Today‘s dress is by Cohen et Sabine. I found it in the Gold Coast in Australian. I had it altered because it was too big.
my life is in turmoil right now. There is no discord. It feels like a war. I wake up wishing I hadn’t woken up. It hurts to be alive. I will have to go back on meds. during my first night drinking ayahuasca last month, I began to sob. I couldn’t stop. I couldn’t breathe. It was about my mother. I felt an intense mother wound that I couldn’t handle. A helper came and tried to calm me down. She put peppermint oil on my face and helped me breathe. It passed, but I couldn’t forget about it. I am my mothers first child and i challenge her. I’ve always felt she loved my siblings more than me. She was just 25 when i was born. I feel I inherited the bulk of her trauma. And I resent her for that. Sometimes things are peaceful between us. Not now. She has been processing her own grief after losing both her parents within a year. I am in a dark place right now. We cannot hold space for each other’s pain. It’s too heavy. Yesterday i saw her for the first time in months and she barely looked at me. I left feeling shaken. My own mother. We are similar is some ways. We are spiritual. We are explorers. She left home at 18, never to live there again. I’m the only one of her children who lived in Australia, who tried to connect with the family there. It wasn’t easy, but I really tried. There is a history of feuds in that family. Siblings not speaking. Mental illness. I feel like I inherited the worst from my parents. Learning disabilities and mental illness. Lucky me. I got a cute body though. It’s different from my mother‘s. I got curves and small feet. She didn’t work when I was growing up. She was at home with us. I never understood why she didn’t get a degree. She loves to learn. I think her parents told her it was a waste of time. She could have gone to Dartmouth for free. But she dropped out. She won‘t talk about it. She worked in fashion for some years when I was a teenager. She seemed to like it. She made some money. She made friends. but then she stopped doing it. I was always envious that she didn’t have to work. My dad could support us. She’s so complex, my mother. She has an Australian accent. She’s in good shape. Sometimes I feel close to her and other times she feels so far away. I don’t know how to connect to her. I get angry easily. Or my disorder makes me feel abandoned. There’s nothing like a mother wound. It gets in there and yanks at your heart strings until they feel shredded. until you feel bare at your core. Right now it all feels overwhelming. I stayed at my college friend Meg’s place last night. She has a beautiful garden apartment in park slope. she only has a single bed so I slept in it and she took the couch. I kind of love that she has a single bed. It’s like, F you, men! I feel so utterly single. I don’t know if I care. I’ve been hurt so many times, it just doesn’t seem worth it anymore.