Conversations with my Spirit Guide

How these conversations unfold.

Me: um, ok what do I want to know....
Me: Is my name Rachel
Roger: Rolls his eyes and laughs...yes your name is Rachel
Me: Ok, am I twelve
Roger: Obviously...no.
Me: Why isnt the pendulum moving?
Roger: can you not hear me?
Me: I can hear you...
Roger: Then why does it need to move?
Me: But I need proof that you are there...
Roger: um....can you hear me still?
Me: Yes
Roger: *Face Palm* Ok......
Roger: Ask something else..
Me: Ok...um.....um......ummmmmmmmm
Me: Ok...what is your favorite color?
Roger: Really? Purple and Brown
Me: the pendulum didnt move
Roger: no it did not.
Me: Ok...um..will I stay at Brookdale?
Roger: Until when?
Me: idk I guess, stay until I have something else...
Roger: Is that what you want?
Me:..um...yes...
Roger: then that is what it will be *chuckling*
Roger: Ask me something else....something that you want to know, but dont have the answer for..
Me: Will I get the job at Suncrest...
Roger: *Gives me the side eye and starts doing pushups...
Me: When will I meet someone?
Roger: *Sits back down* When you are ready..
Me: When is that?
Roger: Be ready now....
Me: It doesnt feel right....
Roger: That is where we will start...
Me: Ok..........Well there is that panic attack feeling that won't go away..

Photo Credit: Photo by Jen Theodore on Unsplash

The Dreaded Ease of Discomfort

I sat down in front of the TV. Unsolved Mysteries was about to start. Every week Robert Stack would tell the world about another woman who was found dead in the woods, another child dragged from the park into a car, never to be seen again.
"This is it." I thought.
"I'm going to help find these killers."

"I am going to be a Criminal Profiler for the FBI." I announced to no one in particular.

I read every book I could find about serial killers, criminal profiling, I studied psychology, I bought a gun, I went on Ride-ALongs, I dated a guy whose uncle was a serial killer (and in prison). I trained, I ran, I did push-ups, sit-ups, I learned how to fight, how to break a neck, an arm, whatever I needed to.

I was ready.

Next step college. My gateway to freedom, my path to my dream. My downfall.

The first class I took, I failed. Doubt crept in like a thick fog, and settled in to stay.

I took another class, I passed. I took a few more. Time marched on faster than my expectations.

The weight of life pushed down on me. My gateway to freedom started to look like a dark abyss out in front of me.

I looked over and Fear was standing next to me.
"How long have you been standing there?" I asked.
"Long enough" Fear replied.

I am not meant to be an FBI agent, I am not smart enough, fast enough, educated enough. I dont have the right tools, right mindset, right degree.

Fear stood there with a boombox on his shoulder and played this on repeat. It echoed through the fog of doubt, and amplified the dark abyss.

I stood at the crossroads of FBI and anything else. My heart hurt, my soul ached. I took a step towards anything else. I picked up my backpack of Dread. It was almost to heavy to bear. I looked down at my feet. One slow step at a time. Five hundred steps, a thousand.

As I walked through life, life continued to happen. I look behind me as I walk. Fear is next to me, the fog of doubt surrounds me if I pause for too long, the backpack of Dread is heavy. Around my ankles I now have tied to me Regret and Guilt. I dont even remember when they latched on to me. But we have been walking together for many, many miles now.

I am tired. I tell Fear to go away. I yell at him.  I try to run. Dread is too heavy. I try to put the backpack down, but when I stop moving, the fog of Doubt envelopes me. I cant see. All I can hear is Fears boombox on repeat. I start walking again. The comfort of the rhythm. Guilt and Regret dragging along. Fears sounds start to sound normal. The fog becomes comforting like a blanket, and the backpack makes me feel grounded.

Time continues to march on. My expectations lay shattered like glass all around me. I just keep walking.

The Power

I recently came to an epiphany. A paused moment in time, a second of clarity where I can see everything behind me and in front of me. I need to own the power that I had before. Own it, not relive it. Own it, not redo it. Own it, not accept at face value. I dont want to put this power back on, like an old coat that smells of mold and moth balls. I need to own it, like a vase that you retrieve from the pawn shop. But this time you actually use it to put flowers in; instead of using it as a puke bucket. I need to own the power that I had before. Before I felt used and cheapened. Before I gave away my power because I didn't know I was giving it away. I didn't even know it was something to have. It was an unbridled power that was seeming to harm myself and other people. I was stumbling through time, carelessly abusing what I had to offer. I didn't understand the wounds I was carving, or how I was changing my own timeline. I didnt understand how I was creating the walls I was building. I allowed myself to become broken.  I couldn't rid myself of this power. I convinced myself that this power that I had would be enough to convince someone of the beauty of my soul. And the men that loved this power would eventually love the rest of me. I was wrong. This took me a long time to learn. I tried to shed the power, I ignored it, refused to use it, pretended that it didn't exist. I tried to believe that if the power was no longer there and all that was left was my soul, that the man I had invested my time in would fall in love with me. I was wrong. I know things unfolded for reasons beyond the simplicity of power or no power.

I know now that I need my power. I need to learn to control it and harness it. I need to cultivate the power within myself. I need to have faith that  I will see through the men that simply want the power and nothing else I have to offer.

The value of me

The struggle is real. How do I sit here and watch my boys suffer because I want happiness? I am struggling to believe that I have value. To be told that that I am worthless because I don't complete enough tasks. I don't do enough things to make the other person feel like they don't have to do anything.

The struggle is real.

 When two people hold different beliefs their worlds will never fit together. One person believes that to have someone show them love is for that person to do everything (clean, cook, plan, organize, etc) for them. While the other person believes that to have someone show them love is for that person to share burdens and tasks, explore ideas, have conversations, build each other up.

It amazes me that even though I am aware of the manipulation, I cant seem to keep myself from getting entangled in it unless I am separate from it. I know the words that are spoken are not true, yet my heart hurts and  I question my own measurement of value in the face of adversity. I can only hope that as I reach for the sky and pull myself out of this hole, I can learn enough to not put myself back in the hole again.

I know I have value. My value is not measured in the tasks I complete. I know this. My value is, or should be measured by my ability to love, my compassion for others, my integrity, my perseverance. I might not be a great housekeeper. In fact; I know this. I do my best. I measure my best against my previous best. I always try to improve the person I am today.

Not lately. Not for the last year. I lost my strength. The struggle against the mental warfare is real. I have allowed myself to be mentally reduced to nothing. Why? I don't know. The imagined greater good. The happiness of others. At some point my children's "happiness" was measured as more important. That is ultimately not what I want them to learn. I don't want them to think that someone else's happiness measures higher than their own. We measure our happiness against our previous happiness. (or at least we should). They have not benefited from the last year of their "happiness".

I will heal. I will become the woman I imagine in my head. I will not allow anyone else to devalue me. I am tired of fighting against the mind games. I need to regain my strength. I don't know how. I am mentally exhausted. I will find my way, find my strength. I will not allow the coldness I feel in my heart to overrun me.