“Life is hard when you don't know who you are. It's harder when you don't know what you are. My love carried a dark shadow of pain, guilt and fear. I was lost for decades, searching while hiding my vulnerable truth only to find that the origins of my story will set me free.
I won't hide my true self anymore. I will live the life I choose.”
I adapted and modified the premise of the TV show Lost Girl, which ran from September 12, 2010 for five seasons until October 2015. I binged the first three season not in love with Bo, their super natural heroine but her human side kick Kenzie who, gawd, so totally talks and dresses like my inner 16 year old.
But I am fierce like BO; I won't hide anymore. I will live the life I chose before I entered this reality.
Who says we are NOT super natural?
My role is a detective like Bo’s; finding my tribe, my family, those who resemble my own powers of fantasy, vision, deep love for our world and a passion for truth that tears me up and lifts me into unknown heights. Like most cool heroines I was pushed into impossible obstacles and re-emerged like Phoenix from many ashes.
The best TV shows for me are those that kick their heroes to the curb and when we think it can’t get worse it freaking gets s o m u c h w o r s e…. and their path gets clearer and clearer.
When we’re slapped enough we awaken. If we are open to it. Not everybody is. Life is story; some like it deep, dark and hilarious, others want the pink and polished route. It’s all good, because it’s our movie, our role. Play it to perfection. And bad guys? They are there to be defeated. If you’re one of them acknowledge the experience and go for redemption.
Mine was the role of Cinderella knowing that she’s got the princess in her, somehow, somewhere. My Cinderella fought and rebelled herself into mansions only to turn around and smack, sabotage it and go back to the original belief. I’m guilty of something and have to repent. Growing up Catholic was a perfect part of the plot.
I landed in Topanga, California, in a job I called my purgatory. I took the “lessons”, accepted humiliations thinking I needed to learn to be “humble” until I exploded… actually my car exploded into a nearly fatal accident. Luckily only metal was damaged.
It was in 2013, a year after my dad had left the planet, my challenger and yet my safety cushion. The totaled car, (it is all my fault) was my last slap in the row of many smaller slaps and cartoon like situations asking me to wake the hell up!!! See your disappointments, woman, face your angry martyr beliefs.... but I trotted on until I was forced to fess up.
When I shivered and cringed but finally admitted I was responsible for my “crap” I was breathing hard into my “sins”, not the ancient ones from the myth that had ruled my life - I’m making a rad movie out of that story - but the worldly ones from my past decades. Those I did not want to see. Like super natural Bo I sucked the life of a couple men, not being able to love them, like Bo I was confused as to what my role was and made mistakes trying to find it. I laughed and danced and stumbled and fell and gosh, it hurt others too.
I cried, moping in my cozy arm chair, “sitting in it” until I was able to see clearly through the veil of sadness and - forgive myself.
Only then could I open a new chapter.
From Elefant Journal:
“Awakenings tear us open. They expose all the yucky stuff, the shameful stuff, the secrets, the dreams that were never given a voice, the relationships that imprison us, the words left unsaid. Awakenings are a mirror we can’t turn away from, even in our ugliest, most tattered gown. They force us to get real, to get honest, to get transparent. They ask us to up level.
Awakenings don’t just come for anyone. They seek out those who are strong enough to take a hit. Awakenings don’t f*ck around, because they have a mission: to help us arrive. To arrive at our deepest place of love and compassion. To arrive at our endless inner wisdom. To arrive at the tender crossroads of accepting ourselves and loving others. To arrive at the place in which we are in full trust of who and what we are. To arrive at our shattered places and pour some light over them.”
The author of the article, Elizabeth Gordon, says that life isn’t like a movie but I say it absolutely is. My life is proof. I’ll show you in my memoir, working title “White Powder” Nothing is what it seems.
The script I followed is like that of a game where we can manipulate our avatar to a certain degree, an interactive script. We receive the blueprint, the character traits and talents, the back ground stories and the location - and wing it, make the best of it. The best means to follow the clues, see the winks and messages, to find our road map. We repeat levels until we get it and collect powers, weapons, tools and coins on the way.
The treasure is our fulfillment; owning our true essence and standing up for our self, be it total weirdness or utter normalcy.
My life is a dramedy series called Mea Culpa in which “dark nights of my soul” episodes are training grounds and provide cliff hangers for the next seasons. It premiered six decades ago and is still running.
“Mea Culpa” follows the life of an esoterically inclined rebel played by Angie Weihs, as she learns to discover her myth, the ancient blue print that controls her feelings, thoughts and every step but also contains the gifts of her abilities. Being torn between fierce rebellion and pampered princess she enters the castle of a super natural queen of wisdom.
In the scrolling credits I thank my many supporting actors, the director of eye opening situations, the countries providing dramatic locations and the stylist who created a wardrobe with foreshadowing and manifesting powers.
If I wrote my life’s script I took the screen writer’s rule of “killing her darlings” to heart, if I wrote this I am an amazing writer.
Life is a TV script. I’m about to write the happy end.