HeLlO mY NaMe iS...

HeLlO mY NaMe iS...

Tuesday, March 29, 2016

For Z.Walker

The way she moved was like the curling waves of a fire.
Her eyes like the color of a pale green river.
She was the fairy you discovered while you were alone in the deep, dark forest. A mythical being.
Her voice ran through you like warm electricity.
Her laughter like an echo underwater.
She was unearthly. She was meant to BE Love to others...
And then to disappear. Into the paradise she came from.
Scattered stars for all the world to see and admire. To wonder who we are and where we came from.
I don't imagine her body washed up on shore...
I feel the love she planted inside me. Her hair blowing in the wind as she sings. Her quiet thoughts drifting along the lake water. That is how I chose to remember her.
I love you. I miss you. And I carry a piece of you, everywhere I go.


Follow Me!

The threat of suicide is NOT a joke!

Back in August of 2013, my father called me, around 11:15pm, to tell me his final goodbye.
He had his gun and was sobbing to me that he "couldn't do it anymore.
"I'm going to disappear forever."
To me, he sounded like a totally different man. In fact, he didn't sound like a man at all! He sounded like a teenage boy. His teenage self.
I tried to get him to tell me where he was at and he refused. I tried my hardest to talk him out of it. But he wouldn't listen. He then said, "love you" and hung up. Not even a goodbye.
I called him over and over again, in a shaken panic, and he didn't pick up.
"That's it." I though to myself.
I knew he had finally killed himself. THIS was it. How my father died.
In a panic, I called the police to try and find him. I told them what he had told me over the phone, the description of his vehicle, and what he looked like. I told them he had a gun with him.
They told me they would call me as soon as they got word of his whereabouts.
About an hour later, the police called me back and told me that he was just fine.
He was in the basement at work, sitting in a chair, on Facebook.

I forgot to mention, he wanted to kill himself because his girlfriend found out he cheated on her with my step-mom.

That full hour that I waited for the police, I begged and pleaded to his girlfriend to call him and tell him to not go through with it. That he had people who cared about him.

She went on to tell me, "I hope he does shoot himself."

My step-mom wouldn't answer me either.

When the police told me that he was A-Okay, my dad Facebook messaged me saying that "he wasn't going to kill himself, and that his girlfriend called to talk to him, and they were okay now."
His girlfriend also messaged me and said "not to worry because they were okay now."

Well, great. I'm glad you guys are all good.

When I had tried to talk my dad out of killing himself, and I had mentioned that he had kids who loved him and needed him here, and when I told him that I love him and that I think he's a great dad, when I was crying over the phone to him about how much I loved him, he didn't care.
But as soon as his short-term girlfriend called him, he answered her call, and listened to her say how much she loves and misses him. He listened to her.

I had not slept that night, and in the morning when when I started to go through a depersonalization-derealization episode that eventually progressed into a psychotic episode, I somehow drove myself to the hospital (which wasn't the safest thing to do).
I was yelling at everybody in the room and telling them I needed help and I needed that help RIGHT NOW. One of the ladies took me aside and asked me what was going on.
I told her that my dad threatened suicide. I was dead set on the idea that I wasn't really here; that there were things controlling my movements and speech, and that there were people following me and people hiding in the trees, and those people were the directors of my life, because they had written out my life. I was a book.
I was crying, shaking, and losing my mind.
She asked if he had done this before, and I told her that he had and that he also attempted suicide in front of me when I was six.
She held me while I cried. Rocked me in her arms like a baby.
She then prescribed me Wellbutrin. They set me up with a therapist and a psychiatrist, and college was just around the corner. This was my second attempt at community college. And I didn't feel okay.

I wasn't talking to my father, my step-mom, or his stupid fucking girlfriend.
The first couple weeks of college seemed to be going smoothly and the meds were starting to kick in. I was going to all of my classes and doing what was asked for each class. I was still trying to heal from what had happened a few week ago, but my anxiety and my severe problem with being around so many people in my classes, it was hard.
I told myself this was the last time. I was done with my father.

Unfortunately, his short-term girlfriend came out here with her four year old daughter, and they got a house together.

They came around. I met her. And went on pretending that everything was okay.
I felt like maybe if I pretended I was okay, maybe eventually I would just be okay.
So I stopped taking my meds after about a month and a half.
I stopped going to therapy because I had heard all of this before from every other professional person I "got help" from.
I was all better!

Boy, was I wrong.

I became way more depressed. My anxiety got so bad that I couldn't be inside the grocery store for more than two minutes before I would have a panic attack.

Obviously I left college again. And I locked myself away in the house for a long time. I didn't understand at the time, that going off your meds like that, was not okay to do. That you need to wean yourself off. That all these intensified feelings were because my brain was getting all these great new serotonin stuff and then I deprived it just like that. Cold turkey.
That was not okay. And I paid the price.
I neglected myself. I hated myself for giving in to my dad again. For failing college for the second time. For not being able to be around people!
Who was I? What was happening to me?
This wasn't me.
After a couple months of his girlfriend living here, she finally left.

I haven't talked to her since.

My dad got back together with my step-mom.

I just didn't care anymore about whatever my dad was doing. Everything is temporary with him.

I focused on healing myself. Finding ways to separate myself from them all.
I started back up on Wellbutrin and spent a lot of time writing and figuring out what I wanted to do with my life.
At this point, the relationship I had with my father was pretty one-dimensional. I had no feelings for him anymore. It was completely superficial. Whenever I was around him, to me he was just a ghost. And to be honest those feelings haven't changed much since then.

Whenever my dad tells me things like "I love you" or "you make my Soul smile" or "you mean the world to me, sagey" it honestly angers me, and I have nothing to say to him. Because to me, when you love your child, when you feel like your child is the only thing that matters in the world, you don't go and try to kill yourself, or threaten to kill yourself.

When you're six years old, staring into your dying fathers eyes and he tells you, "I'm sorry" as he falls into unconsciousness, he knew he was dying. And what's worse, he didn't care that I watched him. That "sorry" was his goodbye.

To this day, my father has still not admitted what he did. He has an excuse. And he hasn't apologized.

A few months being on antidepressants, focusing on myself, going through an ovarian cyst removal surgery in October of 2013, and only six months later, getting pregnant, I was on my own way of starting my own life.

I did a lot of intense, magical, healing meditation. Cleansing my body. Detoxifying my mind. I weaned myself off of my meds a couple months before I became pregnant, and I really hadn't felt so good in so long.
I got a job and was really working hard on my social anxieties. I wanted to have friendships with people! Not hide myself away. Plus, now I was going to be a mom! I was stoked.

During the whole pregnancy, I spent my time really just wanting to be positive and happy. To look at life from another angle. To heal myself from within so that my baby would be able to count on me for anything. To look up to me. I was already so in love with this baby inside me.
I promised I was going to take care of myself and that I was going to be an amazing mother. There was no way in hell I was ever going to make my child feel the way I did growing up.
I had an amazing, magical time being pregnant.

When I gave birth, things were amazing. But as time passed, I was not doing so well.
I had severe postpartum anxiety and I was becoming extremely depressed. I explain in detail, why all of this occurred and you can read that in one of my previous posts: Why I Only Want One Child.

I finally got back on Wellbutrin. I felt disappointed in myself for awhile, because I wanted to be strong enough to not have to rely on prescription medication. I felt weak. I really thought I was strong enough.

Of course that was the depression talking.

I needed to stop being so down on myself!
Being on this medication was OKAY!!
Sometimes, you just need a little extra help. And for me, this medication was that help. I am thankful for it!

Of course I would like, one day, to not have to rely on prescription drugs, to absolutely heal myself. But that will take time. I have lots to work on myself. But I'm taking this healing path, one day at a time. Not stressing so much on the future. Not being so damn hard on myself. And finding love in everything. Even the bullshit.

I do believe that some prescription medications help people. Whether it's for pain or emotions.
Are there doctors out there who prescribe the wrong drugs? Yes! Who prescribe too many drugs? Yes! Are there people out there who don't really need this medications yet doctors prescribe them to them anyway because they are greedy monsters? Of course!
And all of the above, I do not agree with.
I think a lot of medications only create more issues after an extended amount of time. I even thought at one point in time, that my medication was the reason for my ovarian cysts, and not being able to conceive a child! Your mind and body are not meant to overuse these medications. That's why they eventually stop taking effect.
I feel like there are much healthier ways in healing your body and mind.
Meditation for one, is so amazing. And I feel it not only heals you from the inside out, but it draws positivity into your life.
Yoga as well! Not only is it a magical exercise (yes, yoga is one tough bitch), but exercise itself is so powerful to and key to a healthy body and mind.

Just changing your way of thinking or reacting to things, makes a huge difference. When you fall into a negative pattern of thinking, it's so easy to get stuck in that thick, depressing, quicksand.
For me, being stuck in that quicksand, I really needed a rope to help pull me out.
This medication is that rope! Because without that rope, I'd still be stuck in the quicksand.
Now that I'm out of the quicksand, I'm working on making that quicksand disappear altogether. And until I feel secure on my own, I embrace this Wellbutrin.
And for all you out there who think that being on medications makes you less of a person, makes you weak, please, please get that thought out of your mind!
If anything, you are stronger! Because you made the decision to help yourself instead of letting it take over your body or mind. You took control! And that is a powerful thing to do.

I hope that one day, we won't have to rely on these drugs. That one day, if we're feeling down or angry, we can go outside and walk around and breathe in the fresh air around us. And that walk alone, will bring that negative mood, those negative feelings, to the ground. Throw that shit in the quicksand and let it disappear forever. We are in control of our own thoughts and feelings. They are not in control of us. Embrace your medications and thank them for that boost of help they give you. And work on bettering yourself because you truly deserve it. You deserve to be healthy and happy! Free from those pills! We can do it!

My happy pills continue to make me happy. Eventually, I'm going to be able to just BE happy. Just because! There are THINGS I wanna do! I have plans for life. I know where I want to go, what I want to do. And I am learning along the way...healing along the way.

One of the most inspirational women I watch on Youtube, is the lovely lady, Adina Rivers.
I started watching her videos about a year ago when I was going through my darkness. I had a complete loss of libido, no motivation to heal myself, I thought I was broken, and this was it.
But I found her and she has helped me tremendously this past year.
Adina, if you're out there, I want to thank you for everything you do for all these people. I want to thank you for your presence in this world. We need more people out there like you. I love you, girl!

Adina has taught me, shown me, inspired me to heal myself. And to know that it is possible to do and eventually, without these silly pills. I can do it! WE can do it.

If you'd like, you should check out one of my most favorite videos of Adina's right here. I'm sure you'll find her a great inspiration and a magical being.

Anyway, that's all for now! Stay tuned!

BE happy!

Much Love,

Monday, March 28, 2016

YOU Mean The World To Me!

Follow Me!

Be open with your children! And more so, Be Honest!

One day when David is older, he's going to see the scars on my wrists and ask what happened.
And simply, I'm going to tell him the truth.

See, with me, I feel like there isn't really a need to bring up "adult" things with a child unless they, themselves, ask you. But, when they do, I feel like they are going to want the most honest answer you can give them! So, BE HONEST!

M and I sorta have conflicting thoughts about this though...like, for instance, when David grows up and asks THE question: How did you make me? or, Where did I come from?

For me, I'm going to be straight up about it! No, that doesn't mean getting dirty about it, but being straight up, that's KEY!

For M, it's a little more complicated for him. It's a personal thing, a private thing, that he feels kids shouldn't worry about. But that's the thing! Kids don't necessarily worry about it, but they wonder! They are curious beings. They should be!

I'm going to have plenty of those questions coming at me as David grows and learns, expands his mind. And yes, one which I never really considered at the time: My scars.

I was selfish. I was cruel. I was not loving to my own body. And whenever I cut into my flesh, the thought never popped into my head about my future child seeing these scars. Because that's how the world is in a young child's mind: The world is small and only revolves around them.
No consequences. But as they grow, they can see the world expanding. What?! You mean there's CONSEQUENCES? And that is a scary thing to some people! Why do you think some people still have that "all-about-me" mentality? Their world was never expanded. They simply don't want consequences.

I regret doing harm to my body. I fully believe that starving myself at such a young age, did some damage to my organs, my fertility, my young, growing mind!

I just plain old, did-not-like-myself-one-bit. So I attempted to destroy that body.

Well now, as a twenty-one year old, I pay the consequences. When I go to pay at the cash register, and the cashier sees my wrists as she tries to look away, pretending not to notice. When I write a paper, and the student next to me makes fun of my scars. When I get tan, but the scars stay the same color, appearing even brighter than before. I wish that these scars would fully disappear, but it's been many years, and they have faded to their capacity.

Cutting at the time, was a great release. I loved it. I loved watching my blood seep out, and I loved the way they burned in the shower. At one time, I was proud of my scars. As I grew older, I started to feel ashamed, guilty. Why did I do this to my body? How could I? This body was a gift to my soul, and I trashed it with razor blades and drugs and restricted it of food. That was evil. I was evil.

When I became aware that I wanted to have a baby, those feelings of guilt worsened. I felt stupid for ever putting my family through that. Them worrying about my health like that.
I imagined my own son in that situation and it made me feel sick to think of razor-blades running across his delicate, beautiful skin. Of his small body becoming thinner because he restricted food.
Him coming home high every day. Wanting to burn the world.

That was one of the first realizations about how I wanted to make sure David didn't hate himself. That he didn't want to watch the world burn. Because life is fucking amazing! It's beautiful. And yes, sometimes life really fucking hurts.....but isn't that part of the beauty in it?

I have something to show of myself for David when the time comes. My scars are a lesson. A story.

He will ask me, and I will say, that Mommy didn't realize at the time, that life was beautiful, and that she had a reason for being brought here into this world. Yes, they hurt, and I fully regret hurting my own body, because my body was a gift to my soul. But they are here to stay. They are apart of who I am, and that is a lesson I learned, long after they became apart of me.

I have seen scars on my own little sister, who is now sixteen, and it hurts my heart to see that she has felt that same pain. That she has felt those same thoughts in her mind. And what's worse, is that there are SO many people out there who are in that same exact position. No one should ever want to die, and sadly, people everyday, do.


When my dad found out I had been cutting myself, my siblings and I were hanging outside playing. It was the summer of 7th grade. He came out with a giant knife in his hand, and in front of my baby sister who was only seven years old, he screamed and said, "how would you like it if I stood here and cut my wrists with this blade?!" He ran the blade, backwards, over his right wrist. Unwarranted.
My sister screamed and cried and I begged for my dad to stop. Eventually he went back inside and that was that.

Of course, that was not the right thing to do. And it didn't help the situation. It didn't help how I felt. And it brought back flashbacks of his first attempted suicide.
I held my sister and we went on a walk together.

My dad has never really been mentally stable, as you probably have noticed from previous posts.
He has told me things I never wanted to know about his life. I was never curious about them. I never asked. And to me, it feels like a violation of my mind. Like he plucked something out of his head and planted it directly in my mind. Things that scare me. Things that make me sad. That is not okay.

We all have scars. Sometimes physical ones. But we all have our own scars deep down inside. Our own stories, our own lessons. And it's okay to talk about those scars with your children, as long as they want to know. I'm learning to be more open, not just with myself, but with others, people I know. Because when you have children, you have to be open. That's how your kid gets to know you. Know the world. Because they see the world inside you. Your experiences, your stories, your thoughts, all matter to your child.

I wish I would have not been such a selfish young girl. But I was more damaged than I thought and I didn't know that at the time. I didn't understand the world. I didn't understand myself.

If you're reading this and have been where I've been, I want to tell you, Thank You. I want to tell you that I Love You. And that I'm glad you're here and are finding ways to heal yourself. Your own healing path. For me, writing is my healing path. Writing and meditating, swimming in the lake, hiking, and talking with the people I love.

If you're reading this and you're not quite on the healing path, don't give up. It's not far away. You belong here. You're beautiful inside and out. Don't hurt your body! It wants to be apart of you. It was made for YOU! And one day, if not now, someone is going to tell you that you mean the world to them.

Everything matters.

I have my hard days, as everyone does! But I have to tell myself on these bad days, that I need to slow down. Take it easy girl! These bad moments don't nearly equal the amount of good, magical moments I have! I find myself thinking negatively ALL THE TIME. But you can't do that! Whenever you have a negative thought on your mind, just stop! And change that negativity into something positive!
Damn, my stomach's been hurting all day long, but hey, at least I'm fucking ALIVE!

Shit, I only have $2.68 in the bank! But I'm good! I don't need anything....I have food, water, family, and a bed to sleep in.

I'm on the path of Love right now. Transforming all my negativity into positivity. Instead of getting angry at someone who did something terrible, I send my love out to them. Because THOSE are the people that need it most!
I'm learning to be patient, still! Which is very hard for me. But you gotta try, right?

I am by no means, at the greatest in which I would like to become. I am not completely healed. And who knows, maybe there will be parts of me that just won't heal. But as long as I AM healing, that is all that matters.

Healing myself is key right now, because I gotta be as strong as I can be. So I can be there 110% for my boy. My step-kids, M.! And maybe one day, David will look up to me and smile his goofy smile and say, "Momma, I'm feeling sorta down..." And I'll know exactly how to make him feel better.

Stay Strong. Be Positive. Love Fully. Embrace Yourself.

Friday, March 25, 2016

A Twenty-One Year Old Step-Mom

Follow Me!

There's NO such thing as too much love...

 Before I became David's mother, I became a step-mother to two little kids: A and K, but I didn't know that at the time.
Years later, A, is now twelve years old and I met him when he was only seven.
K, his big sister was just barely nine. She's now thirteen going on twenty-five.
And me, I was only seventeen years old, a senior in high school.

I came at a very strange time in their lives.
Their mom was still living at the house, even though she and M had been broken up for a few months.
Things were not going well, and the kids didn't really know it at the time.

The first day I met their mother was during a Christmas dinner in 2011.
She had red hair, and blue eyes and wore all black. She had this look on her face like a teenager usually does when she's somewhere she doesn't want to be.
She was pretty. Really pretty. But she didn't strike up conversation with anyone.
She made me feel very uncomfortable.
That feeling of uneasiness didn't go away for years.

I watched A and K open their Christmas presents and couldn't help but to giggle along with them.
These kids were a trip. High energy, but serious demeanor. Like they knew shit you didn't know.
I liked them. A lot. And to me, that was weird because I usually was very awkward around kids. I never even wanted kids when I grew up!
But there was something different about them...

J, their mom, seemed to be eyeing me the whole night. Steam coming out of her ears.
How DARE I talk to HER children!

During dinner I sat next M and he sat next to her. And what's funny about this moment is this was THE moment both M and I sparked. We ignited the flame. Sitting there, eating Christmas dinner next to his ex.
We both got up from the couch and walked into his parents kitchen. I was watching him clean off his plate in the sink and he noticed.
I'm sure we both knew what had happened and what we were both thinking.
I wanted to grab his beautiful face right there and devour those perfect, heart-shaped lips.

A couple days later, I brought over my homemade toffee as a thank-you to him and his family. 
J wasn't home yet and it was just me, him, and his kids in the kitchen. They thanked me for the toffee and put stickers all over me. 
As he walked me outside, he told me he needed to talk to me about "something."
I knew what he was going to say, but I hoped to god he wouldn't.
That was when J walked up and said sarcastically, "Oh, look! It's Sage!"
She walked right past me and that was that.
That was the moment I KNEW I didn't like her. She was very disrespectful, very rude.
He apologized to me for her attitude and hugged me warily. But he looked in my eyes with sadness, as if he was saying goodbye to me forever. I felt my heart crack, right down the the middle, I did not have a good feeling about this  "something," and I walked away, covered in stickers.

That next night was the first time he cupped my chin in his left hand, looked into my eyes the way I always wanted him to, pulled me closer to him, and sweetly kissed my hungry, eager mouth.
I saw shooting stars and fireworks behind my eyelids.

"So much for only being friends..." I told him.

"I don't know what it is about you, Sage..." He said quietly. "But there's something inside of me that NEEDS you. That always wants you to be right next to me. I don't ever want to be apart from you. Is that normal?" He told me, questioning.

I pondered. Stared at him with wonder. And then I told him:

"Sometimes, things just can't be explained. And no matter the circumstances, the conflicting thoughts in your head, those feelings linger. Always. And nothing can stop that."

We looked at each other. He still held me close.

What were we doing? What were we getting ourselves into?

Driving home that night, I thought about those things.
Was I ready to bring on what M carried with him?
I wasn't even graduated yet!
Would his kids like me?
What about his ex?
His mom and dad! His brother!

And then I remembered what I had told him. That no matter the circumstances and conflicting thoughts in your head, those feelings will always linger.

Honestly, I didn't know if I was ready or not.
I didn't know what was going to happen.
But something inside me told me that THAT feeling I felt, was stronger than anything else in the Universe. That no matter what, I, WE, would make it through. We were going to be okay.
And that was my gut feeling. My Realist.

I always thought that my Brain was the Pessimist; my Heart, the Optimist, and my Gut, the Realist.
I ALWAYS trust my Realist.
So......we went for it. All in. 
Well, sorta....
We obviously had to keep it on the down-low. Everyone thought I was nineteen. His WHOLE family.
And MY family had absolutely NO idea about him for over a year.
We worked at the same casino, so that was also a huge no-no over there.

We would always travel together. I had never really been to anywhere in California besides Tahoe and San Francisco. So in order to spend time together where we weren't surrounded by these small-town people we both knew, we'd go out of town for a few hours. Drive two hours to Placerville, drive an hour to Reno. Drive an hour to Truckee, three hours to Jackson and Volcano.
All these years visiting Tahoe and now living there for over a year, I had never even seen the other side of the lake! So going to Tahoe City for the first time was a blast!
We had our special spots around South Shore that we knew no one would see us. It's not like we were doing naughty things, but we did want our privacy for sure!
We had SO MUCH FUN together. More fun that I'd ever had in my life.
We constantly laughed. There was never time where we weren't smiling.....well, except for when we kissed.
We kissed, a LOT! He held my hand a LOT! He was the sweetest thing to ever come into my life.

Of course, things were tough. I was still in high school and living with my psycho father.
I skipped prom because I thought prom was cliche and wanted to spend time with M and his kids.
Eventually, J was paid to move out and she wasn't really apart of the picture for a little while.

It wasn't until M took me in after my dad kicked me out, that things started to become....really, really hard. Things got tense.

I was having a blast with the kids. Him and his kids were my LIFE! I fell in love so fast with them, I didn't even think it was possible to love someone else's children that way. Oh, but it is, indeed...
They saw their mom on the weekends, while she wasted her money away on alcohol with her brother.
The kids would come back complaining about how there were beer cans all over the house and no food. M would buy food for them from then on, whenever they would go over there. 
Eventually, they didn't want to go over there anymore.
It was just me, M, A, and K. We were a family!
Things were going smoother than I thought.

We had a good few months together. K adored me. She would ask when M and I were going to make a baby sister. "I really want a baby sister. I hate my brother!" She'd say. We'd laugh.
I never really thought about having a baby with M. I guess I just considered his kids my kids. What's mine is yours and what's yours is mine, right?

The Nasty, Green Monster took over J and things became an awkward competition. Except, for everyone else, nobody really cared. The more love for the kids, the better!
She met a guy and they both somehow weaseled their way into the kids' lives. And worse, their growing minds.
The kids were sleeping over there more often, and when they came back, they would act strange and off beat. They were more tired, they smiled less. Talked less. They were robots. Exhausted robots.

One day we invited J to come with us to the beach. She could hang out with her kids and us and it would be a good time. The whole time she sat on the sand, smoking cigarettes, watching us all play in the water.

"K is coming with us for the fourth of July." She told us.

"What? Why? I wanna go with Daddy and Sagey to North Shore!!!"

I wanna go with Daddy and Sagey.

I will always remember when she said that.

And I will always remember that THAT was the moment that set J off into her sabotaging world.

Our world was lit on fire.

There were people in our lives that we trusted when we really shouldn't have. Family members talked. About M and I. And that, who we were together, was "not right." We were "wrong." We were "bad people."
I was told that I was an empty waste of space, and an excuse for a human being who didn't deserve to live. I was also told that I was a horrible mother and that I should never have children.
If only people on the outside could really SEE the truth. Of course I KNEW what it looked like from the outside. I just hoped to god it would never be the kids who saw it that way. And for grown-ass adults to tell them so...
Eventually, A gave in and moved out and into his mom's who was now living with her boyfriend four miles away. The boyfriend, (let's call him Weasel), had a nice paying job. A great one actually. And he flaunted it. He was buying the kids expensive things, left and right. Weasel was buying their affection. And it worked!
Due to all the shit talking about M and I, and the nice expensive toys that were bought, now both the kids were Team J and Weasel! Since when were there teams?!
For all A and K knew, WE were demons. They officially hated us.
They didn't even talk to us. For a year.....they left us in the dark.

Sadly, this would not be the only time this would happen.

After awhile with both the kids living there, J sapped up to me and wanted to be my "best friend."
I felt really uncomfortable with the idea, so did M, but I thought that it would make the kids happy if they saw that we were all getting along with each other.

Cue the time J and I were "best friends!"

I was going over there almost every day. Since neither of us were working at the time, we literally just hung out together.
Except her being the alcoholic she was, all she wanted to do was drink. And I mean D-R-I-N-K.
I knew it made the kids uncomfortable, so I drank a substantial amount less than their mother.
Weasel would always be "around" somewhere. Not hanging out with any of us. It was a weird environment.
When J would get wasted, there would always be a point where I thought she was trying to hook up with me. She'd always try to kiss me and I'd turn my face away so she'd end up kissing my cheek or neck.
Don't get me wrong, I thought she was an attractive woman, but I was not attracted TO her.
After her "hitting-on-sage" stage is when she'd black out. I'd have to walk her back into the house and make sure she was okay.
All while her kids watched and made fun of her.
When K moved back into our house, she was a different person. She reminded me of, god forbid, her mother.
Eventually, my Realist told me that J was up to something else....and NOT trying to be my best friend.
And I knew that was the case when she found out a weakness of mine at the time, and used it against me. I was not "mentally stable enough" to take care of K. (mind you, J is the one who is not only an alcoholic, but a diagnosed bipolar type one). She also broke to K that M and I were engaged, when technically, it was just a Facebook status.
That was the second time K left us in the dark.
And that was the last I was J's Best Friend.

This period of time was our darkest. M became depressed. He was lost. And me, being the person I am, blamed all of this mess on myself. I told myself that if I had never come into the picture none of this would have happened. His kids would still be here where they belonged: in love with their father.
I ruined his life.
This type of thinking obviously didn't help M get through his depression.
And I realized that eventually.
I was in a funk and needed to snap out of it so that I could get M to see that eventually, everything was going to be okay. Things were going to get better. That we were stronger than that.

Time went on, we never saw the kids. They didn't ever want to talk to us.
And we got used to it. We waited. Patiently. Quietly. And focused on bettering ourselves and our lives.
We wanted to get out of South Lake.
I found a better job, and so did M! We were taking care of our bodies, our minds, and our souls. Everyday, we would do powerful meditations.
We went on juice fasts, we watched positive documentaries. Read lots of good books, and just focused on making our way out of here.

What we also ended up doing was creating a baby.

I fell pregnant mid-April. A week before my appointment with a fertility specialist, I saw two lines on the pregnancy test. It was definitely one of the happiest moments of my life.
I was stoked. WE were stoked.
The problem was, neither of us had talked to the kids in over a year.
What were we going to do?

We knew it wasn't going to go over well. At all. And we waited until we knew little David was in my tummy and here to stay to tell them. 
Our plan was to take the kids on a walk, just us four (well, five), and tell them the good news.
But J refused to let them talk to us alone. Whatever we needed to tell them could be told in front of J.
So, that's what we did. And it was absolutely horrific.
Screaming, yelling, crying, profanities, and storming out and speeding away was the outcome.

I was done. I was over all the bullshit. I didn't deserve this. None of us did! Me, M, or David. 
From the very beginning, all we did was love. Love the kids, love each other, love the family. And somewhere in the middle, people couldn't understand that there could never be too much love. That love was selfless, not selfish. They destroyed children's innocence. Took it right out of their souls. And rubbed it in our faces as if to teach us a lesson. (round of applause!)
Was this was being a step-mom was? Was this what being a parent was?
No. No! I thought.This was not going to be my life. Our life.
I looked down at my growing belly and said:

 "I love you. No matter what. I will never give up on you, and I will never use you or make you feel like you're worthless. You are my child. And I will protect you always. You are apart of me and don't deserve this disrespect. I'm so sorry."

I cried. But it was a cry that told me I was ready. Ready to stand up for myself and to take charge. I shook the day off of me and that was that.
It isn't me they have  problem with. It is themselves. They are unhappy with themselves, so they target the most vulnerable, the ones they envy.
No, it's not right. But it is what it is. You can't tell someone to tie their shoes if they don't want to.

My belly grew and grew, and with that, my love for this baby did too. M and I were fine. We expected this reaction from them all. And we moved on, and continued to better ourselves. Continued to stay strong. We got stronger than ever!

We got used to the idea of the kids not coming back. Yes, it was sad. But it was the ugly truth.

I got used to the idea that little David wasn't going to have the big brother and sister I thought he'd have. And eventually, I was okay with the idea. We would be fine. I knew we would.

I gave birth and life was glorious. Full. Magical. I was SO in love with David and I swore, the day I gave birth, I fell in love with M all over again.
I had never been so happy in my life.

This happiness lasted a good three months. And then, the next thing you know, J ditched her kids at Weasel's house and told us that we needed to pick them up because "they were going to be living with us now."
Boom. Just like that, the kids were back. And I was not okay. I didn't trust them anymore. Especially K.
I was constantly worried that they were going to hurt David. Or hurt me.
Not that they ever hurt me physically before, but I had been through enough emotional trauma with them already. And by this time, I wanted nothing to do with them. I felt like a horrible person.

What had happened to this deep love I had for these kids?

But in reality, they were used. Reused. Formed and re-formed into whatever these selfish people wanted them to be. They plucked their innocence out of their poor souls and put horrible thoughts into their brains. How could someone even think to do this to their own child?

So I very cautiously, let them back into my heart. Gave them what they had been needing all this time: Love.
I owned up to my lies about my age, and the "engagement." I apologized to K, especially. 
I had long conversations with them. I explained to them that my purpose in their lives, was not to be their mom, but to be someone in their life that cares about them, that loves them, and that I can be someone they can always come to. For absolutely anything. 
I tried my best to be there for them in any way they wanted me.
It felt like things were going good again.

After that long summer, when K moved back in with her mom, I felt immensely hurt. I felt used. I felt lied to. And I couldn't look at her the same way again. To me, she was just like her mom. And there was nothing left I could do to help her. She didn't want my love.

I was confused. I thought that I could be the step-parent my W was. How did he DO it?!
But our situation was so much different than theirs was. Even though their mother and my mother are almost the same. Their birthdays are even a few days apart! (gemini's!)

I started to feel like a let-down. Like I wasn't good enough for K. And I was in the middle of my depression and post-partum anxieties, among other things, and I was feeling lame. I loved my baby boy, I loved A, I loved M, but things seemed like they were slipping through my fingers. Time seemed like it was running out, and I was absolutely convinced I was going to die.

I stood strong. I had to! I was a mom now! 
I made sure A was okay. I made sure he knew how amazing he was, every day. I made sure he had someone to talk to. That he knew he was normal. That we all loved him.

I am currently out of my funk. M and I are still standing stronger, always putting our heads together to figure out the next step and to help each other out every step of the way. 
David and A have a special bond I really can't describe. Basically, they are completely obsessed with one another.

J eventually kicked her daughter out for K, supposedly, hitting her and stealing her money.
She said that if she even saw K's face, she was going to call the police or she was going to hurt her.
The next day, she called K apologizing and telling her she can  "come back home now."
She's welcome any time.
Obviously, K is safe here with us and she is currently not talking to her mom.

I think that when J ditched her kids the first time at Weasel's, A had an epiphany. He finally saw through all the bullshit. And I hope to god that this is K's epiphany.

All I can do is BE. I am just me. I LOVE the world. I CARE about people and things! I am the kind of person who thinks that rocks have feelings. I talk to trees and hug them and thank them. When I swim in the water, I feel like the water is embracing me, cleansing me.
So for these kids, MY step-kids, I'm going to continue to love them and care for them as I would my own son. Those trees that I hug. The rocks I roll around in my palm and try to listen to their thoughts. 

Eventually, they will grow up and see that I'm not such a bad person after all. I'm learning too ya know!

I may not have given birth to their bodies, but maybe I can be the one who gave birth to their souls. The person they are inside.

I'm learning every day. And part of that is feeling proud! Proud of who I am. 
These past four and a half years has been one-tough cookie....
I have never felt so many emotions than during these years being with M and going through our seemingly, constant struggles. But I am thankful for every ounce of it. The good, the bad, and the ugly. The disturbing, the jealousy, the rage, the sorrow, the pain, the guilt. Because I know that those moments I experience with these two kids, when they come to me to tell me something about their day at school, or they joke around, or thank me for dinner; when David laughs at his big brother and puts his arms up at him to be held....these moments are what makes it all worth it. It's what makes me proud to be a step-mom. And I can only imagine what the future hold for all of us. What grand moments await...

I'm not going to be that person who cares for them "behind-the-scenes" anymore. 
I'm going to be that woman I was when they were putting stickers on my sweater, the woman that KNEW we were going to be okay. 

I am going to be.....Sagey.

Wednesday, March 23, 2016

My DMT Experience: The Mother Inside of Me

Wanna share your Spirit Molecule experience? Send me an email! I'd love to hear from you!

In an earlier blog, I had mentioned that I had an amazing DMT experience a few years back.
If you don't know what DMT is, it stands for Dimethyltryptamine, and it is "psychodelic" compound of the tryptamine family. I'm not going to go into scientifics here, but if you're really interested, a good book to read about it is called, "DMT: The Spirit Molecule" By, Rick Strassman, M.D..
If you're not down with reading, you're in luck, because they turned that book into a great documentary under the same name.
It is a must read and see!

You're probably wondering WHY I'm going to share my DMT experience with you on a Mom-Blog, but it's quite simple really! I was able to see the Mother inside me...

DMT REALLY IS the Spirit Molecule. It takes you to a whole nother place. I'd like to think of it as a trip to the very core of your soul.
This is not some kind of acid trip! In fact, DMT only lasts for up to 15 minutes, when smoked. And that is completely fine.
My Spirit Molecule adventure transformed me in ways I didn't see possible. I saw colors I didn't know existed! And best of all, I came back from it, knowing there was something, someone inside me, making sure I was filled with nothing but Love and Light. She was my Soul Mother.

I don't want to get too far here without first telling you that I am no DMT expert. I am also not condoning the use of this Spirit Molecule. I am simply sharing my experience with you all, because it was one of the most beautiful things I ever experienced, and because it changed how I saw myself and the world around me. Even what death might be like. Sounds scary right? It is. But over anything else, it was inspiring. They say that when you're ready, the Spirit Molecule finds YOU! And that's exactly what happened with me.

My opportunity came along.
I was scared! But I knew that it was my time. It wanted me to see. And I felt that if It wanted me to see, It knew that I was ready....and I trusted that.

I had a girl friend there with me to supervise and to make sure I was okay during my 15 minutes.

My pipe was ready to go, I was ready to go, and off I went.

It didn't take long at all, five seconds at most, to be GONE in this new Universe.
I was flying, no, more like being slingshot through this infinite tunnel. Faster than the speed of light.
And the tunnel was filled with a kaleidoscope of colors. Colors of EXTREME intensity. Colors I'd never seen before in my life, and you could FEEL them. Loud, rupturing vibrations filled every cell in my body, I felt like I was going to break apart molecularly. And who knows, maybe I did.
The tunnel was beginning to expand out, open up more. And I was coming to a stop.
I was now in this kaleidoscope room. It felt amazing, all these colors. 
In this room, I was allowed to adjust my own frequencies to my chosing.
I adjusted carefully.
And then I felt like I was being carried, by some unknown invisible entity, further into this room. And I saw It.
This massive blue head.
Almost an exact replica of an Alex Grey painting in which I stumbled upon after my experience.
I'll place that image here:
I didn't know who this Blue Head might be. Was it God? Was this my inner self? Looking out at the world from those eyes?
I didn't have an answer, just what felt like a hug from whoever this invisible entity that was carrying me around.
She carried me into that Blue Head. And THIS is where it got emotional for me.
Inside this Massive Head Dome was absolutely stunning. It was the prettiest blue I'd ever seen. So calm, so instense, all at the same time. It literally made me want to cry. The feeling was such an intense happiness, it tickled every cell of my being.
I giggled, and the sound echoed throughout the Dome Head.
This Dome Head had eyes throughout every inch of itself. And when you looked through those eyes, you saw different parts of the world and of people.
I looked all around myself and that was when I discovered her: my Inner Child.
She was small. Blue. And curled up in a fetal position on the ground. She had what looked like an umbilical cord attached at the top of her head, that went straight to the top of the Dome Head.
Standing above her was my Soul Mother.
She was also blue! And we both had no hair, and looked more like a soft sculpture than a human being. There were no facial features. But for some reason, I was just aware of who these two beings were as if I'd know all along.
When I looked at my inner child, she gave me a feeling of sadness. Deep Sorrow.
It made me want to cry and hold her. Tell her everything is gonna be okay.
But my Soul Mother did that for me.
She put out her hands towards my Inner Child, and this bright, white, flowing energy came out of her palms, right into her.
This bright energy filled my Inner Child and it flowed up the umbilical cord into the top of the Dome Head.
The Inner Child was now beginning to raise up out of her fetal position and into a meditative pose.
My Soul Mother was still pouring out her energy.
I was now inside my Inner Child, and it that meditative pose I flexed my hands and pushed that white energy out of my fingers.
I was sitting at the top of this wildflower cliff. And this energy was coming out of me like a river into a waterfall. I could feel it. It was like hot, silky water. It felt amazing. And I was pouring it out into the world.
It felt so sensual!
My Soul Mother embraced me. A hug from the mother goddess herself.
My eyelids began to feel lighter and I knew my time was up. 
I was being slingshot back into Earth.
But it was okay. I was okay with that.
I felt nothing but love the entire time.
And I floated gently back into myself and my eyes opened to a curious friend sitting across from me.

"How long was I gone for?" I said to her.

"Eight minutes." She giggled.

Wow. Only eight minutes! It had felt like an eternity to me!
What the hell just happened to me? What did I just see?
That was real! I was there!
This wasn't like a vivid dream. This wasn't being high.
This wasn't tripping. 
This was real! I was portaled to another place, a place that knew who I was, inside and out.
What's weird is, actually being there made me recognize this place. But how?
I felt a sense of peace. For some reason, I knew that I was okay and I knew that I had a Soul Mother looking after me and my Inner Child. Healing her. Loving her.
Where had she come from? Had she always been with me?
I guess it seemed that I had more questions coming out of it than I did when I went in.

A couple years later, I was doing our daily meditation with M.
At the end of every sitting, we would each thank the Universe and put out positive thinking in return. We would also ask for one thing.
I always asked for the same thing: to be gifted a baby.
I would lay down with my eyes closed, and every time, I would feel that same Soul Mother crouching beside me. She would put her hands over my core, and put that same energy into me.

Not so long after that, I would find out that my hope and wish was granted.
To me, I feel like she and I merged into each other, a convergence, when I became pregnant. And I'm acting as that Soul Mother to my own child now. 

If David ever had an experience like I did, and he saw his Inner Child as wounded and hurt as mine was, I would feel like I failed to keep him safe from the evils of human kind.
I would feel as if I couldn't protect his innocence. The most pure part of a human being.

I'm going to put forth this beautiful light energy into him every day. Love him with all of my being. Every cell, every fiber, every thought.

I didn't know what to really take from my experience, and to be honest, I'm not so sure I do now, but I do know that I want my son to feel the way that Soul Mother made me feel. To see the world as I saw everything sounding me in That World. To feel intensely, every great thing.
And I find hope in knowing that there is something else out there. That this is not it! And we are not alone.
I wish that I had known these things when I was a little girl.
But I find comfort in knowing it now.

I can never look at someone the same. We may just be a human body, but there is SO much inside of us and SO much surrounding us and we don't even realize it. 
But I walk by each day and see that something inside of you. I know what surrounds you. So even in your darkest hour, keep in mind that you are only surrounded by nothing but beauty. And Love is embracing you always.
Ask to to heal that Inner Child. And step by step, day by day, it will happen. And your Soul Mother will thank you.

Sunday, March 20, 2016

Introductions, Daddy issues, Abuse, Controversy, and Love

There are three things you should never ignore: 
Abuse, Family, and Love

I haven't really introduced myself to you properly.

My name is Sage, I am 21, I live in South Lake Tahoe, California, and have been here since December 18th, 2010.

I have a love/hate relationship with this town. See, when I was a little girl, I would come up here every summer to see my father and my two little brothers and my little sister.
I LOVED Tahoe! It was beautiful! And watching the 4th of July fireworks on the lake was utterly stunning. The fireworks would fill the sky and reflect off of the big, open lake.
Everyone would cheer their "Ooh's" and "Ahh's" and I could hear someone playing the steel drum somewhere in the background. To see the wonder and amazement in my siblings eyes made me happier than I could imagine.
We spent everyday at the beach, eating, playing in the sand, diving for the best looking rocks, and swimming till our lips turned dark purple.
It was my favorite place in the whole world. I KNEW that when I grew up, I was going to live in Tahoe.

But when I turned 15, I wanted nothing to do with my father or the place that took him far away from me. I hated him. He abandoned me, showed me that I wasn't worth his life. Several times.
Besides, I already had the best dad I could ever ask for. W.
W was, IS, my real dad.

One year later, at 16 years old, I moved from the city to a little mountain town called South Lake Tahoe.
Here was my new "home."
I hated it. Absolutely HATED it. I was in the middle of my junior year of high school, I knew nobody, and all I had to bring me some comfort, was having my brothers and sister around me.
They were my savior!
However, I was not doing so well, mentally.
I was overflowing with anger and depression.
Except no one could see. So no one could help.

I was alone again, surrounded by people.

When my siblings left back to their mom's in Montana, things got worse.
My dad fell into his yearly Manic Depressive episode, and beat my step-mom. Once during Thanksgiving, next on Christmas Eve.
I was done, so I called the police from my school.
My dad grabbed his two pistols and left.
The swat team came to our house and searched for him with no luck. I hoped to God that they would find him and put him in prison forever. I never wanted to see him again.

Maybe I should back up a little.

In the summer of 2011, my dad found me a job at one of the casinos he worked at. I was going to be a hostess and cashier at the second floor restaurant. 8.25 an hour, .25 cent increase after a year.
I was stoked! My very first job!
I made a few good co-worker friends there. Mom's, college students, single, flirty dudes. It was fun.
But my anger and depression kept me from fully enjoying anything, let alone my JOB.
I went through another phase. I dyed my hair bright blue, dreaded my hair, and fucked off in school and work.

I was hanging out with a couple older dudes. Both were trying to screw me, and both took advantage of me. What was worse was that I continued seeing them.

Eventually I was called into school and was told I was failing all my classes and that I was going to have to take the year over, or make all my work up in less than four weeks before the school year ended. I was missing over 12 weeks worth of work.

I don't know exactly what happened, but something clicked in my mind and I knew I had to do what needed to be done.

I quit smoking weed for awhile so I could concentrate. The few friends I did have, left because they couldn't understand anyone who wasn't like them.
I stopped talking to those creepy men, and decided I was going to finish school so that I could get the fuck out of this shithole.

I finished my junior year and transferred to a better school that fit me.
I was still working at the same casino and got my .25 cent raise. And I was seeing somebody!
Things were looking up.

I met this really nice co-worker briefly over a cigarette. We rode the same bus together everyday. He was the I.T. guy and there was something inside him that I could see was there, but I couldn't quite figure it out. So we talked, a lot.

I found out a lot about I.T. guy. He was going through a hard time too. He was just 32, and his ex girlfriend and mother of his two kids, was still living in his house, drinking her life away. She was not being a mother. And he was done. He didn't want his children subjected to her psychotic behaviors and drunken stupors.
He was falling into a depression and didn't know what to do to help himself.

On Halloween when my boyfriend left me, the I.T. guy opened his ears for me. And I asked him to get some coffee with me sometime at my favorite bagel shop.

That day was the first time we hung out outside of work and the bus. When I saw him, he was posted up against the wall, smoking his cigarette like a James Dean poster. Something happened inside me that day.

I got into yet another horrible "relationship." It didn't last long. This is during the same time all the father drama was going on. I was talking with the I.T. guy every single day. We would sit at the beach together, freezing our asses off, smoking cigarettes and talking about life. Being around him was intoxicating.

I was staying with my boyfriend during this Christmas Chaos, but I woke up to him on top of me, trying to have sex with me while I was sleeping. I ran out of bed and screaming at him. He got all defensive and followed me around the house. I ran to the bathroom so I could be alone and take a shower. I was barely in the shower when he busted in and pulled his pants down and he pissed on me in the shower. That was the day I left him and I never saw him again.

I met up with the I.T. guy at our usual spot and talked to him about everything that was going on. That was the same night my dad beat my step mom and ran off with his pistols.
I was sitting down in the kitchen really late at night staring at my phone.
I contemplated what to do. I wanted to call the police but not right now. I was exhausted.
Instead, I called the one person I felt truly cared about me: Mr. I.T. guy.
I told him what just happened and that I wasn't coming back home for awhile. Not until things cooled off.
I had no where to go for Christmas, so he invited me to have Christmas dinner with him and his family.
I couldn't sleep that night because all I could think about was him. The way his voice sounded. The way he crouched when he talked to you about things. How he looked into my eyes, like fire melting my cold, dead insides. The way smoke swarmed around his face when he exhaled his cigarette.
I dreamt of him for the first time that night.

The next day I went to work but couldn't concentrate on anything. All I could see and smell was him.
When I'd see him walk on the casino floor, I would blush and hide my face away.

That was the toughest day at work.

After work we both got picked up and off we went for Christmas dinner.
I met his kids for the first time. I met his parents and his brother. And I met his ex girlfriend.
I could immediately tell she was not pleased with my presence.

That was the very night I knew I loved him. And he knew it too.

I went home that night because no one was home.
Laying in bed, I fantasized about kissing him. Or grabbing his hand so I could finally feel his fingers. Putting my hand through his hair, my ear to his chest...I wanted to hear his heart speak.

Then I felt strange. This was wrong. He has kids! I enjoyed his kids, a lot, but this was too much. Was it?

Two nights later he told me the same thing. He said that this was not a good idea and we should just be friends.
He looked sad. Defeated. And I wore the best smile I could fake. I said I understood and I thought he was right. And he took my chin in his hand, brought it up to his mouth, and kissed me deeply.
It was cold out, but we were so warm. And I was.....confused!
Didn't he just tell me this wasn't a good idea?
Didn't I just say that this was wrong?
So when I got back into my car and headed home, why did it feel so right??!

I thought about not talking to the I.T. guy anymore.
But that made me feel empty.
I thought about seeing where it went, but I am an impatient person!
So I decided that none of it mattered. I fell in love. Simply.
There was nothing to it.
I was his and he was mine.
Nothing else mattered.

When my dad found out I was the one who called the cops on him, he kicked me out.
Now I was homeless at seventeen. I packed everything I had into some plastic trash bags and threw them in my Chevy Blazer, and left.
"Get the fuck out of my house!" He told me.

I stayed in my car for a few days. I'd go to school, do all the work I could, and after school (which ended at 11:15am) I'd leave and find the next place to park my new home. I thought about him a lot. And our kiss.
When he found out what happened with me, he took me in. His ex was out of his house by then.
So in I moved. Me and my four black trash bags.
His kids welcomed me with open arms and for once I felt sorta okay. Cared for and wanted.
I had a comfy couch to sleep on, food to eat, a shower to get clean in, kids to make me happy.
It only made me adore the I.T. guy more and more.
And I could tell he was crazy about me too.
What was happening to me?

As you may have guessed, the I.T. guy is M. And M helped me through absolutely everything. He helped me graduate high school, he helped me find another job, he brought my confidence up, kept my mind sane, and best of all, he loved me. He let me be apart of his family. Which, at the time, I didn't realize how deeply it would affect my life.... (more on that later)

I'm 21 now, turning 22 in August. He is 36 turning 37 in October. His daughter is now 13 and his son is 12.
They have a baby brother who is only one year and three months old.
This is my family.

No matter how it was created, this is my family and it was meant to happen this way. Taboo as it may be, it is not as uncommon as you think...trust me.

I am the most grateful for the life that I have, and it's only going to get better. 
M by my side, baby in my arms, and two preteens following our trail. We're going to show them how to live life courageously and beautifully, and to love absolutely, no matter what.