Alex

I’ve been meaning to write about this.

When you call me Alex it awakens something inside of me! Little me…who so tenderly asked to have a short haircut, boy clothes, and to be called, “Alex.” A year went by and she dropped it off because “I am a girl!” What was I thinking? To dress like a boy. I need to be in my feminine! Shame on the kid who thought she was something different!

Labels are grey as they both free me and put me on display to be something that can be named other than the essence that we humans forget to claim! The essence is our true name, but we must peel back the layers to reach such a place. So, I’m peeling back the layer that I must identify as a woman who has a tight waist, fat ass, and plump lips; and now with this trifecta “I will be deemed sexy!” If I have the body, the woman, the life, the money, the labels then I will be free to finally believe I Am Worthy!

Sorry. I don’t mean to scream I just think it’s good that we take a peak into the constructs of society and remember who it is that we can be.

So, I will be Alex.

The little me that was so pure and so close to remembering the truth within. She was free to tap into the energy that was dwelling in the comfort of her body. I am freeing myself from hiding in my femininity. I can’t wait to dress like Daddy and be called it, too. I am happy to be here and queer and gender fluid in all of my sacred masculine energy, even in my feminine, too.

I actively fight the shame of voices that were non-consensually placed in my brain—a fight we must stand up for everyday. To reclaim the power, and even the names.

So…Hi, I’m Alex

and I am Alexis, too

and I am free to fluctuate in between the energy that flows throughout the stream of fluidity that which a spirit of rebellion; rejecting suppression of feeling and breaking free from the chains that bind me and Remembering to be in the essence that which is me.

Let freedom ring!

And to love I am only answering—the call to my being.

with discovering fluidity,

Alex

The Choice

My gut aches with a pang of knowing the inevitability of loss. And maybe this is why I fear so much the abandonment that I know is going to come. It is inescapable. Death is unavoidable.

A friend, a lover, once told me that the reason I fear loss so much is because I fear death, and therefore, I need to die more. But what they didn’t see is that I have died. So. Many. Fucking times. I have died. Right here. Right before my eyes, I have slain myself for the hopes of being loved and chosen by someone else. I have stepped out of my truth and sat beside myself—chaotically searching who it is I need to be in order for them to see!

So what is the fear then? The fear is walking on fragile grounds built by someone else’s needs and someone else’s truth that I have claimed as my own, but my body knows. And so the pain starts seeping in through the cracked ground and shaking me at my root, and I fear my every step because it is so damn unclear. Here is where I must remember. Remember who I am, my own voice, and the ground for which I must stand.

Choosing. Love is a choice we make. Every single day. We awake. We make a choice. Do we reach for the phone or do we sit at our prayer altar? Do we journal or do we distract with the millions of options we have? Do we drink coffee or tea and what are we going to decide to eat?!

Do we show up in full transparency or are we stuck in the grab of ego hide tainted with so many of the lies we tell ourselves? Do we shame our truth and then shame someone else?

Do we show up in the search of self and in the school of life to learn what it is to really love,

or do we continue to live our lives blind to all of our subconscious motivations that live inside?

The greatest lesson I have learned recently, after going through a lot of turbulence in my life, is this: Sit. Sit with thyself for as long as it takes, no matter how uncomfortable it is, to regain thy center. Thy center is the place in which our power lies, our truest of truth lies. It is where we take responsibility for our thoughts, our behaviors, our motivations, our pain and we rid all of the rest. Simply put: Get Real.

Get fucking real.

Get real with yourself about all of it. What you want, what you need, who you are, what you believe.

And then, once you’ve regained your center, and clarity has come knocking on your door, open it, and continue to choose love some more. Continue to choose yourself day after day, moment by moment. When we experience loss and grief and we find ourselves praying for the relief, the moment of peak when we see the light at the end of the tunnel; and right now you may not yet see that Life will not leave you living in scarcity. That Life is unfolding for you to remember the truth of why you are here.

So, ride the waves of grief. Ride the pains and the dis-ease, and give yourself space to breathe it all out. We deserve to stand up and speak our truth. We deserve respect. We deserve love: to love and to be loved. We deserve to listen to our inner voice that guides us to enriching lands where we fill our cup in the crystal clear stream, splash water onto our sun-kissed lips, and surrender into the peace and ease of abundance that is continuously flowing toward us.

And when we arrive in our center, and we choose to love from that place…Heaven becomes more than just a word in the sky. It becomes your life, and you’ll be gifted a beautiful surfboard for which you will learn to ride all of the waves of life.

Here’s to choosing,

Alex

Not Knowing

It’s Easter Sunday. I was sitting on the couch, calm and at ease, for the most part. Something told me to get up and write. I don’t have to know what it is about—in fact, I am trying to be more in the “not knowing” of life. The mind doesn’t necessarily like this method, however, I can already hear the thoughts…”wow, this is so peaceful. Can I finally relax?”

I try to follow the nudges these days, no matter what chores need to get done. My words are important. Or at least, so I am trying to believe. And in that belief I am trying to cultivate, I know there is a flow, or a channel I am hoping to tap into. But I drop it after I have the thought. Because to be in flow, you must drop every attempt to find the flow. It just is. You either lean in or you resist.

I’ve come to realize, I haven’t been afraid to fail. I’ve done plenty of that. It’s quite humbling and loaded with life-lessons. I’ve come to realize, I am deeply afraid to live up to my potential. I am afraid, that someday, when I am living out “pinch me” moments filled with a joy that bursts from my heart into the crack of my wide smile, a safety that holds me like a mother her newborn baby, laughter that pangs the belly and aches the cheeks, hugs that melt you into another you forget which is you, and a love so vast I can barely believe my heart holds the capacity for such rapture, that someday, I will have reached a place I never allowed myself to be. And in that place, will I still be me? Or will I cease to be all that I have known?

I know a life painted with love and with loss. I know a life decorated with the many doubts I write about myself. I know a life of abandonment—which I sometimes practice upon myself. I know a life of forgetting and remembering.

But I don’t know a life, spackled with binders of not knowing. I don’t know a life so deeply ascended into the well of my essence, the well of my being, that as I rise—ridding myself of my own demise—that I will finally begin. A life that gives the gift of never forgetting

to live.

And always remembering,

to forget

Into the Unknown,

Alex

Ego, Please Remember Me.

It’s cold out, and we’re in April. My cat is playing with a plastic thread used to hold a price tag on new clothing. The overcast and the fact that I am sitting here, wearing a scarf in April, is perpetuating my already sadness. As I watch my cat twist and turn, jump and pounce toward his new beloved toy, I begin to cry.

Why?

Because I love him. And I love that he is feeling joyous and playful.

What a silly thing to cry about, right?

Sometimes I wonder…what am I doing with my life? Sometimes I feel so defeated and confused that I just lie here, thinking. Reflecting. Sometimes I tell myself, like now, that I shouldn’t write from a sad place. Sometimes I worry so much about how I am living my life, wondering if others will approve of me. Sometimes I feel so discouraged that I feel I have no sense of direction. Sometimes I feel so self-righteous that it makes me feel completely alone in the world. Sometimes I wonder how I can get my ego to stop berating me and begin uplifting me.

Stop berating me…and begin uplifting me, Ego. Please.

Tell me I am good enough. Tell me I can write, share it, and it will be joyous, and maybe even helpful. Tell me that my vulnerability is precious and beautiful. Tell me that I am beautiful. Tell me that I am in fact not an imposter—that I am the real deal. That I am allowed to change and flow with life AND create stability for and within myself. Tell me that I am worthy and deserving of all good things in life. Tell me that the bad times, the trauma, doesn’t define me nor my life. Tell me that I don’t have to know where all of this is going or how it is going to unfold, I just need to be here, now, and that is enough. Tell me that I am good. That I am made of love. That love will continue to unfold for me in this life.

I don’t desire to play the character that “has it all figured out with all of the answers and is better than the rest” nor do I want to play the character that “isn’t worthy or good enough to show up full in expression and power because of a looming cloud of self-doubt.” I want to play the character who does her best to find her balance on the center of that scale. The one who doesn’t know a damn thing, and does know a thing or two. The one that is human, riding the wave of life experiences—enduring grief, and exuding joy. The one that continuously returns to her center, her inner power, her truth.

That character…is me.

Ego, please remember who it is, that which is me.

Real, raw, deeply flawed, and filled with an abundance of love.

Yours,

Alex—The Character