Allow one to reintroduce their self…

Frantic and frightened, I’m drowning inside of myself.

Again I berate myself with “what have you done?!”

I do things that are both necessary and benign and yet punish myself for doing those things as if they were wrong.

I oscillate between oversharing and underpinning. I love and loathe this plane of existence. It is a sacrilege to exist, heretical to consider other points of perspective. And I am the point of all other perspectives. Not me as myself, but rather the view.

I am super awkward, I am used to being overlooked. No one notices me, or acknowledges me, except when it is unavoidable. And only when I am seen, I am the focus of scrutiny. Make every effort to be seen as the deep

because appearances are what “makes the thing”. Appearances are a result of force unto form.

I am freaking out because I am backwards and I am never quite ready. I do things backwards and always end up suffering for it. And that suffering is never inflicted upon anyone else except me, and it is all inner self flagellation.

I never introduced myself. I think. At least not properly. I think. All I do is introduce myself, but where do I go from here?

Who am I? my family.

Without the pretense and airs that online anonymity affords us, I peak out from behind the curtain and it is necessary to share my vulnerability with you. Essences of my truth…

I am a first generation Australian born to a Scandinavian father and Filipina mother. I am an only child. I was always weird, awkward, and brilliant. I did not make friends easily. I essentially set up my own failings from the beginning (through self reflection and psychoanalysis I have been able to pinpoint the origins of my short comings. And it was always because of me. Including 5 year old me. I did this to myself. My parents did the best that they could).

Upon the death of my father (on their wedding anniversary, whilst he was overseas, in the weeks approaching my first year of high school, I was 12) my mother broke, and all those latent suicidal and depressive and manic tendencies that I had learned to disguise and ignore (or that my parents learned to disguise and ignore?) grew further out of control.

Good old ignorant mother, she cannot be blamed for what she did not know and I was so good at hiding.

Drug abuse, religious fanaticism both right and left hand religion and spirituality, eating disorders, promiscuity, always tiptoeing along the edge of self destruction. See how far I could push the limits of my own power and mortality as I was always ever so lucky. Fortune had always been in my favour.

Complete control of the mind and her powers, the direction of my physical self atop this material plane; insanity was never a consideration, I was always (and for the most part I hope I still am) aware of my own actions and the consequences of said actions. I was very “self aware” and I did not give a fuck.

18 years old and I meet my twin flame, although I did not know that at the time. We both recognized our difference. We were both different from the world that we did not belong, and the same to each other. We were mirrors of each other, with only slight difference that allowed for the divine to also delight in our coming together.

The many coincidences and their scope and breadth demanded I change my notion of fate and divine destiny. We were meant to be… didn’t know it then, but I know it now. I am who I am because of him.

I am who I am, in the spirit and in the flesh, in the here and now, because he is.

Understand that this is not one sided cock worship (although that is how I pray), it isn’t all about him. It is just as much about me as it is about him. We are who we are, because “we are.” I have full confidence I speak with his full accord and these grand sweeping statements correspond with his sentiments because we know each other.

Silly mortal I sound as if I am mad. I am not mad, I am divine. I am blessed that I have found my twin flame so early in life. And even if we really aren’t 100% exactly twin flames (even if I believe it in my heart), it doesn’t really matter because I believe it in my heart. And oh boy, that is something I do damn well to protect. It was broken from every “earliest memory” I think I remember.

Fast forward to present day, 13 years later and we have 2 children. A boy and a girl. We have created, not only physically but also symbolically, figuratively, SPIRITUALLY… We have recreated ourselves in them. And they are so much more whole than we are, but we are just as much a part of them and what is inside them.

Our daughter embodies the strongest and most dominant of our traits. She is a gift, she is incredibly gifted, and yet she is to be feared. I fear she will not recognize her strengths are the weaknesses, I fear she will repeat the mistakes of her parents… but because she is so much like me, knowing what lies ahead will not change the need to traverse onwards. My path is of suffering, and the paradox of the mother is she does not want others to suffer. She would rather take that suffering upon herself.

Our son embodies the latent and indefinable of our traits. He is so much like us, he is different to “them”. But he is so different to us, he is just like all of “them”. He is difference. I wept to my husband my fears for his future. I understand the psychology of the dysfunctional individual and recognize the invisible indicators that will point towards these moments in his life… he reassured me he will not suffer for he is not like us and thus he does not see the world the way we do. But he is still like us, he has the ability to manifest change on the physical plane in line with the spirit and will.

Enough for now. My family history is enough for now. I must later continue to explain why I am anyone who is worth hearing. I have something important to say, although I lament I take too long to get there.

I am Kalliope. The muse of epic poetry.

Leave a Reply

Please log in using one of these methods to post your comment: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s