Dear...

Dear, oh dear.

There were times where I wanted to hurl my pain at you, cut your face to pieces and call you Bitch until the cows came home. Times where I wanted nothing more than for you to vanish into depths of hurt, to satisfy my insecure withering self. Somehow I believed it would relieve me of my pain - like a dose of an addiction, it only relieved me of my craving for a moment...


The real depth of my pain: I hurt because I felt I was denied my right to love you. You - a woman who my man chose to share secret moments with. A woman who I therefore believed subtracted from my own radiance, beauty and worth.


There are many of you. Faces and names vanish into a list of confessions which clawed at my chest and the truth becomes evident - we are many facets of one giant story which speaks of what it is to be human. We rise, we fall, we stumble. We fuck up, we fail, we try again.

I’ve expired my grief and risen, blossoming brighter. I’ve connected stronger to myself than ever before and counted every blessing that the shadows swept to my feet. I now face a deep calling. A challenge stands before me which blares my life purpose through a megaphone. A challenge to step into expansion so great that I am able to whole-heartedly love you.



Genuinely, truly, love...

 

I’ve dreamed for many days of being connected and in service to women. To guide women back to themselves, their truths, their power. I so deeply long for union and community between women and my choice to suffer only ever inflicted a disservice towards that yearning.

The gathering of women is a powerful force. Through connection we rise, we create, we serve and we heal.

Lady, here I sit typing. Wishing so dearly that I can find the courage to look you in the eyes with care, with concern, with my truth. With my heart open - connecting to yours. I sincerely wish...

“ La, la, la… Love is the answer” they say... Fuck, though! I hated you. What when we’re tender? What when we’re scared? Vulnerability is displayed often online, but how legitimate is the action which follows?


When I chose to contract in thoughts of you, I denied myself the resilience of my soul. When I wished to bring you down to make myself seemingly higher, it was out of fear and shame. When I allowed my own damaged being to be projected onto your broken and beautiful self, I saw my own scars reflected and attempted to plaster that shit over with “quick fix” emotion so hard.

You know when make-up can’t hide spots, but the concealer and foundation is caked on still? It was like I had a gaping puss-filled spot in my self-worth which I was trying to fill in with dirt. It didn’t work.

I know you are beautiful and radiant. I know you are kind, talented and ferocious. I know you fuck up and hurt, I know you let careless self-indulgence pave the way to glorious magickal moments, and in-the-dark confusion too. I know that you want connection, acceptance, warm embrace. I know you didn’t mean to cause hurt...

Just like me. Just like my women.


I believe the only thing preventing us from looking each other in the eye and acknowledging the ugly truths and the undeniable beauty of ourselves as well as every woman we stand before is fear. Fear of inadequacy, fear of neglect, fear of change.  

I have feared. I am ready to push through it now...

And so I take my power into my own hands, I choose my choice and extend to you my love.

My heart, to yours.

Be blessed, Beauty.

Yana.