It is followed by healing...

I find myself feeling rather shattered and shaken at my core.  Not only some events that transpired during my therapy session left me feeling invaded and attachedk, but also a night out with Josh drinking, which turned into complete chaos and ended with me being ditched later in the evening for some boys that he met.  I have no patience for that shit.


My initial responce is shame.  I'm mad at myself and I can't stop beating myself up about it.  However, I cannot continue with that approach; I need to instead forgive myself and practice self love and compassion for me.


I recognize my behavior.  I forgive myself.  I love myself.  I now turn to nurtuing my injuries, the damage both physical and emotional that I may have experienced.  I am embraching myself and understand there was some ache and some sorrow, and I take care of my wounds. 


I will not beat myself about it.  I will work to make changes instead.  I Love you.  I love you Jose. 

Three BART Observations

Because you appreciate my #BART stories.  I have three observations to make.  They are not really stories.  Just observations.

1)      yesterday.  There was a god in office attire riding the train, post work-out.  He had this gym bag.  He was simply gorgeous from the stand point of beauty and perfection.  Actually, one could also consider him to be annoying.  Anyway, as you probably are going to go ahead and assume:  Yes, I was salivating and staring at him like a new born stares at a nipple.  Num num num.  He caught me looking.  Several times.  He didn’t reciprocate my admiration, he would simply look away in a different direction, almost dismissive… but he would flex his muscles.  He would change his stance to an almost model-esque stance and flex his muscles.  And I would catch him looking to see if I was still being a stalker.  I was.  I liked my ride home.  Thank you Walnut Creek.

2)      I got a spoonful of my own medicine.  I was on the train and this one dude was staring at me.  Totally flirtatiously.  We would make eye contact and he would pull up his imaginary geisha fan and hide his shyness and bat his eyelashes.  It was cute at first.  But then by like round 55 I was like “Queen.  Come up and say hello.  Fuck”.  She never did.  I got off the train and she was still being a Geisha.  Bye Felicia.  My point?  I now know how freaky it is to start at dudes.  Am I gonna stop?  Fuck no. 

3)      I bitch and moan about BART all the time.  But on accession, I happen to witness something beautiful and so real that it stuns me.  Today, on the train going towards the Mission around 5 PM was packed, more so than usual.  At Montgomery, these elderly couple got on the train.  The woman was too short to reach the handle.  The man steadied himself and she buried herself into his embrace, with her face pressed against his chest and her hands – wrinkled hands with nails invaded by age – held on to the collar of his jacket.  I felt the love.  Fuck, I felt it.  I almost started crying, but then I would really really really be like totally a crazy Bart Person.  They were crammed closely to me by the mob of commuters; I wanted to join in the embrace.  But I thanked the divinity for allowing me to have this moment.  It made up for many of the negative experiences I have on BART.