10.20.21

 Over the weekend, Sunday night in particular I had an extreme panic attack. So intense that I feared I’d have to go to the hospital, the first time intrusive thoughts of suicide flooded my mind with graphic pictures and a true sense of worry and concern that I could very well follow through on such thoughts. I now know that those extreme thoughts and images were simply my brain trying to solve a problem {what OCD loves to do}, to end the intense feelings and death was the only thing my brain could muster at the moment. Clearly, I am not truly suicidal and enjoy my life. Though, struggling with OCD can make life harder.

The following day, Monday, I know that through God I was able to see my therapist that morning. I was called by their office asking if I would like an appointment time that had been canceled by another client. I made more connections during that session. Because of my state that day, and the type of session I had because of it, I was able to see certain OCD tendencies clearly, I understood what my OCD was and has been doing in some areas. Knowledge is power. 

My usual go-to ritual when OCD is overwhelming, creeping in to take over, is a panic attack. My brain sends signals to my body that things are not okay. My body starts to feel real, literal sensations that tend to take over against my will. This includes nausea, excess pooping, tightness in my core, the inability to feel the effects of breathing deep, and tingling energy that spreads from my stomach to my extremities. When circumstances get to this point I start to shut down, as a sense of surrendering to the monster that is taking over. I fear the monster, I fear what the monster will bring and it is my fear that allows the monster to create and follow through with what I fear. Compulsions such as isolation, sensory input (health and unhealthy), self-hate talk such as frustrations, annoyance, expectations, and running to the bathroom, taking cold baths or showers, using ice-packs to keep me cold, and shivering, in some instances causing myself to throw-up, ritual praying and breathing techniques.

The connection I made about this in therapy is that this response to OCD is actually a ritual. I’ve always thought that my body had no other option than to run the course of these sensations because OCD and anxiety were doing this to me, how could I stop a physiological effect? That the only way for me to feel better was to go through this hell. When in reality, those compulsions were only an attempt to have momentary relief, but they also feed the OCD. The physical sensations are real, they truly are present, but my mind can make a shift to create new neuropathways. I can manually shift the gears in my brain to move on from that stuck moment and begin to heal and progress.

Clearly, isolation was not helping, which is my default response or compulsion, which had a domino effect to other compulsions farthing the ritual. My therapist presented an alternative. A space to let me feel what I was feeling without labeling it. OCD panic attack episodes are nor pass/fail, black/white, good/bad. They are simply a feeling, a sensation that is presenting itself because of an underlining issue that wants to be heard and addressed. That by surrounding myself with comfort and positive physical sensations can impact for the greater good. 

OCD & a dream

 I had a dream last night. It was a tragedy that I’ve been through that clearly still haunts me. Trauma is funny like that. The biggest thing we want to let go and move on from is one of the hardest things to forget, and for obvious reasons. Though the dream didn’t play out a hundred percent factual, the deep-rooted feelings sure did. It’s nice that dreamland allowed me to manipulate the course and to fully express myself to have my voice heard and understood. Trying to find a better outcome, providing comfort to my heart and the inner voice, I was doing all I could to change the ending. However, in this dream it didn’t matter how hard I tried to have my voice heard, how hard I tried various things in various ways, the outcome was the same as real life. 

OCD fools me into thinking that I could have prevented trauma if I had only acted differently, blaming myself for others’ actions. After years of experience pivoting my way through OCD, you’d think I would outsmart the cyclical troll and move right past him, but not so much in the face of this trauma. “This is different,” he tells me. I’m easily manipulated into believing him “because the feeling is so raw and so real, let me show you” he convinces.  

At this moment I revisit the trauma, the primitive brain takes over. I lose all sense of reality and find myself in an alternate universe reliving not only that moment of trauma, but everything related, involved from that point thereafter. Together. Blended. This cohesion of the parallel universe and reality takes over my automatic communication between the frontal lobe and deeper structures of the brain causing fresh trauma to my moment in time, compounding the original trauma into a festering obsession. Fight or flight sets in. My brain starts to present alternate paths to solving this present problem, after all, OCD’s favorite thing to do is solve unsolvable problems. To create certainty no matter how far I have to wander off the path of reality. Oxymoron you might say. Yet the thought of rituals provides an immediate answer. The compulsions give momentary relief of the nagging, doom-induced, cyclical obsession and its army of anxiety. With this redirection of attention, I start to gain more consciousness of my senses and whereabouts. Reality moving faster than I can currently keep up with, I’m tied to it, being dragged like a dog owner being pulled on a leash, eventually, I’m moving as fast as the dog and I’m back in sync with reality. I’m snapped back into a raced metacognitive state. 

I realize I just experienced a PTSD-OCD episode, logically it was just a theoretical sensation with insignificant meaning. However, for my mind, body, and emotions it’s quite the opposite. My body is still responding as if I had really just lived through the threatening experience and I’m wanting to know the significant meaning of its presence. Is my subconscious trying to tell me something? Could there have been a different outcome? Anxiety still being high, a new slew of obsessions invades my mind severing the connection between my mind and my heart and its communication. The PTSD sensations fade while the OCD episode is still on a rampage. I’m aware that I am fine. I’m aware there is no present danger. Not physical, not psychological, not emotional. Yet my mind plays like a broken record. The automatic communication and processing halt and I’m stuck in gear. Not even my heart has a connection to my mind to pivot my way out of this. Living through this cycle on repeat in my heart as my brain replays the cycle over and over. OCD wanting to solve this puzzle without success, goes back to the immediate answer: compulsions. Compulsions lead to rituals. Rituals lead to temporary relief only to start the cycle over again. I’m grateful for the moment of relief, gaining my lost breath only to lose it again.

At this point, going through all I’ve been through, I’m exhausted. Gathering my footings, I come to realize the only way out of this is working through four steps. Four steps that are not a check box and not to be used as a compulsion, but to be used thoughtfully. This provides a manual shift in the gears that won’t budge. The question is, do I have enough energy to carry out these four steps?

I start by relabeling what I’m experiencing. Stating that this episode-these thoughts-intrusive images and feelings are not of me and my desires, I relabel what it actually is. I externalize it, this troll within me is not of me. It’s not a part of me. It’s not my true feelings, true desires, nor my subconscious surfacing. It’s not factual in the slightest. In fact, it’s the exact opposite, false signals, yet the troll wants me to believe that I am corrupt. A demon child who doesn’t deserve better, who doesn’t have worth or value. Though one statement can begin the externalizing process: it’s not me, it’s OCD. 

Reattributing comes next. Understanding why this troll lives within me and where it comes from gives me an upper hand in recovering from an episode. I am suffering because I’m experiencing Brain Lock, a chemical imbalance in my brain that can manually be manipulated and properly bring homeostasis again.

Next is the redirecting step. This is where I redirect my focus from the troll and his convincing lies and beliefs to something that keeps my attention. This is the hardest step of them all. While my mind is trying to occupy itself with engaging tasks and absorbing intel, the troll is screaming in my head. My body listens to the troll causing my body to react. Exhausted as I might be up to this point, I must find the inner strength to manually push this troll to the side otherwise he wins and all my hard work is for nothing as I relapse into another cycle of the OCD episode. From here I repeat steps one and two to ensure a sturdier foundation, to provide more strength to my mission. With success, I’m led to the fourth step. Revalue. 

I confirm in my mind and heart that the first 2 steps are truths. That the cycles in the episode (obsessions-intrusive thoughts-images-feelings) and the episodes themselves have little to no meaning because they are not me or who I am. This step is the step that takes the longest. Often times working on this step puts me back at step one, step two, or even step three. This is one of the most valuable steps because it reattributes how much worth is behind the troll’s accusations, the obsessions I’m experiencing. Successfully completing this step the troll and obsessions are inconsequential. For the first time, my body shows signs of relief. Still sitting on the edge of my seat with my overstimulated brain and heightened senses, I am aware of any potential triggers that I can defend myself against only to allow more obsessions to intrude my mind. A second cycle is initiated and the four steps are carried out again and again until recovery takes place.

Going back to my dream where no matter what I did to change the course, the outcome was the same. A part of me interprets this aspect of the dream as it wouldn’t have mattered what I said or did. People are people with their own free agency. To choose which they want. I want to give the benefit of the doubt, believe that they are better people than they portray, but the fact is… sometimes no matter the way a situation presents itself, they want a specific outcome and will fight for it. When this is combined with other variables… they win. They win despite my righteous desires.

But then I wonder if they truly won. If demoralizing one’s soul is worth the cost of material possessions then I don’t want to win. If material possessions replace love and humility then I don’t want to win. If my heart grows cold and vengeful from winning then I don’t want to win. If winning means that I’m benefiting from someone else’s cost I don’t want to win. My intuition refuses to turn a blind eye to such behavior. It saddens me that others’ pride prevents them from acknowledging the truth. To them I may not have won, I may not be in control, the ball might not be in my court. To them, I was defeated, tossed to the side for victory. However, I know the truth. I have a clear conscience. I have worth, value, and light. Their psychological game doesn’t use me like a pon like the inner troll thinks they do. I have risen above the immaturity tactics of the world, shedding the form of the natural man and evolving into love and light. Love.heals.everything.

2/27/20

 I can appreciate your concern and thoughts. But no, you are wrong about your assumptions. Britnee did not cause this and I won't be some sort of middle man trying to make her feel guilty for simply sticking up for her own sanity.

Dad asked Britnee to relay a happy birthday wish to Kailee a few days ago- 

1st - that is in and of itself a violation of the restraining order that John himself sought out and signed off on. Britnee did not simply call him and chastise him because she has feelings. Because of this, the fourth time he has made this same inappropriate request of Britnee to communicate for him, and having not learned from the previous three times she told him that it was inappropriate, she decided to make it more clear. She told him that she would not do that and that in the future it is inappropriate to ask that kind of thing of her and finally that if he wants to communicate with Kailee, then he needs to do away with the unnecessary restraining order. It is not "tough love" to build a legal wall between himself and his daughter, knowing that there can be serious legal consequences for small actions (such as his own) and then ask another CHILD of His, who is doing her best to keep herself from getting sucked into this ugly family feud, if she will skirt the law that HE chose. I mean come on, Britnee is human and that is simply unfair and cruel to take advantage HER patient and loving attempts to maintain a decent relationship her dad so that he can feel better about the stupid restraining order.

2nd - Britnee (and I) feels very strongly that the restraining order is excessive and unnecessary to begin with, and she has stated such HER father twice now. Her thinking is that there are in fact repercussions and consequences for this action that John and Sandra have not honestly considered.. like the destruction of already tentative relationships with his children. Even like what happened this week... He is unable to communicate a simple birthday wish because of the order. Already, he was unable to attend Jayson's recent baptism because Kailee was there. The potential list of painful consequences goes on and on, and for what? Some sort of hysterical belief that Kailee and Traca would actually want to make the hour long trip simply to terrorize anyone? Anyone who claims that it is necessary is truly kidding themselves or so caught up in their passions that they do not want actual healing because it means swallowing their pride to do so.

3rd - It is hyperbole and wrong to try and manipulate Britnee (or me) through the claim that "she is literally killing him". No, his own actions and those of Sandra and Marie should come under consideration for that. John has long had a brain disease, stress makes things worse. Two of the people that he loves most convinced him to sign off on the order against his daughter (and obviously seriously strain any possibility of a relationship with two other children). Sure, for them it was easy enough to say that it was necessary, they would not be suffering all that much because of the consequences (at least compared to what real suffering John is going through).. but then he has always let the women in his life push him around. That choice and the knowledge that it backfired and to him from his children is what causes the stress which causes the worsening symptoms. The real question is whether Mom's and Marie's pride in this matter is what's "literally killing him".

4th - yes, Kailee needs therapy, rehab, medication and all sorts of special consideration.. and yes, Traca has generally allowed and even seemingly encouraged some of Kailees disfunctionality. But they really need to stop patting themselves on the back for her court ordered treatment. She was already well on her way down that path and quite literally the only thing that has changed is that she has to tell a court about the treatment she is already receiving. Let's stop pretending that the court is the sole reason for Kailees treatment.. the whole thing feels tinged by the hate for Traca. I get that Tracas treatment of John was wrong and that she weaponized her children against him. She was wrong and Britnee and I have chastised her heavily for it. Yes I have even been in yelling arguments with Traca over her complacency when it came to really dealing with her children's problems, or her treatment of John. Maybe you are not aware, but Britnee and I even had a years long principal based moratorium on contact with Traca over similar such behavior from her. We can call a spade a spade both ways and equally. We had to draw a line in the sand and tell her that certain actions, comments or conversations are inappropriate and if she wants to maintain a loving relationship that she cannot cross that line. She still does sometimes, and even recently we have had to tell her to stop, much like Britnee did with Dad. We expect that we will constantly have to remind them both of all of our boundaries, it is just that this particular boundary is very poignant and hard for Dad to come to grips with.. If it seems unclear let me state it right here - Outside of communicating when the rules of the restraining order need to be applied to a situation, we will not discuss the events of the fight between Marie and Kailee, we view both sides as having fault and refuse to "pick a side" and will not allow attempts to convince or manipulate us, nor will we discuss Traca and Kailees business with with John and Sandra or vice versa. The Only possible exceptions can be in case of medical emergency, under which circumstances we will maintain the boundaries but understand when a slip up may occur (excepting as the restraining order must be applied).

Finally I would like to apologise for the length of my reply, but it needed to be said. I also thank you for reading this far and allowing me my say. Note - Because Dad repeatedly attempted to cross that boundary and repeatedly tried to recount the fight to Britnee even after her firm insistence that she did not want to discuss that with him and several reminders that Britnees relationship with him would be about a father and his daughter and nothing else, Britnee was hurt especially that she had to be so firm with her own Dad. We know that his capabilities have steadily declined over the last few years and that he will cross clear boundaries occasionally, but we will always make sure to reiterate them when needed. When she has had sufficient time to process and when she is ready she will talk to him again. He is her dad and she loves him.

I would caution you against assuming the context of something so fundamentally complex as this situation is. Britnee was well within her rights and the boundaries of the Parent and grown-child relationship to stick up for her own emotional health by having that hard conversation with her own father. A conversation that she chose to have because she does Love him, and because unlike her siblings, she wants to keep the relationship with him going. A conversation that defined which actions could harm or permanently damage the relationship if allowed to continue (her boundaries). A conversation of which should've been kept more private than it apparently was.

This is not a burned bridge by the way.. we still love you and yours. But the pain might take a short while to heal. I hope you can understand. And of course you are always welcome to include our names in prayers and Temple visits. I'm glad to know that your faith is so important to who you are and that you often think of us in that context.

Sincerely, if heavy hearted - Eric

9/24/21

It’s been 5 months and 6 days since your passing. Since then, my grief for you hasn’t lessened a bit. I have spoken to you a handful of times since then, though it was always outspoken. I’m writing this one for my emotional benefit, as my therapist has encouraged. Maybe this way I can get deeper feelings out, maybe focus my thoughts a little bit more so this session is more therapeutic. Normally when I talk with you, my emotions get so big and swollen that they suffocate me, I lose track of what I’m supposed to be doing and why I’m doing it. Instead, I shut down from the lack of air and begin an OCD trip. Here’s to trying something different. Here’s to better expression. Here’s to healing.

It’s hard losing a loved one. I would say losing a loved one is even harder when you have a stepfamily that treats you very poorly. I don’t even like referring to them as step-family. They are the Sabins. As it should be. Family actually means something to me and they don’t deserve any title of Family. I know I shouldn’t, but I blame you for their poor behavior. I blame you for my broken heart. You are the one that chose not to reunite with your wife of 20+ years. We had a solid, truthful, raw conversation just months before you died as to why you chose to divorce her. You have very good reasoning regarding your choice and I prop you for choosing for yourself for once in your life. Though, you sought out an older woman who not only behaved and did things that you purposely left your wife for, but was even more of a problem. You are the one that brought her into your life, you brought her family into your life. You brought them into my life. You asked me to open my heart and accept them as family just as you did. You asked me to open my door to my family for you, for them. I took a chance on them. I opened my heart and my door to let them in because I love and trust you. I trusted you with my heart, my family, and our safety.

In the beginning, I tried desperately hard to keep them and you close as families are. I feared being replaced. I feared rejection. I feared a broken family. With their redneck, white-trash ways, their drama, their gossip, their vengeful and grudging ways, I chose to look the other way to keep the peace. I feared being on their bad side for what consequences and treatment they would so willingly and kindly serve me. So, I involved them, invited them, encouraged them, supported them, and loved them. I did all that, despite how I felt inside, for you. For your happiness. For us, yours and my relationship. And this is how I am repaid? This is my reward? This is what I get for sacrificing? For sleepless nights, expending so much stress on your behalf? After a couple of years of being mistreated and manipulated by the Sabins, I started to distance myself from Sandra’s children. I couldn’t deal with the drama and idiocy of them. Sandra still faked her way for a couple more years to come. I thought she truly loved and cared for me. I opened up, confided in her, I was vulnerable with her about very personal struggles I was going through, including the hardship with my own mother. I knew she had a side to her that her children inherited, but I never thought she would turn on me the way she has. The hardest part is knowing that you knew exactly who they were and what they were/are capable of. Not just as a bystander, but as the victim yourself. Yet, you did nothing.

Dad, I know that you were sick in your mortal body and could only understand and do so much here. Your disease definitely gave you limitations, but you still had agency. You still knew right from wrong. You still had a voice. You still had a choice. Though you said nothing. You chose nothing. You did nothing. As a result, you suffered greatly, I suffered greatly. You were a victim, I am a victim. You came to an end in your life, free of suffering from not only your disease and limitations but from the Sabins, from being their victim. As for me, I am not so lucky. Every day I live with the pain and hurt they caused me all those months ago. Compiled with all the annoyance and pain they’ve cause the last 7 years. Why? Because they continue to choose their ways and I haven’t figured out how to let go of the pain and suffering they caused. I feel trapped, under their spell. I feel like Cinderella in the fact of having an evil stepmother and step-siblings who treat me horribly. The only difference is the Sabins try to do so with smiles on their face as if I was blinded to their ways as if they truly care for me. At least the fairy tale characters actually own up to their ways. Major eye roll inserted here. Amateur manipulators right there.

These last few months have been just that, months. Yet each month feels like a year. Enduring all the time and seasons of a year compacted into a month’s worth of time. It makes me wonder if life will always feel like this. If I will ever overcome this trial. If I am destined to this misery forever as some form of punishment. 

This whole traumatic experience, losing you, how they treated me, and the ramifications thereof cut me deep. Leaving my soul bleeding from the core. Hemrrohging uncontrollably. The pain, the sadness, the hurt, the betrayal, the suffering, the obsessive thoughts, the obsessive feelings, it all comes spewing out from the deep within. Something I feel, think, and experience every.single.day. This. What you left me with. How you left me with this is.not.fair. How could you do this to me? After everything I’ve done for you...

All my energy every day is spent playing defense against these oozing, pulsing feelings from within the depths of my core.  I’m left in survival mode, doing the bare minimum of responsibilities and expectations simply because I am tired. No, I am exhausted and worn down. I deserve better. My family deserves better. You. You brought this upon me, upon my family and you aren’t even here to express my anger towards you. You aren’t here to listen. You aren’t even here to fix this, to stand by me. You’re not here to do what you should have done when you had the chance, to say what you needed to, to chose what you needed to and to stand up for me. You aren’t even here to express your love, sorrow and to apologize for what you’ve brought upon me, the agony I’m living.

I know that you were incapable of doing anything more than you did in your life time, especially there at the end, but it doesn’t eleviate anything and it certainly doesn’t make what you did or didn’t do okay. Though I’m grateful for what has come from this knowledge.

I have only visit your grave in Salem once. It only happened because your sweet son-in-law tricked/surprised me for a date night. I’m grateful your headstone wasn’t there. From what I hear, ALL of you “children” will be on it. Including your step-kids taking precedence. That disgusts me. I hate that I have to share you with people like them. I’ve had you for 30 years, they’ve had you for 7. They don’t deserve all they have. I know that night in the cemetery I said some really raw and hurtful things. I want you to know that I still feel those intensely, but I have also allowed love to creep into my heart. I’m happy that your burial plot in Provo has the headstone you and Mom ordered. If I feel the need to ‘see’ you, I go there. That is the safe place. A place I don’t have to share you or the space with the Sabins. I was really upset about you not being buried in Provo, but now that I’ve come to this realization, I’m actually happy about it. I hate having to share anything with the Sabins. I know this plot won’t always be empty-holding your place for me. I know the headstone won’t always be there either, as sad as that is, I’m happy I have it while it lasts. Please visit me there when I come to visit.

I know that you love me. I know that I am your amazing beautiful daughter, as you would say or introduce me to your friends. I know that I have a special place in your heart. I know that you wouldn’t want me to suffer or hurt. I know that you care for me. Where you didn’t do anything for my suffering I do question your love for me from time to time. I know I shouldn’t listen to the small voice inside my head that tells me that the Sabins are right, that you love and cared for them more, but your ations kind of validate that. That they did replace me. That they are the daughters you wish you had while I’m the scum of the earth. That all my love and efforts weren’t worth 2 cents. I know that it isn’t true, though I whole-heartedly wish you could come and confirm my heart. Some family members have had spiritual experiences with you since that day in the hospital, though I haven’t much. I wonder if you visit the Sabins more, and if so, why? I feel so alone, isolated and outcasted by you. Do I deserve this, too? After all the love and support I’ve given you the last 15 years, when no-one else was there for you?

You have broken my heart.

I looked up to you.

I love you.

I wrote this poem weeks after your death. Both physical and emotional pain blended together came out in this form:

They say it is hard losing a loved one. 

I can confirm that it is true. 

My dad’s love was always there that never, ever withdrew. 

Now that he’s no longer more, 

I shed tears because 

This has shaken me to my core.

I hate the mess he left behind

All sticky and unfair

I must walk away and resign

Does he even care?

Can he see the suffering his actions have brought on

All I want is peace and love

And safety to grieve you, John

Instead, there’s a bad taste in my mouth

That toothpaste and mouthwash can’t fix.

Sunlight falls heavy

I hear voices crying out

I’m feeling more and more unsteady

I stumble in the dark,

Always tripping over the false heart

Dire for the still and silence

Anything to keep them quiet

I get down on my knees for guidance

I ponder the times I felt His grace

The peace, the love, the calm

Though it won't make things erase

It can heal this wounded heart

And no more fall apart.

I have had mountains in my past

Some of them I never thought

The hard climb I could ever do

Including this one that I face

But I can with help of His great grace and you.

I need you Dad. I need your love. I can’t get through this alone. I’ve ran and ran from all of this for so long and it’s taken quite the toll on me. I can’t suffer through the silence anymore. There will be other letters to come. A sweet friend of mine suggested writing a lot and creating a book. Filled with the good and the ugly. An expression of my soul through this transforming time in my life. I can assure you, despite the main emotion in this letter, the truth is I do love you. Unconditionally love you. I miss you. I’m happy you’re at peace and at one with yourself. Thank you for giving me life and loving me throughout it. I will get through this, I will overcome this. Time and love heals everything.

Until next time,

Love your daughter,

Binnee Mawee-Mawee

1/28/THOUGHTS

 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