Coral’s Healing Room at Coralsblog.com 505-269-9242 iwritetohealmyself@gmail.com I rise early. I go to bed early. If you need me, I will make myself available to you.

I cut this puppets strings and I set this circus down. And so it is.

Happy Sunday everyone. I hope you have a beautiful day planned today. I have a beautiful day planned with my girl and I am so happy to be spending today with her!

I realize that I have been vague and ambiguous as to what exactly is going on in my life for the last month. I really just don’t have words and the words I have had…well they have not been kind, and so as much as possible, I have held on to them. I have been in the most excruciating emotional pain of my entire life and I am done feeling this way. Tamara hit her breaking point last night and I woke to hit mine this morning. These girls are done and fucking done with the pain and drama that has infiltrated our lives…with the non-transparency and the lies and the manipulation and the fucking piles upon piles of bullshit…done and fucking done, we are with this rhetoric. I have cried enough tears in the last month to nearly drown myself. I allow the river I have cried since my mom got sick, to flush my heart of what does not belong to me. I allow the tears to wash it all away…wash it all away…wash it all away. And so it is.

I have learned that I come from the Cherokee Indians. I am 1/16 Cherokee Indian. These shall be the roots that grow deep into the earth to ground and center me. I shall begin to know my people and their ways…their traditions and their customs. Of all that I have come to know that I am, I choose to hold onto this. My mom mentioned this throughout my life…this small part of her lineage, that she seemed to care nothing much about, other than to see if it would qualify me for financial assistance for college. I on the other hand, didn’t give a fuck about college, and have always been far more interested in this piece of myself. Who am I and where did I come from? This information was given to me by my cousin last week and this is all I know of who I am, in lineage. So, if you know anything about me and who I am, I would love to hear from you. If you have a piece of this part of our lineage, I would love for you to share it with me, in a photo…in a story…in a handwritten letter…I would love to have a piece of that part of me. Truly, for me, I am going to take this piece of myself and I am going to let the rest go. I am choosing who I am and I am shedding who I am not. I begin with learning all I can about the People I come from, and their ways and traditions. This piece of myself has always called out to me and I call back now…I am ready. I am here. Please come for me and tell me from where I came. And so it is.

As I came down here to write this morning, stumbling on the wreckage of my past…Bruised and battered and all banged up. Shamed and embarrassed by shit that isn’t even mine…bleeding out for those who have gone on ahead of me and for those who left me behind…flailing and crashing about in all of this fucking rubble…I barely made it safely to the door of our healing space. I am fucking done. Truly, done and fucking done. I have come to let you know that if you are unhealthy for me, I have come to let you go. I will not exert any energy, any longer on anyone who does not love me honestly, openly and like a verb. I will not spend one more moment attempting to save The drowning, until I hone my own swimming skills first. Even then, I shall throw out a life preserver and I shall not be attached to whether you grab hold or not, for you are drowning and only you can save you from that. Only I can save me from this. I have finally come to know that this battle is with myself. I will not spend one more second hating myself. I have been in the very worst space and the very worst pain of my entire life for the past three years and forty days and I am fucking done. I am done and fucking done, dangling by the thread whose puppet master knows no bounds, no mercy and no compassion. Today, I cut this puppets strings and I set this circus down. For this is not my circus and these are not my clowns. As I look around me, I begin to laugh with abandon, at the clowns 🤡 all around me 🤡 look at the silly little 🤡 clowns!!!!! As I untangle myself from these strings and I realize I am finally free, I run with the clowns 🤡 to the gate that has held me! This circus 🎪…these 🤡 clowns….they are not even mine!!! Entangled in their stories and suffocated in their dysfunction no longer…this is not my circus and I am free to go!!!! Not my circus and not my clowns…not my circus and not my clowns…not my circus and not my clowns….and so I set this circus down. And so it is.

Thank you Tamara, for carrying me through the literal hell of the past three years and 40 days and 40 nights. The anguish and the pain…the primal cries and the destruction in our own lives, as a result, all behind us now. Thank you for carrying me when I could not even breathe and for breathing your breath into me when I could not find my own. Thank you for breaking last night, so that I could break this morning, so that we can be done with what is not ours. Thank you for the hell you have endured to see me through my own. Thank you for being my girl and my whole world. I love you to the moon and back, to infinity and beyond, forever and always, my beautiful, dear, and amazing girl! Thank you for seeing me thorough this. We are done and fucking done with that which is not ours. And so it is.

To every single one of you who has held me though this storm, with all of my heart, I love you and I thank you. For every single prayer…for every bit of love…thank you. I love you right back.

For those tossed about by the turbulence of the forces that moved in us when we came together, I pray for your peace and for your return to stillness now. For those whom I chased after being dismissed, I cut the cord that binds us and set us both free to our own dharma now. To the circus and all of the clowns, my deepest thanks for hosting me. It has been quite a fucking doozie up in here, and I thank you for your hospitality and for your lessons, turning into blessings every single day. To anyone I have hurt and to everyone I have harmed, I offer my sincerest and most heartfelt apology to you now. I know I have been the clown in many circuses myself and so I acknowledge the disruption and I set the circus down. And so it is.

I hope you have a beautiful Sunday! As I untangle from the final string, held only by my own pause, I am off to love and live my life today! I love you!

Love letters from my Mom…

Good morning everyone! Happy Sunday. After horrible nightmares all night long, I woke in a pain that just won’t quit. And so what do I do? This morning I wrote a letter. This letter hurt me more than any other I’ve ever written. I write love letters to the people I most need to reach, when I have lost my way to reach them anymore. When my words are no longer adequate, I take my heart out of my chest and I squeeze her into my ink, and we dive in together and we write. Some of you, few of you, have received such letters from me. I’m sure you knew not then, that I wrote with the ink of my very own hearts pen. These letters are pieces of my soul that I pull out to spread across a page, to help you to see me, when you’ve no longer your eyes upon me. As I went through some of my mothers things, there were many of these pieces of my soul in her possessions. I knew when I saw my writing, that even thorough the distance, my mother knew I spilled the blood of my own heart and soul to reach her. When I could not reach her any other way, I wrote to her love letters. When she could not reach me any other way, she read them. When my Mom could not reach me any other way, she wrote me love letters. When I could not reach my mom any other way, I read them. I read my Moms love letters still, when I feel that I cannot reach her.

Today, I offer a love letter, through this distance and this silence, to my Dad. My Dad checks his mail every day, even on Sundays 😘, so I know he will get the message that I prepared with all of the love I could muster in my heart, in the mail this week. My dearest father, my first love letter.

I cannot find the exact quote or the author, so if anyone can, please send it to me…I paraphrase below one of my favorite quotes of all time:

When words are no longer adequate, when our feelings are greater than we are able to express in a usual manner; people turn to art. Some people turn to the canvas and some people dance and some people paint. Some prefer music. We all go beyond our normal means of communicating, to express ourselves. And this is a common human experience for all beings on this planet.

This quote, given to me by my art teacher in ninth grade reminds me a love such as this that I have for my father, and so I write.

Thank you my sister for your texts last night which prompted this writing this morning. I love you.

I hope each of you have a beautiful Sunday. I love you. Thank you for being here.

I love you Dad.

Thankful for some time with Wayne today…

Good evening everyone. I am glad you’re here, as I learn to return here more completely. My absence of self has been overwhelming. I have been dark and sad and lost. Not wanting to say things I can’t take back and not wanting to blame…I just had to turn within for a bit. I am reconciled now and I pick myself up and I dust myself off and I forge ahead.

I was reminded by Wayne Dyer today that the wake cannot ever drive the boat. The wake is the trail left behind…our history’s and our pasts….we must leave our pasts behind us, where they belong, if we are ever to truly move ahead. I have been stuck looking to the trail left behind me, for guidance for my future, and that is why I am stagnant. I have reflected there and pondered there enough. I have not been here…right here, right now. I have been blinded by my own pain and paralyzed by my own fears and I’m done doing that.

I must not stay asleep. I must open my eyes to the beauty and inspiration that I am. We must all do this. We must all awaken to our callings. We must live our purpose and not the will of others imposed upon us any longer.

The worst pain of my life hit me and I knew not what to do. I did the best I could to stand up for what I believe in my heart to be right and just and true. I stepped out of bounds with my soul for a second to defend my heart and I’m okay with that. I have stepped back into my own souls purpose and desire. I set my sword down. I set my anger and my resentment and my entitlement and my expectation down. I set the weight of this pain that is crushing my soul down.

I thank you for being here. I thank you for being patient with me as I navigate this storm. Your love and prayers are priceless to me and I thank you. I pray for you also and I love you back! I am horribly wounded and learning to drop the illusion that my wake could ever possibly drive this boat. I am so thankful for Dr. Dyer…so, so thankful. I love you Wayne. Thank you!

Have a beautiful evening everyone. I love you.

Today, I rise from the ashes. And so it is.

Midnight stroked and I awoke shortly thereafter. I arose and actually forgot that I was too lay it all down as the clock struck the twelve o’clock hour. Nothing felt different. Nothing really felt the same. Nothing felt at all. I returned from restless slumber, into slumber. When I woke this morning, the tears in my eyes and the lump in my throat were subtle. The raging pain in my heart was but a murmur under my girls beautiful smile. The pain that has engulfed and debilitated me since Saturday, still present and now underlying, to our dreams coming true. The pain that rages through my body is at full throttle and it’s okay. This pain is on its way out and I am thankful. It raged to get in and it’s going to rage going out and I am at peace with my pain at last, and I am so, so thankful. The sickness in my stomach and the nausea have lifted with my prayers and I sit content in knowing that all is as it should be. In constant prayer and meditation since Saturday…the silence collided, breaking the speed of sound. Pointed and shrill words strung together in hurt and anger and blame, launched from my lips like missiles have landed, as I truly have nothing left to say. The inability to understand at all that left me catatonic between sobs for days has left me silent in prayer now and I am blessed. The flames that engulfed me and chased after me and hunted me down left behind their charred red and raging embers and I screamed to walk those coals. As I rise from the ashes, I shake the remaining heat from me and I return the dust to the floor. I bow to my knees in gratitude, for I have risen Lord! And so it is. Thank you.

I know the healing room has been dark lately. Thank you for being here anyway. This morning I bring a candle to reignite us all. I ask you to stand with me in silence, in solidarity, in mourning…in prayer…in love and light…as we pass our light amongst us. We must get her burning bright to take her out into the world, to light us all. No one will be left out who comes to the light. And so it shall be, for it is written.

My name is Coral and this morning I come to you anew. I stand before you naked and transparent, without secrets, without shadows chasing me. I’ve nothing left to hide. There may things I’ve left unspoken…things I forget or deem insignificant…Any question what so ever, directed at me will be answered with the truth.

My brother Rumi came to me this morning, as he does every morning. Rumi’s message this morning is this “I surge on the uprising wave of love”. I too surge on the uprising wave of love! You too, surge on the uprising wave of love! Let us be not afraid…fear not…and let us be here now.

Know that nothing is promised ever. Truly, know this. Do not be discouraged by it and know it with all of your heart…you came in to this world alone and you will go out of this world alone and the rest is just fucking details. Make your Dash count. Make sure it’s your fucking Dash…you know the space on your headstone between your birthdate and your death date…make your Dash YOUR Dash. And as for me…no headstone please, no body in the ground…no sad service…light me up and set me free and spread me at my home, our Sanctuary, the place where I learned to love and to be loved without pain. Spread me with my beautiful lover and with all of my best friends. Be sad if you must for a moment or two, until you remember that I am but a word away, merely gone from your sight. From this moment until that time comes, I will begin to live MY Dash. We know not what we know not until we come to know it. For all I’ve come to know, I am so thankful. My choices will be different now and I am empowered. My inner circle will be as big as the love that supports it and we will branch out and bring everyone in. Does everyone have your candle lit? Beautiful! Look at all of that light! And just look at all of the beautiful faces behind the light…we are beautiful! Do you know that? We really are beautiful. We are mighty. We are bold. We are love. And we have come to bring you home. My challenge and my prayer today is that you take your light and share it today. Share your light a lot today. As Martin Luther King reminds us, “Darkness cannot drive out darkness, only light can do that.” And so it is. Let’s go light it up!

Have a beautiful day everyone! I love you. I really do love you. Thank you for being here with me.

I will rise from these ashes.

I lingered and then lingered some more, as I knew that when I left, I would not pass this way again. All of the memories and horrors…all of the expectation and disappointment and disgust…all of this fucking pain. I stood in all of that pain. As the pain kept raining down, I stopped seeking refuge and shelter. I just stopped. I decided instead, to let the rain and the tears wash me away. Wash me all away. I have never really done much more than existed, and that was a chore at times. Standing here though…being here and repeatedly trying to leave here…all while trying to find a way to stay here. Something broke in me. I let it break. Literally being shredded and mocked and taunted with tones and rigid jaw lines and then being rendered lifeless by the contempt. There’s no fight for this. There are no words for this. There is no reprieve from this. This has never been okay. I have never been safe. I have been thrown away and I grieve as though I am the one who left. I would never have left. I know I am not the leaver… I am the left behind…a pattern I’ve learned and repeated so, so many times before. I won’t act like this is okay. I forgive. I cannot forget. I love. We are the best thing that ever came of all of this. We stand alone. I stayed and I held space. This pain though…I have never known pain like this before. Foreign and so familiar is the pain that finally hit me hard enough for me to go down. We closed out a couple of lifetimes standing there. There was no budge and I cannot bend anymore without fracturing myself beyond repair. I regress. This morning though…first thing when I opened my eyes… the tears continue to fall. No dam can hold the flood of tears on their way down. No force can stop the flood and there is no comfort to be found. I haven’t spoken much of this, as I don’t even begin to know how to find the words. These words, somehow jumbled and coded, edited into “I” statements. These words are so void of all of the pain inside. These words are the best that I can stammer out, in an effort to relieve the tension that holding them has caused.

This is about me. This is about me and how I feel about what has been done. I have the power to make decisions best for me. I am not powerless. Making someone else wrong will never make any of us right. Lies are an attempt to hide a truths that don’t align with us. I have been invisible and I have been hurt repeatedly and on purpose. Over and over, and over again, I’ve not been seen at all. And I…I am barely breathing and moments away from ceasing to exist anymore at all. I am dying and I have been blatantly denied life support. I am drowning and the flood gates have been opened anyway. I am broken as the cord that held my world snaps and crashes down on top of me. I am struggling in the rubble and I extend my hand. I see the shadow pass before me and the hands shoved in the pockets of the dark image passing by. I am but a lowly beggar and my basket is nearly empty. My heart nearly broken. My face tear stained and aged and lined. I stand alone and so I am going now too. Another thing and the worst of things is that I would fix this if I could. I cannot. I cannot fix this. I did not break this. Unaccountability and anger and greed and rage and entitlement and contempt that can no longer be disguised or hidden behind other words seeps out and drains my soul. The mask has fallen off and the truth, scribbled across the shadows of a face I used to know. I can. I won’t. The rhetoric in my head, that I repeat on accident…unsettling. A broken little girl in a woman’s body. Sam and Coral and Coral and Sam, tumbling about, being tossed and turned out…A golden boy falling from grace that never befell him. And she in her casket. We have fallen apart. We have fallen from grace. We have lost more than we ever could have imagined. And my soul shrieks in the most agonizing pain of this lifetime. The bloodstains and the tears…the flashbacks and the right nows…the horrors and the lifelessness…the lovelessness…and I must go on.

For each painful thing that befalls me, and oh how it has befallen me, that I cannot turn seem to turn positive and to the light, I offer three positives and I give thanks. And I am on my way to that, in the midst of all of this.

In the loss of all I’ve truly ever known, I have gained the opportunity to be myself. And I give thanks.

I have done enough here and so I must go, as I’ve much good work to do our there. It rips my heart into bits to be begrudged the little bit of happy I have found and to feel the venom seeping out. Our house was full of strangers and friends…friends who who aren’t even friends back…and we watched from the outside of the glass. We had our little faces pressed against the glass, peering through the window at the Christmas of someone else in a home that we used to call our own. And we cry…God do we fucking cry. And I must go on. Without the knowing of how, I will go on.

Brand new, I return to the rooms of AA. Beginning again, from my lowest point in four and a half decades, I crack the cover of my big book for the first time. I begin again. I die this death to be born anew. I die this death to begin my life as me, for I will not dwell here any longer.

For the gifts and the lessons and for the endless and abundant blessings, I am so thankful. I truly am. I know how blessed I am. I write to heal myself. I write to get all of this out. I write to try to sort myself, my life…this. I intend to harm no one. And, I will not be silent. I have carried the sins of many. I have endured the beatings of nations. Today, on this day, I decide. Tomorrow and the next day and all of the days after that, I decide. From now on and for always, I decide. My decisions will be in my own best interest and in my own highest good…in the highest good of everyone, for we are all the same.

I am in the throes of something that I must go deep within to resolve and sort out. I have pulled myself out of circulation today and will not be available, as I repair my heart and lick my wounds. As I prepare my inner warrior for spiritual battle, I must prepare a place and I must ready myself for the letting go that is taking place, to prepare for all of the good things coming. These embers are still hot and cooling down, and as I patiently wait for them to become ashes, I prepare myself to rise up. I will rise from these ashes. And so it is.

As always, I send all that does not serve us, back to the universe to be recycled for the greater good of us all. I love you. Have a beautiful Sunday!

A jumbled confession for us all…

When the knock at your door finally comes, the knock that you have been praying for, as long as you can remember; will you open the door?

My knock came and I opened the door. A moment of surrender. Asking for help. Seeking to understand. Clarity in an abyss. Calm in a storm. A fucking Tsunami in the middle of meditation. Prison inside a prison. Bars between us. I Caged you in because I could not get out. I pushed you back until I was able to come forward. I did to you, the only thing I knew to do…I mimicked what was done to me. I silenced you. I controlled you so that I could steady myself. I am sorry. I held you down so that, on a wing and a prayer, I might ever be able to stand up again at all. Thank you. I came first. I mattered so much less always that I was dying of thirst to matter most of all. I surrender. I am blessed to matter. My unquenchable thirst left you parched. I offer you my glass. My needs left you…just you, standing there meeting them, without even having the benefit of me. I see that now. I see you now. Your submission in love of me allowed me to come out of submission myself. Thank you. Your being open allows me to be open too. Your strength, my inspiration. The time you did behind bars for me saved me from a death sentence. Thank you. Your love did and does set me free. I want to be just like you, in my own peculiar way-Thank you SOJA. My hopes are mostly expectations. My dreams are mostly someone else’s dreams. My sense of self is in need of some mending. My pain in enormous and I’m setting it down. My mistakes are countless and I’m forgiving them. Much of who I am is, in actuality, it someone else playing through me, a program that does not serve me. I close and end this program now so that I can bring you my own version of me forty. I forgive. I grieve. I let go. I begin anew. I medicate and meditate as rituals to heal and feed my soul. I stand corrected and I stand down where it does not serve for me to stand up. I surrender. My lifelong prayer of healing…how it needs to occur for me…what it feels and looks and is like…that prayer was answered in a moment this morning. I am so, so thankful. Thank you. My burning question, answered…let go. Fear not. Be well. Accept grace. Admit fault. Begin again. My prayer…heard…answered…and now my work is finished and now my work begins. I fake it until I make it sometimes. Sometimes I make it first. Sometimes the struggle is real. Sometimes there feels to be absolutely nothing at all. In this dark stillness, I began to find myself. The bars come down and we are all free. We are free to be, without limits who we are. As we adjust, shower love and grace abundantly around us. Thank you. As I peel away your way, to find my own…please grant me safe passage. Thank you. As I hit the floor on my knees in all of this reality, please keep me down there until I get it this time, until I really fucking get it. Please gently and lovingly hold me accountable. Please call me out lovingly and with kindness so that I may hear you and be called into my own action, and not the one I’m programmed too. Please let me offer all that I ask for my highest good, for your highest good also. Let me let go. Please remind me not to pick up that which is not mine to carry. Let it lie. Practice the pause. Wait to be asked for help. Wherever I go, go with all of my heart. Practice what I preach. Learn what I teach. Love myself enough to let the hate I have for myself be gone for good this time, for real. Let myself be loved. Accept that I am forgiven. Forgive myself. Be love. Forgive. Accept you on your terms. Stop preventing you from being you so that I can be me. Act in accordance with love always and in all ways. Get back up. Wipe my tears. Forgive myself for not knowing what I don’t know before I knew it. Let it go. Begin again. Don’t try so hard. Don’t try at all. Just be. Love. Be love. Be loved. Have a good day. I love you.

What we allow will continue.

Good morning everyone! Happy Sunday! I feel amazing this morning thinking about my sobriety. I am taking my five year chip tomorrow at noon and I am really, really thankful. January 2nd I turned 5. My conscious life began to begin. I am so thankful for five years of sobriety.

Sunday mornings for me were like the Johnny Cash song, “Sunday Morning Coming Down”, to which I made myself a pitcher of bloody Mary’s, for the pounding headache that ailed me. Not to mention, all of those vegetables were very good for me. It should be no surprise at all that my favorite vodka was made of potatoes! I was a hot fucking mess and so I drank!!! What we allow will continue.

So on this Sunday morning, I am thankful for my medicinal tea. I am thankful for my studio space to meditate in. I am thankful for our home. I am thankful for us.

I found my way back to prayer and being comfortable talking to God in that forum again. My brother Rumi brought me back and I am so, so thankful. I have amazing people in my life. You are in my life and I am so thankful.

I know that I am leaping off of the edge of all that I know and all that I have ever known before, as I allow God to remove my fear this morning. I allow God to cast away my doubt. I let go. I have been so afraid to jump. This morning, I jump. I jump into my purpose. I walk toward all that invites me to move forward and to honor my highest good. I move into a life of service and trust that it will pay our bills and provide us all we need. I stop chasing clients and invite them to come to me. I have a lot to offer and I accept that I am worthy to be paid my asking price. I will not underestimate or under-value myself any longer. It was so lovingly suggested to me that I take the letter that I wrote to Tamara a day or so ago, and replace her name with my own name. How did that feel? That felt fucking amazing! Thank you so much for suggesting that to me Holly! I would highly suggest any of you to do the same. Replace Tamara’s name with yours and read the post again. Dear Coral….see for yourself. Truly…see yourself and love and appreciate yourself. We each deserve to be seen. Thank you for the reminder my beautiful cousin! I love you!

We come here every morning, you and I, to figure it all out together. We meet in this healing room to summon the courage to heal ourselves. We trust here. We live and love here. Everyone is welcome here and no one is turned away here. We talk about some hard fucking stuff in this space and we always will. What we allow will continue.

I want each of you to help me to find a way to call attention to this and to bring an end to this. There must be consequences for this. Please pray for our sister with me this morning. What we have allowed is continuing.

As long as the elderly are being left to die alone in nursing homes, where there are being brutalized and raped and tortured, we will talk about it. We will bring this dark and fucked up bullshit into the light.

If you are on your way to church this morning, please lift our beautiful sister up in prayer. Our beautiful sister has been in a vegetative state for over a decade, after a near drowning incident, at a nursing facility in Phoenix, Arizona. After being raped in a vegetative state, she gave birth to a son a couple of days ago. Please pray for her. People say they aren’t in there…I am here to tell you we are all fucking in there until we are not in there. The doctor said that she felt pain. In labor for hours to possibly days…she felt pain. Being raped…not allegedly fucking raped…she could not consent to anyone…she has been vegetative for over a decade. It’s not fucking alleged. Someone…someone’s…raped this woman. Within the last nine months, someone fucked this poor woman and impregnated her!!! What in the fuck are we going to do about this? We…you and I…us and them…what in the fuck are we going to do about this? We pretend that it doesn’t happen and we do nothing. Well, now you know…google her. What are we going to do? I am going to bring awareness to this and I am going to ask you to do the same. Blow up social media and get this poor woman some justice. Pray for her. Love her. Pray for him. Love him. For fucks sake…do something. We must each do something. I write. I ask you to do something to. We cannot allow our elderly to leave the world this way…our injured and terminally ill to be discarded this way. We cannot be more concerned about being politically correct than we are about being fucking human beings. God please bless this woman and show her your grace and love and mercy. Please, with me, with all of your heart…send her all of your love. Send all of the people in similar situations all of your love. If your family members are in assisted care facilities, nursing facilities and hospitals…under hospice care and paid care…I would advise you to do some research. Love them for fucks sake and protect them. Know the people who care for the people you care for. Please.

Our loved ones…our elders and our brothers and sisters…our mothers and our fathers..they are being brutalized in these facilities and we are paying them very well to do so. Don’t take my word for it…do your own research. First though, please pray and send our sister all of your love. Thank you. What we allow will continue.

We will float…

Good morning everyone! Happy Saturday! I am not going to lie…the struggle is real this morning. I held the tears below the lump in my throat all day yesterday. This morning I felt the dam breaking and I tried to hurry down the driveway before I collapsed in heart wrenching exhaustion. I was wailing. The tears were squirting out of my eyes…no longer falling down my cheeks. The dam fucking broke and I could not contain the pain. The dam broke and I could not, if my life had depended upon it, have stopped the flood of tears. I could not catch my breath and I had to medicate for a bit before I could even meditate. I felt it coming on like a fucking tsunami…I was about to fucking crack. I lit the fire and paced around a bit. Tears still shooting out and my hands shaking. I knew I would not let this take me down. I knew that I could pause and breathe and make a different choice. I will make a different choice. I prayed for the wisdom this morning in my meditation with Rumi to guide me. My prayer was answered. I know what I must do. My heart broke again. My shooting tears, gently fell down my cheeks. I sobbed. My hands could not contain the tears. I sobbed some more and let them go, dripping onto my shirt. These tears shall wash away that which no longer serves my highest good…that which no longer serves your highest good. These tears…my tears, for us all. I cry them after over forty years of holding them in. I have been crying non-stop since October of 2015. I have been crying inside since I was conceived of. I wash it away…all of it away, for all of us. This flood is our salvation. This flood shall wash us clean. We must not sit here any longer and drown. We must swim. We must swim until we float. We will float. In absolute tranquility and without any struggle, pain or fear…we will float. And so it is.

I am thankful beyond words for my medication. My PTSD cannot unfuck itself once I go spinning off of my axis like that. I am thankful that this morning, I had some warning before it hit. I am thankful I was able to get the spinning to stop before I couldn’t. I am so fucking thankful to Tamara for holding me up this morning, so that I would not hit the ground. Tamara is my rock. I am so thankful for you my girl, for loving and accepting me, as sick as I am and right where I am at. Thank you.

I get discouraged some days. I feel like I have terminal illnesses that no matter what I do, cannot be cured. I am an alcoholic. I will always be an alcoholic. I have C-PTSD and I will always have C-PTSD. Some days I really do get discouraged by that. Oh, and I got the call to schedule my pelvic injections and pudenal blocks for January. The clenching and the fucking pain…oh the fucking pain. Even in a fucking snow drift up past my knees, I can still feel this fucking pain. And fuck! Just fuck! How do we address that? With more pain. Good pain…and excruciating pain, none the less. Oh, and I find myself in this mother fucking trash bag by the curb again. Some days all of that really fucks with me pretty good. Some days it hurts me so badly that I cannot even open my eyes before the tears start. Today was one of those days. Up by 4:00am and trying to pull myself together by 8:00am to leave for work. And the struggle is fucking real, isn’t it?

So what do we do? Today, I will do my best to rise above it. Today I will be of service. So if you need me, please let me know. I will see how I can help. I will go to work because I know my gift is needed and my work is good. I will stand in my convictions and I will not go where I’m not loved like a verb. I will stand up for myself and my brothers and my sisters. I will write. I will love. I will have heavy doses of musical medicine. Nahko and SOJA are in my immediate future, to remedy this pain. I will love. I will love. I will love. And so it is.

I love you. Have a beautiful day!

Please reflect and pray with me…

Good morning everyone! Happy New Year’s Eve! This day used to be a huge drinking day for me. Everyday was a pretty huge drinking day for me, come to think of it. Anyway…I was fucked up five years ago on this day. Thankful for another shitty year behind me…praying for a better next year…yada, yada, yada…and shots for everyone! I don’t even do shots…unless someone pours or buys me one! Okay though!!! That’s how I spent the first 41 years of my life. Mindless. Careless. Numb. Fucked up. Miserable. Hostage. Stuck. Sad. Drunk. Fighting. Fucking. Arguing. Drinking. Drinking. Drinking. So on this, the eve of a brand new year, I thank God for the friend of Bills he sent to me on that day, on my way to happy hour…a friend needing a friend to go to an AA meeting with her. Sure I could go to an AA meeting on my way to happy hour! I know my friend is going through a hard time and hey, I heard they have free cookies and coffee and I should eat before I hit the bar anyway, right?

I never made it to the bar that evening. I never made it to the bar again. My name is Coral and I am an alcoholic. Thank you Tamara for inviting me to that meeting five years ago. I will be five on January 2nd, 2019. “There but for the grace of God go I.” This morning’s reading on the last day of the year was so powerful for me that I wanted to share it with you also. Thank you Bill.

I am so glad you are here! I really am. Blogging every day, no matter what, has been so good for me. I am going to blog every day for another year. I have heard from so, so many of you who come here. I know my blog has helped you too. To be able to go somewhere every single day, and to know that someone else will be there too…I guess that has helped a lot of you and I am so happy to hear this! You being here every day helps me too. Especially on my most difficult days…you being in the healing room with me…well it helps me so much. Thank you.

As I spend today in prayer and meditation and in loving time and space with my girl, I think of each of you. I want you to know that. As we walk each other home, I place your hand in mine. I place my arm around your shoulder, and I pull you close to me. I whisper in your ear to remind you that I’ve got you. I am because you are. Ubuntu. We are all here to love each other home. We live in community with people starving and dying in our streets. Hooray for me and fuck you, as Tamara says..when we have an attitude of ingratitude.

I am on a hellbent mission to love us home and I will not stop until I’m done. I may not be your typical preacher and I may not speak to you at all. I may though, speak to you. Will you please pray with me? For the year behind us and for the year ahead…for this very moment, let us pray.

My soul brother Rumi, we come to you thankful this morning. We are thankful for the last 365 days…the 525,600 minutes of the year behind us. We ask for your love and guidance for the 52 weeks and 8,760 hours ahead of us. Most of all though brother, we ask you to help us to live in this moment. Just this one…right here and right now. The past is behind us. The future is not promised to us. The present truly is right here and right now. In this fucked up crazy world, where everyone and everything is our business…gently remind us that everything is not our business. We know right from wrong. Lord help us to do what we know in our hearts to be right and just. If we cannot find it within us to stand up…God give us the courage to stand down. If we cannot help them Lord, please stop us from harming them. Please hold our tongues in pause before we cut those we love the most. Please God remind us that we are all the same. Not one of us will be whole until each of us is whole…please let us understand this. Our brothers and our sisters, different from us and yet so very much the same..please let us recognize ourselves in one another. There are no beings less than any other beings. There are people. There are sentient beings. We are all the same. Please remove the slurs and the labels and the judgement from our lips. God please remind us that we’ve two ears and two hands…two eyes and but one mouth. Let us shut our mouths if we’ve nothing nice to say. Let our silence be our gift. Let our words always be kind. Let us love. As we learn who we have been, Rumi, guide us to forgive. Ourselves and those who’ve harmed us…let us show your grace and mercy…let us feel your grace and mercy. Let us know that God is in us…that we are God…that God is us. Let us no longer be separate. Let us love. Father forgive us where we have fallen short. Lift us up. As we come into a new year, we ask with all of our hearts, that you teach us how to love. Open us to your messages. Protect us from the harm that knows know bounds as we stand up in silent solidarity for and with one another. Teach us to stand in silence and in peace, until our voices are warranted. When our voices are warranted, God let us remember to ask if it passes through all three gates; Is it true?Is it necessary? Is it kind? If it does not pass through these gates, let us keep our lips closed until it is. Let us stand up for ourselves and for one another. We learned it wrong and we ask you to help us right it. We misunderstood and we ask you to forgive us. We ask you to bring forth the leaders who are here to love us home. And so it is. Amen.

Thank you for praying with me. Have a beautiful day and please be safe. I love you. Don’t drink and drive. Hey…better yet, don’t drink at all. Be present. Be sober. Be real. Five years later and thankful as hell, I highly recommend setting that bottle down completely my friends.

You may call me ma’am…

Happy Sunday everyone! I won’t even pretend that the struggle is not real for me today. The struggle is kicking my fucking ass today. I am hurt. I am frustrated. I am tired of the fucking hate. I am suffocating and gagging on the words people are fucking mincing. I am fed up with the bullshit. I am over being fucking lied to. I am sick of feeling spiritually bankrupt because I am often so undervalued that I actually believe I’m not worth much…it’s bullshit and yet I buy it. I am done buying it.

Things are coming up for me that are torturing my soul. It’s not forever. For now though…I am a bit fucked up over it. I’m definitely worn out from it. I’m sick because of your sickness and I’m a little pissed about that on this day. You….and you and even you throwing me away has left me feeling a bit like a piece of fucking trash. And to be bluntly honest…I throw up in my mouth a bit when I hear the shit I hear spewing out of yours. Your are ignorant and you do not wish not to be so. You are hurtful in action and only sorry in words. Your words hold no value here any longer. The moment the truth was lost…the moment the tables turned and promises started getting broken…the moments that followed became increasingly difficult for me. Today is difficult for me. It hurts me to say it, and yet say it I must…I won’t be your whipping boy. It hurts me to say it because I didn’t know that I was until the beatings commenced. The faces I see in the dark are darker and more familiar than I remembered them to be. The color that faded to black is coming back in technicolor now. Denial does not serve me and so I speak my truth. You need not listen or hear it any longer. I’ll not waste my heart and my voice to fall on deaf ears any longer.

Like I said…the struggle is real for me today. The words bouncing around inside my head are crushing my reality a bit. I have been stuck in a full blown PTSD spin since 5:00 or so AM. I cannot get out. I have cried most of this day and I have remembered things that hurt my heart. I saw a video of Tiffany being taunted and teased and fucking abused and tortured by ignorant and senseless fools and I fucking weep. God damn it do I weep. I know that pain. I know those snickers. I know that rage that boils over when you just want to be yourself…and you are not permitted to be. I know the hurt of being the person you say you hate, without knowing anything about me. Your ignorant and foolish comments, ignorant as they are, hurt me. Tiffany is my sister and if I hear you call her brother, I will not stand by and pretend that I did not. Tiffany is my sister and you will not fucking call her mister…or sir…not on my watch…not without a word from me. I will not be silent when you hurt my sister. I will not stand down when you stand up where you don’t fucking belong. The ignorance flowing from your lips like wine is not intoxicating to me…your breath of too much drink and the slur across your lips keeps me remembering why it is that I am sober. Thank you. Tiffany is my sister. I ask each of you to please send my sister Tiffany your love. As long as one of us broken, not one of us will truly be whole.

Words hurt. The withholding of words hurts even more. I ask each and every one of you to give yourself permission to stand up for what is right. Do not stand by laughing and mocking and teasing too. Do not forget that what enrages you about me deeply touches something in you that you’ve not yet resolved. Let me not forget the same thing in my conflict with you. I hurt so badly tonight that I cannot console myself. I hurt for who we’ve become…for how we treat one another…for how we toss each other aside…for how we hurt the animals…for how we hurt our wives…I weep for Tiffany, for I see and feel her in myself. I stand with Tiffany. I am going to ask you to stand with my sister too. You may call her ma’am and you can treat her like a lady. If you cannot do these things, then say nothing to her at all. Do not question her, as it’s not your fucking business. I don’t ask about yours and you don’t ask about mine. Deal? I’ve got my sisters back. I will always have my sisters back. If you do not have my sisters back, then you do not have my back either. I am my sister. My sister is me. You are my sister and my sister is you. The sooner we all know this, the sooner we will all be free. What holds you hostage bars me in also. Your pain is mine. Your hurt, mine.

This blog is dedicated to my sister Tiffany and to all of my brothers and sisters in the Queer and LGBT 🏳️‍🌈 community. We have every right to be here. We will not be silent to make you comfortable and we will not stand down when you step up. You are out of line. You have been called out. We will appreciate it for you to stand down, step the fuck aside and treat us like ladies. You may call me ma’am…although I prefer you call me Coral. If you call me sir by accident, I will understand. If you call me sir again, I will correct you more audibly. You will call me ma’am or you will not call me at all. And so it is.

Please send out all of your love tonight to my sisters and my brothers who will not be silent any longer. We will stand up for ourselves and for each other and I am going to ask you to stand up for us to. Will you please stand up for my sisters and brothers and I when you see us being persecuted? Your silence hurts us more than their infliction. Please know this. If we matter to you, like you say we do…start standing up for us. You may call me ma’am. And so it is. I love you Tiffany. I love you. Goodnight.