I wonder what it must be like
to have a normal self-image.
To not be swallowed up by body dysmorphia,
Stealing away every opportunity that comes.

I wonder what it must be like
to show up just as you are,
Instead of avoiding and hiding away,
So not to be seen the way that you are.

What a relief it would be
To look in the mirror and not see an enemy.
To not want to throw up at the sight,
Of the body that serves me every day

To not want to shatter the mirror into pieces,
As if it makes me go away.
To glance at my reflection in a window,
And not startle at the monster staring back.

I wonder what it would be like
To not pick myself apart,
And chip away any self-esteem left,
Just to convince myself of how bad I am.

What a relief it would be,
To have it be the last thing I’m worried about.
To feel good enough to chase a dream,
Even just good enough to participate.

To allow myself to feel excited,
Without the side conversations in my head.
The intrusive thoughts that shatter me
And suffering caused by distortion.

What it must be like
To wake up in the morning and not worry
About what new perceived image
You will have in the reflection this time.

To not be obsessed and compulsive.
To not base my activities around
How I feel about myself
To not be restricted.

I wonder what life I’d have
If I didn’t restrain myself from it.
To break free from the prison of my mind
That holds me chained against my will.

The disorder has me in a chokehold,
And there is no release.
I am in an endless battle with my mind,
And I wish I could just be free.

How does it feel
To not be restricted by behavior
That stops you from leaving your house?
Repetitive, agonizing, panicky behavior

What a relief it would be, to just be.

Dear Unsealed,
I think about the times in life that I struggled to get through life financially and physically. There are numerous events in my 74 years that have either changed my life for the better or set me back a bit before concluding that everything will be okay in a bit.
Life is a survival of utmost importance to live my life according to my ideals and attitudes about my life experiences, people I meet on a day-to-day basis of reality. I have survived many relationships with men, friends, and acquaintances.
I survived an 11-year relationship with a Texas cowboy. June 2016, he moved his younger girlfriend into his bungalow in Fulton, Texas. I had decorated the house in my boho style furnishings and was feeling comfortable. His brother called me to tell me his brother was two-timing me. The next day my ex told me he was moving his girlfriend into the bungalow, and I would have to move. So, I said, “Wow, seriously after 11 years?” He did not respond.
I walked into my office, sat down to write a letter on my computer. I looked around at my cool new décor and almost cried. Then I heard him typing on his pc. I walked into the living room where he sat in front of his computer, chatting with his young girlfriend. They were exchanging love notes. So, I poured me a cup of coffee and walked back into my office. He had a doctor’s appointment that day. I waited for him to leave.
Upon his leaving I sat down at his pc, disabled his security system and other goodies to keep him safe that I had paid for forever. I got in my car and drove to the internet office. I explained what happened to the secretary at the office. So, they disabled the internet. I used my hot spot with my AT&T cell phone.
I drove home. He had returned home from his doctor’s appointment. He was desperately trying to start his pc. His pc was dead and so was the internet. He asked me, “Why did you do that? How will I chat with my girlfriend?” I told him, “Oh, maybe your new squeeze will fix it.” We did not talk much about anything after that moment.
I packed my bags with as many clothes and belongings as I could squeeze into my luggage. I packed the XBOX in my luggage. He was watching me. I did not care. I was done with his lies and carousing.
I had caught him in lies before but blew them off. We were never married. That was May 2016. I bought a ticket to LA. I sold my car. My friend picked me and my three suitcases up, my camera, my laptop to stay at her place before parting Rockport on a bus to Austin. I stayed with a friend in Austin who drove me to the train station. I rode the train over mountains, deserts, cities, towns to LA. Upon arriving in LA, I stepped off the train and bent down to kiss the ground.
I had been away from LA 13 years except for the vacation trips I took to visit my family and friends.
I was 66 years old. I sold my car, left half of my clothes, my family heirlooms, etc. in Fulton-Rockport, Texas. It was okay because I was home.
I survived other events too after arriving because life happens.
I stayed with my friends in LA awhile. I remember the day I left my friend’s apartment in North Hollywood to go to my son’s house in Irvine. Lyft dropped me off. I stepped out of the car to walk to my son’s front porch. I was towing three huge suitcases, a laptop, a camera, and my exhausted self into his house. I was 66 years old and humiliated that I was there in this manner of unfortunate circumstances. My son asked me, “Mom, hello. What did you do to Mike for him to kick you out?” I replied, “Nothing. He moved his girlfriend into the bungalow, so I had to leave, my name was not on the lease.” I ignored him. I asked him to help me with my luggage and show me to my room. So, he did that.
My relationship with his father ended in 1989. We were 180 degrees opposite. It was a horrible divorce. My dad was by my side during my divorce. There were so many tears.
So, after I arrived, I saw all my grandkids and concentrated on them, cherishing every minute I spent with each of them.
My story unfolds into so many avenues and freeways of life of being in different relationships with different men. I now know I can survive without a man. I do not need a man to create with, hang with ever again until I find one who is creative, truthful, caring and accepting of my ghost encounters and movie dreams of life.
The moral of the story is I do not want to go back to the 1950s when women were the property of their husbands. I refuse to go back. At 74 I survived two marriages and various relationships with people. Why go back now?
She goes
Where she strays
Across the roads
Of choices to take
In the wake
That she is older now
Too many men
Too many wrongdoing ones gone
So long.
She looks around her room as types away on her Lenovo laptop.
For what
To be alone to think about her life
As continues as an older woman
Of strife
Of joy, pain, happy times
As the clouds go away
The sun shines so close and so far, away
Surrounding her body
The bells chime
The music blares out of Alexa
LIFE IS GOOD!
A gypsy soul lives!

It couldn’t have been easy to have a daughter that dreams as big as I do. You and I both always knew that I was destined for something greater. So you poured everything you had into me to make sure that no opportunity was out of my reach.

Pride doesn’t even begin to describe what I feel when I look at you. To know that my immigrant parents, without any sort of formal education and a life of fear, danger, and oppression, provided me with the best education and privileges this world has to offer… it fills me with a sense of responsibility.

I don’t dream big for me. I dream big for our bloodline.

Growing up, I often thought about how easily my life could’ve turned out differently. If you didn’t have the guts to uproot our family to a whole new world, if you weren’t lucky enough to get that Visa, if you simply decided to settle somewhere else, I would’ve had a completely different life. One that may not have had as many opportunities as the one I currently live.

When thinking about that, it felt like I was given a gift. One that I would be selfish to throw away. One that took generations of blood, sweat, sacrifice, and tears, to finally make a reality. The more I learned about the history of our world, the more I understood how wronged we were in it.

Slowly, that sense of responsibility turned into an overwhelming guilt. Why did I get to live such a beautiful life of privilege when none of my ancestors before me were afforded the same? How could I carry on knowing that I lived in a world biased against my own people?

You watched me as I struggled with this strife. You consoled me as this guilt slowly ate away at my mind. You stood by me and continued loving me even when the demons got the better of me. As I was making decisions that broke your heart, you were still there to help me mend mine.

Through your unconditional support, I slowly began to dream again – to believe that a brighter world was not only possible, but that it was up to me to create it.

As I began sharing my story – our story – with the world, you gave me the space to do so. As I started to understand that I wanted to dedicate my life to the journey of self-discovery, you told me to go for it. As I decided to take all of my education and opportunity and throw away the stability of a traditional, good-paying job, you never doubted my vision.

How did I get so lucky to have parents like you?

Thanks to you, I’ve made a name for myself. I stand for something greater than myself. I teach, inspire, and encourage others to embrace everything about who they are because you taught me how to do that.

You taught me to never doubt myself and so that is exactly what I did, even when not doubting me meant taking on doubt from you. Still, I stood strong, like you showed me to do, and slowly showed you the vision I’ve been seeing all along.

Now, look at us! A family of business owners with a world of opportunities at the horizon.

We did it.

And by “we”, I don’t just mean me, you, and my sisters. I mean all of us. Dhadha, and Dhadi, and everything they did to raise you into the parents you became. Their parents after them and all that they taught them. All of our ancestors and every decision they made to make our bloodline as strong as it is to have made it here.

We did it. We finally made it to living a life of opportunity instead of a life of survival.

You see, dreams do come true. But, they aren’t made over night or even over one lifetime. Dreams are forged through the strife, the pain, the values & virtue, the traditions, the struggle, the hustle of generations of human existence.

We all carry the history of the people that came before us, and with that, the dreams.

So, Mommy & Papa, I know having a daughter that dreams as boundlessly as I do can be overwhelming at times. But, I think you always knew to some degree that I dream so largely and loudly because you never got to.

None of us ever got to until now. Until me.

I hope I make you proud in dreaming so loudly for all of us. Time to put our name on the map.

Dear Unsealed
I wake up each day
In the everyday way
I read my email as I do
Each day in the everyday way.
Old photos found of yesteryear,
Brought back a tear
To my eyes as I thought I lost
At such a cost
Of a long-ago broken relationship
Like a ship
On the ocean of life
I ask myself why.
Then as I scroll through the lost photos
That I now found,
Of long ago.
I remember the seagulls of at the beach
Where I lived temporarily as though
I could now reach
Out to touch the seagulls
Hear their cries of joy
At 5am as they call for me to feed their bods
Of beautiful feathers of grey & white joy,
Of walking out in my sundress to the backyard
Behind my adobe
As they cry with joy so loud.
I had another fight with my ex,
Of the complex
Relationship with Jekyll & Hyde dude.
As I sat in the chair watching the birds eat
Their treat
From kitchen so neat
I forgot about the harsh words spoken
The night before the morning light
Of the seagulls feeding frenzy flight,
My buddies, the seagulls.
My friends in flight
Take me with you tonight.
We will sit on the beach
As the sun fades into the night,
As the sunrises the next day to say,
“Girl, you ‘gonna’ be okay.”
Hear the call of the seagull in flight
To carry your sadness into to the night,
To smile,
To laugh,
To care,
To carry on,
Despite harsh words
& other verbs
Of yesterday.
The sun shines brighter today
Along the way.
I can still hear my feathered friends.
Knowing that if I stepped into the photograph for just a minute
I could smell the salty air
As my feathered friends
Say, “Girl we care.”

My bright light blinds most, no sunglasses will help
That is a fact that makes most mad
I used to not get why, but I figured it out –
My light illuminates what you run from
Illuminates all your fears and doubts
You seek the illusion of healing through drinking, smoking, sexing, popping, sniffing
Basically whatever buries your feelings
Convincing yourself that that is what cures your inside dealings
Not accepting that your running from your own war
You know the one you feel way down deep in your core
So when you see “lil ol me” you think
Who does she think she is? She acts like shes better than everyone else
Nah this is just what confidence looks like
And the truth is confidence used to feel so weird to me
Like learning how to ride a bike
But I used to wonder why not clap for me? Be happy for me? Proud of me? Why not support me? Cheer me on a little?
So I sat down and I had to figure something else out
People can only treat you as good as they treat themselves
I mean think about it, how would anyone give you more love then they give their own self?
So I can’t let what you say or portray bother me
Especially when your on a level that I used to be
One I had to train myself overtime to continuously flee
That is why you won’t understand what I do and you definitely won’t agree
You can’t see that what I’m doing is actually what makes me free
I no longer can let what you say affect me from doing me
Lil ol me is moving onto big ol lil me things
Sorry but not sorry if that makes your insides sting