Racing to Here

Sometimes I catch myself racing to the next thing and I think, “If I can just do this next thing I’ll be happy. If I can just push a little further.”

Yesterday I sat down with all my thoughts and made a list of everything I wanted growing up. To my surprise most of those things happened.

Of course I didn’t travel the world like I wanted. But I traveled around plenty of places I wanted to go.

And I’m no where near financially well off as I wanted but I have an apartment with my very own plant room, my own decoration style, and my very own comfort items.

I have little “peak through” areas of my place where my personality shines. My decorative plant stand, my paint spot, my writing corner, my kitchen where all the best foods are made, and my patio where I can listen to the birds in the morning.

I also have a partner who I wished for. Who listens to me, laughs with me, makes all the food with me, helps me clean, helps me with projects, holds me when I’m sad or cold, tells me how proud she is of me. I have a partner who I can watch TV with, travel, do crafts with, and improve with.

All these things I’ve been running trying to find and trying to feel like I did enough to deserve them. But I already have. I did. And not because all the work I put into my self and my surroundings.

I was born deserving of these things. I was born into worthiness, into godliness, into love, into being. I was birthed through gratitude.

I don’t need to earn anything. I just need to find ways to make this gift feel like home. And after many years I can finally say that I feel like home to me.

Now that I accept my gifts I can begin the process of bringing my gifts to others. This is gratitude.

Ay-hiy nanaskomon.

To the people who keep bringing up domestic violence and abuse as reasons we should not defund the police,

Keep our names out your mouth. Don’t try to play savior here.

When the #metoo movement happened we were blamed for ruining people’s future, even after they ruined ours. When we asked police to pull up with their sirens off to collect the ex with the gun, who police refused to give us a restraining order for, police came blaring. Always trying to play savior. When police failed to pick up the ex and I couldn’t leave my house for days because the ex was watching my house, still with a gun.

When I called police because someone broke into my apartment. They asked if I typically have people over and they “forget” to lock the door, but the doorknob was hanging by its last screw.

When I called again because someone broke into my house when the lights and music were on after I drove down to the gas station. My phone was untouched and the gold ring that was stolen the first time made its way back. Police said it was unconnected and they couldn’t do anything. I stopped calling police for domestic violence issues.

Now imagine if I called and a social worker came to my apartment. The social worker helped me make a plan to leave the area and be safe. Imagine me finding a safe apartment and meeting others in a supportive group for domestic violence survivors. Imagine my apartment not getting broke into.

Imagine people believing assault survivors.

Imagine knowing all this and still believing there is not a better way than what is happening now.