, we fit like a glove. Intuitively came together and gave each other the grace to be this wondrous being we are so destined to be. I don't often look to our beginnings, but when I do I get emotional about the wild ride that brought me to you. This isn't to say I haven't felt heartache with you, because I have. We could have easily fallen out of partnership from dishonesty, the one thing I don't put up with. I've learned to listen, to trust again, to listen to my intuition. Since the moment I met you, the universe was right again, on time and on track. It clicked and I was on my way, Perla 3.0 was on her way.

God I've lived so many lives. Been trapped in many lives, been taught to be afraid of my shadow, to continue running forward and to never look back. Well I have bad shins now and I'm not running anymore.

the quiet things pt deux

yo te tenia aqui, en un pedestal. alto-- altisimo. mi guia en esta vida en la cual yo no entendia no entendia nada y hoy realizo que tu aun no habias entendido nada. y aqui estamos con heridas que hojala un dia se curen con anos marcados con resentimiento y palabras que viven en mi ser cada dia cosas que aun no me encuentro a entender hasta el dia cargo con en esta sicatriz porque no lo he dejado curar y asi, me pides que ore, que me acerque a Dios me pides y me pides son cosas que yo no te puedo dar. i recognize that although you may let things go, you are still living in your own generational trauma don't put that on me. mom, i knew you could do so much more. such light. such strength. you lit up my fire and began fanning it for someone else. while that someone else was taking all your strength, watching you be disrespected constantly, that wasn't for me. i fought and i fought, for years and years and years. and i continue to fight at a distance. now, i am the push that makes you move.

the reversed fool

Sometimes I feel that my keen sense of childlike wonder and over-the-top optimism are some of my greatest qualities, but also some of my worst. I'm constantly in a back and forth yo-yo with my emotions, though I'm not bipolar, I am a very moody bitch. I often like to blame it on my sun and moon placements for being complete opposites. I do acknowledge that my depression has been a huge weight to carry for what seems to be my whole life. BUT! I also strongly acknowledge that had I not been an over-the-top optimist who constantly feels like a radiant sun will come the next day, I don't think I would be where I am today.

Today, I find myself navigating my newest and greatest journey thus far: inner healing and radical self love. What a process. Unpacking, relearning, unpacking some more, regressing, observing, relearning, observing some more. The list goes on and on, and I continue to find myself in awe of myself and the resilience I've granted myself on this earthship the last 32 years. I continue to see the strength that I constantly fall back on and use to pull myself out of dark pits. There have been many instances in my life where people have pointed out certain aspects of mine that make them wonder how I manage to pull myself up everytime. I had a great boss in my mid-twenties, who once mentioned to me, "theres this immense shitty situation in your life you can't outrun and yet you manage to be a happy person." This came after I blew up on my HR director, for valid reasons, but I normally wouldnt've acted out of my character had I not been steaming inside over the unjust mistreatment I was having at home. I blew up on the wrong person, and my boss' statement was also wrong. At the time I didn't know why I was constantly being punished, I always felt I was being punished. I was always a good kid. I was always fighting fighting fighting to make sure my stepdad knew the truth about me, and constantly feeling like my truth was never enough. This reoccuring tensing feeling filled me up everytime he came home from work, where I was wishing I was anywhere but home.

Why couldn't I just be me? Authentically me. I was thrown into a labyrinth everyday. every day. It became so exhausting. I was so constantly exhausted. I was being pushed to my mental limit and in a lot of cases pushed past it.

I look back at this time in my life more times than I wish I did. It was my life for 24 years. Of course there's going to be trauma on loop in my brain. I'm only 32 now, it hasn't been that long since I escaped. A lot of unraveling to do, a lifetime of healing to go. Luckily, 24 years is nothing compared to what another 70 years of reinforced radical love can do, so cheers to that!

The Quiet Things

I remember being in the hospital and still sedated after my procedure. The nurse walked with me to the bathroom, bcos i couldnt stand on my own after my insides had just been scraped out and stitched from a ripped cervix. she asked me to change my extremely large diaper-looking pad and as soon as as i saw all the blood, i broke. i realized my baby was no longer a part of my body.

I cried so much as i sat there paralyzed. The little life force within me no longer had a name, no face, and no trace left behind. my body was on auto-pilot, and my mind was somewhere else being ripped apart. Since the moment i found out there was no heartbeat anymore, I compartmentalized anything pertaining to the suffering that came with those news. Ive always thought about it as a hallway in my home, with doors i dare never to open. I was so cold to everyone around me, and i was moving through the world like a zombie. Internally, all i felt was dark nothingness, and externally- well i was deteriorating and treating my body like it was nothing to me.

In more recent years, ive grown to love this vessel that carries me through all my hardships, that never punishes me for making mistakes. all it has ever asked is to be taken care of and have its oil changed when the maintenance light turns on.

And just as i lock things in doors to never open again, i acknowledge the terrors that women have faced over the millennia— to never speak of again.

What darkness!