The last 9 months have been difficult. Unexpectedly losing my wonderful dad, (the man who taught me valuable life lessons-loved me unconditionally-was always there to listen, help, & love, the man who was proud to have me as a daughter-the man I was quite fond of) has been hard and then be blindsided by trauma that not only left me suffering in pain with this infested injury but put me in a tail-spin of an ocd season that still heavily affects me today.
These last 9 months have been exactly that, 9 months. 9 months of missing my dad tremendously, going through so many "firsts" without him. 9 months of unbearable obsessions, compulsions, and rituals. 9 months of intrusive thoughts, intrusive images, anxiety attacks, and panic attacks. 9 months of hell, still recovering from what has happened and may continue to happen. 9 months of being left on the side of the road, cast out and abandoned by people who I trusted, people who I thought loved and cared for me. No, I was mistaken, or maybe I saw the writing on the wall for years, even most of my life, yet I didn't want to see it.
My kind and loving heart that has been through so much hidden abuse wants to see those letters transform into something beautiful, like a catipilar becomes something beautiful, enhancing nature's circle of life. Instead, I put myself in the cross fires thinking I could change, fix, or paint over those letters on the wall only to get hit time after time after time. Thinking each time would be different, I'd be able to dodge those bullets, or even better, the bullets wouldn't be aimed at me, traveling 1700 miles per hour.
These last 9 months have been torture, to say the least, but it has also forced me to see the wall for what it is. Letters forming words, words forming sentences, sentences forming a message, a message surrounded by illustrations. All this in permanent marker with only two options: first, the permanent marker keeps those letters and drawings permanent. Lasting during this lifetime, if not forever. Or second, the permanent ink fades over time with either needing to be touched up or finally retiring it's flawed message and allows the wall to become a new canvas.
Either way, I logically accept this ink with a glimmer of hope that the latter is destined to happen for these individuals, while the inner child thrashes, screams, cries, angry at myself for not changing, fixing, or painting over someone else's masterpiece. And it's just that, someone else's masterpiece. Not one I have to protect, carry the burden of, or take as my own.
I'm confidently holding the art brush as I curate my own mural. A mural full of light, heavenly light of comfort & peace, love, happiness, uplifting mantras, and beauty. Pure, simple, beauty. Art work that will in time transform into a butterfly over and over, again and again as new experiences arise, hardship is defeated, and continue self love. They say cats have 9 lives, they say we have only one life, this mural, this beauty, this butterfly is endless for the better good.
These last 9 months I have changed. I have transformed myself into my own butterfly after wasting time and energy trying to get others to do the same. I am beauty. Being true beauty that was waiting to be discovered and welcomed. Knowing and hoping this beauty would one day be exposed and influence said circle of life. To be aware of my truth, a higher level of consciousness, aware of my state of wholeness. The wholeness is a foreordained truth, a truth that has no end nor beginning, determined to advance and progress, here to stay and evolve forever. Realizing I've never been damned or broken.
An admirable, wise man brought me to this new perspective on an old misconception. A misconception or story that began when the earth was created and our spirits joined mortality. Why do we believe this misconception? Ignorance, but it's not our fault. Our mortal being, our natural mortal being, a being of mortality instead of immortality, a state in which we don't fully comprehend, makes sense of the emotions through answers we're given. These blinded answers dont allow us to see and understand the fullness, but it doesn't mean we don't feel it and it doesn't mean we can't train ourselves to see it.
The misconception is us taking face value the concluded answers through mortal reasoning, rationalizing and understanding of emotion and experiences. Our intelligence wants to solve problems and make sense of ourselves even if that means we are believing a misconception. Believing in a story. A story handed down through generations through time. Though through recognizing and desiring to over coming trials allows us to see the true conception and write a new story. To see our own truth and the truest answers. We can rewrite the foretold stories because our state, us, we, start to understand that we are already complete wholeness. The atonement of Jesus Christ has made this fact, truth, fate. Using this atonement brings about our true whole conscience awareness and the best of authors for our future posterity.
I don't know this notion like the back of my hand. It's a new discovered essence. It's complex and hard to wrap my head around fully. It is different than I was raised to believe. However, this is the new story I want to write and become while I complete this mortal life. I want this mural to be seen and felt through my interactions, my life and my children's lives.
I thank my dad for this insight. I wish he could physically be here with me as I learn and grow, building confidence within myself, becoming who I want to be, including starting my own business. EverLiv wasn't a name that just sounded good, EverLiv is the biggest gift my dad could give me. To for ever live, love and be free. To live everly. To be launched forward after being held back for so long.
I know my dad is looking at me with a heart full of pride, astonishment, and love. He's proud to call me his, thankful for our eternal bond and anticipating for my future and the influence he had from his legacy and the influence he will have from the other side of the veil.
I love you, John Dad Simpson 
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