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Written March 18, 2019

My wise one has made things very clear… be quiet and listen.  Not only am I listening to my wise one, but to the power of the Universe.

Today marks three months exactly from the night I lost all of my toes on my left foot.*  Three months ago today, I was a different person.  Well, not completely different, but yeah, somethings have changed.  Not just my foot.  Like all of a sudden I like tea.  Actually, I think I’m going to make tea after I write this!  Wtf?!  I know that seems funny that I’m surprised about tea, but I never really liked tea.  Never wanted it.  And now, I like it enough that I will make it for myself in my own home.  I don’t like alcohol these days.   I used to LOVE alcohol.  Champagne was my favorite.  White wine, tequila.  Now, I don’t really care for any of it.

They call me the Queen of Sexy, and I have this reputation.  Online, mainly a rep for taking super sexy, raunchy photos.  But I’ve lost interest.  I don’t think or know if I want to take nasty sexy pics anymore…??? I know I’ve lost interest in having dance be my full time career.  It’s all gone.  Tragic, isn’t it?  But how perfect.  With a successful, beautiful career by a talented and popular dancer, it all suddenly and traumatically gets stripped away with a swift crack of a car smash.  She falls, the survives, she changes. 

Just in writing that last sentence, had me frozen in the moment.  There have been several moments after this accident where I’m feeling the vibrations of change, of a movement inside my subconscious  maybe?  Or is that the emotional commotion rearing its head.  The one that I smooshed inside of a box, shhht.  Quiet, don’t, nope, shht.  Who’s to say?  The best thing at this point I feel I should do is to quiet myself.  To stay still.  Reduce the outside noise, literally.  I tend to spend more time in silence lately. That is, silence with the sound of cats wrestling in the background, and the occasional bell toy. 

Today, I felt so much energy inside me, I wanted to scream or run.  This is normal for me during transitions.  Today, I walked on my two feet without a crutch, a cane or a walker, without a walking boot.  Just barefoot, free walking.  Today marks three months exactly from the night I lost all of my toes on my left foot.  Last night, I dreamt that I did what I did today.  And then I woke up and did what I dreamt.  So did I do it because I dreamt it, or did I dream it because I knew it was coming?  Or is it that my VIBRATIONS are getting stronger.  My subconscious is more open.  Okay, how about this… this morning, I was thinking about how schools (like high schools) never offered classes on mental health, on emotional health.  How I would have loved that.  Then I sat down to do my Spanish lesson on Duolingo, and an ad popped up for Gaia, which is a streaming channel for MENTAL + EMOTIONAL HEALTH lessons.  I signed up right away. 

A few weeks ago, I was crying in bed, wishing someone would hold me or rub my back as I fell asleep.  And just in that moment, Paul Miller* (who has never once done this before nor after) climbed on top of me and snuggled in my lap.  What is happening?  I don’t know, that is why I’m staying quiet.  A month or so into my healing, my Reikiest, Reikist, person who does Reiki on me, told me that someone or something is trying to tell me something.  She kept saying, “it’s saying listen…”. So here I am, ready to be quiet and listen to my wise one.

For the first few months of all this, I’ve been so focused on getting better physically, that I didn’t take too much time to think about my mental health.  Remember, I squished that away.  The last time I can remember doing that is when my parents got divorced.  Things changed so dramatically and so quickly, that I ignored any emotional turmoil and stepped up.  My brother and sister were much younger than me, so I took on a lot of responsibility at that time around the house.  I was 13 years old.  For two years, I did what needed to be done to help my mother, who had three of us by the time she was 27.  Cut to, she’s 33 divorced with three kids.  I’m like “Okay, gotta help mom, even when she’s not asking for it.” Two years goes by, and everyone starts to work their kinks out.  Everyone but me.  Now it’s 10th grade, and I’m failing.  I hate school.  I’m not a bad kid though.  In fact, I spent all of my time training for cheerleading or writing poems, short stories and diary type stuff.  But I was fucking off in school.  My mother thought I should get tested for ADD.  This was all before the internet, we had less resources to understand what we were dealing with at the time.  The ONLY reason I did not fail 10th grade is because of my pride and vanity.  I was more concerned about being embarrassed than I was about what school meant.   

So, the question must be asked, am I still that 13 year old?  Am I “handling it so well” because I’m not even dealing with it?  Am I once again embarrassed and pulling through so none of you will notice that I’m not amazing?  Or am I just that evolved?  Lol! Quite honestly, I think it’s a little bit of everything. 

Well, let me let you in on a secret, I have my moments, and they are epic.  Here are a few….

About two weeks after being home from the hospital, I was getting ready for a busy day.  Using a knee scooter at the time.  I had an ace bandage on, just wrapped it, stood up, put the knee on the scooter, miscalculated, over shot, started falling.  Natural instinct, I put my foot down to stop the fall!  I started crying, panicking, started systematically calling my friends physically closest to me. By the time they got there, I was sitting on the floor still, crying my eyes out, shaking, scared, angry.  My foot was bleeding through the bandage… back to the ER for me.  Turns out my foot was fine, but that was the first crack in my “strong mental state”.

Then, recently, I got stoned and sat on the toilet, started rubbing my foot and telling it, “You’re just different now.” And I cried and cried, till I hung over, slouched over myself, still sitting on the toilet.  It was like I was comforting another soul, the soul of my foot (get it?), but really, I was comforting my sad, little self.   

And here is my favorite one, the most recent.  One night, while still on crutches, it was the middle of the night and I had to pee. Go the bathroom, come out, success, head to bed.  All is well.  Well, there was a sock on the floor, (I have hardwood floors) and the crutch went on the sock, and the sock slid and so did the crutch.  Right out from under me.  I fell flat on my face.  Hard on the floor.  It’s like 3 a.m. Lol. Very jolting to the system.  I just laid there.  Tear.  Get up, climb into bed, curled up and cried myself to sleep. 

This is fucking hard!  But each time there was a good thing about it.  The first story, where I fell, that second ER visit I met a nurse who saw me come in the night of the accident too.  I was able to thank him for taking care of me.   The time I was crying on the toilet…. afterward, it felt as if it was a cleanse.  It was freeing.  And the fall at 3 a.m., well, that’s just a part of the game I’m in.  If it was all too easy, what lesson would I be learning here?  Honestly, I’m glad it’s hard.  It’s making me tougher.  And also, I’ve been given a gift.  Right now, I have the time and money (thanks to many of you*) to think, to heal, to find my truth, to work on my dreams that will support me and others in the future. 

Today marks three months exactly from the night I lost all of my toes on my left foot.  Last night I dreamt I would walk without a cane or a crutch, and today I made that dream come true.  They told me it would be 3-6 months before I was walking.  I said three months, and here we are today.  Doing what I decided, doing what my dreams saw.  What else can I make happen just by deciding and dreaming it will be so?  What have you been deciding these days?  My current decision is to try to be as quiet as I can. To be as still as I can.  There is a wise one inside all of us, and I think mine is like “Yo, I got things to tell you, so, be quiet and listen.” Zip!

*Read my blog about how I lost my toes.

*Paul Miller is my boy cat.

*AM’s GoFund Me