24. (Patreon)

24.

Ufffff there’s so much fear in anger. The anger in itself is not that bad, I can deal. It’s empowering. Anger is my Fuck no. My Fuck No leads to my Fuck Yes.

The courage to express my Fuck No in order to protect my Fuck Yes is immense. It makes me Joan of Arc, on the battlefield leading her army. Yet, I can be so unlike Joan of Arc in my modern battlefield. The reason?

My fear of being burned at the stake.

Today’s stake might take the form of a public grilling. One where your words are twisted and rejected and violated with personal cusses and attacks for all to see. Another stake might be the invisible strangulation that results when you attempt to defend yourself and the patriarchal noose tightens, as other words are invited in, taunting you with segregation, exposure and abandonment for claiming your rights and taking up space. It is always curious to me that google drive fails to connect just as i mention words such as patriarchy and I can't help but wonder if google's algorithm is set to interrupt any attempt to question this vile and stifling language designed with the intent of empowering the toxic masculine and disempowering the rise of conscious woman.

The word witch is still used everyday. They just replaced the w with a b. ​And no. I won't stop my flow. I will just keep writing on another site until my google drive connects again. I will not be stopped. I will not stay quiet. It is hard enough to live in this world, in fact I feel it is too hard. I feel that I no longer choose this script, this paradigm. I have tried to comply. To walk the boards. To follow the toxic script of reaching for carrots, for stars that dangle in the sky somewhere up yonder, always ever so slightly out of reach, with the luring promise that one day, someday I will become a millionaire and all my problems of survival will be solved with one long lasting swoop, because as we can now see, if we are not, we are basically a boat heading for an iceberg. With prices rising, our basic needs are now carrots that are dangled further and further away, inch by inch, until we are reaching our arm out on tip toes for the promises we keep to ourselves of "When I am rich I will be happy...: and I am reaching the point where I can no longer be the monkey dancing over carrots. I feel it is time to stop, but how?

​I am fed so many stories of how someone meditated and they received the guidance to leave their job and follow their heart, and they were rewarded ten fold. And yes, this is the proverbial rock bottom reached by the likes of JKRowling, when she sat down with a fuck it and wrote Harry Potter. Would she even have got published if she had used the name Joanne Rowling? I bloody doubt not. 

​But who is gonna pay the rent while I take a break from this nonsense? Where can I go where I am free from the toxicity of people's greed as well as run from the toxicity of ​all this building and construction that leaves Mother Earth gagging for breath?

​I know that there will be no one to catch me, no safety net. In our dog eat dog world, we have been taught to look out for ourselves. I could not take the scorn or looks of distaste if I turned to my family. When the price of asking for support is rejection, the price is too high.​ I would rather die alone here in my rented apartment with dignity. 

​Today I admit defeat. Come burn me at the stake as I stare you blankly in the face. I am no ​failure. There is no prize for this hamster treadmill, because there is no end, unless you jump off it and feel the wheel roll over your back like a giant steam roller. You are disposable, you are just a cog in the machine. Live or die, it makes no difference, another cog child will be born in a minute, whose ignorant mother will sign her up for a birth certificate and sell her off to the state, in return for the price of her freedom. She will be offered a passport, a nice little carrot, so she can go travelling when she is allowed some days off the treadmill which she will associate with freedom. It's enslavement, but it looks like freedom. Confusing isn't it?

​It is to me. I want to break free. ​go on strike. I tried it for 2 months, it was nice, kind of, but then I had to jump back on; bills to pay, no one to support me in my exhaustion. I don't know how much longer I can pretend that this is normal, that this is OK. 

There must be another way...I’m about to dive into a 3 day online meditation and I will see what arises. I need a shift, baby give me it, I can’t wait, I need escape...