There’s a lot of times I open up WordPress and think to the liveJournal days where I wrote through a lot of childhood trauma.

One specific post I wish I could retrieve is the one where my father literally called me a whore for buying some modest brown, Anne Klien, 3inch heels with a dainty golden button.

I thought they would look nice to wear to church as I was no longer a kid.

One of the very first times I wore them out to some job, or acting audition (something my brain totally erased out of my mind)… He drunkenly called me a “whore” and proceed to just bash into how stupid I was for wearing them.

What I would do to read how I felt back then.

And I guess that’s why it’s good to write regardless. Just keep writing even when it’s hard and you don’t want to.

It’s one thing to screen write or do something poetically.

But writing my feelings is almost as hard as talking through my feelings and feeling them all the way through.

Something about writing, stream of conscious, absolutely existing in the present moment.

Especially looking into a blank screen. Something hits differently than on paper. Listening the jams that fuel the words. (Liquify’s new 2026 playlist)

Today I have this looming weight over my chest, and then over my spirit, and then over my breath.

I think that I’ve got it under control or I’ve done all the proper stress management techniques I have to face it.

But I have to remember it takes time. I do tend to move past things fairly quickly, though sometimes, when the things really mattered, it takes a while longer.

Am I still sad about Red?

Why?

I’m convinced he has BPD1 mixed with a heavy case of alcoholism.

But maybe that’s my empathy – being sad about the underdog.

I always want the underdog to win. To prove me otherwise. I.e: Dad.

Not even sad about the situation that I put myself through by being there for him. The hospital visits and the gang nonsense. Plus being lied to and deceived twice.

He went back to two totally separate toxic girls. This time was almost worse.

Knowing that this chick fully said she was going to quote “fuck me up” next time she’d see me.

The disrespect man. I don’t even have to go into it on both their parts.

It just hurts. But the hurt is like a dull jaded hurt.

I guess it still hurts none the less.

Feels like my heart is making the silent noise of being broken. The silent cry.

While my mind says it’s alright.

Just like Red kept saying, “it’s alright, it’ll be fine, i’m fine.”

Meanwhile nose diving into a row of bird scooters and acting drunk on camera to post online and humiliate himself?

Maybe we say we are ok…. we feel the cry, but it’s in the opposite direction.

Like secretly we aren’t ok, but we don’t know how else to treat ourselves.

Sad, it’s all sad.

I’ve cried already.

Maybe I need to cry more.

I think what really get’s me going about wanting to cry is the thought of how badly I want this future I have imagined.

And then, when I look back at myself on that lifeguard stand wanting this future I currently have…. I can’t help but to realize, it all came true.

I can’t forget those moments staring into the pool, bashing my brain into desire, wanted this exact life. And I got it and so much more.

Can’t let the future hold back from the present.

I cry because I am still that same little girl who wants all these things.

This next “aha” moment –

It’s just another one of those moments that is going to be even more meaningful. I’m looking into the pool – just trying to figure it out.

The dream job, the dream guy, the dream family.

No fighting for it. Just breathing and believing it exists.

Cry, and cryyyyyyyy because I know how badly you want it.

And they say, the frequency you give out is what you get.

So don’t play the victim they say. The law of attraction plays out this way.

Being a victim only pushes the things you want so badly, further away.

But this cry, is not a victim mindset. Or a victim cry.

It’s the desire mindset. It’s the, “I want this so bad that this exact cry, I am crying now, is the exact same cry I will cry when I get it.”

Except when I get it, I will cry so much more. And maybe that’s the looming weight over me today. Present me doesn’t realize how good it’s going to feel.

This future life is not what defines me. Nor am I seeking validation from it.

NO.

This life is just the beginning of of all the hard work I had endured to get here. I already validate myself more than anyone I know because – I KNOW MYSELF. I know my morals and my ethics and the depths that others may never experience or realize.

Who wouldn’t cry when their dream life is the life that this soul came to accomplish?

I think about riding a motorcycle. Sharing laughs with someone I love. Going to shows and catching sunsets. Cooking meals together. Encouraging our goals and creating even more goals. Working on the road. Exploring. Running a business. Totally crushing it on every front, and feeling effortlessly fulfilled.

Waking up with constant motivation.

And having grace on the off days, to just be.

Creating art in my gallery. Building a community.

Canvas after canvas. Messy hair, creative clothes. Coffee and a smoke.

Stretch, dance, laugh, skate.

Music, celebrate.

Time is not something to be afraid of. Missing out on the present is something to be afraid of.

I think when you stay in the mystery of the future, that’s where you miss out on the real gift, today.

Take on those words of wisdom.

Seriously. You always read back on your blogs and think, “who is that girl?”

I am reminding yourself who you are.

Do not doubt yourself ever.

The girl in your mom’s Volvo looking at that same green classic car every morning would want you to keep pushing on.

Remember when it was raining and you felt so bad for that beautiful car being neglected? And then one day it was gone?

Mom said something to you and you responded with, “I have to – because I have no choice. I’ll do it all on my own. I will get out of here and I will be successful.”

Well you did, but you don’t have to be alone.

Remember the tale of Baba Yaga? The little doll didn’t let the girl down. All the impossible tasks were completed, and the girl returned home a hero.

I know you’re angry, and tired, and hurt but you don’t have to be.

Someone really does love you. Your angels are looking after you.

If Red said anything at all during the time we were together that meant anything, it was that.

“You’ve got some serious angels, and they’re looking after you.”

It’s true. I am the luckiest girl.

Let’s see how incredibly fast things turn out for the better.

You have endured enough. Everything you desire is valid, and is divinely your right to have.

I went down to San Pedro the other day and took a clever photo of a storage place. Tapping back into my photography.

Those days are my favorite. If I’m going to do things in solitude, it’s going to be moody songs on sun kissed sidewalks, driving aimlessly and exploring new-ish territory.

Funny while I do spend lots of alone time, I’m not ever fully alone.

I recognize that I have friends, and more importantly my partner in crime – Otto.

And still, there’s some angsty rage always lingering somewhere in the back of my mind. Sometimes I wonder maybe it’s just a very crucial part of my soul. The part that is still learning.

Rage. RAGE. Have you every experienced true rage? Most women are told to be docile, put together, non confrontational and definitely not problematic.

Be the bigger person, they say.

But when you think about it, out there in the wild, if an animal disrespects or hurts another animal – do they just think “oh I need to be the bigger person and just ignore it?”

HELL NO. Animals lash out. Even if there’s a hierarchy, they don’t really question it.

The innate feeling of “I’m not getting walked all over”

But amongst humans there isn’t really much hierarchy. So why are there so many people pleasers?

I wanna say they’re simply hurt little pussies that didn’t have a strong self validation gene.

I don’t think about being an alpha female. But I am.

And I am aware of the energy I project. But I never realized it was the innate alpha energy. Not loud and flashy. Just cut throat and to the point.

No bullshit. No disrespect. All heart, and integrity.

So I realize that I am much more capable than the average person. Sharper. Spicier.

To suppress an alpha is a huge contradiction.

I say the whole point is, FUCK being the bigger person.

Say exactly what’s on your mind. Call them out, and speak your truth.

It’s the closest thing to claws and fangs that we have.

Luckily I don’t need to get into a fist fight – but I also don’t need to internalize the wrongdoing that was done to me either.

So I lashed out at Red.

And as many times as I thought, I don’t need to give this more energy, I oddly feel a lot better and respect myself even more for having a spine and saying exactly what was on my mind today.

Last night I had a dream about him. We had been broken up for 2 weeks.

In the dream he tried to kiss me at the skatepark and I jolted back, basically emphasizing, no – I can’t do this (the kiss) even though I want to.

And then in the morning I oddly felt like I needed to re-download Instagram and take a look……

First thing that pops up? His ex girlfriend making a silly video.

And who’s the guy standing just barely out of frame with gloves on, hiding his tattoos?

Who’s the guy with a stain on his jeans? The one with the same shoes?

Little details I still recall like a female FBI agent. I mean come on, even with his face not in the video, it’s clearly him.

So I confirmed right there, he went back to his ex after all of this.

Regardless if it’s for mindless sex or someone offering company through hardship. He couldn’t last a week processing a breakup?

It just really makes me feel stupid, and makes him look even more stupid. Especially after saying how she disrespected him and his family. How she hit him. How she made fun of him, mocked him online for how he reads books poorly.

She was even one of the biggest resentments in his 4th step. The step that I EVEN helped him write out. He hated her. He said, anyone who’s her friend is not a friend of mine.

And here I said the same thing about Runson, yet Red stayed friends with him too and didn’t respect how I felt about this rude immature guy.

I gotta say for a boy (not a man) who puffs his chest SO LOUD about loyalty and respect – he’s a fake. SO FAKE!

A sob story about mommy who didn’t love him enough and abandoned him. A kid who continues in his toxic cycles by going back to his toxic ex.

Maybe he was crazy. Maybe he did need to go to the psych ward. No normal person wouldn’t go back to a weirdo ex like that after pouring their heart out in pain. That’s some bigger internal issues aside from addiction and alcoholism.

But you know, I’m wise enough to realize that’s people go back to toxic things and toxic people all the time. My mom was one of them.

So it’s the rage talking. Wanting to put him down. Destroy him. But I don’t. Instead I write out the lingering rage and put it into boxes. (Or in this case, pages)

It’s clear as day.

He’s a little boy still, not a man yet. Dealing with his addiction, maybe healing a day at a time, but at the end of all, sober or not – he has not felt enough for nobody, not even himself.

Not by his family, not by the people around him.

And what’s sad is he doesn’t realize that.

No matter what drug he chooses. Cocaine, booze a gang, or love. It’s filling a void. Seeking validation and love.

He unknowingly just threw it all away. Me and him. Makes me sad.

I am someone who doesn’t judge the past. The rumors of domestic violence for instance. Or his home life.

I don’t judge the little imperfections. I don’t judge the dollars someone has in their pockets. I don’t judge the things they cannot control. Because we all have a past and that can be worked on.

But I do judge how a person shows up moving forward.

Red showed me that human trauma really does move in cycles unless you break it and choose a new path.

It’s easier to go back to something familiar. Even if it’s toxic. Because choosing a new path would require someone to grow. Be put under pressure.

Saying goodbye to my father was breaking my toxic loop years ago. You always hope that it will be different next time. Especially when it’s someone close to you.

You hope they’ll be better and that they’ll show up for you in the right ways.

Maybe Red was similar to how I looked at my alcoholic father.

And that somehow, I was hoping to maybe heal that wound.

I looked at him as someone that went through hell and was able to get past all their trauma. End up on the other side as a changed man.

But I can’t sit around and hope forever like I did with my dad. Thinking I would get that clarity, closure and love. You gotta do it yourself.

If they want to, they will. Not on your time though.

And after all, I want to see someone grow.

And I want to grow together with someone too.

They don’t have to have it all figured out.

I just want to see that person dig their heels into the ground and do what’s hard and difficult. And then I get to be the first person to enjoy the fruits of their labor. The mental hard work that takes to be the hero. To fight and do what’s right. To heal and to love yourself just enough, that others get to reap the benefits of your self love.

And I love my self enough to be generous, kind, loving, and understanding.

But I also love myself enough to speak my mind and to stop a cycle.

While I can’t stop other people’s cycles, I can stop my own.

And while I didn’t think Red was a part of a personal cycle, I do think it was my past whispering – “How long will you tolerate it this time?”

Rage. I waited 23 years thinking my dad would change and be a better man.

But it’s true 99% of the time, how you meet a man when you meet them is how they’ll be later on in life. It’s one thing to be going through something.

But HOW you go through things, says enough.

He couldn’t handle it alone. He needed something to soothe. Just like addicts do.

Regardless of everything he preached and believed in. Regardless of respect and loyalty. Regardless of being hurt by this exact person.

People either don’t like to sit with things. Or, they get consumed by it and absolutely ruminate in it.

Can I say I’m shocked? No.

Can I say I’m disappointed? Yes.

But not in myself. Because self respect is the biggest flex.

Bark back at those who are loud and fake.

Rage is totally healthy, and it shouldn’t be suppressed.

It just needs to go into certain boxes.

And I like to keep my boxes nice and tidy.

UPDATE:

After some more social media pops up… Turns out he was seeing his ex on and off while we were dating. Dodged a real bullet there. Thank god it was only 2 months.

They can go be toxic together.

UPDATE: UPDATE:

Read blog post Finding The Words, half his scull is missing, literally. And the ex gf is crazy, so perhaps, maybe he wasn’t cheating on me during our time together, but he did run back into her arms immediately after our breakup.

So you tell me how to feel about him?