high moon femme
  • Blog
  • High Moon Femme Tarot
  • Contact

INSIDE THIS HEART OF MINE

When You Came Back Queen of the Night

8/14/2015

 
father cursed, “she can’t sprout wings!” but shut the fuck up
when you came back from the dead

born obsidian outlaw with two heads & two tails,
when you came from the dead

teeth danced in a velvet mouth,
when you came back from the dead

Pluto recognized wild cat splash,
when you came back from the dead

an old crow cauterized peridot,
when you came back from the dead

father drowned in bird sung salt
when you came back from the dead

you taught me how to breathe under water & 
anchor sorrow to the ocean floor,
when you came back from the dead

mother sang the blues of Forgive & Forget,
when you came back from the dead

all the sister’s elastic snapped & buttons popped,
when you came back from the dead

wood fell in love with penciling,
when you came back from the dead

i broke every bone in my ringing hands,
when you came back from the dead

exorcisms & cataclysmic shifts plagued your dreams,
when you came back from the dead

you learned how soft the paw,
when you came back from the dead

clicked your tongue as you mended our childhood,
when you came back from the dead

mother said, “can’t make someone fall in love,”
when you came back from the dead

sisters memorized the sound of closing doors,
when you came back from the dead

we woke the world every morning with the sound of frying eggs,
when you came back from the dead

for my sister & comrade of the heart, Tilly

Picture
magical mornings.

If you’d like to make an important donation to support this valuable work, there’s a Paypal link on the sidebar of my website.  I’d really love to receive $25-$50 for my creative efforts & healing channeling today in the form of this post.  Your energy exchange of $1-$25 makes all the difference!  Thank you so much!  

i had to rename this poem because the original title is too fucking sentimental & i don't feel that way anymore

8/6/2015

 
we’re all in pie

this is our first pie pie

we’re committing to this recipe pie

i wanted to make aprons for this pie

but not like the denim one with a pocket from my childhood pie

do you like to eat butter & sugar & vanilla extract pie

yes i do pie

this is how you measure flour properly pie

this is how you measure flour properly pie

this is how you measure flour properly pie

meet my internalized mom pie

hi internalized mom i’m lettie pie

its ok its gonna be ok pie

please don’t leave me pie

is that what you think of me pie

i’m feeling vulnerable right now pie

scared its not gonna work pie

are we doing it right pie

i’ve never seen this side of you before pie

shortening & butter for our crust pie

how do we use the processor pie

i don’t want to break anything pie

let’s add another tsp of ice cold water pie

our hands are our tools pie

split dough into two disks pie

chill in the fridge for two hours pie

turns out we needed those two hours pie

learning how to peel apples pie

goddamn those honey crisp apples are good pie

you’re in charge of the lemon juice pie

i cut myself with this knife last week pie

no blood in the pie pie

what is allspice pie

freshly grated ginger pie

tsp vs tbsp pie

let’s use all the spices pie

don’t eat all the apples pie

oh shit we need a real pie tin pie

run to super savers late at night pie

wait its not 3am pie

a glass pie dish next time pie

can we add more sugar pie

this is my baby rolling pin pie

tlc’s creep on repeat in the kitchen pie

how the fuck do we roll out crust pie

are you sure pie

is it supposed to look like that pie

not enough flour on the counter pie

barefoot contessa does it like this pie

well that’s all you needed to say pie

spot on telepathy pie

body memory taking over pie

only one of us can fall apart at a time pie

laughing can’t even talk pie

i’m sorry i laughed at your rolling skills pie

that’s where i had the temp before pie

someday we’ll make apple butter jelly with the peelings pie

making plans for when we’re in our 40’s pie

what is a high rise crust pie

are you fixing my crimping pie

oh sorry pie

no keep fixing it pie

you are loved pie

egg & heavy cream wash pie

more body memory pie

how do you make a star again pie

i’ve been practicing hearts all my life for this pie

omg an hour and twenty minutes in the oven pie

sorry we woke you up pie

gossip girl pie

why is everyone kissing but us pie

how can i bring up that convo from last week pie

so do you like me pie

yeah i like you pie

but do you like me-like me pie

long pause pie

yeah i do pie

i told the water witch pie

i was wondering who you’d tell pie

i’ve been waiting for you to say it for a long time pie

were you just gonna wait forever pie

yeah pie

how much should i share pie

i realized i liked you on your birthday pie

it was when you were all kissing my face pie

then you kissed my mouth pie

i’m so glad you’re laughing pie

is it all of a sudden hot in here pie

sugar burning on the bottom of the oven pie

we need a bigger cookie sheet next time pie

set off the smoke alarm pie

oh shit this pie is hot pie

oh we needed all those apples pie

what you gotta let it rest pie

didn’t we almost have it all pie

Picture
the infamous pie itself. dec 2014.

i have survived this before

8/4/2015

 
Picture
venus is in retrograde right now, & has been fucking me up.  last monday my best friend etc. broke up with me via shitty fb message, i had to move out of my house where i've been surviving in a trauma state for the past 3+ months, & then i got fired from from my job.  none of this feels fair, but i have been here before: houseless, best friendless, jobless, scared & feeling alone.  luckily, i have some beautiful hearts that still love me that i've been reaching out to, & they are keeping me alive.  i also got a floor to sleep on until further notice.  but the most important lesson i've got humming in my bones is that i am still worth something.  i am still a person who deserves more.  & i know that i can continue trusting myself, no matter what.

this is a poem i wrote three heartbreaks ago.  i will love again.  my whale heart is too big not to let me.  this is a love poem i wrote for e before things didn't work out.


once upon a time
there were two sharks
both wounded & beautiful & open

they swam in waters hostile & blue
cold & needed
lonely & deep

one day, while they were swimming, they happen to cross each other’s fins
but at first they weren’t sure they did in fact see another shark
& they kept swimming
(because that’s how they learned to stay alive—never stop moving)
but their hearts kept beating & booming
turnaroundturnaroundturnaround
gobackgobackgobackgobackgoback
ifeelthemifeelthemifeelthemifeelthem

& before it was too late
each of them did
turned around
went back
& said with their eyes
i feel you & i see you 

they swam full lengths of the ocean
filling their waters with their own warmth
sharing stories & woundings & resilience strategies

they shared their favorite feeding sites 
& where they go at night to see glowy things
& swam into sunrise after sunrise

i dunno if they lived happily ever after
but i can tell you they came back
again & again
heeding their hearts when told

turnaroundturnaroundturnaround
gobackgobackgobackgobackgoback
ifeelthemifeelthemifeelthemifeelthem

& that’s happier than they ever dared to be

i will tell myself the truth & come for you

8/3/2015

 
no holds barred

i will use all the words i said i couldn’t
& come hand in hand with the ones who know

i will give myself permission to cry & rage all the pain
& come undone in the safety of a real home with chosen family

i will pick your bones clean
& come down with the giggles as i do

i will throw that brick through your window
& come home with over two years worth of satisfaction

i will not give up on the ones who love me
& come with open heart as i teach them how to fight for me

i will give you all your shit back
& come away with all that you stole

i will be the crack in the foundation of this fucked up place
& come & come & come as you all say my name with utter shock & dismay

i will scrape my name from your tongue
& come with lighter fluid & boiling water & baking soda

i will finally center myself in this whole fuckery
& come into the femmeiverse as i was always mean to be

i will bury the leftovers & irreconcilables 
& come with the perfect song

Picture
thank the goddesses for therapy as my life falls apart, & some would say, into place. future ancestor lettie says that, "this is your life falling into place. i have never left. you are so loved." july 2015.

Too Hot to Love: Burning Down the House

7/23/2015

 
Picture
Baby Lettier & her Future Ancestor Lettie. We have always been loved.


***CW: i'm talking some about an admission to a psych hospital & self harm & therapy session.  i'm also processing some familial trauma related to home, but am not explicitly detailing anything.  as always, if these might be things that trigger feels that hurt more than heal, please be gentle with yourself & keep breathing.




I'm in the midst of moving right now, & facing the ever present trauma of trying to dream & create home.  I felt like now is the time to share this because my intuition tells me it is one of the many reasons I keep finding myself in a home where I do not feel safe, where I am not respected, where how I feel & what I share are not valued, & my boundaries are so blatantly shit on.  This is a story as old as me.  Probably older.  

Old patters of home not being a safe place, I release you.


A DREAM
I once dreamt of a fire in a field that existed in a shopping mall.  Before I saw the flames I saw the smoke, clouds flooded the ceiling & nobody seemed to care or notice.  Alarmed, I tried finding the source (my whole life), & what I found was a dry grassy hill in flames.  Once discovered, I tried frantically to warn my family, “We need to get out!  There’s a fire!” but everyone ignored me.  I tried to go along with whatever activity everyone was doing, but was too upset to focus.  It wasn’t until later that other cries of FIRE! engulfed crowds & they began to evacuate.  I didn’t leave right away because I had to search for my family.  I only remember feeling sick as I looked all over, wandering through dressing rooms full of mirrors.  I think we got out.  I haven’t yet died in a dream.  

NOT A HOMECOMING
The first night I returned to my family, after being released from the psych hospital for the second time & staying with family friends for about a month, our house was kissed by a fire.  We could have died.

I had been hospitalized because my suicidal ideation was intensifying, & during my routine therapy appointment I confessed to taking more pills than was perscribed.  I was not taking enough to die, but enough to fuck me up, to begin hallucinating etc.  This was one of the many ways I practiced hating & trying to destroy myself.  

Some part of me was worried, maybe it was Future Ancestor Lettie, maybe it was someone else, but there was something, someone who did not want me to die.  So when my therapist asked if I could keep myself safe, I said no.  & when my therapist asked if I might need to be hospitalized again, I said yes.  I needed to live.

My cousin, who was living with us, came to pick me up.  I knew my mother was cooking dinner, that is why she sent him instead, & I imagined her making frybread & tortillas, meat cooking on the small stove, lights always dim.  Instead of taking me home to have dinner, my cousin ended up sitting with me during the admission process.  

I remember crying, curling myself into a ball, wanting to become so small nobody would ever find me.  I was also scared of what my mom would do, what she would say.  I was afraid everyone would be mad at me because I had failed to “get better.”  

My cousin was probably the most perfect person to be there.  All he did was love me & tell me stories, stories about survival & love & what family really means.  Maybe he also knew that I was too close to death all the time, everyday.  When I remember back to myself or time travel back to baby dyke Lettie, I can see it.  & I wonder how others could have ignore it so easily.

Once I was admitted, I was there for over a week before my mother visited me.  She was mad.  For almost ten days I wore the same clothes, sat alone amidst groups of families on family therapy nights, & cried all the damn time.  When it came time to discharge me, my staff & parents had decided that going back to stay with my family was not the best option, that I should be placed elsewhere.  My parents picked family friends for me to stay with, & that was that.  I wasn’t averse to the plan because I also agreed that going back to my family was not the best for me.  We all hoped this interlude would change something--probably me.

TOO HOT TO LOVE
I liked my new place.  I lied about being able to receive mail, & my then boyfriend would send me an occasional letter telling me how much he loved me still, & how someday we could be together without my mother who hated him interfering.  This family friend owned a local café in the small rual town I had actually lived in when I was born.  I thought about that a lot, how time had made some kind of fucked up loop.  I didn’t consciously know then about time travel being something I can do, but I imagine that this was some of the training grounds for time traveling to love myself.

My routine was set.  I’d wake up with this family friend, we’d drink coffee (we drank so much coffee), get ready, go do all the things you need to do to open a café, work until late afternoon when should would bring me home, cook there, eat dinner, read, write, work on school packets, shower, daydream, & go to bed.  Some days I’d stay & close with her.  Some nights we would stay up so late talking that we’d get hungry again & she’d make us tuna sandwiches, which I still remember, to go with our pot of coffee.  She would smoke while I would add more cream & sugar to my cup, & we’d share stories.  

She believed in me.  & she listened to every story.

As time went by, it became clear I could not stay as long as we had planned.  She was letting me know it was time for me to go with sentiments like, “You’re getting along easier with your family now, huh.”  She was referring to my mom picking me up for my appointments, us being able to be around each other, & the occasional sleepover when she was too tired to drive me back to where I was staying.  

Our family friend had a lot of love to give, which is probably why everyone thought it was a good idea for me to stay there in the first place, but there are always limits.  I suspect that her other two children did not like all the time & attention I was receiving.  The older one was almost never home because they were gonna get married later that year & was spending all their time taking college courses & staying with their sweetie.  & the younger one was spending time with their friends mostly.    

Even with the caring of me, her own children were never neglected.  She doted & loved as before, the only difference was that I was there when they weren’t, when they didn’t want to be.  In my opinion, everyone took her for granted.  They really didn’t know how good they had it.  Even though I was taking their scraps, that was threatening enough.  My time was up.  I had to return home to my family.

While I was gone, my family of 6 had moved out of the 25 foot long travel trailer we had lived in for about 3 years, & into the west side of a two level duplex.  Nobody told me we had moved.  It was a fuckin surprise.  But not one that felt good.  

My mom was so excited to show me & my dad the new place!  She was even making beans & frybread to commemorate this new beginning.  She turned the stove on to heat up oil for bread, then took us for a quick look upstairs.  We took longer than we thought, & when we came back downstairs, there was a fluorescent glow on the wall opposite of the kitchen--it was a fire!  Luckily my sister knew it could be extinguished with salt, & the flames were gone.  My dad put the hot pan on the porch to cool off.  We later realized that doing that left a big scorch mark that would accompany my family the whole time they lived there.

This was also the night I realized there was no room for me.  Everyone had a room with a door that closed except for me.  I got to stay in the small library-maybe-office space by the front door.  I once told my therapist, “I felt like I was put out on the porch.”  

For the few remaining months that I lived there, I never had privacy, but that was nothing new.  Living in a 25 foot long travel trailer, where the only place you can get privacy is the tiny bathroom in the middle, had prepared me for all the ways I would be surveiled.  & I know how to cry so others won’t hear me.

THE FIRE
One morning, a few years ago, I was watching a cooking show segment about how to handle grease fires.  They had a fireman in all the gear standing off to the side with a fire extinguisher as the host created a grease fire.  It was amazing to watch it catch, seemingly pop out of thin air when the oil became too hot.  I was instantly reminded of the grease fire in the kitchen when I first came home to a house where there had been no room made for me.  The on air host simply covered the flame with a cooking lid & all was well.  The host then turned to the camera, stove at their back, continuing their dialogue about cooking or whatever, & then THE FIRE STARTED AGAIN.  

The fireman who was on watch used the fire extinguisher, & the cooking host nervously laughed & said something about that’s why an extinguisher in the kitchen is important.  But they still looked uneasy.

I took this story to my bruja therapist at my next appointment.

Bruja: Feel into that.  What did you feel when saw that the flame could not be contained with the lid?

Me: I was afraid…

Bruja: What does it remind you of?

Me: That time there was a fire in the new house…

Bruja: Why were you afraid?  Just feel into it…

Me:  WE COULD HAVE DIED!  [cries]

Bruja: Yes, you could have died.  What else?  What else was put out on the porch because it was too hot?

Me: Me?

Bruja: Yes.  & that dream where there was a fire & you saw the smoke first.  You knew something was wrong, but nobody listened.  They wanted proof, but even when you discovered where the smoke was coming from, they didn’t listen.  It was only when enough other people started acknowledging the danger that they began to listen, but you still had to go & find them.  You wanted to save them.

Me: [crying & feeling something old finally being released.]

Bruja: & you.  Nobody listened to you when you were trying to tell them about what was happening to you.  Nobody listened to the smoke.  Nobody believed that there was a fire somewhere.  & then you burst into a flame.  & then what happened?  What happens when you burst into a flame?

Me: I’m dangerous.

Bruja: Yes, to them.

Me: I can burn them down.  I’m too hot.  They're afraid I'm gonna kill them.

Bruja: So where did they put you?  Too hot truth teller.  Crazy girl who can’t get better, who is always smoking & talking of a fire with her body?

Me: On the porch.

Bruja: Yes.  & who can’t be contained?

Me: [laughs] Me!

Bruja: So what do they do when they can’t contain you?

Me: They try to extinguish me--

Bruja:--with what?

Me:--this patriarchal figurehead that smothers...puts out my fire...

Bruja:...tries to control your heat.  Because you’re dangerous if they can’t control you.  You’re not gonna let them ignore that there is a fire somewhere that is hurting you.  & probably hurting them, too.

Me: Fires need oxygen, they need to breathe.

Bruja: Yes, you do.

If you’d like to make an important donation to support this valuable work, there’s a Paypal link on the sidebar of my website.  I’d really love to receive $50-$100 for my creative efforts & healing channeling today in the form of this post.  Your energy exchange of $1-$50 makes all the difference! Thank you so much!  

Sick Healer // Wounded Healer // Crazy Healer: Can I Really Still Be a Healer?

7/15/2015

 
Picture
the morning of my 32nd birthday. felt the need to document that i'm actually here, because every year beyond 18 is a femmeiracle.

***CW: I’m talking about mental health stuff & mention being institutionalized & substance use.  If these are things that can overwhelm or trigger, please be gentle with yourself.  I trust you, & you doing everything right.  Heart.


I’ve been thinking about writing this for a long time, but really want to do it today.  Maybe it’s the new moon in Cancer.  Maybe it’s because I just had my 32nd birthday.  Maybe it's because Pluto just paid us a visit & that energy is all about deep shifts & cleaning up old shit.  Maybe because it’s time.  There are just so many layers to what I want to share.  

  1. I’ve been a sad lil femme for as long as I can remember.
  2. I was finally diagnosed as “chronically // severely depressed at 16 because I got alcohol poisoning at a party & the cops were called, subsequently my parents too, & when I got to the hospital they refused to treat me until I met with a Social Worker who set up an appointment with another LCSW (Licensed Clinical Social Worker) for therapy because obvi something was up.
  3. I went to my mom a year or so before & said, “I’m depressed.  I think I need help.”  She responded with, “What do you have to be depressed about?  I have things to be depressed about!”  & that was the end of that.  
  4. I was institutionalized in a psych hospital at ages 16, 17, 18.  I don’t know what it means that I felt safer there than I did at my own house.  But it’s true.
  5. In all my therapy & diagnosis, nobody ever said, “Hey, let’s also talk about your anxiety.”  It wasn’t until 3 years ago that I learned about it.  Like, I’ve always had the “symptoms,” but maybe they were too busy trying to help me not kill myself to…Nope.  They all fucked up.
  6. I’ve done a lot of work around how I’ve been trained to believe that “professionals” know what’s best for me, are the ones who can help me & “diagnose” me, & all that shit that that means.  
  7. Part of this work has been me naming what I know is true, & questioning the ways that my behavior is medicalized.  Like, why is my survival crazy?  Why are the things that kept me alive bad?  How have queer, brown, crazy, sick, disabled bodies always been medicalized & pathologized as wrong, bad, something that needs to be fixed?
  8. When I call myself crazy or sick, I mean it with love & affection & conviction.  I’ve been learning about disability justice for a little while now, gulping & understanding bits at a time, always checking in with little me.  This is how I am remembering who I am, who I have always been.  I am perfect.
  9. I’ve never stopped being sad or anxious, & my ptsd is constantly triggered by new traumas (unfortunately).  I’ve come to accept I’m not gonna get “better.”  This is me.  I am crazy & sad & always negotiating my ptsd, & my survival strategies are fucking genius (proof being that I am still fucking alive), & I get to be respected & valued because I am here.
  10. Plus, who can survive all this shit & not be affected?  Nobody.
  11. I feel very isolated sometimes because of ablesim & the ways people I love are still not able to hold or witness me, & thus reach out to femmeily, chosen family, & beloved community that often reside else where.  I write what’s going on, name the ways that being alive feels hard, & ask for words of support & acknowledgement.  & it helps.  This is part of what keeps me alive, for reals.  It lessens my pain, is soothes some of the ache, when someone tells me, “That is fucked up!”  “I can understand why you feel this way.”  “You are doing everything right.”  “What you’re naming is real.  This is a real thing.”
  12. Right now I feel stuck.  Like I’ve dug up so much, I can’t remember where I wanted this to go.  This is grief.  My grief makes me crazy.  
  13. The fact I can’t grieve the way I want to makes me crazy, & also exists in a historical context & has a name, “Historical Unresolved Grief,” which can lead to shit getting passed down through the generations, which also has a name, “Intergenerational Trauma.”  I learned these fancy-not-so-fancy names while I was in college, but I knew them in my bones my whole life.
  14. I am afraid to reach out for help, all the time, because I have internalized ableist bullshit like:  “I shouldn’t feel this way.”  “I’m too senstitive.”  “If I worked harder I would have more & wouldn’t need to ask for help.”  “You’re crazy, not psychic.”  “You have fucked up dreams because you are fucked up.”  “Nobody else has a problem with [fill in the blank].”
  15. The new ones I am dealing with, that are related to this post, are: “Nobody will trust you as a healer if you are too sad, too sick, too broken.”  “All your talk of ptsd is gonna scare people away from you!  Stop it!”  “People are gonna think you can’t handle giving anymore readings if you talk about your mental health stuff.”  “You are too messy, too vulnerable, too sick to be a healer.”  “You are so unprofessional.  You’re gonna fail.  Again.”
  16. I don’t want to believe that.
  17. There are other healers that I admire, & when I witness them asking for help or talking about difficult feels, I respect them more.  It also creates more space for me to be in the world as I am, a sad, sick, brilliant healer with all the feels.
  18. When I do healing sessions with other people, & stuff about mental health, chronic illnesses, & how we survive, come up, I always feel so much compassion for them.  I always wanna send them so much love.  My ancestors tell me this is how I can create beauty with how I’ve survived all the things.  
  19. I am not the only one.
  20. Recently, in my personal & professional life, I’ve been coming across more & more healers who are not sure if they are healers.  
  21. I’ve been there, waiting at some crossroads, waiting for some sign, wanting concrete confirmation that I was/am a healer, (even now, I still question & doubt) but I just want you to know: We can never have too many healers!  Never have too many people who give a fuck!  Never have too many people healing themselves, & as they do so, heal their communities & lineages!  Never.  
  22. My dissociation is magic.  Thanks to other survivor geniuses who share their naming & experiences, I am also recognizing how leaving my body is a magical power.  It allows me to survive things that should't be happening.  It is also something that helps me travel back in time to soothe baby Lettie, or just take her away from whatever fucked up shit is happening.  One of my favorite things I ever did was create a vortex in one of my childhood bedroom walls, pop in, & whisk baby Lettie away!  Like, I know the trauma version of my life, so now I just wanna create space for other shit, good shit, shit I wanna live for.  
  23. When I reach out even though I'm scared, that's me healing my internalized shit about what a healer is supposed to be.
  24. When I express my feels, the messy & hard ones, that's me making space in the world for other healers to know that they belong here, too.
  25. When I trust my process, that can also inspire others to trust theirs.
  26. This feels scary to write.  I prayed & drew cards, & keep checking in with my ancestors, asking, "Am I done yet?  How do I bring this to a close?  Do I really gotta write to 32?"  The answer is: YES.  KEEP GOING.
  27. Grieving is important.  Getting this shit out is important.  Naming the hard feels & multi-layered feels is important.  This is how we make room for life, for living, for breathing, for dreaming.  That is why I must keep going.
  28. Death.  Go!  Commune with Grief.  Ancestors are here.  Pouring Magic into our everything.  Make something you will be proud of with your survival.  Community Celebration.  That is what the cards told me.
  29. So, the answer is, "Yes, I can still really be a healer!"  I am not too crazy, too sad, or too unprofessional to be a healer.  I get to have my feelings, be messy, ask for help so I can keep staying alive, heal my own traumas, & be a healer!
  30. I sincerely believe that we never survive alone.  I am here because of my ancestor's prayers, because of the love & prayers & woo of people I've met & hugged & people I know through the internet & even people I've never interacted with but have read my words.  & for this I am so very grateful.
  31. I made my first real commitment to stay alive, no matter what, this past April.  This is a big deal for me.
  32. I am a queer brown femme crazy healer, & that is what I was always meant to be.

If you're interested in what kind of healing work I do, you can visit High Moon Femme Tarot  at www.highmoonfemmetarot.com for more info.  Heart.
If you’d like to make an important donation to support this valuable work, there’s a Paypal link on the sidebar of my website.  I’d really love to receive $50-$100 for my creative efforts & healing channeling today in the form of this post.  Your energy exchange of $1-$50 makes all the difference! Thank you so much!  

How I Survive My Depression: Diving Deeper With My Whale Heart in Tow

7/7/2015

 
Picture(11. selfies of blowing myself kisses.)
i'm always reading these lists for how to deal with // do what you gotta do to get through depression, & wonder, "what would my list look like?"  today i am writing that list.  here are my tired, tried, & true methods for surviving myself when i just can't keep afloat.

  1. cry.  i cry all the time & then none of the time.  & even though i am an experienced crier, when i am really sad & am trying so hard not to be, i fight it like i'm fighting for my life.  i cry in my bed under covers.  i send panda inside so i can be alone in the car & cry.  i cry to myself in the mirror, sometimes slobbering apologies to myself or asking myself questions.  i cry to the moon, whether outside or through a window.  i watch movies or shows that bring on the cry.  i cry on the way to work & take bathroom breaks to sob into the sink.  i cry as i walk from place to place.  i cry in my sleep sometimes, too.  if there is a place where i am, i've probs cried there. 
  2. getting super involved with an online television show.  i sometimes watch movies, but i'm much more into longer story lines that i can dedicate my life to.  one that fucked me up is buffy.  it has taken me years to get to season 7, where i currently reside.  i often take comfort in the themes of this one person who has to save the goddamn world every single day & with exception of one episode, nobody really ever says thank you.  like, i know she's a white girl & shit, but the themes of death eating & crossing that line of life & death, which she does over & again, feel so true to me, i can still connect.  
  3. finding themes & archetypes in whatever show or movie i'm watching feels really good for me.  last year, when i was going through it, again, i watched end of the world movies, one after another.  & slowly i began to feel a thread that could be pulled inward.  in these movies, in these dire situations where all hope was lost, characters who were deemed "crazy" by ableist standards were given opportunities to work their crazy magic.  i identify as crazy, as mad, as someone with perpetual ptsd, & i really liked that it was these characters (that everyone seemed to discard of) that saved the day.  we are important & brilliant in our craziness.  there are more examples & stuff, but i'll stop here for now.
  4. play the same song(s) on repeat forever.  i have been known to play a song or set of songs for days, weeks, maybe even months.  if panda or someone else is like, change the song!  not again! i don't care.  for me, it acts as something that can hold whatever i am feeling.  i feel like there is a magic that happens, & i never wanna feel bad for whatever it is i gotta do to get through.  they're usually pretty mournful, & i just want something that matches my stride.
  5. don't change my clothes or take showers for days at a time.  there was a winter where i embraced what i called pajama glam because i could not bring myself to change out of my pajamas because my heart was so fucking busted.  it was a pair of light gray long johns & a cream tank top, so i added a cute tan ankle boot & my long black wool coat & layered cute scarves on top--taa daa!  pajama glam.  i know that water in showers, & baths in general, can be so good for self-caring, but sometimes i just don't want to & i don't want to feel bad about it.  & i think that is ok.
  6. when insomnia hits, like gets really bad, i try to work with it.  as a single mamma femme, it can be near impossible to get free time to cry or watch my show(s), so i use middle of the night insomia time for that.  sometimes i write, clean my altar, pray, talk to myself & future ancestor lettie.  pretending to clean my room while doing laundry & watching a show is kind of a fave, too.  it really sucks, though, if i have to work early the next day.  in that instance, i try to get myself to at least lie down for a few hours & be gentle with myself when i inevitably crash & sob the next day.  i've flirted with tinctures & teas & bedtime rituals, but when the trauma comes at me with fervor, sometimes all i can do is survive, & some of the newer practices are not feasible.  i trust that i'll be able to find balance with it again, whatever that looks like for me.
  7. overshare // reach out for support on fb to connect with femmes & other people who care for & love me in good ways.  i am reaffirmed that i belong in this world, that i am perfect, that i am valuable, that i am magical.  this is my lifeblood.  i am practicing how to do this for myself, & these deer ones are supporting me in that.  this is something that has saved my life so many times.  it wasn't until i was in my 30's that this happened for me.  **cw: talking about suicidal feels** i am also blessed to be in relationship with people that i can spend time with in this city that understand suicidal feels.  one time i texted a friend, "i just really wanna die."  & they responded with, "i would miss you if you left, but i'd understand, too."  & that was exactly what i needed.  its kinda hard to explain why that made such a difference for me, but it did.  as a younger person, i lived every day with suicidal feels, & i was shamed for this.  shaming me for my very valid feels did not fucking help.  
  8. sex myself when i have the energy & motivation to do so.  a good orgasm can at least help shift my energy sometimes.  but this can also go awry & make me feel more lonely.  sex in general is a rarity for me because of where i live, but i go through bouts of feeling bold & try to arrange hookups that rarely come to fruition.  when i'm getting ready, i'll get this faint feeling of this isn't gonna work, & will keep on doing my thing, & then it'll totes fall apart.  that's when i usually remind myself how terribly these things can go & that i have actually thought i would've been better off staying home.  jerking off can help circumnavigate the bullshit.
  9. makeup.  i've been learning how to do my makeup via youtube tutorials, & this past fall when i was in a deep spiral of not wanting to live feels & insomnia, i spent my time crafting lots of dramatic makeup with deep purples & smokey eyes to help me embody death.  i wanted the dead feeling inside to be on the outside.  i wanted my pain to be visible in some way, to bring it through.  i've also spent time with glitter & bronzers & eyeshadow palettes galore.  this past winter was also when i survived by buying lots of clearance makeup online, & i made sure to include cute love notes to myself in the packaging.
  10. when shit is really bad, i give myself permission to do nothing but stay i bed & watch shows & eat takeout even if i'm broke or whatever.  i turn off all the feels, dissociate, choose food i like so i'll at least eat something & not have to do the dishes later, & keep breathing.  all that matters on those days is that i stay alive.  

i've come to a place where i can honor all the ways i have survived & to honor the ways in which all stay alive.  my survival is messy & perfectly imperfect.  bless us as we keep breathing & finding ways to connect to love.  


If you’d like to make an important donation to support this valuable work, there’s a Paypal link on the sidebar of my website.  I’d really love to receive $50-$100 for my creative efforts & healing channeling today in the form of this post.  Your energy exchange of $1-$50 makes all the difference! Thank you so much!  

My Life is a Queer Brown Femme Love Letter & Don't Ever Fuck Me Over & Break My Heart: Titles of My Memoirs, Short Story Collections, Poetry Chapbooks, Etc. 

6/30/2015

 
i've been going through it.  i dunno if you know, but just to clarify, i get fucked over a lot.  like, it isn't a fluke that happens every once in a while, it is systemic & it happens all the fuckin time.  these things always involve people i love & trust with privilege that isn't being accounted for, even after multiple conversations where i do copious amounts of preparation & emotional labour.  it sucks.  it hurts.  i'm not saying it's gonna be this way forever & ever, but it has been thus far.  

last night i just got tired of holding this all in, so 1 title became 33, which i really like because my 32nd birthday is coming up & there's one more for good luck.  & here i am , here we are.  i share these with lots of love & a fuck you to those applicable.  xoxo
  1. i never wanna see your face or hear your name again: death eater femme memoir
  2. i was so sad & lonely i learned how to eat my grief to feel full: a how to for when people won't stop // act like they can't stop fucking you over
  3. how to keep falling in love with yourself when all your significant intimate relationships are with abusive assholes dripping with social capital
  4. how i survived even when nobody wanted me to: singing baby selves to sleep every night with ancestral prayers you remember from your bones
  5. take my name outta your mouth & forget you ever knew my 'O' face because you're never gonna get it again
  6. i survived losing everything & everyone, what makes you think you're so special?
  7. BIPOC FEMMES SAVE EACH OTHER'S LIVES EVERYDAY: don't come crying to us when you realize we have no fucks for you
  8. washing my floorboards & invisible headboards with tears because you made my house another site of violence: i survived your shitty survival
  9. my ancestors didn't survive so i could be miserable, & i take back every sweet thing i ever said about you to you because fuck you: how lettie called back their power
  10. i threw your colonizer chocolates into the river by my house along with your shells: rituals to let go of shitty exes
  11. you fucked up, goodbye: BIPOC femmes owe you shit because you've already taken so much you thankless asshole
  12. if you're not feeding me or giving me money for my labor, fuck off: femme labor is not for free, fucker
  13. so you don't know what a boundary is or how to respect one?: things to cry to someone else about
  14. please stay alive: how to survive shitty community lack of accountability that makes you wanna die all the time
  15. i love you, baby, it's not your fault: affirmations for when it feels like you're not supposed to be alive anymore
  16. you deserve the best best best: how to keep breathing when white masc of center queers afraid of their feelings dispose of you when fucking you becomes too complicated & the larger community follows suit
  17. you have every right to feel this way: keep naming your experiences that make people upset because it's nothing compared to what you've survived
  18. i might still be afraid of you but my ancestors aren't: a spell book for how to work through breaking up with manipulative exes who silence you before you even put a complete thought together
  19. my heart keeps beating & my eyes keep crying: how i came to trust a body that housed all the violence a brown body could
  20. even though we share identities i'm still gonna love me & hate you: pluto femme babe powers
  21. echoes in the park pavilion: how to shut your ex down when you explicitly stated you didn't want to talk about how she spent the night at your previous (shitty) ex's the same day you broke up with her & she refused to leave your house until you called a neighbor friend to walk over for help
  22. cw: mention of sexual assault
    you get to be angry & hate as long as you want when your ex sexually assaults you in your home & you don't even know it then stalks you but you can't prove it & too many people treat your trauma like it's not real because your ex is a white cis woman
  23. the summer of bras in the front yard: a collection of short & beautiful stories of resilience & magic
  24. you know i love you when i cook you potatoes: tells from a broke ass brown femme homo maker magician
  25. remember how i get cuter every year since & you're stuck where i left you?: perks of surviving all the breakups & posting all the selfies they'll never see because you blocked their ass years ago
  26. lol when you tried to pretend like you never fell for me but we both know those love poems had my pussy all up in them & that's all that matters
  27. you will never be the one i wrote all those love poems for, but you can sure die trying: a collection of revenge through the best orgasms
  28. i love you & i forgive you for everything we knew & had yet to learn: prayers for surviving familial violence only to stumble into shitty community that abuses you, too
  29. when they tell you that you're special but what they mean is i wanna abuse you in private: how to use trust your gut when there's less than savory dating prospects out there
  30. but you told me you loved me: spells & affirmations to gently call yourself back when abuse is disguised as love
  31. someone should hold YOU accountable!: how assholes you're trying to hold accountable turn the tables & you end up feeling confused because that's how they keep being shitty
  32. it's your turn to do the dishes: when your white so called friends never bat an eye at all the cooking & cleaning you did at their house because white supremacy
  33. my hair will fuck you up & the moon is coming for you: how to cast spells so people leave you the fuck alone
Picture
my glow from last night. end of june 2015.
<<Previous
Forward>>
    Picture
    Photo by Wit López, 2016


    ​Lettie Laughter

    is a chronically ill queer brown femme, community healer, poet, playwright, & performer extraordinaire.  They live, femmeifest, love, & write in Philly.

    SUPPORT THE WORK

    If you feel the love, show some love!  I'm paying for this magical femmeiversal shit with your donations & outta my precious  pocket, so please help pad these stardust pockets, tender heart! 

    Blog
    Categories

    All
    Community Healers
    Community $upport
    Death Eating
    High Moon Femme Tarot
    Love Letters
    Moon
    Poems
    Short Stories
    Whale Heart Feels

    Creative Commons License
    This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives 4.0 International License.

    HIGH MOON FEMME INBOX MAGIC

Subscribe to NEWSLETTER
When you subscribe, you can expect to receive High Moon Femme's weekly tarot readings & when there are specials rates, info on when Lettie will be performing somewhere or offering workshops,, interviews, & all kinds of writing magic!

SUPORT THE WORK

If you feel the love, I invite you to show some love.  I'm paying for this magical femmeiversal website & amenities  outta my precious  pockets, so help pad these stardust pockets, tender heart!
​

MONTHLY CONTRIBUTIONS
Picture
Photo by Wit López, 2016.
High Moon Femme
Philadelphia, PA. 19143
(801) 917- 4363
​[email protected]
Legal Disclaimer & Terms of Service
  • Blog
  • High Moon Femme Tarot
  • Contact