Writings
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A Sense of Love
At times I think in hypotheticals. And it keeps me up at night. Like right now. Another day that I am up with words in my brain that won’t go away. The fear to sleep but the humility to write what is on my mind. Only after it is out can I take a nap and then do what I can to build myself back up from here. Always thinking of forgiveness as the foundation to the house of love in my heart.
What does entitlement mean to you? Does it mean that someone belongs to you? I often think about my sexuality and get mad when I realize what it means to open someone up completely. What it means to sit someone down and explain what it is that you want from them. But when it comes to a man, I would often have to deal with a withholding of desires that ended up in you running to another woman to make her your vault of security and me the person you felt like you could not be honest with. Assuming so much about my energy that it was suffocating. It was the idea that I am not strong enough to sit and enjoy certain experiences. I get so angry sometimes because there was never a desire for me to want to be with anyone else of the opposite sex more than the man that I was with. Disregard the infidelity issues I may have encountered throughout the years. I just never felt comfortable cheating and kept it to a minimum. But when people of the same type know one another, one man may have been cheated on and another not. Then you talk to a friend, and that friend knows a friend of someone else that picks up weaknesses that I may have had and brought it upon themselves to keep a story going. Why the secrecy?
I was never a stranger to the idea that someone would be sending a man my way that would be a result of their desire to make me pay for what mistakes I may or may not have made in fidelity. I cheated on you. So, you feel like sending another man into my life is going to help. I dated a certain type or look so you feel like sending another type like that would help. It’s kind of like assuming that since you drive this car, I want the same car too. Thinking that since you can get away with cheating, why tell me? Or maybe assume that I cheated too? I want to have everything the same as you. I want to be just like you. And you admire that man having control over me as a partner and want the same for yourself. Let’s go deeper. You want my friends. My looks to be something that reminds you in your head of payback. So, when you go and get a girl, you look for someone that looks similar to make me jealous. Which in a sense is sending a type of energy. What if you cheated on me and didn’t want to tell the truth because you were so concerned with how it would make you look? What if you were the type of man that was abusive, and you hung out with another man that I dated, and he got away with the abuse? You might keep it a secret that you know one another and still make it so I am blinded. But I feel trapped. And so, I try and get out of your trap. But somehow, I have to work so hard to make it to the exit.
What if a man told you that in front of him, I was with another woman intimately? And you felt so insecure? But what if I felt like when you go to work, you are intimate with your boss and then some. But want to keep that a secret just to hold your job? What if you actually participated in having work wives and I don’t. What if I just cheated on you and got caught or came right out and told you? What if you cheated on me 40 times and only told me about one time? Then sit in front of your friends and tell them the truth. What if you do more than that? And I have no clue but the entire circle around me knows and just doesn’t know how I feel, so they have to figure out how to approach me.
What if you raped a woman in my family and feel like I am now your toy to play with? But I am not. And other people start to notice your energy and they are done dealing with that and take it upon themselves to set the record straight?
What if you were someone I trusted and I shouldn’t have? But people around me didn’t know who you really were as a person. They just lied and lied and lied.
I would admire men that would be handsome but that was it. And I was never the type of woman to want a married man and his wife and then be okay with walking away without something of my own. Because marriage was something I always wanted. Safety. Security. Let’s say the couple is quite handsome, and his wife is okay with him desiring to open himself up. Likely I would be the type of woman to say no thank you, but I appreciate it. If I ever heal and find something of my own, we can revisit that. But for me to be your unicorn and then go home and cry myself to sleep because I always wanted marriage for myself is what hurts the most. I am already developing a sense of being terrified to sleep as of June 2025. I had an issue when I got into a relationship once where I was cheated on two weeks after the relationship and it broke me, but I still stayed and am so grateful for my strength. Some things in life you can’t change as far as circumstances, but you can change how you react to them and heal going forward. For some men they would tell me I was not their wife, but they would be fine with having kids. And I would or would not entertain that. The result is obvious. And I am thankful for that honesty. But I really would likely go home and feel broken because there are certain things in life I have not healed from and need a man to really want to be my own and be as faithful as I am. As loving as I am. Because I don’t want a man to live in the disrespect I could have when I say, “I hate that you cheated on me.”
I need to get over that. Shit happens. Move on. Forgive. Grow. If I heal, what next?
Maybe when you find your wife you can help me open myself up whether we have kids or not. And understand that the honesty is something I will always appreciate. Maybe you wanted to create something with me that was different than a lifetime of marriage commitment. But maybe a friendship. Coparenting, etc.
What if you were portraying to other people that you were a good man. But when you came into my presence, you realized that you were predatory after children (even your own) and my falling in love with you (not the real you) was not only a mistake but something that was a mistake because you were not being honest in who you were. And getting to know me deeper, or having people around you that started to draw closer to me made you live in your truth that you tried so hard to deny and hide. Maybe other people had to play and save me. Or strengthen me, but all the while having my best interest because they knew you didn’t, and they needed you to separate. The mom that knows the man is no good, and tells her husband to fire the man that has assaulted her daughter. Because he tried to do the same thing to her, and she didn’t want to tell her daughter just yet that she too went through the same thing. She wanted to make sure that man was far away from feeling superior or like he had gotten away with something.
What if we had children? And there was an idea that I could not only save your children but mine, and because of what you had done and how easily (and well) you hid your true self from me; I had to deal with the consequences when you could have just gotten help and healed? Now I am sitting here with someone who has lied about themselves for so long that I have to deal with more guilt on top of the grief and guilt you have already caused? And it was not necessarily up to someone else to make the decision on how I was saved. What if they made a mistake in how I was saved? What if they didn’t make a mistake on how I was saved? They knew you were abusive and loved smashing my face in for example and you told them I was hooked on drugs and had your friend lie on drug tests and paint a story. The woman worked with me in healthcare. She lied about every single thing in my medical record because she worked in HIMS department? And it wound up ruining more lives than you or anyone else planned? What if they were waiting for me to fight as a person, and they could have just given me what I (naturally) deserve as a human, and we all lost the battle because I was not able to get back on my feet? You took the rug out from underneath me. What if a woman lied and someone saved me that knew the truth and I did not do what you said I did? And because someone saw my character, they were able to step in and make changes that I otherwise would not be able to make because of my continuous defeat against you?
And with children? What if I might not want to raise my children a certain way? Or have them treated a certain way? Or have you look at them a certain way? And you know as far as how I deal with my anger; I not only take it to more than one God, but MY GOD; and I sit in my dreams and punish you depending on the severity of what you have done to me. You cheated on me, so in my dreams I hit you in the face with a lamp shade. Because I would never do that in real life and know my strength. And being strong enough to be in front of you with no issues about what you have done because I already beat your ass in my sleep. An example is having to go to work in a nursing home and take care of someone that molested me as a child, but I was never told or didn’t recognize who they were. And maybe when or if I was told; I had already healed and strengthened myself so much that I treated you no different than someone that had done nothing to me. How would that make you feel? How would it make you feel if I was asked to comment on a family member’s trauma on national television and the only thing I had to say was “no comment”?
How would it make you really truly feel?
Up thinking about what people do for love. What people do for hate. How do you save? If there was a man and woman that beat their children, and we knew of one another; I would want the society to think in the terms of since the mother and father knowingly beat these kids and choose not to change, I want to be noticed. I want a chance to heal that child or children. Give them to me so that I can tell my children I have additional children to keep company and hold.
What if a man was abusive to a child and the mom never knew it? If it were me, would I go after his family? No. I would just want to be sat down with the truth and a therapist in the room so they can psychologically and morally make sense of my already racing mind. It races all the fucking time anyways. I would want society to understand that they are my children and there are ways for you to step in and help me. Ways for you to come in and mitigate the hurt. A child is not lost. Ever.
If you’re someone that has given up a child and lost your way in life, find your way back to your child. I personally could not give a child up for adoption and then lose myself in life and feel like if I come back in that child’s life it’s going to hurt them. It won’t, it will heal. And having a father that dealt with substance abuse I wanted him to be there to stand his ground. Whether it be on the phone or in the mail or in person. But always arguing the fact that you love your kid and deserve a chance. Beating that fact like a tenderizer tool to meat until its tender. Because when you think about situations like that, they are tough like meat is before it’s tenderized. Your desire, love and intention to be around your child and be a better person being the tool that is used to tenderize. There is no judgement in my heart for a mother that gave her kids up for adoption and is lost in the streets trying to get off drugs. I understand why you don’t want to come around in more ways than one and that child doesn’t see you for years. But as the child, I held no resentment for my dad and his choice to live his life the way he wanted. I know I have one, I just want him to be healthy. And if that choice to not be in my life because you felt guilty or ashamed was the reason; people making you feel like that is fucked up and not healthy. And I hate that. So as a child that has grown into an adult and matured, the door is always open to get to know me. But don’t think for a second a child doesn’t miss its parent that’s not there. And the foster parents and other “types” of parents or family sometimes assume how you feel, disregard your truth and disassociate from what’s right and wrong. Is the child born from their womb? NO. And that being the fact, the mother needs to be included. Stop expecting the mother to break down her pride and come to you begging on her knees if she wants to see her child. Meet her halfway. Maybe you need to break down some of your pride in that saddle of control on that high horse. My grandmother would love for us call my mom sometimes. And I rarely heard her speak bad. But the truth was always gentle and not harsh. And I don’t know what her relationship was with my parents when she had to help, but I am thankful for my heart being big enough for them to always have space in it. The child needs its biological parents more than anything else. And the child needs to see them happy, and healthy. So, believing that you are not good enough to be around your child because of what has happened in life is not good. Give yourself credit, they are always yours. They always belong to you. You should always think of it that way. Whether it’s in the form of
“It’s my child too!” to the father or mother of the child or “It’s my child and not yours” to the foster home or the adoptive parents. You are something that child never forgets and will always long for. They were built from your DNA and it’s important you know your presence will always be something they can grow to be grateful for with the right influence. They need to understand the psychological, emotional, spiritual and physical meaning of forgiveness and how it can heal. Otherwise, the child feels lost. And I repeat, no child should feel lost. There is always a solution.
Thinking to myself all the time in terms of “How can I fix this?”
Diagnosed with ptsd in 2014. After an assault I never went into depth with anyone about. I talk about what it was from. A doctor who crossed the lines and I wasn’t about to fight an old man in court that would lose his mind when I rant and get held in jail for contempt. My logic was, I will give you 40 years of space and peace. Don’t ever think I want to see your face again, I want you to feel like shit for the rest of your life. All money isn’t good money and clearly your money is no good. I don’t want it.This video just discusses how an entire state can violate. I watched it and felt comfortable in my strength and the abusers weakness.
My husband will know the truth. I am my husband until I say I found someone to marry me and feels like they want to be married to me, so I feel like mf we good. It’s been that way since that diagnosis. I disassociated and refused to trust anyone more than myself with that fact of feeling like I can be my own husband and be at peace. I don’t have to walk around with a new car and a new house and you feeling like I took from your child’s college fund when you were the person that violated. What sense does that make? I just won’t ever want you around me. Physical abuse is not ok when people taunt and think they can put you in a corner and you won’t plow back. I plow back in shunning and isolating myself which makes you feel guilt. But you felt it anyways without me showing you who I truly am versus who you thought I was. Being that as it may; if you asked me who I was, you would have met me with respect, and I would have known it and opened up to you (as a man). As a medical professional, you just have an issue with your heart mind and soul that God needs to heal. Vengeance is not mine, but I can always be strong, get over it and walk away. If you follow, it means you don’t get the point, and we need to sound an alarm.
I talk about more of my mindset on the blog and how ignorant an abusive man (phsyically) can be when I have been through abuse. And when your mouth crosses the line to be a bully, then you’re physically assaultive you realize I was a volcano waiting to erupt in your face because of my strength and your assumption I am weak. Why would someone taunt a woman?
Intimacy with a physically abusive man is the worst I have ever had. The worst kisses, the worst everything. You make me vomit. And I bleed you out of my mind heart body and soul. Praise be to God.What sense would it make for a man to punch you in the face over and over and he keeps coming back for more punches or you keep going back for more ideas of what you THINK love means. I had to get back to realizing who I was, and go back in my poetry because the breakdown from the last 5 years was from hiding 20 years of trauma here and there to be a mom. A strong person, etc. So naturally, I don’t fuck around and have always held my own. Hating toxicity.
Like, you taunted me and made it seem like I am aggressive or the aggressor, saved face, lied and beat me up as a woman who was not ever fucking with you (I am not the bully. I was bullied in school) and then when I tell you people that love me hate you, it’s my fault? Nah bruh. Thats a bitch move. I don’t have a criminal record of being the assaultive one. And a smart mouth I can deal with. I am a dick at times. But the actual actions of hatred, abuse etc (like making me lose my job, late for my job, talking to me like shit, making fun of my falling out of a window, getting hit by a car, being raped, or anything else is some sick fuck shit). There are men that have never laid a hand to me. They always have more credibility than you do. You don’t lunge at me and keep taunting and think we are ever going to be anything other than nothing. Those men that were verbal in their abuse still don’t hit the same way as a man trying to pull it out of me to punch him in the throat literally.
Watch this documentary on abuse. I am not some of these men and women that like starting shit. I was the girl that would 90% of the time ghost your ass anyways whether you were an asshole or not. Never went to the club. Was always with at least 2 jobs at once. I don’t do open relationships and never have. Hated lying ass men. And was used to respectful men. Two men have fucked around in life with throwing hands. One was after I was single for 5 years. The other was out of desperation (NOT A RELATIONSHIP, I told him straight up he wasn’t husband material- I have been single since May 2023) and was only around him because I needed a place to stay and was homeless at the time (as I still choose to call myself now, because I will do things MY way and will NOT stay with anyone no matter what, so I pay for hotels and will be working my ass off as I am used to in order to get back on top). I don’t care how good people say you are, I need FOIL requests. Because mine clear. Two men out of 5 total relationships ever. And I don’t like sharing men or dealing with dating. I hate dating so I typically have remained single and would have LARGE spans between intimacy. It’s cleaner that way. So, when a man wants to paint you like a whore because you have had to live a certain way of life to survive for 8 months of your life, I will definitely fight him back in self-defense.
I trained this body to lose 170 pounds. But I would never be a professional fighter. Not enough money in the world to disrupt my peace for someone else’s ego or a title I don’t give a fuck to have. Bodybuilder type of lover. I would never be a boxer. Did coed wrestling in middle school. That’s me telling you who I am. I was 175 in 2014 and now I am 180. I built this ass for myself. Not for HBO. I wanted to do fitness competitions or something of the sort. I have never in my life sought out boxing as a profession. It’s to train. I hope that makes sense. I trained myself because I didn’t want anyone touching my body unless I was in a relationship with them. And I wanted to be single the entire time I was focusing on my fitness from 2017 to 2022 and losing all that weight.
I don’t let boxing play in my house. A couple days ago was the first time I ever had it play in my personal space. Hated the energy. I am good.
I don’t let boxing play in my house. A couple days ago was the first time I ever had it play in my personal space. Hated the energy. I am good.
[sometimes profanity comes out when I talk about abuse. It makes me angry to even talk about and I then type as I would be talking back in language to the abuser.]
I watched a documentary on a dude that thought women getting raped was funny. And liked making fun of it. That’s not my problem, but becomes my issue when you’re in my face and should read my blog first. Then if you still feel like you need to debate how strong a female can get after dv; I need a stage.
If you have children or want children; I feel bad for you. You’re a problem I can’t fix and leave that shit to god.
I remember someone telling me to go work in corrections. My view on prison is different. I don’t date men in jail or prison. Never have, never will. I like my single independence too much and always have. If I went to go see a family member in prison and it’s the first time ever meeting them what business would it be of an abusive man’s? My argument with that dude was so done. I hate talking to people that assume your life or actions. I haven’t set foot in a prison visiting room in 20 years. And I am 37. I am nowhere near a police type of woman. Nowhere near correction officer. More like a carpenter. I rolled my eyes and said what an idiot.
I don’t have a tolerance or people for certain environments like I used to. Someone assumes because you’re naked and in an alley you deserve to be raped is no different than thinking that because of the way I walk I need to work in a prison. Its like a grown ass man with a 14 IQ talking shit like he’s a genius. But he is really just insecure as all hell. And soooooo useless because all you’re going to get from him is abuse.
XOXO, El’Aundra
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3:33 am tattoos
I have always loved drawing since a kid. This is too easy to me. ❤️
Tattoos and girl talk! Thankful for my therapy session and getting to know Jade while I stamp her with my ink. I told her that as stressed out as I am I love the fact that I can tattoo on her and have girl talk and talk out my logic and current issues. A therapist might just pacify the issues that I have and act like everything is ok. And being that I have not always had Medicaid (Loved the great insurance with the Benny card) and a good job that covered 80% on better dental (as my teeth were always perfect in my eyes at the time) and with this current situation in life I am angry at not being at work and taking care of things myself. Because I would rather just pay the dentist, massage therapist, dentist etc cash from my hard working ass pocket and have peace when I go to sleep after the 10 shots of Novocain. It’s just the logic and the way that I think. So when I practice on her and stamp, anywhere else you would have paid a ton of money. But I am in this position right now, and humble & wholesome is where I feel most comfortable in energy, so the best thing about it is making a new friend, inspiring her with my story of strength and giving her some good ink. I mean sure, I could definitely do tattoos and save up the $5000 I need for a house ( I am not settling for a studio. Never have and likely won’t) I should not have to think of it this way, but I want people to come on my sun porch in my house and get tattoos. Not in my hotel room secured with a ring doorbell attached to the door because I don’t play with my life. I just want it the way I have always wanted and created it before. Logically, if I have had a gofundme since I got hit by a car and there is nothing there, I refuse to look at it and it will stay there. I would just refund the money and say thank you for thinking of me, but I feel better not asking for help and doing it on my own. Which inspires others and gives them strength, and I don’t get angry and berated for asking for help. I have always come up with the money to move and live on my own, and like Miguel Ruiz said in The Four Agreements (I had so many post its and highlights in it) and I don’t expect anything. And asking for money from people that are so freaking desperate for peace including myself does nothing. Then they will think “That girl really does some good ass ink and did it for free. And I listened to her story and feel so loved.” That’s the point. ❤️ And the love is reciprocated. As it should be. It’s not that you don’t need anyone else, it’s just having expectations that people be as intuitive or helpful as I am. When I saw fundraisers from people that had interest in my love in the past, but said nothing about me getting hit by the car; I said to myself “I have no comment. It’s my problem. I will fix it myself. I am foolish for thinking you could or would ever help save me.” And move on. It is what it is. People are going to be who they are and do what they do regardless. No grudge. Just apathetic and driven and motivated to live in peace and share with others per usual. But on my own terms. Not someone else’s. Not using sex (philophobic and asexual) add a phobia to sleep that’s been marinating in the past 6 months and it’s a recipe for success. My kids know who I am. I won’t let someone tell them I am not shit. Your mother is strong beyond belief, and I know you know that because you have my blood running through your veins. I remember my mom telling me about someone on her side of the family with blue eyes, and I immediately thought to myself I am so beautiful I would marry myself over and over again. I am thankful for my children living and deceased. I have no tolerance for people that are hateful. I would never take their fathers or anyone else giving me their house to occupy. I will say it 10,000 I want my own. Blessed by me, with no issues. It’s too late to me, and I want people to realize when you have been homeless for 2 years or something like that and someone comes to you right when you are about to go back to work and get it on your own; it’s for their own peace that you tell them “I appreciate the help but I have gained the strength I need”
I won’t tell you how much pain I am in physically because it doesn’t matter. It’s irrelevant. Nobody cares is what I was told for so long by so many people who financially boasted about their comfort in what they were living. Whether it be “nobody cares” in a tone, or in a blunt literal context. It’s the same meaning either way. Hurt people hurt people. And I am not trying to hurt people. Because I healed myself and continue to prove that. I have to be intuitive and honest with my own body. And not let greed cloud my judgement. Giving myself a chance to test my own strength without others playing like I belong to them and testing my strength. There are people whose admiration of my talent takes the pain away.
Student loans, debts of all sorts. A mouth of veneers is $30k. And college tuition for more than myself. The desire to build a house. A check from the insurance company for $10000; and the lack of people to refer lawyers; let alone them represent me when I call on my own recognizance makes me want to say keep the money. I won’t use you for car insurance as I have for years in the past. Had I gotten 1 million for falling out of the third story window instead of $30,000 and a lot of it being spent or stolen from me; I would still have money and many people around me would have peace as well. Life is what it is. God Bless is all I can say. God bless those who have been hurt. Thank you for continuing to wake me up every day. I cannot remember much help after the accident that amounted to me feeling truly loved. This makes me feel loved. All I do is think. I like my sober, amazing mind. And people are inspired by that. Because sometimes people always tell you there is a blunt to cure the pain. Or Topamax for the migraine, but it doesn’t take away the environment and the facts. It doesn’t cure anything really. I tell myself that my kids are at my door and a house is waiting and a husband when I wake up. And when I wake up, I realize that’s the only thing that prevented me from having a migraine for 5 hours straight, feeling like it is best to think that way because of the reality. I am now becoming terrified to fall asleep, let alone fall in love. But other people falling in love with inspiration is just as good. Knowing I did a good deed is what has always helped me sleep. Keeping strict boundaries is ideal for me when it comes to how I think and do things for people. It was that sense of entitlement of my time and my body and soul that made me feel less than a person. Feeling more like a person if I give you a free tattoo because I love your energy and want you to do good. It’s like a blessing that gets you through.
XOXO, El’Aundra
“My soul is weary of my life. I will leave my complaint upon myself. I will speak in the bitterness of my soul” -Job 10:1
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Uncanny Nature
This be one of the LONGEST and DEEPEST yet. I think of my dreams to be one of the most prolific writers known. Because of what I have been through. That was always a dream. Sitting there at 12 reading in my room a book in less than a day. Knowing knowledge is so beautiful and I have the power to make someone feel so many emotions with just words. But abusing that power was never the objective.
I started writing this on July 14th in the afternoon. After doing some tattoos and being up all night and into the early morning I thought I would add this. Never did I want more than the vision of my rape a long, long, long time ago to go away more. I saw it the flashback in the shower. I got out of the shower and went to the door to see who it was. The girl across the hall. Her and the man behind her looked stunned to see my teary eyes and puffy face. They asked me if I was ok. It was the fact that I told them I am fine. Only explaining why, I was crying when I met them downstairs for a cigarette and not who it was. That part I refuse to bring back to the front burner of my mind. In the shower I had envisioned the blood running down the drain and my feet stretched out in front of me. I appreciate those who had tried their hardest over the years to be the best friend, boyfriend etc. But I would have never told you too much about my assaults anyways. Using code words to protect what God deals with, and that is vengeance. I beat myself with belts and take scolding hot showers to get rid of the pain. Telling myself I don’t remember when I remember everything I have been through. I just put it in the storage part of my brain and move on caring for others better than myself. I can forgive you for thinking I was somehow lying about going through trauma. Not wanting to tell details of how the traumas haunt me was the point. I just wanted people to understand I saved you and loved you. Maybe I saved you because I loved you. Maybe I loved you because you saved me. Saved me from allowing me to be a step-parent to your children. A godparent. A girlfriend. A friend. Anything to you. And it always kept me present. For that I am eternally grateful. Because when I do not have a long list of things to do, I get down. And my flashbacks will haunt me. So, I am just thankful that I have the ability to love. And not hate anything but liars. And I didn’t want to be a liar myself so I would tell the truth. A sentence or two. But not the whole truth. And even now, I must say that keeping that little glass of shards in detail will not cut as deep as it used to as I continue to pick the shards of glass from my broken body, mind and soul. That is what I will fight and defend. The people that get mad and lash out because they want to know the whole truth. Or at least even a little. And demons who run the world want to make me bow to their knees giving them honor when I have an eternal love for the people that have given me love. They give me honor. And the demon disrespects me and them when it comes for my truth in whole with an expectation that I belong to them. I belong to the people that built me with love no matter how far and wide, deep and shallow it was. They grew to love me. Because for the demons that continue to hate me, you do not know what it did to me to love a man who was a fan of the Steelers, and the Eagles, and a man that loved to rap, and a man that loved a part of who I was at some point in time. A woman who loved to share similarities in her assaults, a woman that loved to make me laugh. A man that loved to keep me safe. A woman who loved to call me her friend. A family who has my blood in their veins. People who should never feel like I abandoned them. They should only know it’s more of a recharge. There is energy and trauma I need to protect you from with every bit of my strength. And my identical twin who is deceased can hold you while my flesh fights. They always come back and will always have the opportunity to. I know in their hearts they need space to absorb what I have been through. But for the vortex of feelings, when a demon tries to take and take and take from you it feels like rape. And you must set those people aside that loved you despite knowing about the rape and fight a bloody fight against the person that wants to continue to take. I had visions in my mind of who people could and should be with if I ever swear off marriage completely. It’s the energy. It’s the feeling that I may never have that chance for myself because I didn’t give it to myself. But the memories, those are worth laughing about and loving for. Some girlfriends feeling like if they had to take my place, I would be fine because I would still be here; I just needed myself more than anything. And maybe you could offer that man something that I could not. But I respect the waves. I respect the honor Wavy gave me in high school as the Unicorn and until the day he died he never called me anything else other than Lonnie the Unicorn. My heart won’t allow me to comprehend jealousy. And I refuse to apologize. I assume I would sit there as I have before, absorbing your truth just as much as you absorb mine. I am not too far above the earth to not come back from such a galactic recharge that I cannot understand the pain I may have caused. The opportunities I have missed out on. The money. The fame. And more. But there are so many angelic things about depth that I still needed to dive into. Entering into a sea of loneliness only for discovery of what I lost.
When some sit and say “I lost you” it hurts. Because I have to comprehend what was lost. Why it was lost. And how. Thanking you for hanging on. Forgiving you for whatever need be. And knowing that my strength in that is more than you can comprehend and you might just have to be comfortable with dreams of endless love decorating the trauma.
I remember talking to my Uncle and he told me to go into the human services field. My logic being, I would love to. Thank you for telling me. I started with Direct Support Professional. My baby running around the house as I built this blog in 2008. I wanted people to see me work. See me struggle. See me win. See me lose. Because every emotion I go through with this blog is felt by them. And I did not want my blog to feel like a stock market. Like I just took your heart out. When you finish this post, you will understand why it has always been free. God gives me priceless blessings to be able to write. Conceive. Love. And forgive. That in itself is not something ad-sense can replace. I can work as hard as I can in the nursing home or anywhere else and feel like I am giving back something priceless just as well. But I felt like there was a sense of greed that I wanted to approach with trepidation. Understanding that I had things and people and places around me that were a constant reminder that I am grateful to be alive day in and day out. Testing that blessing with greed may shorten my life substantially. Whether it be in a literal sense or metaphorical. And when you read this blog, you go out and give that homeless man a meal because you have never done that before. My blog made you do something priceless. Heal. It made you drive by that man and not make fun of him. It made you grateful you are around your family every single day. It made you grateful for your riches. And in the bible with it saying you shall not covet, I was creatively thinking of how to reciprocate that energy back to me. So, people did not covet me, and I did not covet them. You had a friendship with me that was not about me using you for your money, power and influence to climb to the top, because if I got to the top, it would not be an “I”, it would be a “WE” and you would still stay there with me. Oftentimes you hear about people making it and leaving people behind. This is a way for that to not happen. You may have hurt me in more ways than one, healed me in more ways than one, loved me in more ways than one, or hated me in more ways than one. But I did not want my energy to ever be “Everything she touches turns to shit.” I wanted it to be “That girl just blessed me, and I feel so good about myself. Because it was wholesome in intention.”
Deleting my OF in 2024. The reputation of hatred for being intimate with those carrying a lack of love was immense and I wanted to be loved more than anything else. It was after people were being so rude and disrespectful in nature; even if that’s who some naturally are. And then escaping the truth when they had to be confronted with my truth. I am not here to hurt you, but what you do to me because you do not know me, I cannot save you from. More than one cry for help. More than one sense of entitlement inside myself asking “Why is there not more intuition in the world to see the pain someone goes through and the ability to do more because you have more.” Watching documentaries where lawsuits only came to help after casualties were executed. My form of execution not being punishment, it’s “I woke up today. Now what’s next because I can be told I am a piece of shit. And there is not much truth to that. I can be told that I am a great builder, but of what? What is my form of craft when those that stared in my face said a prison is where I belong to work? Or a whore is all I am? Or that they are my best friend when they know in their hearts they never truly were? When they know that there is so much truth inside this blog that money can’t satisfy me as much as you think?” Love can. Not idolization, but love. Not isolation, but love. And yet some of us aren’t willing to take someone by the hand and teach them how to love. There being so many languages of it.
“You only wanted to expose me” was all I would tell myself to get rid of that part of pain in my heart. What was I lashing out at? As you begin to unleash truth from others you start to see the energy around me at the time held secrets. And lies. And I always felt like I was more than their way of believing in truth. Would you believe that some people actually say to themselves “The truth is what I make it.” And that is discussing an argument I choose not to have. If that’s the case, then you can make me into whatever you want was always my response. Of course, I was being attacked in more ways than one. Spiritually, emotionally, physically and more. And I was so tired of people getting jealous. There is so much depth in humanity. My wanting to remain abstinent in itself after having had kids, and dealing with the loss of them through miscarriage and two abortions in my life. I always remained loyal to my desire to want more. Am I afraid of the nightmare of someone wanting to hurt me even more? No. I don’t comprehend jealousy. Why would you ever be jealous of me more than sympathetic. To me it’s a choice. It’s a tool for you to use. And when you love yourself truly and wholesome natured love, I mean what would you want to have as far as peace in being jealous? That’s not fair. Watching many videos knowing I would not do half of what these girls do on there as far as making other people feel like shit. Comparing such intimate parts of a man so he feels undoubtedly insecure and he doesn’t have someone to love him because a girl went on her site and compared every part of him in length to someone else. I could never, but in my room amongst myself I could. Reaching out to respond to the ill responses I had in my presence on mine. Making it more of a comedic effort, laughing at my pain right along with others. A sole partner was a joke. My bridge was a joke. My face was a joke because it lay swollen with tears from dealing with true loneliness when it came to desiring a true love. It be like a chime in the mountains in the wind. But I needed people to understand that the more I didn’t fight back, the more I would be lost. I would try and clean with it and but knew that my name was out there and painted in a way that was not poetic, as I always wanted it to be looked at as poetic more than anything else. Have people be thankful for the magnitude of words stored in this brain of mine. Not loving the idea of people coming to me talking about cloning my energy more than storing it. For there is no better duplication than the original. Feeling like there was wealth in the bloodline that I was always kept from. It was damaging. And most people in life want love. That’s what I sought after. I had painted sologamy on my backpack. Had gone through so many ways of having a sense of individuality. There were girls that I was friends with in middle and high school that I haven’t seen or talked to in 20 years. And each one has their own story, of course. But there was a bullying nature that was not very kind. That stayed with me. Even when I switched high schools. I was always the girl that would tell people don’t lie about me because I live in my truth and what you have done to me. I am not lying for you or on you.
I tell young girls that I know “Go get your money and get your life. Don’t stretch your shit out for him unless he’s trying to make you his wife. Life already has too much strife.” Go make friends with the kid that gets picked on the most is what I told my children. Because the montessori parent in me believes in you.
I remember working for a man who had a wife that was a social worker. I always toss in my head the worst human you could be and the best. Then find out who you really are if I am able to, and still try to help or be there as an inspiration. But I’m thinking to myself, what would she do if she was the worst? Play photoshop and play with documents? Maybe it was my paranoia getting the best of me. I was as respectful as I could be about unraveling and making sense of the things I had been through that I could be. Reporting only what I had been through to others around me. Like pieces to a puzzle I would hope that something whole could be put together. Oftentimes rocking back and forth throughout life saying I am a whole, not a half. It was the abuse I had encountered that made me not trust anyone. I have had a doctor assault me and a man I wasn’t committed to marrying but I wanted to divulge my truth tell me it’s not important. 2014 was the year. And here I go being silenced by my own frame of “family” in my mind. I couldn’t. I sat here on my bed last night saying to myself I would never play with photoshop to hurt another person. Never did. And graphic design has been a talent of mine for years. I just told a man out front I know a lot. Might not have a ton of ambition, but God says now is the time to fight. Not work on myself and things like that. People are watching, and not in the way you need. So I won’t create right now until things are the way they need to be. Maslow is a large part of that. His conceptualization of needs can be found here.
Vocal abusive flashback in words from a patriarchal abuser: “If I ever see you in my house again…”
“Again what?” The ending to the sentence being “You’re just a domestic abuser”
“Watch your fucking mouth.” is what I said to him.
Why would I call someone a domestic abuser? You like to talk that shit. (Click the link and watch a very inspirational Lundy Bancroft video about Narcisstic Abusers). Lundy has helped me get through things so hard I thought he was my therapist. It’s that thought they had, that I am your property to walk all over. In the presence of my husband, with him being ordained by God even; I wouldn’t see myself treating him the way I have other men that like to attack me with their words. God will ask me about a sacrifice, I do not answer to a man on earth making that choice for me because he likes to play Monopoly with lives. A husband, A “HIM” or Honor in Making (a husband) being someone that would be in pain by seeing me in pain, but just as well. I am that way by nature unless I am in Bjork Hunter mode. Meaning so much more than you think I am your chalkboard wall to scribble your hatred on. Asking myself, why would my child’s father go to Egypt? Is there something I am missing?
Clearly, he has never watched “On Your Merry Way”- 1948 What a grand movie. Click here to watch it on Tubi.
Do something with God intended is what I tell myself. God built this house is what I would rather respond to someone feeling like a city belongs to him and only him. As if the people are HIS and HE is GOD. He was talking about the city he lived in. Ezekiel chapter needed to be read by that ignorant man. God has the power to take away every bit of pain you have because you hate being confronted with the truth. And you likely would not read that chapter because of your lack of truth.My grandmother telling me when I was younger: “If you do what you always did. You will get what you always got.” I would ask myself “WHAT DID I DO? WHAT DIDN’T I DO? WHAT COULD I DO MORE? WHAT AM I MISSING?”
And then thinking to myself why would I not want to be in the man’s house? You take every bit of civil and human rights I feel I should have. You think I am nothing but flesh for you to abuse. Because you didn’t read chapter 16. And you want to act like Van Gogh and paint a story. I was raised in a church. Not the house he talks about in the bible. Some tried to send a message to argue my truth. It doesn’t work.
I can be a very sensual woman. Some say the goddess in me was someone to be remembered. I battle in my mind with why it was gone in the first place. The forgiving goddess… why did she disappear? Why did I cry in front of another girl at 4:30 am on July 15th telling her I lost a part of myself so many times over. When I have a kind heart even. But looking back on it, sometimes you’re in situations in life that wind up leaving you desperate to have livelihood. And when you go inside yourself and realize the truth, you realize that you would want to pick a room of people that made YOU feel good. Pick someone that made YOU feel good. Not sit around and just have to settle because your domestic abusers from the past tell someone that you were exposed and send a video of them with you. Within that act of evil motives, you start to realize that the ways people trap themselves in their pain is of the lack of peace you actually have in doing what is right for you. Not right for someone else. And it doesn’t fit a generalized context all the time for me to sit and say “Well, if you’re friends with them; you’re friends with me.” I have to be able to see you, know you, talk to you, sense your energy. And when you realize I am one of the most amazing friends you could ever have, it dawns on you that people around you are not kind. They are foolish at times. Smile in my pretty face and then talk so horribly about me to others. Just come tell me the truth so WE have peace between us. That is all I ask. Because if I continue to feel your desire to control me and the narrative, making the truth what you want it to be I won’t have any choice but to walk away. I held that city with open arms. Smack dab in the center of NY. And it was always something in the back of my mind I said “I hope I can always come back to this love.”
What would you think it would do to someone who draws themselves closer to God everyday when he knows all, sees all and hears all? I tried buddhism. And it was something that was so fascinating. Eventually God is going to pull you away from me. And for that buddha picture I painted on paper one time, hoping my chakras could be cleansed. God might pull me away from you. An essence of humanitarianism might make me have to see the faces of others that are struggling and help them until you figure out if there is a place for me in that heart of flesh after you heal, forgive yourself and turn it from stone. I cannot be the flower that grows out of the concrete of your heart when it is stone. I need more than that. If God said turning a heart from stone into flesh is something that he did, I cannot do that to others. So standing in front of someone with a heart of stone only makes them more willing to continue the rhetoric that I make them uncomfortable. When it’s just them not being honest, kind, and forgiving of themselves that makes them uncomfortable. I likely have wanted to love you regardless. Showing love and giving love is how you kill hate. My strength being unimaginable I am sure.
I remember sitting in the presence of this evil. A dark night and a blunt lit. I started smoking marijuana at 28. Just quit in the beginning of June 2025. It didn’t do anything. It was masking the pain. Like tylenol and I hate pain medication. “Let’s test our strength Nadia, I tell myself.” Because I feel as the owner of my soul, heart, body and mind that I can indeed test my own strength. I have no desire to manipulate you and test yours. Let alone patience. Shall I make a mistake, let me speak for myself. Let me cry in front of you and show remorse. Do not assume I am cold.
Somewhat similar to the girls that sat in my house and refused to put in a calendar they were doing; this particular one was. How do I get this energy I read to clear out on even plains. This was 2012 that I wanted to be in the calendar. And I had a way of holding myself accountable and begrudging myself more than anyone else. In all honesty, I would have been happiest with the truth. It was a girl that would sit and say to other people she hated the way I sing. It was at work. I was singing in the nursing home as I have always done. But before nobody acted like they could hear it. Praying when I go to sleep “I may never sing for man of earth, it’s for God then, my husband, my unborn children. my living children. my friends. my family. And those who love me. But them telling me that it’s ok to do karaoke can heal. I have never done karaoke. I rap for fun not for competition or fame. Not for an audience of hate. I am far too sensitive for that. There be the truth.
I am far more sensitive than you know.
Tossing back and forth between blocking and unblocking people because I don’t know what will happen to that 2,000 word message I want to send so badly apologizing. I will never tell you I am horrible at it. And I would never tell you I love doing things in life that bring me back to apologizing. But I do love the warm feeling you get in your heart after telling the truth and apologizing. I don’t know how to get comfortable in front of an audience.
“Who are you” you ask.
“A seraphim I feel sometimes. A wonderful mother. A woman who wants to cure with love and show you that infinite love is real.” As my heart aches like gears in my chest typing that at 9:58.
As in seraphim nature. A man that beat the shit out of me in a city in New York they call the “forgotten city.” Did I win? Did he win? What was lost? What could have been saved? He had seashells in his house. Although there are many meanings for seashells, here is a good explanation for you. Some use them in witchcraft to evoke a spell. And since there was not much positive about the energy in that house (sarcastic energy was all around); I didn’t believe he was there for me. And I never really answered that question “Who are you” the way I wanted to. I choked. Holding back tears. I cry in my sleep and I am doing it in your house. “I am nobody. And nobody cares” is what I wanted to say. That be the easiest answer for how I felt when so many people thought I could fight. But very little people said that to me. Very little people ever had that attitude about me. Was I reading it all wrong?
I rebuked the energy of that. Not trusting him at all. The man called me a whore and took me to parking lot and we got into a fight. I couldn’t back down. The words of my mother “You are nobody’s bitch.” still ringing in my ear. I must have been 13 when I heard that and never forgot it. I got out of the car and he pushed me back on the pavement. Is this a sick fuck that’s playing games with me right now? You’re about to learn how weak I AM NOT.
Strong enough to bandage my wounds and ignore bleeding from my head because I started to see red like Audrey Hepburn in Breakfast at Tiffany’s. My head smashed in the pavement in front of the police station across the street. I was terrified to go to the hospital and didn’t know who to trust. What to trust. Knowing that sometimes I don’t give people the chance to show that they can be trusted because we already got off on the wrong food and you need to kindly adjust my attention to your face of remorse. I need to see that in your face. He had called me a retard so many times. Not realizing, I am so disgusted with how he treated me. Above all else, you are in a peer program and talk about people like shit. It’s a disgusting deplorable word. If you’re talking about a person’s intellect, you must be super insecure and obviously useless to that person and all you can do is hold back their progress and delay them. In that sense who would be the retard? As I looked at him with disgust. Canceling the interview I had at the hospital because I wanted nothing to do with that energy. Click here for the definition. I will be posting my 10 page resume soon. Again remember: healthcare and human services, retail, landscaping, food service and more. Keeping in mind I would have 2-3 jobs at once. in the past, I could do two things at once. Bring good karma and energy home to my babies from the work I do and heal others while avoiding my pain from the past, present and the future. I am too good at that. Not disassociating but telling you that I am fine when I am not a proper definition of fine. When the kids are asleep and I have sang or read to them I would go in the room and break down crying. I got good at that. And when I was in a relationship where when I went to sleep the man next to me didn’t care if I was crying or not; I became a pro at silencing. 10 shots of novacaine might not be enough doctor, is what I walk in the dentist with, in my mind and heart.
I mean, when you’re getting paid $9 an hour in 2012, you need more than one job. And one of them I had to leave because they had gotten cited by the state for having an employee put cameras in the bathrooms. And what was that man doing? HOLDING BACK THE PROGRESS OF PEOPLE THERE TO DO GOD’S WORK. So, what would we call HIM? Moron is defined as [“Moron” was coined in 1910 by psychologist Henry H. Goddard from the Ancient Greek word μωρός (moros), which meant “dull” and used to describe a person with a mental age in adulthood of between 7 and 10 on the Binet scale]. I had been wondering if he was actually a Psychopath or Sociopath. Which is fine, just disclose that so I can make a choice on where we meet in intellect and morals. Just to avoid an argument. It’s not that I am not good at arguing, I don’t have a euphoric sensation that courses through my body when I cause pain to someone whether in an argument or in life. What am I? Call me Humane.
Humane is defined as: Marked by compassion, sympathy and consideration for others.
Empathetic is defined as: The experiencing as one’s own of the feelings of another; also: the capacity to be empathetic. MY ARGUMENT: Google has a definition that states something that within my heart I truly argue with. Click here for the verbatim.
High conflict personality is defined as: These people may blame others for their problems and avoid confrontation, indicating a lack of empathy.
Sociopath is defined as: Lacks remorse for their actions, believe their behavior is justified and seeing themselves as right.
Psychopath is defined as: A person consistently exhibiting antisocial, impulsive, manipulative, and sometimes aggressive behavior (not in current technical use).
I had gotten a voicemail left on my phone saying, “This is for El’Aundra” and a girl was moaning in the background. I cannot assume what he may have been doing but the clapping was enough for me to lock the phone and laugh hysterically. Something about his energy would not let me get turned on by him. I remember telling him I would not be interested in a relationship with him because there was another man that wanted a chance. And he asked me to be intimate with him without even listening. Pay attention to the ones that don’t listen and just continue to talk stupid senseless shit that makes no sense about themselves.
I can be masculine and feminine but need a balance in that energy. I have always been a woman that detests disgusting useless men. You might get my time but never marriage. The speed reader wants you to read her slow. Unless God ordains. I will be just fine marrying nobody ever. No man will sit on this earth and call me his wife. Don’t get me wrong that I don’t have an issue with being a longtime love of someone’s. Girlfriend yes. But otherwise, you are never ordained by God, you are most usually evil and worth nothing more than that. You idolize women in a patriarchal sense, and I want nothing to do with that. I have been married to myself since I bought my first ring in 2011. I have been saying since then I would never get married. Not because of an unjust man, just got tired of searching for a good man, and him being good when he wants. Or people telling you are good, but they aren’t good. And because of their lack of discernment, you know it in your heart it’s lies. You may say they are good, but God says no. It was something that I had chosen to write poetry about an idea of love. The idea sounds nice, and marriage does too. But I have so much more peace alone. If you can be the piece to the puzzle, then I would love to try.
I have made myself into someone that doesn’t trust men and women the same since hearing the outcry of people that are creeps and get married to each-other just to be predatory. They have kids, and sometimes I wonder how the child feels. Do they ever have the feeling of true pure love. When a parent is a creep. And if you knew your parent was a creep that targeted other kids, what would you want? Not them as a parent, likely. Some courts and justice systems protect these people knowing that, and that’s why I say what I say about my children. They have seen with their own eyes their mother get beat. I would continue to fight to prove a point. I don’t tolerate predatory nuances. The man will sit back and hold that secret. Targeting and seeking a nest to infiltrate. Then making the rest of the world think he is perfect. “Look, my wife is a lawyer (and a creep)” or etc. Knowing someone that reads energy and knows more intellectually would never be happy with you. And to create a painted picture, you act as if you have no chance. I cannot guarantee that I can heal your children that you have ruined because you’re a creep that hides behind someone else that isn’t and might have kids. But I would love to make them mine. Always wanting 20. Or 13. Then the idea is that “They know too much” when they find out how horrible you actually are. The children didn’t know too much. You showed them too much. But it’s more that you’re bringing yourself in the presence of someone who does not look at children the way you do and refuses to lay down and deal with your disgusting predatory thought process. Me personally, I would cause beat your ass and call the police.
Take a woman that I knew for example… she was creepy to me. And I didn’t want to be her friend. I knew she belonged to other men around that were creeps. She had kids. Did she give a fuck about them? I can’t argue my type of caring to a person who has a diseased mind, for which there is no “cure” but I argue that when you’re willing to change, you can. I don’t dress my two-year-old in a two piece for example. And you feel like you need to argue with about how I feel. And feel bad for your kids. Because you exploit them. Then I want nothing to do with you. You would exploit other people’s children. I cannot say I trust much of anybody. I am paranoid for the children. All children. Kids, pets and old people come to me out of nowhere. Some say those are blessed people. I do consider myself confidently blessed and not arrogantly entitled. Not necessarily a Paranoid HCP [click here for that definition] but some people get into social work to find kids. And I would sooner to invite them to a ring for a bloody fight. But my highly intellectual mind does not allow you to be in my presence to argue. My energy will be your mirror. Like a woman that goes to Hollywood, and she exploits other children. She would never be my friend for long because my energy would burn her soul. With that sad “I’ll do anything to be famous attitude.” Let’s go into that:
People who sacrifice others often exhibit certain insecurities that can manifest in various ways:
- Self-Doubt: Individuals may struggle with self-doubt, leading to risky behaviors to compensate for their insecurities.
- Envy and Despair: Seeing others succeed can trigger feelings of envy and despair, as they may feel inadequate in their own lives.
- Risk Aversion: Insecure individuals often become risk-averse, making them less likely to take risks that could benefit themselves.
- Toxic Behaviors: They may adopt toxic behaviors that are detrimental to their relationships and well-being.
- Psychological Factors: The psychology behind self-sacrifice often involves a desire for survival and a need to fulfill the needs of others, which can lead to unhealthy dynamics.
These factors contribute to the complex dynamics of individuals who sacrifice themselves for others. [credit: Google]
My starting to wanting to open myself up came with a judgement from a man I wanted to open myself up to. He assumed I would not be able to work around other men and control myself. Very much wrong. I am not who you think I am. The girl I was friends with at the time, I had looked her in the eyes and said “I don’t know who your baby daddy is, and I would never mess with him. At the same time, someone that I used to mess with drove by. And the way she looked at that car is the same way the police look at a murder suspect. With a hunger to go after them like a hound.” I had a cousin with the same name as a friend’s daughter that was by marriage in a side of my family. How is it that I felt guilt for not explaining that to her? I remember wanting to name a website after my cousin’s memory not her daughter’s. After I assumed how she felt about it, I was thinking to myself “This assumption is not healthy.” I felt so compelled to want to leave her alone, I don’t think I would feel entirely comfortable. I can’t deal with that energy if she thinks I would do that to her. It was also a perfume that I loved dearly. I would not hurt your child like that. I felt like if your mother would be the type to have such evil energy as to try and hex me and do all these things; I can’t take care of you. Because I am not that type of woman. The things I have done out of life, were never to be evil and jealous. Thinking to myself, if there was a man that had a daughter or son that was an adult I might say you are absolutely beautiful in a way that doesn’t exemplify how others feel. Knowing that you are a child that is beautiful is just that. But to certain predators, they take it beyond that and make it into something sick and filled with disdain. Arbitrarily fantasizing about things that are so awful and inappropriate. I remember my mind being clouded with the magnitude of real thoughts. And even as I think about a frog being cut open in biology, my heart twinges. I cannot go beyond the fact that they are a “beautiful child.” You are not understanding the depth of energy a creep has to disrupt those around them. And I refuse to think how they think or be how they are.
In terms of loving a child…I think sometimes people don’t think about how they look to the rest of the world. You don’t care about your kids. You’re causing harm to another person. It was Eleanor Roosevelt that said, “There is a special place in hell for women who don’t help other women.” And “A woman is like a tea bag, you don’t know how strong she is until she’s in hot water.” How would you feel explaining to your kids that you have to go to hell for what you have done to another woman and her livelihood let alone her own kids. And telling them that you’ll never get to heaven? I remember watching a video about a man who gave up his parental rights because the mother was evil and jealous. Don’t give that up. FIGHT. Because sometimes we must recharge and come right back for round two, three or four. But don’t leave that child alone to suffer without knowing your truth is how I feel. And when a parent tries to stand in the way of that, it’s evil. They are trying to brainwash the child.
Sometimes an evil person doesn’t understand that just as much as your child is yours; you like to curse other people. That child that came from your wound is sometimes also cursed. And just as someone can be blessed; that child coming from their wound can be blessed. So when a dark evil nature looks at a light kind nature and sees she won’t ever have kids or a life like that because of what she has done, she will sit back and continue to do what she has always done. Lie about the truth. Being that bothers you in some way shape or form so much that you feel like you need to curse the light blessed. Because you know yours were cursed from your wound. An evil entity might sometimes think they then must fight with making that light nature barren. And it’s assumption that God doesn’t rule all in some aspects depending on how you look at it. She will want that lightworkers life so bad. And there might so much protection and blessings surrounding her that she can only do so much to her and her children. Karma could step in and rewrite the story and that dark worker had to depend on the light worker because she is no longer capable and losing power etc. And she might need someone to take care of her kids. The light worker could go and pray. That’s all she might be able to do because of what God has ordained.
The evil is why I say I would never get married and never was that other woman who was trying to trap a married man. I talk about it in the blog post. I am my husband. And that’s been that way forever. A man might say “I wanted a chance” and I would say “No you don’t. You want to use me as a cover for wanting something else. And I don’t ever want you.” I tell people all the time, don’t set me up unless you don’t ever want to talk to me again. God will bring me what HE WANTS. It’s never quite real, so I borrowed “The Reel Truth” in case I ever had the desire to choose who I wanted to help with a documentary. Again, energy reading. And behold, it is allowing my story to be in someone’s hands the way they paint it. And I don’t want that. So, I would turn away and refute it. Why would I ever let someone have a chance with me to marry me after exploiting me and my family without talking to me and asking me how I felt? That means you don’t give a fuck. Off the rip. That’s how I feel about documentaries. I feel the only reason someone would want to do that is because people have sat around and shared pictures and videos of you before (or worse) and need to cover for it. Marketing type shit. It’s less likely you want to be kind and show love most times. It’s you wanting to line your pockets and expose or cover secrets. So, a man could come to me and do what God would want him to do. BE A GOOD MAN. A man that respects that if I had good honest help I would have made the Coding Program in NY. Both of them. January of 2021 and then again another try in 2022. This was before that girl that sat in my car assumed I was going to go after her baby daddy. The conversation was interesting to say the least. Her projecting her insecurities and then trying to cover for the guilt. But I had to tell her if you want to do the coding program, do it yourself. I do not date women, and had never done anything with that woman. It was just an entire load of negative energy and I felt low every time I was around her. So I stopped talking to her when my boyfriend had put hands on me and she said “He would never do that to me”
It had me thinking. “Has he been with you?” I feel like a man that has energy that is strictly about me will make that ABOUT ME. No matter what, my foundational belief is to leave. And be by myself. I will always want to be single and unmarried more than with someone else who doesn’t treat me the way I deserve (and they know this in their heart of hearts) and knows my worth but wants to keep me low. And nothing but leaving me vulnerable and exposed. I can’t deal with a man that’s too vain in his desire for looks of himself being perfect, but doesn’t mind waiting around playing the merry go round game with a female only to get other females and then do what? I am putting my kids at risk. Because you don’t actually love me. You want to exploit me. You don’t want to marry me. You don’t want to have kids with me (which has always been hard to conceive).
When I got pregnant in 2023 that was the first time in 8 years. I don’t play with my desire to have healthy influences around me when it comes to men and giving you the same respect is my prerogative. Click here to watch a documentary on an escort that got pregnant by a married man. I would never be that type. And maybe I would “make money” doing reactions, but I am hardly ever in the mood. For a multitude of reasons. Albeit I have a lot to say, I just try to say as little as possible in the hotel room I am in because I think a certain way and when you read how I write and see how I act; you know who I am. Likely I am sure with an appropriate marketing team and more there could be potential. But I am very strict. And kindly, I have regards.
XOXO, El’Aundra
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July 14, 2025
I was always the girl that would write like a Harlequin and be able to manage other parts of my character well. Poetry always came easy. I read those books. VC Andrews too. Robin Cook and Eckhart Toole. Truth being that I don’t even get intimate with myself anymore. I am strengthening myself. There is no point. I literally don’t get turned on. Praying to God to take away the ability to lust after anyone. I talk more about it on the blog. Deleted that cam shit in fall-winter 2024. I wanted law enforcement to get the point. You don’t allow me to get abused and think I am here to make you smile on camera. Ever. God came to me in a dream saying I was worth more than being abused by men who only talked to other men about treating me like shit. And so I asked that he send me a husband. Nothing else. Goal is years of being single and celibate. It’s too easy. The point being for someone to come back and act like they don’t know what I have gone through thinking they have a chance, and they are treated no different than a stranger. No intimacy before marriage. Single 2 years and celibate since September 2024. I am not willing to give that up because I always go back to that. Meaning I am not someone that is a stranger to being celibate. I was single 2017 until 2022. I mean, you can go and discover parts of yourself, sure. But there is no reason to ever think I am not picky or feel like just because I look good I need to have everything available. Keeping in mind, I have had men in the past tell me that I look like a girl with high numbers. That’s the point. To prove you wrong and make you feel like an ass for assuming.
A lady said to me that she didn’t come out of her house for 3 years. I would consider doing that. For sure. I feel like sometimes you need to stay in the house. I could play that game for weeks on end. Just to prove a point that there’s more inner peace sometimes when you sit and watch videos like carl jung and quit something like smoking anyways. I would of course love to go back to work, but it was never a joke taking care of old people and being passionate about it.
Someone looking at me saying they hate to look me in the face is like telling me that you hate me because I look like my grandmother. It’s just not something I would do is be continuously hateful. When you really hate yourself for no reason. That brings God nothing but mercy for you. I no longer act as nice as I once did. I just can’t. It’s so draining at times to sit there and feel like you need to consistently be respectful to people that disrespect you or have underlying issues with themselves and project onto you. The nice form of the past being foolish. I was quite foolish sometimes to think that I needed to act like that. You can still be kind. Which is in it’s own definition, something different than being nice (I think). I am still kind, just departed from falling into traps people create for their own selfish greed.
So where would that leave me?
Fine, being unmarried and not willing to sacrifice in the form of human kind. Which makes people feel guilt in some sort of way. But Carl Jung said you cannot control the way people feel or the guilt they feel. They may have the expectation that you forgive them. God is your peace as soon as we are through. Only he can save a heart of stone, and turn it into flesh. Betrayal has already been done. So only after the damage is done does someone come back asking for forgiveness. So the man in utica can’t come back and neither can anyone else that has done the utmost of the worst as far as a man is concerned. We have no reason to sit and divulge on why I don’t have trust, and you don’t have respect. Don’t send me messages talking about healing. God has you now. People will plot for years and years, sewing webs of deceit and thinking your actions will be to forgive. A man that beats the shit out of a woman is exposed before a police call. It’s when he sends a text (held in a cloud) and people do nothing. For that I have no comment. But to let them live in their hell. The shit started 15-20 years ago. Live in the repercussions. The only true choice being to live in your guilt and have all the space 50 years brings or leave people alone and accept your truth. Still holding the risk of being shunned. I would not even post the email, sorry I find these days that exposing people just to get back at them for exposing me when I was simply minding my own business is playing back into their game. I pray and give it to God. And he sees all, hears all and knows all and lets them live in shame.
Let’s say someone in my family was so desperate to go to hollywood they felt they needed to sacrifice. Do you understand what a sacrifice is to God is completely different than what others think? I would feel like we need to separate. I cannot ever talk to you again. I will ask nothing of you. But for peace for eternity away from you. Because of the evil deep within you. And it’s not fair to think that way, some may say. Some feel that in order to have peace you must kill. Or rob. Or sacrifice. I shun those beliefs.
The world doesn’t understand the cost of erosion to the kingdom. Mercy without truth becomes manipulation. True compassion does not seek to rescue but reflect. To carry another’s pain indefinitely is to block another’s soul. And worse, it erodes yours. -Carl Jung
Sex might be the only peace someone has. That’s not me, and I don’t expect a friendship or anything else. It’s when people act as if you’re in competition with them when you know yourself that they truly look different. You are your own person. Stay that way. They might exploit you just to make themselves feel better. Which would put you in the same circle of abuse, crying out for help and where people may continuously compare you to them. That was the energy I was trying to get away from. Other people shaming and thinking that I must conform to their delivery of how they feel. Don’t have expectations. But when a man comes to me and treats me like shit because of how you act and project, I let him know how I AM. I think poetry is sexy. Like me writing a 10 page love song or poem. It’s cake. Not the sexual kind either. It stimulates the mind. And when you go back to someone with a “sexy body” you may feel completely different. Because you are a sapiosexual. Defined as: sexual attraction is largely or even primarily dependent on the high intelligence of a prospective mate. I got tired of not finding what satisfied me. And then ghosting. Or not responding. Mix that with Philophobia [a fear of love] and you have quite the recipe. None of that is to say that you should feel insecure because someone feels differently. If that is the case, the insecurity inside yourself was there before you compared yourself to that person. And I think of nobody else when it comes to knowing who I TRULY AM. There are only certain types of people you want to date. Certain types of lawyers you want to hire. Certain types of people you want to marry, etc.
Only after the weak cause pain do they try and apologize. It’s too late. Causing continuous pain is a sign of no remorse. God is consistently forgiving and compassionate. He has all the mercy for your manipulation. -El’Aundra
Watch this and you’ll have your answers. If you don’t watch it and expect open arms, you aren’t understanding a damn thing. Some people love the way I talk, some don’t. But it’s a conversation that I like to have in person. And I don’t trust people who continuously watch me suffer but say they love who I am. Are you afraid of me exposing you? There are ways around feeling or being exposed in the first place. But stating your intentions always helps ease the elephant in the room.
The pain people have caused cannot be erased. An unhealed complex, pulling strings beneath the surface. Unraveling the blanket of peace. -El’Aundra
Begin by naming what you have never dared to name. Speak the truth of how you have abandoned yourself. You do not need to force healing. You only need to stop lying to yourself. When love turns to possession it consumes not only the beloved but the self. The deeper the ache, the purer the connection is a story born from trauma. -Carl Jung
I had to cleanse. I could not sit in a room of fake people acting like I didn’t know waht was going on unless I have more awareness of what I bring to the world. Do I really truly care about what people think? If so, WHY?
Man in Mercedes yells out the car. “Yoooo” What do I say? I don’t know you. Just that simple. When you step out the car I can introduce myself and give you a business card. ELAUNDRA LLC. read the writings. I have had this blog for so long, and have soooo many archived posts from the past 16 years. It is senseless to not let you know I write poetry. I don’t want you to think that I enjoy how you are treating me. I would like to show you how I like to be treated. Intellectual please. You have to show people how you want to be treated. Otherwise they will treat you however they want.
Removing people who don’t align with my sense of peace for my facebook and anything else. So I am sorry if you are blocked but not sorry because there is likely something about you that doesn’t bring me a sense of peace, love and security. Something about your energy, your intention is off. Operating in a sense of cooperative healthy communication is simple to some. Hard to most. And if I sense that trust is going to be an issue, I remove it.
Genesis 22:1-13
Now it came about after these things, that God tested Abraham, and said to him, “Abraham!” And he said, “Here I am.” He said, “Take now your son, your only son, whom you love, Isaac, and go to the land of Moriah, and offer him there as a burnt offering on one of the mountains of which I will tell you.” So Abraham rose early in the morning and saddled his donkey and took two of his young men with him and Isaac his son; and he split wood for the burnt offering and arose and went to the place of which God had told him.Leviticus 18:21
Verse Concepts
You shall not give any of your offspring to offer them to Molech, nor shall you profane the name of your God; I am the Lord.Leviticus 20:2-3
“You shall also say to the sons of Israel: Any man from the sons of Israel or from the aliens sojourning in Israel who gives any of his offspring to Molech, shall surely be put to death; the people of the land shall stone him with stones. I will also set My face against that man and will cut him off from among his people, because he has given some of his offspring to Molech, so as to defile My sanctuary and to profane My holy name.Deuteronomy 12:31
Verse Concepts
You shall not behave thus toward the Lord your God, for every abominable act which the Lord hates they have done for their gods; for they even burn their sons and daughters in the fire to their gods.Deuteronomy 18:10
Verse Concepts
There shall not be found among you anyone who makes his son or his daughter pass through the fire, one who uses divination, one who practices witchcraft, or one who interprets omens, or a sorcerer,2 Kings 3:26-27
When the king of Moab saw that the battle was too fierce for him, he took with him 700 men who drew swords, to break through to the king of Edom; but they could not. Then he took his oldest son who was to reign in his place, and offered him as a burnt offering on the wall. And there came great wrath against Israel, and they departed from him and returned to their own land.2 Kings 16:2-3
Ahaz was twenty years old when he became king, and he reigned sixteen years in Jerusalem; and he did not do what was right in the sight of the Lord his God, as his father David had done. But he walked in the way of the kings of Israel, and even made his son pass through the fire, according to the abominations of the nations whom the Lord had driven out from before the sons of Israel.2 Kings 17:16-17
They forsook all the commandments of the Lord their God and made for themselves molten images, even two calves, and made an Asherah and worshiped all the host of heaven and served Baal. Then they made their sons and their daughters pass through the fire, and practiced divination and enchantments, and sold themselves to do evil in the sight of the Lord, provoking Him.2 Kings 21:6
Verse Concepts
He made his son pass through the fire, practiced witchcraft and used divination, and dealt with mediums and spiritists. He did much evil in the sight of the Lord provoking Him to anger.2 Kings 23:10
Verse Concepts
He also defiled Topheth, which is in the valley of the son of Hinnom, that no man might make his son or his daughter pass through the fire for Molech.2 Chronicles 28:1-3
Ahaz was twenty years old when he became king, and he reigned sixteen years in Jerusalem; and he did not do right in the sight of the Lord as David his father had done. But he walked in the ways of the kings of Israel; he also made molten images for the Baals. Moreover, he burned incense in the valley of Ben-hinnom and burned his sons in fire, according to the abominations of the nations whom the Lord had driven out before the sons of Israel.2 Chronicles 33:6
Verse Concepts
He made his sons pass through the fire in the valley of Ben-hinnom; and he practiced witchcraft, used divination, practiced sorcery and dealt with mediums and spiritists. He did much evil in the sight of the Lord, provoking Him to anger.Psalm 106:37-38
They even sacrificed their sons and their daughters to the demons,
And shed innocent blood,
The blood of their sons and their daughters,
Whom they sacrificed to the idols of Canaan;
And the land was polluted with the blood.Jeremiah 7:30-31
For the sons of Judah have done that which is evil in My sight,” declares the Lord, “they have set their detestable things in the house which is called by My name, to defile it. They have built the high places of Topheth, which is in the valley of the son of Hinnom, to burn their sons and their daughters in the fire, which I did not command, and it did not come into My mind.Jeremiah 19:2-5
Then go out to the valley of Ben-hinnom, which is by the entrance of the potsherd gate, and proclaim there the words that I tell you, and say, ‘Hear the word of the Lord, O kings of Judah and inhabitants of Jerusalem: thus says the Lord of hosts, the God of Israel, “Behold I am about to bring a calamity upon this place, at which the ears of everyone that hears of it will tingle. Because they have forsaken Me and have made this an alien place and have burned sacrifices in it to other gods, that neither they nor their forefathers nor the kings of Judah had ever known, and because they have filled this place with the blood of the innocentread more.Ezekiel 23:37-39
For they have committed adultery, and blood is on their hands. Thus they have committed adultery with their idols and even caused their sons, whom they bore to Me, to pass through the fire to them as food. Again, they have done this to Me: they have defiled My sanctuary on the same day and have profaned My sabbaths. For when they had slaughtered their children for their idols, they entered My sanctuary on the same day to profane it; and lo, thus they did within My house.Many times men choose “their peace” beforehand. And then they choose a woman to play with. Then when they have torn that woman apart, they feel they have peace. It’s purely because they felt a challenge. But there might not be a challenge. There might be a way for the woman to walk away from
I watch some of the most fascinating videos because they talk about the justice system failing to protect children and women etc. I just cannot give you the response you want. Feeding into that energy where a picture is consistently trying to be painted. Someone being made a sacrifice. Protecting a child molester and painting him to be good but the woman that shot him 9 times as the monster… for abusing the child. Watch this Stanford video on “The Prison Experiment”
And to close about my past with escorting… no money was ever enough for my dignity.
Click here for the biblical context.
Thunder sounds and sleep. God bless the world. I said to myself in my room… want me to burn this Dilly in a trash can in front of your door? LMAO. As long as you aren’t in front of me making noise as a man or woman I am fine. I wouldn’t choose your presence anyways. We couldn’t have kids because you don’t understand noise levels, and a relationship would never work. When you think about something in a different way like that it doesn’t bother you one fucking bit. We would argue about how you like the noise to be 1000 decibels and I like 30. I yelled “Are you ok up there? You sound like my 500 pound patient at the nursing home angry at the people below her.” Must be up there beating a boars head. I don’t have listeria tonight. 20 mbps type shit. Good slow f*****g. Goodnight. ❤️❤️
Don’t get me wrong, someone can feel like if they have a party above your head you’re going to cry. Maybe once. And never do it again. I did once. First time in years over a man. 6 years to be exact. I was devastated. But realizing your strength and potential, you move on from people who project insecurities… Click here to watch a video on Cleansing Energy in a room.
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XOXO, El’Aundra
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Unbeknownst
I know they say sometimes that if you don’t play about your peace or your belongings you might not get yourself into a position to lose. But in the same context, if someone doesn’t play about you they won’t let you lose.
As I stared at the black blender bottle I was also thinking to myself that someone could have used it for a pee bottle and then set it on the ledge just to be a cocksucker. To which I would not want to entertain. But you see the context and evil in how someone actually could be.
I must say this. It was letting an evil energy into my mind heart and soul and letting people around me tell me that the person was good that made me want to trust. Not anymore. My intuition must be the compass. Not another human’s opinion of a man or woman. They might be good to you, but no good to or for me.
I bought a book. A blogging book. And wanting to return it because it was highlighted in is just how I operate. My books have always been blank pages, with no highlights and no markings from someone else. I understand that. I might give the book to someone else and get a new copy. Just because I don’t feel like the book speaks to me the way I want it to. It belonged to someone else. And there are just certain things that belong to other people that I would not want to have or take. For more biblical reasons more than anything. It was about monetizing the blog. But the free nature of it is what has drawn people in since day 1 in 2008. It was the fact that he thought I was a whore. And I wanted to feed into that energy. Him telling me that I should escort just to appease a nature of someone else’s expectation of me. Choosy, I am. As in 100 messages, really only entertains 3 people. Choosing conversation over desperation. Choosing the name not based on the fact that I have visited New Orleans; but the fact that I needed to be private. Dignified, and feeling uncleansed; but having the ability to heal others on more than just a sexual level. That being the barest of truths. I would not perform certain acts, because they are sacred. I wrote as myself. And when you read the writings you know who it was, without question. Focusing on the lack of disrespect in my presence. The need for you to be intellectually stimulated, and understanding that even if you lie to me about your status (whether being single or married); shall you bear your truth, you would be able to grace my presence in a more peaceful manner with honesty attached if that be your desire. But never feeling that my ego needed to speak above all self respect. I never felt like I wanted to sit and expose the people who were just trying to help me for a short period of time in my life. Was it a risk? Sure. But I knew who I was and was not someone that needed a pimp. When and if you met me, you would understand why. You would see and feel the strength, the potential, the depth. And be enamored with more than just that. Not walking out of the room feeling like you were disrespected. Feeling like you had met someone that respected you. And I would in a sense expect the same. Receiving it, I went back to work. Only entertaining this when I was not working in my native field. Crossing the lines of these two fields being something I refused to do. Knowing the strength of my mindset and knowing that I had worked with people before that had immature minds but didn’t know how to turn off that immaturity in the work environment. And being ever so strict about that. I was. Maybe it came off as defensive. But I knew who I was. I was just trying to bleed the image of myself that someone else (or other people) had tried so hard to imprint in my mind and heart. I was depressed. Longing for true love. True trust. Not creepy nature. I had entertained this for less than a year off and on between 2022-2024. I am so sure I could have made a ton of money. But riches was something that I was never taught to idolize. I would entertain suggestions of being on the path of following others desires for vanity. They didn’t fit me. And when I was upset at myself for thinking in the back of my mind about what he said
“All you’re good for is s*****g d**k”, I crumbled. I gave in. And then I would hate myself for that one thing. Listening to someone who would hear me sing in the house but didn’t care to take me to the studip. Someone who would walk around my temple hearing me rap and making it so I only wanted to work in a nursing home for less than 60 days over a period of 18 months. 100 hours a week being the true me. But the insecurities of a man that wanted to play mind games with me and my life made me want to fight back. Numerous police calls, begging for help. Begging for truth. And maybe the fight was not fought the way that other people thought it should have been but I trusted in God the entire time. I kept wanting to crawl back to God. Him getting me addicted to cocaine for less than a year. Albeit, I have to take responsibility for my ability to be incapable of saying no to it for so long. And then I got angry. Saw my talents staring me in the face. Black trash bags on the windows. And glass from a sconce that I had punched buried in my hand. I had thrown a double pillow top california king mattress over the porch. Had taken a 2010 Panasonic 55″ TV and chucked it over the porch like nothing. Staring my rottweiler in the face, I am sure that she felt the pain. I am sure to this day that the entire city felt the pain. Yet a voice of something, whether it be my twin from heaven or God; it was telling me “I can’t save you if you don’t want to save yourself.”Walking away from that ideology that I was not looking after an idol. i was trying to prove a point. To show people who I was and who I was not. I was not trying to satisfy that friend that wanted to come into my house and bend over my dining room table as if to seduce my boyfriend that talked shit to me. He liked her, maybe adored her even. But would talk to me so ill intended. I likewise didn’t have to prove much to others as far as my talents and capabilities after being called a bitch while I asked for help to replace the ceiling in my apartment. I told him to get the fuck out and I will finish it up myself. I did. I feel like I had finished so much more than that when I started to speak my truth. Awaking the force to be reckoned with inside myself. I feel more than peace knowing that there was no right for my ex to be in my life to punch me in the face 3 times. With that type of man, I told him there is so much truth and faith in me I would tell the FBI to go through my storage. You won’t find shit. But when you go to a man like that all he would or could say is that he would punch you in the face again. And I don’t deal with anyone unless I have truth. All a doctor is going to do is lie to you and tell you that you need medication when you actually need truth and nothing else.
XOXO, El’Aundra
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July 13, 2025
I came inside after smoking a cigarette. Looked at what looked like my old blender bottle. I knew I had lost one. But looked at it thinking hmmm, I already have one. And if that is the old one, I will buy a new one instead of assuming that is mine. Someone else might need that water bottle more than I do. And if it is not mine, it will look like I took a blender bottle that wasn’t mine. So I left it there.
Came upstairs and put on my pajamas. Put cream on my tattoos and opened the bible as I closed my eyes. I opened to a part of the bible that was already highlighted. The page had no bookmark. The highlighted verse (highlighted last night) was Ezekiel 33:11. “Say unto them, as I live, saith the Lord God, I have no pleasure in the death of the wicked but that the wicked turn from his way and live: turn ye, turn ye from your evil ways; for why will ye die, Oh house of Israel.”The first verse I saw was “He heard the sound of the trumpet and took not warning; his blood shall be upon him. But he that taketh warning shall deliver his soul.”
I was out front telling a man I refuse to drive as a passenger. I have been in the car with someone since being hit that did not care about my life enough to NOT drive 90mph. I told him I have been driving a century. I just refuse to do that. And refuse to walk 5 miles to work. I told him about going through strife, and how I was encountering people who had hearts of stone. In Ezekiel 11:19 last night I read how God took hearts of stone and made them hearts of flesh.
I went to the store to buy cigarettes. I saw this man that looked like he wasn’t paying attention when he was driving and I said “You can go that fucking way”
Then I went to him and apologized while I was standing at the check out. Walked out the store and said I am sorry for being a cunt. I have had people in the past that laughed at me being hit by a car and didn’t care and I am just very apprehensive and untrusting of people since then. In my head remembering my dad taking a bus from buffalo when I was younger to see me. Just to do cartwheels in the yard. And then I went back in the store.
What I got from the verse was just this… sometimes we make a mistake in assuming. And sometimes there is no mistake in assuming, you are just trying to cause harm. I wanted that man to know I was not trying to be a bitch on purpose, hurt his feelings on purpose. I wanted to be honest and forthright and come to him and explain why I am the way that I am. Refusing to be in a relationship or intimate after encountering people that don’t think like I do. Reading Ezekiel 16:16-26 last night and felt the energy of my wrongs. Arguing with a man who wants to call me a whore. Believing that I needed to share an intimate part of myself to satisfy his ego. Especially being raised in a church. Many churches.
XOXO, El’Aundra
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July 12 2025
God will provide a house. Someone ordained by God will. Or I will do it myself with God’s strength and blessing. Nothing else. -El’Aundra
I have always written love poems. Years and years of them. And I continue to write more. I dream of it but it cannot be found for me and I am fine with that. I just don’t need someone thinking otherwise. I admire love, not dishonor it. And yet I might not have a love (man or woman) to call my own; but yet I still dream.
I am going back to my 16 page poems and songs I have been writing about such. Uploading old ones I had printed out and rewritten from my unit.
EXCERPT:
I had to have a little cord cutting ceremony. The energy that was around me for a while when I wanted to focus on work was negative. Not entirely enjoying the flashback that came. More ptsd.
I remember sitting at the table and the man telling me to shut the fuck up after I told him I am not going to let him be intimate with me under any circumstances. And he proceeded to tell me a story about a woman who had been killed in the woods and her insides cut open. My response to him was nothing. Because you have to remember something, it’s your energy and the energy of the place I am staying (Which I shouldn’t be staying in the first place. I deserve my own house like I have always had.) that is all wrong. I am thankful for the book of Ezekiel. And the ability to never want to be around energy like that again. And I went back to work. Knowing if I was going to get anything done, I would have to rely on god or do it myself
Women with husbands. I don’t want you or your man. You have a bigger chance of a video girl in a video taking your man with me. I rebuke that energy. And yet I still disclose to women and men. I don’t want you or your partners. So I hope you understand where I am coming from because I love myself and neither you or your partner can replace that. Ever. I have heard it before, and don’t care to entertain the objective of a male poacher. Never have. And even more so, I have more respect than most women. When the Netflix boxing documentary is playing, I am not paying attention to the men and women announcers. I am paying attention to the architecture in the movie. A man asked me to be with him and his woman ( a woman he claimed liked me ) once and I said no because he laughed at my DV in the past, Thinking it was a joke. Save yourself being the context. That has happened more than once. Where someone thinks you will just forget, and feel sympathy and say yes. But there was no joke. And by saving myself, I said no. Most of the reason I said no had to do with my unease around that person and anyone who might have thought the same.
If a man thinks your abuse is a joke, best believe the woman he is with or wants to have you entertain is thinking the same thing. I would never say yes to that.
I got so tired of arguing about my ancestry. So I would just walk away. Knowing I would never marry that person or do anything with them. Letting them think they won. But when you research yourself and keep the knowledge for yourself, knowing you would never lay your head down with that hateful energy, you can have peace. Celibate and single for life. I can’t say that enough. God chooses what he wants me to have as a partner. Not humans.
My rejecting a relationship is not to “hurt” someone else. I have to focus on my health before feeling like I need to put your needs or want as a man or woman desiring intimacy or a relationship before mine. Some things will always be a no because of the energy. Especially when they were allowed to hurt me and make a show of it, and my peace is leaving it up to God. I am not someone’s peace when they are not my true friends or lovers. As soon as I sing around someone or write poetry or do art and they don’t have ideas for me to do more but I give that energy to them, I assume you are an enemy. And I didn’t create that. Smiling in my face, and knowing what I have gone through doesn’t hurt; but to some people it could. Because the reason it doesn’t hurt me, is that it means you are not ordained by God to love me. You might have done so by having that “Nobody Cares” Click here to read.
Let’s say you go through more domestic violence and mistreatment by men or women even after being baptized for your second time in life, and you’re philophobic; would you go be in a relationship, go get married or be intimate? Or would you draw closer to God for strength renewing your sense of self and cast that energy out of your life for focus? For respect.
As this cab driver pulls out of the parking lot not paying attention, and I walk to the store to get white pillar candles; I yell God bless you. Don’t sit there not paying attention again sneezing while driving and then apologize when you cause harm to someone else. They may not want your apology but for you to pay more attention. Hence the point of shunning a relationship, marriage etc. I yelled I will pray for you in psalm 18 and 19. And remembering that I have the power in what I say when I respond to someone or their actions. Saying a prayer for them is the most I can do. Welcoming you into my life as a fighter for me, a protector is my last thought.
God grants me blessings no man or woman desiring to use and abuse me would compare to. I would never sit and say I want anything from a man who has purely shown he detests me. And the women he associates with do as well. They could never provide a home for me. God can. Not them.
My objective is to bless and not hurt people.
Read July 11, 2025 here
God Bless You,
El’Aundra
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July 11, 2025
I had to share this poem. And I am still writing a little more right now but today is his birthday. I love you always and forever. “D’ can be for Dad or Darrick. Either way, this man gave me so much strength to keep living and breathing as a kid when I fell out of the window. I love you always. He had a monumental part in raising a wonderfully strong female.
Woo-woo loves you and wishes you a wonderfully beautiful birthday. On this beautiful shining day, I am thankful to say. I am so thankful for my uncle and all the days. The days that you have sat by my side and prayed prayed prayed. We have gone through so many things like a true father and daughter. And when you ask that I think of you as a father instead of an uncle, its the love that stays. I am so happy to write this poem for you and think of you as the king. And it’s because you were so monumental in taking care of me after falling out of the window that I sing. I love you to infinity and beyond. It’s always smiles you bring. And when the sun shines on you dear beloved man who taught me so much strength in life, it is always a smile that your name brings. I love you!!! I also posted this on my blog, and wrote it in my book because if it wasn’t for the love in my life I would not have a reason for anything. -El’Aundra (www.elaundra.com)
XOXO,
El’Aundra
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Celibate 1 year, Single 2 years.
I have no easy way to explain this, but it feels good to make this concrete decision in a world like what we live in today. I don’t care to argue about looks, or who cheated on who, or anything. I don’t feel like allowing myself to trust a man or woman more than I trust myself. I have found that instead of lying to people I have dated before and saying “I’ll think about getting to know the ‘improved’ you”, I would think to myself, why not just be happy with them trying to improve but telling them that we have no chance at a second or third chance. NONE. We will be happier as friends, I guarantee. Also remaining true to the fact that being celibate, single, refusing to marry (never been married/proposed to) for 10, 15, or 20 years is less stress than worry about if you are actually going to work when you say you are. I am a workaholic but have common sense, decency and respect. I just do things differently. I also can’t see myself wanting to worry about your ex-wife wanting to stay on the side; and what about strength? Can you be strong enough to fight for me? Because I came into this world fighting in a sense. Hence my desire to consider more than one husband before I considered one. My heterosexuality not allowing me to ever be in a relationship with a female. And decades of trust issues made me want to heal my soul. Getting baptized in February 2024 was the revelation in some aspects. In a relationship, I would get talked to or treated in a toxic way which would make it hard for me to go to work. Then my bills and things I wanted to do would suffer. Children and family see me get depressed. But when I am out of the relationship, the toxicity is somewhat the same. They still think they have control or ownership.
I understand why someone would want to have a donor, and have a child but have no relationship with the child. And that might be something that would work for me because you would not be trying to control me or keep tabs on me, being toxic and manipulative. And it’s just another way to experience having children or being someone that cares for someone else without the argument of a relationship getting into the middle.
I like to remain non-confrontational and not arguing. I don’t want to be in a marriage or relationship or dating and it’s full of arguing. I refuse.
Past DV issues made me decide a year ago to be celibate and 2 years ago to stay single. 20 years of that sounds wonderful. Never marrying. Flattered and flattering it could be in fantasy. But in reality, I like platonic friendships and matchmaking other people. I write about how I had these motives planned years and years ago. “If I am still never proposed to by 40, I will just never marry.” It started there. And spiraled. I don’t like intimacy as much as people think because I like for someone to belong to me and be faithful. And that is just too hard for me to find and put up a fight. So I surrender to allowing myself to grow and build platonic friendships that last. Nothing based off lust.
I am not angry at all. It’s peaceful, and I have loved that sense of peace before. Not sharing myself and instead, focusing on healing and learning. People misinterpret your emotions in general. But intimacy, or a marriage/relationship is suffocating to me. And 9 times out of 10 it was. Whether the woman or man was pretty or not. People would get hung up on looks. And I would be happier not concerning my judgement of a person based on that. Because of the mixed experiences in dealing with people.
They’re too nosy. Too secretive. Too cluttered. Too claustrophobic.
There’s ways I have been treated I wouldn’t treat my kids or other people. I consider the desire to be “observant” and not “involved”
Then you can never say I tried to use you to get somewhere in life. And even if the alternative is true, and you might have used me to get somewhere in life; where does that feeling get you? Nowhere fast. But if you watch the actions of others and pay attention to your actions and how you treat yourself, you might start to realize that the likelihood of someone being on this earth to take care of you the way you want isn’t there. And meeting someone that is ordained by God (actually sent by God). Not someone claiming to love you and take care of you and actually doesn’t. Would you lie to yourself about wanting to love yourself more or would you actually do the work to treat yourself better than others have treated you and seek to find out how you can actually fall in love with yourself? It’s a rather beautiful thing to me. I was single for 5 years (2017-2022) and do not regret it one bit. But the anger was really the men and women that were mad that they didn’t get a chance. Feeling like I owed them a chance. I would wind up writing about how they truly made me feel and pondering if they actually made me feel loved.
When you have children, you can consider it a vow to show them that you are good enough on your own and can do bad by your fucking self. Letting them understand that “Look, people have treated me like shit and I will be damned if I avenge them, treat them how they treated me or bow down to them. I can be better than them by treating new people better. Those old people might have had a chance. And keeping it platonic, non-toxic and with boundaries makes me feel at ease. Truth be told, there might be nothing about them that makes me feel at ease.”
At 37 years old, am I not “nice” because I refuse to date or be involved someone who is 21 years old? Am I mean for that? Am I not “nice” because I refuse to be used for validation and put in the same mindset that you have and your life aligns with, but mine doesn’t? Look up the etymology of “nice” here. Some expectations that people have assuming you aren’t “nice” are actually foolish. And then we go back to this old meaning of the word nice. I don’t consider the men thirsting after me at 22 years old and they were 44 “nice”. They were creeps trying to take advantage of me and use me to make another woman their age jealous. And even at 37 years old, because of the wisdom I have gained in life; I refuse to let that bother me. EVER. How you affiliate yourself with age being nothing, but a number is not how I choose to define my life. I wouldn’t want to have discussions about a man wanting to go around having “fun with the young” and I am standing right here as a mature woman with wisdom, and people assuming I am 10 years younger than I actually am. It then makes that man look shallow. You have a chance at love when you’re honest with yourself and in alignment with someone that aligns with you.
I am not here to judge your choices in the past. Or how you feel. But knowing that I have to remain stronger, and not be so vulnerable and succumb to someone just because they have interest is the reality. I am going to read this “Blogging for Profit” Book I have and maybe write more later. Updated context of emotions.
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Where Inspiration Goes
In the event that you lose your inspiration or maybe even your home. Keep pushing. This is what I tell myself every morning. A little poem to keep going.
I will keep writing recipes.
I will keep writing poetry.
I will keep writing art proposals for projects.
There is no reason for me to stop.
Just because I have come to a fork in the road.
Or get that feeling like someone or something in life got over on you.
I will be just fine.
All of the talents inside you will still continue to be there.
All of the dreams you have will still continue to be there.
And every recipe that was taught to me as a child.
Is still within my mind heart and soul.
Every painting that comes from my hands to a brush naturally.
It will still have the ability to captivate.
All of the words that God allows to flow freely from my heart still do so.
Whether you give me a chance or not.
I will always give me a chance regardless.
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Comments
All comments are allowed wherever they need to be. But on a blog that is self built there are reasons why people decide to ignore comments rather than click on them. The idea is to not engage. And although the freedom of others doesn’t justify your purpose, you can still choose to tune people out.
Just because someone comments with a link doesn’t mean that you need to engage in a war with whether or not you should click on it.
Same as if someone decided to have an opinion on your blog. Doesn’t mean engaging in a debate about it is worth lowering yourself to their level. Peace is what you make it. And I choose to ignore.
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Nursing Can Propel
Are nurses mean? Or do we just assume they are nice because they are dressed in scrubs? Same as any other person in life, do we give them more credit because of their uniform? Do we trust them more because they are in a uniform? What do you mean when you say nurse? It was something I had always dreamed of. My grandmother had a Bachelors in Psychology. I always respected that. And my mom was working on a degree in Horticulture. I can’t remember if she finished it or not.
I would often read books and think about the way that people are supposed to be cared for. And what’s the best way to approach care in general. I think if I had been around more positivity I would have made it.
It was my first attempt at the LPN program. I met a girl at work that was relief staff. It was the little questions from a girl registering to be in my class asking for help with her hair and I helped her with her braids. We worked together, although not for long because my schedule because insurmountable. She came back to work and I overheard her talking about the braids not being perfect. I didn’t care about perfection. It was to me as if she couldn’t just be glad that someone did them for her. I asked her if there was anything I could do to fix them and she said no. Looking back on it, there were things going on that made me lose inspiration. And I wasn’t passionate about doing hair. It was just something for fun and a favor. I couldn’t understand how incomprehensible it was for someone to be a grateful person. But yet what if you wanted to sit in this class and act like you were going to be the perfect little nurse. I had just moved to the area. But I figured I would help. I knew I wasn’t a professional, but with practice I could be. And that didn’t bother me.
I was never into painting a picture unless it was in the literal term. With oil or acrylic as the medium. That old scenario where you paint the picture as if everything is fine but nothing really is. And before I knew it over a decade in the field had passed and I wasn’t at the RN stage where I wanted to be.Professionally I was the type that if I dated someone outside of work and encountered them at work I would tell them to act appropriately. Don’t interact in a way that causes an issue with my job. Never really understanding how someone viewed these jobs as a place for them to find a partner, I focused on work. Didn’t abuse the nature of the work.
And people tainted that. They ruined it with their perspectives and their doubt. Damaging remarks, ungratefulness. Attitudes, backstabbing, politics and more. I had to take a break. Because if I was to come back it would need to be where I was stronger than ever. I needed to make sure that I had no recourse that was going to break me down like this. My heart was in it. I wasn’t in it to sell everyone out and then leave. Others were. So I would let them be. Making sure I stayed focused. But there was always that shred of doubt they would cause.
Feeling confident that the love I had for the patients would shine through. And god would show me what to do. I always loved painting nails. And receiving artwork from the patients. But my heart was broken sometimes because of the treatment. I think I became more broken than anything because of the toxic culture of how much better an RN or LPN is in title and personality seems to the general public. Without them understanding what we go through as far as abuse when we are CNA’s going back to school. It often doesn’t matter to anyone but us and the residents. They are proud of us. And that constant attitude watered it down.
”You’re not a real nurse.” Is what someone will say to you often times.Paying attention to those people you offer to buy lunch for and they order a $50 meal. You offer a ride home and they have you driving allover to do errands when you just got off a 16. Or it’s just you and another nurse and they want to talk your ear off for the entire shift for no reason. Was I on radar? Yes.
It has always been about who the owner is. Who the administrator is. Who the DON is. How solid is their heart? And work ethic? How they care for the facility. How good of a person are they? And I began to realize I can’t choose as much as I think I can.
In the very beginning of my journey working in the nursing homes I would sit and ponder ‘Why can’t I say no to shifts when asked to work.’ And it was really because I felt bad for leaving the patients with short staff. That made me feel guilty. Which wasn’t ever someone else’s fault. It’s just part of the nature of the field.
In order to work dutifully I would have to go right home after a 16 hour shift and go right to sleep. And a house quiet. Then go to work a little early. 4-5 hours of sleep is usually what I would get when I worked hours like that. Depending on the shift. It wasn’t until I fell down in life and had a major breakdown and lack of belief in myself that I almost gave up on the nursing home and other things that gave me joy like painting portraits. I worked one day in two weeks. Didn’t care how my bills were paid. Was just thinking about the present. And how to escape and get help. But I didn’t trust anyone. My trust barrier was broken. And a part of me had overshadowed realizing that if I had built more relationships at work I might have had more help. But I didn’t want to go around to 29 people explaining my troubles and getting nowhere. I wanted relief. Right then and there. But it didn’t come without me getting help that was actually helpful. Without the stains of tears in my pillow from crying.
I was homeless at this time. First time in my life. I would realize that coworkers would come in the break room and go through my bag. I wasn’t used to that. Driving for 23 years, I had always had a car. Books and note books there. Even a first aid kit. Most times traveling you would have to sleep in your car as well. So they went through my notebooks. My poetry. And they felt like they could smile in my face. I would ignore the pain. Push through the violation or privacy. Causing an interrogation could cost more than my job and my peace. But I would just be there for the patients. Not them. I wouldn’t be concerned about much more than doing the right thing. Say you borrow a charger from a patient, do you buy another one and replace the one you borrowed? Or do you keep the one you took from them? Do you order things from Walmart that the patients need? Or just say ‘I’m sorry we don’t have what you wanted.’ Are you someone that puts their needs before your own? Do you make an honest effort to be someone’s friend? If they are so broken because of the loss of a loved one, do you make an effort to give them hope? Or do you just sit and act like you are listening to them but really aren’t? Do you go in their room to just sit and be on your phone and hide away?
I am not perfect. I have just learned to work a relative and fully wholesome way that makes the residents feel comfortable around me and being in my care.
I remember a woman in stage 4 kidney failure. She wanted donuts. And so I ordered from Walmart. Another man needed a charger. So I ordered that from Walmart too. Someone else needing pajamas. And I got them just as well. No complaints. Happy to help.
What the field means to me versus someone else is different. And I hear a little voice inside me telling me stick with that being one of many dreams. There’s no reason to let that go. Why these requirements and restrictions? Because I want to feel like I’m doing God’s work. Not just say I’m doing God’s work. The love inside you can propel you.
Oftentimes we project our disparity while looking for jobs onto other people and get very upset. understandable. I have interviewed people like that and been in circumstances where I projected that energy to someone as well.
XOXO,
El’Aundra
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Stay Strong
You’re beautiful and you know it. You just know that there is so much more to life than being able to see through a lens. See on a screen. See through the glass. You know that you are meant for more in this life and I want you to remember that. Remember that no matter what you face, you have options. You have something to prove. Something to give the world. Something to share with the world. And it’s a big beautiful world. But don’t forget about how to have peace. How to be humble. Sometimes we forget how to have a graduation in our hearts each time we reach a milestone of happiness. Each time we make it to do something that warms our hearts we need to reach out to others and ensure we can lift them up with that joy.
Walking the trails of earth. Looking at the rain and smelling the air. Touching rocks. Watching birds. Thanking the lord for waking you up. And talking to yourself better. It’s important for you to understand that life will have trials and tribulations. But you can be the best you can be with the help of others. And church. And God. And books. Literature is one of the most amazing ways to find a sense of belonging in the world.
Tell yourself you would rather do good, so that you can continue to feel good. Listen to the intuition in your heart. Your emotions. Just ensure you stay strong.
XOXO,
El’Aundra
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The Tone of Recourse
The tone of this goes out to the people who have doubted me relentlessly.
Let me guess, you’re heartbroken. And by the time you read the rest of this, I cannot be blamed for the rest of the heartbreak. You don’t have to read it. I don’t choose to interrogate and blame someone. Just get better and be stronger.
If I told you what was on my heart, mind body and soul you would feel a type of way. Although I am not saying I write this with the intent to make you feel a certain way. I say this so that you have truth. And you know the pain I go through. Then you can have a peace of your own. Knowing all the while…“I treated her wrong.”
That’s all someone wants people to realize. In most aspects it’s to be seen that you are going to change who you are regardless of if someone holds hope for you changing or not. And despite the pressure to be something I am not, to get angry, to sit down and say nothing; I do quite the opposite. Some are teachers of strength. And silence in measures we cannot see. Which I appreciate. I appreciate the solace and strength someone holds to control the world with a touch of infinite patience. Infinite grace. And do I do my best to exceed these expectations for myself? Yes. I do. But I falter. I do not seem as graceful as others want because of strength.
The desire for weakness was a real aspect of my life and relationships. Which winds me in a shadow of doubt and despair more than once. Calming effects of the life for which we desire, I have often found myself with nowhere to turn. I can call it pride. I can call it grace. But it is a reason that I never reached out and asked for help. I didn’t believe. I didn’t feel like the person could help me at that time without playing psychologically manipulating games that would wind me up in a tunnel of destitution. And there I would sit thinking this is it.
“Give up why don’t you.” I can hear those worthless voices saying in their day-to-day work. In their lives they enjoy so much while I sit in torment. A culture of desperation it has become. And sometimes in order to live, I have to consider not looking at someone with the glasses of judgement. Looking at the soul of the person. Why do they act the way that they do. No matter what that judgement may be. It could be race. It could be salary. It could be job title. But knowing the right way to turn and the right thing to choose is something that has led a path of importance in my life. And unjust action such as discarding my things and selling them off one by one can only burn the soul that does that when they want to see me out on the street because they are innately jealous of the talents I possess. It astounds me. You don’t have to be jealous. Don’t have to be threatened. I am humble and at peace.
What if I told you that my attraction is something that changes daily? What if I told you that someone I was in love with and going crazy over, and seriously attracted to last year is not the same person I would love today? Does that mean I am too damaged? Does that mean you have done too much? Does that mean you are going to do too much, and I already know that so I immediately shut down any form of attraction or dreaming as quickly as possible? Some have had the sudden realization that I will daydream about them and take advantage of that. They know I am a writer at heart, love singing (and pressure me to open that up to them and sing or read but I do the opposite). I SHUT DOWN). I will write poems about that shutdown. That breakdown where I cry out for my twin because I feel like that’s who I’m calling for when it comes to the other half of me. Not a man. For whatever reason, they still hold no interest in me or affection for me and entertain someone else. Largely to irritate me even more. But it doesn’t bother me at all.
“Let’s get some literary inspiration out of her.”Not realizing that draining the energy from me and taking from me can innately take from them as well. It could have breathed life, had I not been so hurt. Had I not been so abused with words that I approach with trepidation in my sleep. So forsaken. And not being a fortune teller, I have no way of telling how they feel. I just know that I have a sense of adoration that needs to disappear. Because I feel attacked. I don’t feel adorned. Cared for. Honored. I feel exposed. I want to rid myself of you. So I can feel normal again. I somehow cannot be yourself around that person. It’s somehow impossible. So hard for me to comprehend. But it’s not incomprehensible that someone wouldn’t find inspiration for a script. Or a song. Or a book. It’s just those without boundaries, feeling like their access has no expiration. Like they themselves have a sense of entitlement to my peace.
Time heals wounds. And I have to allow myself to have the time and space to create. Nobody wants to create a masterpiece in a pile of dog shit. In literal or metaphorical terms it stains the very desire of them to be their most creative selves. And sometimes because of the God complex of others, they feel like they must test you and make sure you are ‘ready’… what if you were born ready. On your own terms. Because they are the terms God has set forth and he doesn’t directly share those terms with others. Why should or would he? That’s an entire level of disrespect and karma that stains art. It makes it daunting to look at that model. That singer. That actor. That artist. To know that they were played with so much because others were threatened of their success or talent that could be reached if they are allowed to direct their own creativity that was God given. But I believe that’s what makes you the best artist. Being able to sit at a table and be yourself. Without feeling played or played with. When you feel played or played with it’s much like arguing the value of morality aspects in Diversity Equity and Inclusion at a business perspective. Yes, there’s a bottom line. But making it all about money ruins perspectives of it. And brings forth bad karma.knowing I have a beautiful body that I built on my own is justification for my own free will to accept myself. Not for you to abuse. But you being an outside person see my body as an object. And me as lucrative. For your greed. The bottom line being money. The morality being me wanting to love myself more than you ever could or would. If I adopt that aspect of life, and interrogate myself about how other people feel about my body I will feel hopeless. Because of your judgement. What about if I don’t care? I don’t care about your cough when I walk by? Your snickers? Your wayward eyes? Your cat-calling. And I just move through life as if your objective is to objectify me and my objective is to realize…myself.
Without people around you like this, you can have a sense of yourself. You can breathe. Live.Sometimes people think that because of your disposition in life you aren’t worth anything more than what your salary grade is. Or what your last relationship was or measured up to. They feel like they can play with your options.
’Oh you have a bridge? Or veneers?’
‘I’m going to hook my boy that has dentures up with you. I don’t want you.’
I began to write about a character named Nola in a story in 2019 on a notebook. She had a family. Dreams of being married. Being an architect. An only child, she thought she was destined for more. Until her heart was broken for the first time and she came home to an empty house when all she had known was a husband and a dog. The dog was her child. The husband was her life. And it sent her into a spiral. She had friends that were in the nursing field but she never wanted to be a nurse because of how much pain she saw people go through. How much injustice there was in life sometimes. How could people be so hurtful, put a badge on, and play nice. So when she came home she would draw house plans. And her husband built her dream house with her. And that’s the house he left her in. If he had cheated, she had no clue. But coming from a place where her foster parents were drug dealers and had a trap house; she had aspirations of being more and felt like she was more. She believed in love. The guided touch of her husband made her think he was very faithful. Very kind. But there were life aspects of wisdom that made her know more about life than he knew about her.
That’s all I can share for now.
XOXO,
El’Aundra
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Strong Heart
It’s 1:37am now. I walked to the store and could have sworn that my clock said 11pm. I mumbled to myself “Foolish girl, you have your glasses on but still can’t see”
It was about 9 or 10 and I was watching a trial show on Netflix. Arguing with the TV per usual. I tend to have an opinion on everything. Which could be annoying for anyone watching TV with me, but I am always watching TV alone and fine with the TV not talking shit back to me.
I took my pulse. 68. Which is normal 60-100 is good. I really don’t like taking medicine, but I knew that I needed to calm down. Whenever I sit in my mind and think about certain things, I get anxious. And I really feel a pounding in my head. I had gone to the nightstand and grabbed my Hydroxyzine. Being someone familiar with Pharmacology and the nuance of how it works in the body, it usually sits there in the bottle undisturbed. But these past couple of days have been immense.
It’s a feeling of remorse. It’s a feeling of guilt. It’s a feeling of sadness.
There are men and women that walk this earth and are so pressed with angst for my desire to leave them with no other choice but to find someone else. To give them no reason to talk. No reason to explain. And that is not fair. I think about that all the time. More than you think. I think about families, kids, cooking, community and more. And I tell myself that I will not experience that the way I want to if I don’t get out of the depressive states that I am in most times. Feeling a drought is not good. It’s hardening my heart sometimes.
I guess I never really sat and worked through these emotions before. I would just move on. We are taught to just move on so much in life. Fall and bust your knee, move on. Get your heart broken, move on. And it’s that feeling that someone has that they don’t have a chance to come and redeem themselves. And truthfully that’s what hurts me the most. That I can shock myself with how enclosed I will make myself become. I will want to focus on something that will better my sense of judgement. My emotional intelligence. My sensuality, such as getting my hair done in a different style. All to better myself, or so I think.
But what if bettering yourself is making it possible for someone to have a way to come back and apologize for not being there when you needed them. For not knowing what you needed. For not being who you needed them to be. For not having something inside them that you could call forever. For not being your forever. It’s sometimes appalling to me, the frustration I hold in my heart when I think about these things. Because I crave closeness in so many aspects of life.
I guess I just fear rejection like everyone else does at some point in life. And in order to avoid feeling that rejection, I put a stop to feeling anything at all. That’s the hardest part. The raw form of emotion is being able to cry in front of someone. And that, to me is true vulnerability. But what does that do for you as a person? In my heart it makes me want to make you stay longer. But sometimes I don’t cry at things other people cry at. I know what it means to be the strong person in the room when a patient is dying. And so I attribute that sometimes in life and apologize for not wanting to show emotion to some people. Although I am genuine, I don’t want you to think that just because I feel uncomfortable crying in front of you, that I don’t cry about you.
I feel that loneliness set in and don’t want to adhere to it. I don’t want to feed into it. I don’t want to see why it’s there in the first place. I just want to move past it. And most often it’s because I have shut myself out of community engagements that really truly do make me happy. Let’s say a speaking engagement for example. A psychology based one. And the man is talking about depression. I will likely cry. And that crying in front of other people will make me feel invalidated. I don’t know why. But I won’t want to feel that so I might not go to the speaking engagement. Confronting my fears is really the most important part of my life right now.
I am afraid of love. Afraid of getting close to someone. Afraid of building a relationship with your kids and with the tumultuous ups and downs in a relationship; having them ripped from my heart. So, I avoid it. That’s the boldest truth. And it hurts. I know people feel this same emotion sometimes, but what does it prevent you from doing in life? What does it prevent you from feeling in life? Where does it prevent you from going?
Procrastination has always been a problem for me. I have always had an issue with being able to assert myself in a manner that can exemplify a solid routine unless I can clear my mental and have the essential things in life set up the way they need to be. And even if my Maslow’s triangle is satisfied, there will be a precedence of fear that then folds into procrastination, and I don’t get as far as I want to.
I think it was me dancing around as a little girl thinking that one day I will have a husband. I loved the old movies and watching the love stories. Putting myself in their shoes. Having children and getting married are dreams that people do hold dear. But they are also things that people get mad at themselves about if they don’t succeed at. They feel like they are less than if they aren’t married.
And back in the old days, if you weren’t married by a certain age you were shunned by the community. They did not look at you like a pillar of strength. They looked at you as weak. Something is wrong with you. Why is it that everyone else can find a husband but you can’t? What the fuck is wrong with you? “An Unmarried Woman” (1978) is a great movie. Discusses societal expectations to a great detail. But you will understand old mannerisms in society. I will watch an old movie with a great big massive smile on my face. And sing along to old Dean Martin songs.
That’s how it would come off, the judgement from other people. And so, you begin to see why a woman would be so depressed. And feel so low. Useless. Worthless. Because all around her people were getting married, but she was not someone that was getting married. I will never forget a scene of this one movie where the woman was walking around the kitchen talking about how she could not wait to get married. Because she was tired of the town talking about her like she was the town whore. And it was true. That was how people would talk about you at the time. Like you were just a tramp if you weren’t married. Especially by a certain age. And being that I am almost 40, I know I had felt that for myself. Partially because my love for old movies and the way that I had adored them all throughout my life. But it wasn’t until I started to take a deeper look at my own life that I realized a part of why I am the way I am, and things are the way they are is because of how I feel. How I treat love. How I treat forgiveness.
So, my objective was to get better at these things. To work through the parts of life that had been hardest to work through. Giving myself the opportunity to be honest with myself. What if there is a person that’s out there that is so concerned about my blood pressure, anxiety and pulse that it affects his movements? What if I have already been with this person, and still decide to disregard that they want a second chance? What if my own insecurities are the very reason they shy away from me?
They describe a strong pulse sometimes as a bounding pulse. And that’s all I want my heart to be, a strong heart.
XOXO,
El’Aundra
Read more if you like…
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The Algorithm of Life
Can’t wait to keep working on my self titled book… but for now. I always tell people as long as you have good intentions, God can continue to provide great blessings. But when that falters, he has to teach us lessons. And I always intended on having my own documentary I filmed about my own life and book. Period. Any other way, people know how to have a debate with me. In person. My trauma in life from a young age taught me to be humble. And inspire others to treat me with respect.. And when I make mistakes, I own up to them, ask forgiveness and make changes. Without breaking others down. That, I don’t believe in. 🙏 Life can be gracious and so can God. I’m talented beyond belief sometimes. It’s just what others have believed in. And sometimes that lack of belief in myself has cost me a lack of stability in life, and finances.
So I say less. That’s how I feel about an algorithm that doesn’t work for the rhythm in my heart. Although I have devoted time to people who could have ultimately made my life better, they might not have done so in the way I wanted them to. Should I expect that help? Should I crumble and fall because I didn’t have the help? Should I feel more pain? Should I numb the pain?
Watch. Wait. Listen. That’s what it teaches us to do. And some of us aren’t waiting for approval from an algorithm to move ahead in life. Let alone another person to approve of us or our choices. Or keystrokes. I knew more about marketing and information technology than I would let people know. Yet I didn’t care. I didn’t care to argue with you. I cared more to make you feel numb. Void. Like you lack substance. Because you relied on an excuse for my wanting your help. You wanted me to sit here and tell you that I couldn’t live without you helping me get to a higher point. I can’t be anything without a man that has marketing tactics. I can’t live without a woman that wants to compete on social media. But in reality I can. It’s a wholesome attribute I wish to succeed in. A way of life that doesn’t demean the soul itself. Thankful that there is always a way for us to live in solace.
Deepak Chopra-Reinventing the Body, Resurrecting the Soul. A book I bought 1/13/2011 and have read multiple times since. How it would come off in actions, and who they idolized would be this: It would be more attractive if the woman had thousands of followers. If she was very popular.
I felt like they wouldn’t want to be involved in elevating me. Giving up on myself oftentimes. Not feeling like it was a joint effort to be something together. Especially when your social background was something that could help me reach a new height, you were threatened. And backed off. Helping someone else gain followers and more engagement. So, I stopped caring. I left you to your own accord. To go and figure it out for yourself. If that’s what defines you then so be it. But I never held love for the men and women who held me down because technology held them up. It is something that is often used as a tool to elevate and help others socially but can be used as a way to abuse someone you are threatened by. Null in void, I didn’t care. I know it sounds great to be with someone that has a great social presence and can bring you a lot; but I didn’t expect it. I just knew I was good at writing and if the right person wanted to come along and help they would. If they wanted to help me open a restaurant they would. If they wanted to help me open a business, they would. I would go through these bouts of depression where I would feel guilty for shutting them out because I wasn’t here to compete with the other person you chose to spend your time with. When you were taught “See who competes for you best, then choose that.” I saw it as “If he sees me as full potential, I may reach mine with his help.” Knowing that at the end of the day the man is going to sit back with his friends and say he only used me for what he could get out of me at the time anyways. And that’s not necessarily something I would say. I would walk away grateful for knowing you, resenting the bad occurrences; but still holding strength that there will be and overcoming of fear.
Sometimes when I think of love in retrospect, I am shocked at my asexuality. I think about it like this: A man is going to satisfy his desires anyways and has already lost out so what’s the point in holding hope or a chance for him to ever come back? He will sit and tell you “I need space.” While he goes around and figures himself out likely through the satisfaction of other women. Maybe after you get yourself together or whatever he deems worth him coming back to (if he wants to come back), he may see you as worthy. I don’t even want to give you that chance. I think of it very much in the opposite. The path of females that has brought you back to me yet again repulses me because it’s souls that you’re taking while you could be trying to heal me. I have to sit and think about all those times you ignored my calls and texts just to be around someone else, but low and behold wanted to ignore me. So how much do you really care? When I ask for space, I take that space and sit working through things alone and by myself. Not trying to find myself by incorporating other intimate relationships only to bring back more baggage should I maybe get the chance with you. I would feel more worthy of a chance if I sat and worked on myself, versus sitting and entertaining short stints of pleasure here and there. Then coming to you saying I want to be with you for the rest of my life. That’s bullshit to me. My eyes get wide. My heart beats fast. Anxiety like no other takes over my body. And I have leave that conversation. I don’t want to have it. I feel like that person never wanted you to begin with. Which is fine. I sooner resent any involvement. How can you find space to breathe while gaining feelings for someone else? It just doesn’t make sense to me. There is a pang in my chest telling me that “This feels wrong.” Then there is a point where I tell myself “I can’t go back. I have hurt this person too much. They will never forgive me. I have lost out. I have lost them”
I always tell people this: YOU ARE NOT ENTITLED TO THE DETAILS OF SOMEONE’S TRAUMA.
Ask yourself how you would feel if I came to you after so many years had passed. So many people had been in a relationship with me. And I said “I have now realized how much you mean to me. I want to be with you forever.” It would be understandable and totally fine if you needed space to think that through because you had been celibate for years. Or you didn’t date, you focused on school and family and work. Or you had buried feelings for me. It would be even more understandable if you held resentment and felt like you needed to go through each and every encounter that had occurred in the interim of us not being together. Trust me, I get it.
I only know this because I have been through it. And vowing that I would not do this repetitively is the only thing that saved me from having a fake sense of feelings towards someone when it came time to tell them what the deal really was.
I found it disgusting that there were so many types of men who found devious natures in life attractive. So, I never paid attention to them. They might sit there and sulk. Saying that they wish it had been different. I knew you were just using me as a ploy to get to where you needed to be. And that’s fine. What hurts most is that I saw potential in your eyes that wasn’t who you truly are. I saw that you could be a nice gentleman. But you aren’t. I saw that you could be a good man. But you aren’t. I saw that you could take care of me. But never will. And I would go to sleep with peace in those dreams because I would take off your face and make sure there was no face. Don’t forget that I have had men who have loved me very much in my life. And cared for me. And my depression got the best of me so many times and it wasn’t their fault. They deserve to be honored for standing by me at that time and helping me through whatever pain I was enduring. Not blamed for not being better. Because they could have moved on to be better for someone else, and that’s really all you can ask. Is that someone learns a lesson. Much like an algorithm.
You gave me a place to stay and never raised a hand to me. You never walked around taunting me. Making fun of me. Exploiting me. Hurting me. You know who you are. Cheating isn’t something I sit around and stay hung up on. It’s how you treat me after the relationship has ended. Do you go to your friends and make fun of the turmoil I still go through? Do you sit with your friends and make fun of the fact that I get so severely depressed some days I don’t get out of bed? You tried and maybe sometimes failed. But overall, you had care and concern that was genuine in your heart and that’s all I can ask for. Because I cannot expect you to bear the weight of my burdens for how I feel about myself in life.
It was that expectation that I have someone that comes in much like a publishing house wanting to take your talents and bring you to a sense of freedom that helps your entire family; not just you. But never really getting that was something that I always felt guilty for. The lack of inspiration. The lack of motivation. The desire to settle. Which became comfortable. In a sense going back to my old lonesome self. Much like a crab in a shell. What would you expect me to do? Never mind that. That question could have a twofold answer.
There were too many times that I expected a double cab to show up with help. And a man in plaid to get out telling me that he wants me to go back to school. He has just built me a house. He wants me to work for myself and not overexert myself. And he wants to help me fulfill my dreams. I think that would make my parents proud. But the lie to myself began when I started believing this fairytale. So, I would tell myself to stop dreaming and be real with myself. Don’t sit there expecting. Don’t sit there dreaming. Just live in the present moment. And it has happened before, so I got comfortable with that being a reality again more than once. I think we all dream about a happy ending in life where we get married and stay married for life at least once in our lives. Whether we make that into a reality or not is up to us. But this was never something that I was striving to make a reality. I would just get so sad and feel inadequate when my friends would look at me and say “I don’t understand how you’re single” or “I don’t understand why you can’t find a husband. It wasn’t that hard for me to find one.” And sometimes I would think to myself
The Algorithm of Life hasn’t curved towards me yet.
There’s work to do when it comes to being social. When it comes to working in the community. When it comes to volunteering. When it comes to people being around you, they must read your face. Read your aura. And I was always worried that if I was going through depression and someone witnessed what I was going through, they would think it was because of them. It’s most often not. It’s because of my desire to be more. Which cannot be blamed on you.
I applied for an RN program and got accepted. With a debt payback plan, I will go back to work. And bust my ass. And try again. Because I had made a promise to a woman that was a pastor and married for 58 years. She was a resident that I sat and talked to for hours at a time. So inspiring, so loving. And I was happy yet apprehensive to try yet again. But the geographical location of the program and the requirements is what enticed me. And the fact that I know I have always been good at what I do. It’s a healing aspect for me. It has been something I have lived and breathed for such a long time. Grateful for the experiences that I have been through that have contributed to me failing out of previous attempts. But even more grateful that my motivation will allow me to repay debts, buy a house in the future and be there for my family and friends in a way that I have not been in the past.
Changing the algorithm of life.
XOXO,
El’Aundra
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Fallen From Grace
It was about 16 years ago I had a conversation with someone about what Ramadan meant to them. It meant a lot. They said it was something that freed them. Made them complete. And I respected that. I learned about the Quran. It wasn’t until about 7 years later that someone in a shelter had given me a copy of the Quran for myself. A lovely Arabic woman that made Arabic tea and it was a wonderful experience. Throughout the years, I had overcome struggles and gone through things in life that would make me so excited to celebrate Ramadan coming. It was a time for me to refine myself and give myself a chance. As I did.
There were times over the years that I wanted to convert, yes. But it was because of what was in my heart. A desire for peace. Not a desire to wear a head-dress that seemed fashionable to others. Not a desire to be seen as a target. Not a desire to be singled out. I wanted to find something to conform to in where I would feel complete. Comfortable. I wanted to own my peace. And even after getting hit by the car, I went back in my brain reveling in anguish and regret. Looking on lunch break after my 5th 16 hour shift in a row and seeing a Hijab. Saying to myself
“I need peace, Lord.”
It’s about forgiveness. Which is the most that I can give the person that has done this to me. Nothing else. And I hoped and pray they would not ever come looking for more. Because there is nothing more to look for. There is nothing more for me to give them, so don’t look for it. You are lucky to have my forgiveness.
“Why didn’t you convert years ago?” It was never because of a man. It was because I wanted to be seen as a humble human being. A better mother. A better daughter. A better person. A peaceful person despite what I had endured in life. Sometimes people know what you have gone through in life and feel that although you have a multitude of talents, they must play with your life. Test your patience. Test your strength. Test your wit. Test who you are.
“I just want to make sure you’re real.”
Everyone is real. It’s more of a question of how real you are when you meet them. And how they project themselves to you and how you receive them. I wanted people to receive me as someone that was welcoming. Not someone that had been through hurt and pain and wanted to cause more hurt and pain to others.
Intrigued by the peace that they had within themselves, I decided to learn more on my own. And I did. I was single at the time. A working mom of two jobs and needed a sense of peace. I think I had been trying to find that for quite some time. I had no idea how some stayed calm in a storm and admired the strength to stay untethered by the conditions of life itself. I took note. I didn’t want to impose on their safety and security in their religion, but I found it mesmerizing. I found it intriguing. How is it that you stand so peaceful without putting things in the past? Is it God alone? Is it religion alone? Is it conformity? Is it routine? What is the ultimate reason?
I knew my last name meant something special to my mom. I know what she went through to have me. And I know what I mean to my siblings. I know what they mean to me. I know what family means. I know what love means. I know what forgiveness means. I know what it means to look in the eyes of someone that tells you that you are only worth sex and tell them that you’re worth more than that. And to deal with men that treated me like I meant nothing more than that, I was always ready to throw hands to defend my honor. To defend my name. My soul. My heart. My family. My respect. My reputation. You won’t sit in my face and tell me that I mean nothing, when the very females you idolize don’t respect dignity in other females. They never did. But you honor them, right? Not here, not in my face you won’t. So, I will fight.
I respect the fact that my mother always told me “You are nobody’s bitch. You lay down for no man. No woman. You take no shit and hold your own.” And I do. Because 9 times out of 10 you cannot handle shit for me.
But as someone that will consider how to process trauma in your mind, you begin to think to yourself:
You can disrespect me. Lie to me. Cheat on me. Exploit me. Disregard me. Shame me. Hurt me. Kick me. Beat me. Rape me. Try and kill me. Deny me. Lie on me. Disrespect me. What is it that I can do for myself?
I remember standing up for a patient in the nursing home who was being assaulted by another patient almost 5 years ago. And a coworker was making a joke about it. And I remember looking at her and saying “It’s because of what I went through almost 20 years ago and having a solid support system that I stand here today. That’s really messed up to say.”
Some of these things in the last 37 years that I have been through. A compilation of strength. No need to divulge in who the blame belongs to. They will always know who they are. Not everyone deals with seeking justice the same way. With the trauma the same way, etc. Some people never really get that chance to fight for themselves. Just like the lady in the nursing home.
Why do you think people seclude themselves so much? Because there are very very, very few people that will ever understand or empathize with what you have been through.
I personally am not going to sit here and argue with you over what I have been through.
I don’t have patience for this response:
“You haven’t been through that!”
Like I have time to sit and lie to you after I have typed 800,00 words in a blog. (*eyeroll) I would sooner want to be done with the conversation and leave. Seriously. Strength comes from overcoming milestones and experiences. And the best way to resonate with someone is not to call them a liar when they tell you something about themselves. That’s not why they are telling you. They want to connect with you and by you calling them a liar, it makes it a point if mistrust. Now they can’t trust you.
I have had friends I have told things to. Their response?
“That would never happen to me.”
“I would never let that happen to me.”
And that is one of the most selfish, damaging statements you can make to someone. So, I was glad to get rid of them for good.
I knew the man that bore that last name meant something to my mom just as well. And I don’t play as far as giving her full respect for the woman she raised to this day. The man who biologically takes ownership of me having a completely different last name can take ownership and feel just as complete. Both of them can. All three of them can. And I would stand in a room with all three of them and tell them that I understand. And to mitigate the peace, I can hyphenate my last name or remove the non-biological. But it won’t change who I am at the core. But I don’t play about my respect. My mother never asked for a dime to help raise me. I appreciate her strength. She never shamed either of these men. And I never held resentment for either of them. Honor for both for loving my mother. I didn’t like people that had something to say about the men that raised me or where my last name comes from.
It’s truly none of your business. Unless you’re trying to marry, and I highly fucking doubt that you want to marry me.
The woman who gave birth to me. For a short time, my grandmother wanting some help and then realizing it was better to allow my father to get his life in order and be the person he needs to be for his other kids and himself. Growing up, many of us were separated. My father’s children were not around all but once at a Gus Macker tournament in Buffalo as a teenager. It was the desire as a child for us to be millionaires and have a life together. Not of solitude and loneliness. I had always wanted to provide that. And the guilt from not being able to, was something that ate at my heart my entire life. My guilt for not being able to provide that for others. But as much as I try to on a daily basis, I may not succeed in the general sense with strangers. But as long as I bring something positive to your day, I am happy. That loneliness had set in. Ramadan and religion in general (leaning on a higher power) was something that gave me the strength to be ok with the disproportioned life. Not being ashamed of who I am, I sat with the regard that I need to let people know who I am. Not allow them to think they know who I am. That is something I refused to allow them to do.
I had always had respect for who I am. And in school it was the ‘sand-ni**er’ word that made me irate. They would tell me to go home and put a turban on. Go cause a terrorist attack. I would be stunned. Why would you think that this child that grew up without cable in the home, and with Christian music playing all through the house all the time would want to do something like that? Was it your projecting? And I couldn’t believe the audacity. But it wound up being the very karmic hurt in my anger later on in life that made me crumble. I didn’t handle the retribution well. And I should have. But where was there to turn when most of the world is white-owned. Especially the world I lived in. But I grew up knowing that not every white person is bad or hateful. And applied that to everyone. NOT EVERYONE IS BAD OR HATEFUL. And when some the white girlfriends would make sure that you knew they could take your black boyfriend if not your life. And yet I would go to sleep thinking this:
But they won’t take experiences.
You won’t take someone’s strength.
And although technically you can take someone’s intelligence, it’s that my heart has been inoculated against you because of your hate.
Almost as if a zombie would fight back. But it was okay for people to burn crosses in our front yard as a kid and get away with it. I would take it quite personal. Because people never bothered to ask who I was. You just felt like it was more important to exploit me. Now at 37 I tell you to leave me be to figure it out alone. Don’t come to me apologizing for hurting me now that I have had to glue myself back together and you don’t like what’s reconfigured as a result. A mechanical hardness. Get off your knees trying to apologize and propose. Stop asking me to indulge in parties that don’t honor women for who and what they are. I don’t want it. Because you come from that rhetorical atmosphere of judgement that other people derived from. You don’t take my last name and define me. You don’t take my humanity and define me. Ever. I don’t want to be seen as an object. I think everyone wants to be seen as a person. A human with value. With proportion and potential to be greater. To be more graceful. To be better.
More graceful. What does that even mean? In words? Words. Let me tell you something about words. I love words. I was taught as a punishment to go and read the Brittanica. That was revealing to my potential. Won a spelling bee and loved the ideology of being more than just a lover of books. Loved the idea of writing and that’s all you get. Is my words on paper. I don’t have to share my personal heart and mind, soul body and time with you. Unless I choose. Because suffering is a choice and so is personal space. And I am protective of my personal space as a result of what I have been through. The message is boundaries. Respect. Honor. As a child, and growing into an adult that’s what I wanted. Even in personal relationships that’s what I craved more than anything. But when I didn’t get it I didn’t think like others
“Let me flatten your tires.” That’s blessing you with my presence. My actions. My conversation. My argument.
If in fact I just sit and write and say less (and show a side of me that displays a level of aggression alone); you will be at a loss and wonder
“What the fuck just happened?”
Indeed. What happened. You. You are what disturbed my peace. And I need to show you something. Teach you a lesson. Say less. Write more.
It throws you off if you call me a hood-rat and an ignorant negro and the only place that I act like that is in a room alone. Yelling, screaming, throwing and destroying things that I have bought only to replace them. That in itself will throw you for a loop. I want it to. Because I won’t talk to you like that in person on the regular. Even when provoked, it takes A LOT. I equate it to the pressure of the Hoover Dam. And pressure creates diamonds. So even after reading what I have written in truth, what has my entire life been?
PRESSURE.
And you don’t appreciate a diamond is the point. Or the objective.
What the nature of learning from your mistakes does is keep you underground and hopefully you learn enough so that you can rise above when you have regained strength. Your mistakes do keep you low.
Ramadan meant so much to many people that I chose to surround myself with at the time. Wanting to be strategic about my work schedule. Work through things of my past and hurt. Anger not something I would dispel on other people often at all. I have typically been the type of person to run from you and run home versus run to you and confront you for making me hurt. Does it hurt? Yes. But I don’t care to allow you to have a part of me that makes you feel like I am giving you a chance although you already hurt me. I would sit with disgust sometimes and wonder how people did that. Be so forgiving to let someone come back to them so many times after hurting them over and over and over again. They tell you they hate you. They show they hate you. They act like they hate you. And you are so in debt with love, that you feel like you need their love to feel complete. I never felt like that.
I’ll paint it to you like this. I graduated in 2006. The subconscious mind is powerful. And it knows hate. And whatever it was around that time, was not necessarily around me; but I felt like I was hated. I truly did. I didn’t know why I felt that more than anything else. My grandmother had just died. And the only explanation could have come from people who knew more about things that were going on without me being “around” physically. But my being a topic of conversation is something that even in-depth perspective could have affected me succeeding in life. People don’t realize that. Going deeper, if I am sitting in my room talking about how much I dislike you; that can affect you through the universe. Simply put. Although I may not take responsibility, it’s the truth.
A friendship is a mutual choice.
And coming from a childhood where I was traumatized from an accident at a young age, I knew that as I grew up, I would need to keep my circle small. I was always concerned about what people would assume my potential would be. What would you think I could do versus what I could do. I was never part of the popular crowd. Someone that saw the beauty in those that didn’t see beauty in themselves. I understood where they were coming from. I understood what they were going through.
Because people sitting and gossiping about me would affect me subconsciously through the universe. As it does naturally. I didn’t participate in cliques and gossip. It was never something that fulfilled me. Being something that you could manipulate and play with as you wanted. An object.
An object is defined as a material thing that can be seen and touched.
Just because we can be seen and touched doesn’t mean we want to.
Objective is defined as (of a person or their judgement) not influenced by personal feelings or opinions in considering and representing facts.
Subjective is defined as based on or influenced by personal feelings, tastes, or opinions.
So much of my childhood was subjective. And I got tired of living a life like that. It was influenced by the fact that someone hated anyone with a last name like mine. Hated people with my skin color. And I don’t hate anyone. I really truly don’t. I just needed to find love for myself despite the hatred people had for me. Become more objective. Represent facts of myself. The facts being that some of the most representative parts of myself included living in my truth.
I think about that a lot from time to time. How that makes you feel when you are a subject of someone’s thoughts, hatred, conversation, or actions and you aren’t there to defend yourself.
Sitting here and there’s a knock at the door, I begin to think “No, the only person I know by that name is a childhood friend and she lives 5 hours away and we haven’t seen each other since I was 18.” But I simply said “You have the wrong person.” Irritated because I was interrupted while I was doing my knotless braids. The object of perfection can be for someone else when it comes to braids. I know societal pressure can make it so you want them to look perfect. But I could care less how they look to someone else. I am looking for something to satisfy me not putting my fingers in my hair. And the braiding is a way to strengthen the injury to my hand from playing soccer on mother’s day and falling when I had a tall boy IPA. Although what I have done in the past was travel. And if I had a car, I would have made stops to visit people and likely go to church or something else. But I decided to make the most of where I was, stationary. Be well.
XOXO,
El’Aundra
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Heart At Ease
I would say that most people felt like school was a big deal for them. And it was. It surely was. It is. I cannot say that it isn’t. But when you watch documentaries talking about slavery and the mentality of the generations immediately following that time in history you begin to realize how serious it was for them. They didn’t view it as a plague.
It being a plague can be quite daunting. Quite obtuse in reality but to some that’s exactly what it is. Not knowing how to fit in. Not having compassion in your own personal life from family and friends and maybe you not understanding that the lack of seriousness you have about school can haunt you for the rest of your life. It can make things incredibly difficult. Hard to trust others. Hard to believe that they care. I don’t remember school being very diverse as far as teachers. The teachers were quite interested in a matter of fact about the way they lived life instead of understanding what you were breed to see it as through your own lens. Sometimes you can view it as something that
My mechanical hardness began when I entered relationships that didn’t give me the very respect I deserved. Defending myself in school was an attribute I had acquired as a result of dealing with the hatred some had towards who I was as a person. The truth being that I was never a child that was in the principal’s office because of disputes, arguments or fights. I was taught that when the teacher doesn’t really see you that often in that atmosphere, it’s better. So, I acted accordingly. I remember there being two instances in middle and high school that had wound me up in the office. And that was it. So, looking at my high school record as far as behavior you would see the evidence that I was not a bad child. Or what you choose to define as a bad child.
Sometimes people talk about your gait as something that is subject to satisfy them. The way you walk is not here to make anyone else happy. I say that with so much conviction because I don’t feel like it’s necessary to judge someone because of the way they walk. But I began to see a side of myself that was so defensive. And it was because of so many factors in my personal relationships and friendships that made me unhappy. They refused to see the deep chronic depression. They saw it as laziness. And so, I would harden up to keep their love away from me. I don’t want a backrub. Don’t want to be loved. Don’t want to be showered with gifts. Don’t want to be adorned. I will give myself a backrub. I will love myself. I will shower myself with gifts. I will adorn myself. I would ultimately keep these guards up as much as possible because at heart I knew I needed to love myself. I knew that part of me not loving myself was showing in the people I was choosing to be with. The things that I was choosing to deal with. The parts of myself that I would hide. I figured that I would sit and think about it sometimes, and when I did; I felt very isolated. I felt so alone and insecure about these things. How are people thinking that I am supposed to act? Supposed to walk? The walk is something that as a child I would study. I would study the military man that raised me and how he walked. And with so much respect for being strong I would stay thankful and grateful for being able to walk in general. My grandmother said that the doctors thought I would never walk again. And to this day, I am thankful to be walking. To be jumping and running. The gait being mechanical. Elegance is what you make of it. And if I had a choice, I would be in a dress everyday all day. Maybe 4 different dresses in one day. I love heels. I love the feminine side of myself. But I would notice that when I displayed that side of myself, sometimes the friendships and relationships that I would in would suffer for some reason or another. I would feel inadequate. I had to adapt my masculine side of myself to the way that I feel. Not that I felt like I needed to overpower someone and argue more with them about who I am in a defensive way. Just stand up for me for and take less of the berating.
But when it came to grades it was the focus. It was the parts of my childhood that bothered me to the core. It was the accident where I fell out of the 3rd story window when I was 6 weeks away from turning 3 years old. That defined so much of my life. So much of myself. So much of my dreaming was of being able to afford nice clothes. Going shopping and going on vacations. We would come back from school vacations and had not even gone on so much as a road trip. With a road trip being somewhere that I had wanted to go. But when I was much younger, I remember that being something that was evident. Vacation time. Then it dissipated.
Losing my grandmother at such a young age brought me into a part of depression that I could not get out of. My GPA failed immensely. My friendships failed repeatedly. And I felt ashamed for having these types of issues in my life. But beyond my control was the introspect as a child. It can sometimes be up to those around you to hold you dear and show you the way you should be. The way you should go. How things should be for you. But you don’t see past your own trauma. It was the longing for her being around that drove me deeper into sadness. It was the not understanding what had happened to me as a child with that accident that haunted me amongst other things. And I had not realized that those would be the very things that would haunt me for the rest of my life. I remember cutting off friendships because they had laughed at my GPA, calling me a retard. And I said very frankly,
“I don’t ever want to be friends with you again. You will never understand my life, childhood, dreams or anything that I have been through. And I cannot have you around me.”
That sacrifice in itself was unheard of to me. Something that I was not used to doing. Throwing away relationships just because they didn’t understand how their judgement affected me. They didn’t understand or care to understand how what they had done to laugh at me had hurt me immensely. But it had. It had dragged me down. I bore the weight more than they realized. And I ate everything in one bite. Moving on from that friendship to another hopeful adventure hoping I would one day find someone who understands to replace that person that damaged me so much from their lack of understanding.
Racism is something that is an unbearable tear to the heart for some. It is a way for people to express how they feel, and for others it can be a way to hide. I was sometimes dealing with both adverse aspects of the ordeal. Feeling like you might like me because I don’t seem like most “black girls” but there is still some apprehension to getting close to me because of the innate hatred you have for someone of a different race. And the uncomfortable part is that I would have so many sleepless nights holding in what people would say to me. I would not tell anyone. There would be 5-7 years that would go by that I did not have therapy. I would write to have therapy. To have sanity. And when that’s gone, what’s left? More writing, and more memories. It’s unbelievable the turmoil we put ourselves through when we don’t have and understanding of the brandishing we dish on someone else. I want to make you understand. That is what I would feel like someone would be trying to tell me by calling me all these names day in and day out albeit we had to be in school together. We had to play together. We had to exist together. And dealing with the turmoil from that brought back horrible outcomes in tears.
As with anyone that has been a child of someone that has dealt with substance abuse issues, you hold onto the trauma. And when someone sits in your face or goes around conditioning you to deal with how they think of you it makes you argue with yourself. They call you a crackhead. But your mother or father abused drugs. And you lash out angrily because you know this is the 200th time this person has said this about you in general. And it’s not true. But what do they know about you that makes them think that this is a word that is going to hurt you just because they said it to other people so many times to gossip in an ill manner about you? But when it comes to you, they may say it once. And it crushes you. And I mean crushes you from the inside out. Because the way it’s said is no stammering. They say it like they are used to referring to you as this. And in reality, they are used to referring to you as this. Crackhead. It hurts.
It killed more than once in my personal life to be defined by a name such as this. To even have to resort to calling someone a name. But it’s the stammering that I would focus on. Did they stall and think about what they wanted to call me (which makes me think a little deeper about how badly they want you to hurt) or did it just blurt out (which makes me think a little less deep and think that it was just something that came out, although still hurtful).
It can ruin someone’s life, the assumption of knowing who and what someone is. I often sit and think to myself
“Who have you hurt that you need to apologize to?”
Sometimes it’s yourself. And that’s the beauty of increasing your emotional intelligence. Recognizing that you need to apologize to yourself and others. From the heart. Because the heart can become mechanically hardened just as well as it can be mechanically softened. And there were times I would think about life and say to myself “You need to soften your heart.”
Don’t be so hard. Just open that heart up a bit. Be at ease. Be at peace.
XOXO,
El’Aundra
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Nightly Humor
I’m working through archives over the past decade of poems.
Credit: imgur
This is what I would rather get paid for. At my old ass age. Writing and thinking takes so much out of me. Makes me overthink being philophobic and having ptsd in the first place. How red tape exists in the workplace let alone society. How many people care about how someone expresses themselves and judges who they are instead of getting to know them. So then I want to think of their soul being as light as a feather, right? You have no empathy, so if it takes a community to raise a child; how to we reform adults? Way too much thinking.
My job interviews. You view me as perfect game clearly.
Credit: freedomists When I tell someone new about my blog, this is how I anticipate it going with a male counterpart.
Credit: BET How I feel about my life situation
Try and open the door for another bitch when I’m at work and see what the fuck I do to you with my graphic design and carpentry skills motherfucker. Deadass. Try me. Make a sign build a couple doors
I like a peaceful humble safe home and man of my own.
The nights are getting to me. I’m so used to working them and sleeping during the day while the house is quiet. Except for the occasional fish tank, dog or cat. Children are at school.
Often asking myself what if someone shows up to look for me after not seeing me for 20 years. And never knew what I was going through. Hence the blog. They will ask how I am
Tell them great. On indeed and hotboxing in my farts.
I’m going crazy. I saw the guacamole commercial AFTER a locust filled tree stalk. Beautiful tree. I love guacamole. Now I can’t get that out of my brain and I can’t eat it for a long ass time. I saw locusts in the bowl. And the nasty mealworm part of the body. Gross nasty wings. I cry now when I see guacamole or locusts. Just fucking great for my country loving ass. Just the sound makes me think of chopped tomatoes in one ear and a locust wing with avocado in my mouth
And all you’re saying to yourself is
‘Bitch I can’t fuck with you.’
I know. I know. 🤔😔
To say I smoke cigarettes because of them is a lie. But in part it’s because of life. No lies told. Live your life. Recommendations can be found in the book I bought in 2011 before heading to work at ARC OF ONONDAGA. Jan 13 to be exact. And I often bought books like this.
Deepak Chopra- Reinventing the Body, Resurrecting the Soul. It goes through such things as self hatred, fear, love, abandonment, karma and more.
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From A Child’s Heart
To me, being on the outside looking in:
A child being in jail for skipping school is just lost in the world with no mentors and nobody to look up to. They are in a jail setting and punished in certain ways, I relate it to someone saying to them:
‘Fuck these shoes. I’ll just throw these shoes back in a box for the next 20 years and when they’re nicer I’ll pull them out.’
Instead of just working with the already worn parts of the shoe. Working with the ways that the child needs to be healed. You know very well how to heal that child. Much like a human knows how they treat another human can damage them or lift them up.
Are you mad at the child or threatened by them?
Are you mad at the other person or threatened by them?
And when you answer that question, you can begin to dive into why you do what you do.
Because you’re selfish. And that selfishness is worthless to me. Because I am so selfless it’s shocking to some people. They look at me as if to say
“The audacity of you to think and act in such a selfless manner! How dare you!”
When I merely think in the opposite retort “The audacity of you to think and act in such a selfish manner! How dare you!”
My mind would go towards working with what was already there to help heal the brokenness. How do we keep a child in a mind-state to where they can stay sane if they are hated by those around them? Is it homeschooling? Is it taking them from the very place that they tell you they hate? And the very place that they tell you hates them?
The expectation of some people in life is to just move on from death. Just leave it in the past. Some of us do. We don’t realize what this does to a child. How this makes them feel. Like they have nowhere to turn. They don’t understand it. They don’t know how to release the anger. The loneliness. The hurt. But yet we tell them (as adults) to “move on”.
It’s because you don’t want to be bothered. And I cannot be bothered with people like you that act or think like that. So please stay away from me. I want to hold these children near to my heart. Tell them how to grieve. I have every single type of grief there is. So I know it all too well.
And I will be the last to tell you to just move past the hurt.
You are entitled to live in it. Just don’t let it break you.
I am watching a documentary about a child that is in an institutionalized home for young kids. Not only have I worked in one about 6-8 years ago because I am passionate about lives people live and how they receive love; I just wanted to watch something that would increase my emotional intelligence while I sit in my current state in life and figure out what the fuck has happened to me. A huge part of my ten page resume was dealing with human services and healthcare. How someone would misconceive the notions in this girl’s heart is beyond me. She needed this. She deserved this. To see her mother’s grave on her mother’s birthday, anniversary, holiday or any other day that she needs. Because it can free her from her chains inside herself. But as a woman who has been through an exponential amount of grief at 37 years old, I sat here not expecting someone to understand where I was coming from automatically. No expectations, as I usually say.
In this life that we live how can we expect a child that is 12 years old, and their mother was just shot; to understand the moral and spiritual aspects of life and death? What is death? What does that mean? How do I heal this pain? Where do I get my strength to move on now? Because the one person who made me happy and smile is gone. So, what do I do now? Where do I go? Who can I trust? Who can I love? Who loves me? Why am I here? Am I lovable? Did I make a mistake? Is it my fault? Is there any way that I can bring them back?
These are all questions that I had asked myself when my grandmother died and I was 16. It was like I had two moms in life. My biological mom and my grandmother. And to lose my grandmother was double the pain in a sense because of how people in my hometown and this state had felt about her and her work in social work. And my mother was another voice of comfort when I needed. When my grandmother needed. It was that love for both of them that was unconditional. Can we discover how love can heal? What if the child knew that caring for someone else can cure the emptiness in their hearts of their loved one being gone? There were so many times I had a met a child that had no parents and would tell them to go into nursing. I really think you should just give it a try. I know you love fighting, but understanding that you’re just afraid to open up and be seen/heard sometimes is the reason that you act the way you do. What if you thought of it as a healing aspect for you to be so strong for someone else, and they can be safe for you? You can sit with an old lady and tell her how much your mother meant to you, and that in turn will soften your heart. Making sense of the cycle of abuse, what it means to love and care, what is karma? How do I change these things?
Anger management is not something that is common in schools. But it would have helped a child that lost their parent at 12 years old. They’re telling this one girl that getting a special visit to see her mother’s grave is an incentive. Not a right as a baby girl. And that breaks my heart. Because no matter what, I bet she would have a tent
Unconditional Love: Unconditional love is love that is given freely without expecting anything in return. It remains steady regardless of circumstances or imperfections of the other person
You might be willing to want to be more of a people pleasing person if people pleasing in the first place was based in a healthy rhetoric.
Are you mad at someone because they have not figured out their life yet? And they are a certain age? You feel like they should be able to figure it out or should have a pretty good idea of what they want to do in life. But what involvement in providing a healthy environment did you have for them? To what extent of life did you go for their happiness and yours?
Often getting into an argument over the livelihood of a child when it comes to morals and their mind. As a mother I will fight in a very aggressive manner regarding the logic of you telling me that what I have been through in life is the reason that I am going to have to explain my failures in life to my children. Do you not think I carry the guilt from that? And you carry the guilt for how you treat me when I show you how you could/should have treated me better and with more respect. So as a man how unjust is the circumstance or argument when you’re mad because I pee in your shower at your house? But your ex-wife is the type of female that makes fun of/extorts women who have been abused? And you like to carry on the same cycle of abuse. In a form fit for yourself, you look to others and put on a mask acting like you’re good and wonderful but you know good and well there is no unjustness in my peeing in a shower. It’s how you take respect.
What does respect mean to you? So if you have a disaster such as hurricane katrina, and it’s a time when all people not only begin to panic but as any other catastrophic event in their life that includes society simultaneously; to the point where we then have to act, survive, and exist together as a unit. How then would we obtain the logic sometimes in having more of a desire for the action of thought process and compassion for all facets of life in that moment. Before that moment. After that moment. In time. Example being that if it was a way that we were supposed to act when there is an emergent situation; but the help available to you at the time is not going to work for you the same way it has in the past. We have now decided to argue that it’s how we treat someone with a disability or disadvantaged in life but argue for the ability of greed to not only buy time but peace. Acting on that in an emergent situation; I was wondering if I was desperate and needed a solution for myself; would I ask myself these questions of “What am I mad at and what am I afraid of” if I had not had a desire to see more than just my point of view? To see more than what I am going through?
In the documentary the woman slams down the folder and says it’s getting pretty thick. That sense of sarcasm hurt that child. I saw it all over her face. And had they thought about more than themselves they would have realized there is an active way they can be part of a bigger picture that desires a more positive stance on change. Especially for the child. If you are in social work ask yourself “How well do I really understand the value of respecting someone else in the way I communicate with them and inspire them. No matter what age they are?”
This poor girl was saying “I don’t know how to deal with the anger of my mother being gone. I just don’t know what to do anymore.” And that’s all I needed to hear. But I didn’t need to hear it. Because I know. I am intuitive enough to know what she means by what she said. And it resonated.
The types of grief are below:
- Anticipatory Grief: Pre-death emotions
- Delayed Grief: Postponed emotional response
- Disenfranchised Grief: Unrecognized loss
- Abbreviated Grief: Short lived response
- Absent Grief: Denial of loss
- Collective Grief: Shared community experience
- Complicated Grief: Interferes with functioning
- Cumulative Grief: Multiple losses impact
- Inhibited Grief: Hidden emotions
- Masked Grief: Atypical symptoms
- Normal Grief: Gradual emotional decrease
Depending on the research you do, you can encounter Abrupt, Prolonged, Absent, Delayed, Disenfranchised, Collective, Climate, Secondary Loss, and Anticipatory. It was when I attended a grief group that I was shocked. And still to this day work through most of it on my own. Grief doesn’t always come from losing someone. Sometimes putting someone through unnecessary turmoil in life can do nothing more than cause more grief.
Click here for Psych Central’s article on grief.
I will tell you what and how I think then.
I do. I like to pride myself on wanting to perfect my way of thinking in that way sometimes. As it makes my job in life as a human better, more meaningful, deeper, and more enlightening. I am not better that the work I need to do on myself. So, I need to re-evaluate myself on a consistent, obsessive basis at times. It gets exhausting.
I do not like her reprised response in this documentary. Whether it be at that time, or not. What if at some point in life I need a ride to see my mother’s grave? What if someone wants to give me that same sordid response to a need for me to see the very person that raised me? And albeit I am in this position in life, I need this. And you refuse to give it to me.
All you’re going to do is sit back and watch me suffer right now. Then sit back later and say that you’re sorry for what the suffering has done to me. My mental. Fuck that and fuck you.
You know what you did.
I was watching this episode of a show that was discussing prison. The woman said, “Power is seductive” and I said to myself
“Power is not seductive to me. Honesty is. Power is sadistic.”
People often hate themselves, because they see something in you that threatens them. Let that be their issue. Not yours.
Understandably in the reform manner of the child, you need to adhere to the state regulations of the home. Absolutely, but I would do things differently. And that’s all that needs to be said. Is that I am not you. So, I go within my mind and talk to myself about how I would do things differently with more compassion. With better regard for the person as a whole.
As a human.
I cannot sit and watch that poor baby sit in that chair and cry on the anniversary of her mother’s birth or death and feel hopeless. PERIOD. My heart would have wanted to heal her.
XOXO,
El’Aundra
