It’s Not You It’s Me

For some reason I don’t post about 9/11 anymore. I couldn’t figure it out at first, but last week a repressed memory escaped to the forefront of my mind.

East Side Middle School, that morning we were sat down in the auditorium and told that the Twin Towers had fallen. Denise, the principal might as well been speaking gibberish, nothing she said made sense. How? She must have made a mistake. “Call your parents to come pick you up,” she ended. School was cancelled for the day. We went back to our classrooms to gather our belongings. We googled what was going on, people burst into tears. Fear permeated the room. Shortly after we were escorted to the cafeteria to wait for our parents.

I called my mom, asking if my stepdad or her could come get me, she erupted. “I have the kids I’m not leaving the house.” After I asked if she could give another parent permission to take me home, which was another option. “Listen you just gonna have to stay in school.” She said vehemently before hanging up. I didn’t understand. She was a stay at home mom. Miranda’s dad offered to take me. Why did she yell at me?

I watched, one by one, parents came to get their children. I still held out hope for my stepdad, looking around stupidly. He never came and lunch was a shit burrito I found a fingernail in. Finally 3:30pm hit and I was one of seven people left to go home. I walked through the quiet, desolate streets of New York City. Gripping my Jansport backpack straps, I make my way uptown frightened. Looking through the window of the closed pizza shop, I saw on their television the city was a code red for state of emergency. That day my heart broke twice. When I got home my stepdad and sister were already there.

My friend did a tarot reading for me this week, I asked if the person I’m see 222, 2, 222222 for is really my twin? She told me the problem is me and not them, I’m not ready because of emotional trauma. I hide due to fear.

While I had material things, I grew up in a family that was emotionally abusive. I don’t trust anyone but myself. So when my friend told me I’m the problem, it made complete sense. Now I understand why I attract emotional abusive men. It’s what I’m use to, so my subconscious emits that vibration. Knowing its my fault was hard to hear, but if I’m the problem, I’m also the solution.

The Purest Form

The past two weeks have been a series of lessons, test, closing of karmic cycles and vibrational ascension.

On the gram I stumbled upon a photo of a basketball player, who’d gotten my number at Goldbar. At the time I worked in the restaurant downstairs in his building. He always paid with a black card, leaving me ample tip, even on take out food. All I did was pass him the bag. Our eyes always lingered too long.

In this photo his girlfriend sat on his lap. A woman who dated a male model, that also tried his hand with me. Both men were manipulated by my former boss. Every time, any time, anyone had interest in me, my boss, a rich, well connected man and his brother would stop it in it’s tracks. Even if a patron was flirting, he would see it on camera and send his brother down to end it.

I don’t know what they said to them, but the basketball player never looked at me the same. He stopped coming in as often. So when I saw that picture it made me angry, so angry that someone else made a choice for me. It wasn’t my boss’s place to take away my free will, to prevent me from dating anyone, to spy on me, to break into my social media, or the plethora of other toxic, controlling, behaviors he continues to do. I mistook it all for love. That he was showing a desire he couldn’t express. So I stayed and waited for years, believing in him, believing in us.

Until winter, when someone showed me what healthy love looks like. Let’s call him Shy Guy. That crying all the time, martyring myself, isn’t love. That what I had was a trauma bond, not a twin flame. Finally I was able to let go. Shy Guy saved me from myself, until Shy Guy started dating someone else.

You know what I did? I supported it. I would never want to do what my boss did to me. Unconditional love a concept I finally understand, that you just want the person to be happy no matter what. Not interfering, allowing that person free will, to make their own decisions. I was only meant to heal him and be freed.

Suddenly, I understood god, the creator, the source has given us the ability to choose as the ultimate display of unconditional love. The purest form. When you emit that frequency it comes back to you. Now everything I’ve been through makes sense to me.

Photo: Trust by Andhika Ramadhian