Entry #15: I want to tell you exactly what happened to me today, while trying to leave the house + you should know this was not the first also psa I usually cry about it alone..

22 july 2019 at around 2pm – 230pm – Spring in late November.

I had built up frustration for months and feeling unsettled within myself, so I set out on this day, a Monday to self care by going to Dymocks at collins st book store to have coffee browse around, read and walk back and forth wanting to buy more books.

My morning started out pretty alight. I was still stuck with that type of uncertainty and off mood/ irritation but honestly I had been waiting for this Monday for a few days now and I was determined to leave the house and head into the city. So I meditated with the headspace app for 10 minutes before I did anything else, gathered my energy to getting ready for my self care day as planned. It took me longer than what I had decided on, I kept doing small things like changing what I was wearing, feeling conscious about how my body fit into my clothes, and wanting to take advantage of the winter sun I put on my make up looked at my eye shadow criticised it so I took it off and applied my foundation over it unhappy but still hopeful, and I packed up my bag pack ready to walk out the front door.

As I closed the door behind me, my headphones in walking to the station I started getting into this mood/ energy that was so strong it started to take over my body. I kept walking and thinking I just need to get onto the VLine and I’ll be fine, I just need to get keep walking I’ll be fine,once I reach I’ll be glad I did this for myself. I needed to believe this so hard. Because I had been staying in my own environment and started to feel stagnant and too comfortable with despair. I walked about nearly half way stopped in my path, looked down I wanted to turn back so hard, its as though my body was begging me with all its got to please turn around and go back and try again with another day locked into my mind. I felt so compelled, I went into the side turn not far from home, stood there and calmly walked back home. I opened the door and I remember thinking I miss seeing my dad, I missed his voice and his big hugs, his laugh and being next to him. So I walked into his space and sat on his chair positioned right outside a window facing our corner backyard. I heard my mum make her way into the space and ask me what was wrong unable to answer her I eventually started crying quietly with my headphones in and her hands wrapped around me. In that moment I knew why I was so upset, I heard words say “I can’t even leave the house” “what’s wrong with me?” my mum asked me again what’s wrong? this time with her eyes red and I just sat there and cried hearing “now you’re worrying her for no reason” I cried some more settled down and walked upstairs sitting on the floor with the sunlight beaming inwards. Mum asked me again something must be bothering you, is it a feeling talk to me I’m here for you is it a feeling she asks again. I look at her my eyes ready to cry again and I say “I don’t know, I don’t know. Im fine, I don’t know what’s wrong.” and I tell her it’s okay I’ll be fine for the fifth time, thinking and knowing I just need time to be alone for a while. And then I got hungry, so I went to an all you can eat with Nadren.

Fatma.

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Poetry: Melody of being Animate

17.7.19 – Making decisions for the life of you.

I’m thinking its left for interpretation, I’m thinking be assertive this way in other parts of your gratitude, I’m thinking we are human so no one is safe from broken connections, gusto waves that do not serve our highest beings are simply interchangeable, I’m thinking we all have a default, we all come made unknown, how some of us are curious about what closeness is and some of us couldn’t care less, how our values could be so different we are not human enough or merely human though we see the world in colours, taste in numbers, how some of us couldn’t care less about honesty and others care more about their own hearts, how there’s a way about it all, and there is, we are all the courage to be disliked and some are consistent on using words that change their lives, this way is how I also feel the world, the choice is both a conflict and simple state of mind, nothing makes sense or it makes too much sense and the fear to cower is shown into us, of how unknowing has never been so apparent into our homes this harshly first, suddenly the thing about self is that we are all living proof, some of us haven’t awakened our beats and the rest, well, they are dormant, some sleeping along side them touching heads and who are we,- I’m thinking about being locked up in libraries I could read here forever, this small daydream of mine, I am not afraid to brake or disappear one day, I have to accept this will happen with or without my energy well protected, I don’t ever want to stand still stagnant in how my life is lived, I want to remember my life as the protagonist that lived her own nightmares, the girl who battled her mind and chose life instead of existence, I want to be the person I know I am capable of resurrecting she is dragon bodied belly full blue flames and purple magic re-birthed alike, a brave act each time she faces her self she it met with forms of darkness, her life is the constant commitment of unlocking her own downfalls her courage is the fussy ability of turning them into weapons of intuition, she likes the intensity of the pain that comes with this type of healing, most will not see the importance of this healer, she does not shame her scars, it is the will of her that scars her skin this way the most, this is how she keeps the spark in her life, every word, narrative can be flipped she knows this too well,- So that when I die, I can say I have lived a dangerously envious life.

Entry #14: Mental health check in and turns out your conscious is always telling you something..even about those who are closest to you..

Hey dreamers, so a check in on my mental health since I stopped going to see remedy and taking medication. I can honestly say for the most part its been alright, I thought it would be way worse but keep in mind this is after more than 2 – 3 months . You know after all the filtering out of the medication and the side effects from after your stop taking it..other then that its been alright.

I have had some frustration and numbness build up though, from a month and a week of 2 now. From 2 incidents and the other is my depression playing up. As of 3 days ago couldn’t leave the house or my room. Its been hard to sleep for the last couple of months, and my eating habits are just no good. I had my first and only meal for today which was a half bowl of lentil soup and a small slice of olive bread. Hydration wise, I drank my coconut water helps a lot since my relationship with water just keeps plummeting. But yea thats me now. I have no choice but to leave my room and my house today though, I am going to see Russ perform so I’m excited about that, it should be fun. psa i’m going by myself I will update for myself here about it. so now its little old me going by myself to a concert. i’ve always wanted to do this but not this way, but who knows right.

So dreamers I have had a situation come up with a close friend of mine and I am really in this point in my life where I don’t care how close we are if you are telling my white lies or cause mistrust I can not help but feel like it is a direct sign to walk away from that energy. Usually I would be willing to resolve it, or give the person benefit of doubt but if I care about you and I would not do anything to cause mistrust or bad energy why should you someone who is close to me. These kinds of things now a days just irritate me and solidify my character judgment as well as my solitude. I had decided a year or 2 back now, that I would not allow for my self care and love go wasted on anyone but myself and it sounds so selfish and horrible but if I don’t take care of myself who will. I’m not doing anything merlisiouce to anyone, to me its about understanding that I matter enough to want to do these things for myself first in order to heal, build, learn, grow and a lot of other things too. Any way I just wanted to know, if someone you loved and cared about in your inner circle hurt you by being dishonest what would you do?

Fatma.

Poetry: Melody of Being Animate

14.7.19 – rafiki yangu.

Mother tells me you’re too soft, she tells me her love for me is so abundant that she fears those who I allow into my space, thinks I only see others in magic lights and moon dust, and I want to tell her that yes she is right, tell her that my body has known too much to give up on others and myself, I can bare the pain, told her I can forgive most anything but dishonesty, said that there a many of me protecting my home the ways her and dad taught me second, the first is in my choices, when someone asks my home for my care about advice I am a warm lit room that can not refuse their visits, we have also known these types of vulnerabilities so it is not in me to never listen, my voice has been unheard for as long as I am aware, always known as soft, and not fire, I make sure I look my mother in her eyes and say I have always been both, when you feel your home being misunderstood its this pent up battle you have been having with your past and future self, it is not words you can say without carefully observing about its receiver, it is a misfortune of amber blue flames, the words just don’t seem to come out the way you feel them to, is it not enough to exist through these hardships and come out alive but to furiously bury them, you do not remember yourself to be this way, this is not how your light shadow deals with conflict, there are versions of myself and all of us living amongst these happenings, depending on your spirit, watch your lessons well, when you understand your own down falls and raisings first you understand places of yourself you have yet to over grow, your way of keen for knowledge in the most turbulent consistent way it is not for everyone to grasp if not for yourself only, you do not answer to any being first if not for who you’re healing from first, knowledge is becoming of us all it is how we use it and find its access that gives us purpose in the first place, I can truly speak as someone who allows room for others first it is never an easy task to put myself before those who have had space into my heart, as a forceful dreamer I can honestly advise I am not a home that carries predictability well, so when you come for my soft spots I will gladly return the favor in ways you did not know possible, this is not a warning, it is a gift for your home, and your next choice of honesty.

Poetry: Melody of Being Animate

When asked to write myself into my home, I can feel my anxiety flow through my body, the twins are awake now, my home has welcomed versions of myself, I am proof enough, those who know about this soul also know how it loves back, how it speaks softly into its name and firey into their homes first, I am a protector of heartbeats and each time they come to me I brave into a healer, a type of myself I have wished for the younger me, when I was younger, I cut my 4c the way I learnt to cut into my skin, learnt to fluently speak in poem then into dreams, it wasn’t until I forgave myself here, somewhere in my mind I had found a way into self love, taught my mouth how to care for my body, my body than taught a secret ritual to the soul, a half introverted half extroverted me, and in the middle of all my chaos, there, I found myself too, I was a born self taught dreamer, when I began to choose who I wanted to become I learnt the meaning of words without its terms, I closed my eyes, and changed the way I heard my blackness, changed the way I was being seen into a careless world. I swore, I swore this way was the way to never be, I swore to remember words like solitude in justice and how they meant out of my mouth, a black woman learning metaphors for the life of her, I swore to never miss mirrors, to never miss the way I stared into my 4c, it was never who I am to soften my hair, it was who I was becoming, to burn its roots, I learnt words that birthed bright colours, passed down recipes and double meanings, felt them in my mothers hands to my fathers voice, I saw my path crave words like carouage, like love, words like enough, words that meant more than skin deep, words that demanded my attention and more of my blackness, I found myself into a reality that taught me about nourishment, how to care for my 4c, how my coiled curls run so deep my mother sings your hair is rich and beautiful, how each time my mahogany was stripped away from me I claimed in right back, each time, and every, other time even, when my voice was chocked out of me upon stolen lands, I was a vision, claimed memories, learned them the ways it streams through me, my existence is the art of many seasoned generations, you can not fake this identity, you can not simply fake how my mother cracked her voice every time she cared to my 4c, watching her take time for my hair was an I love you, is was a take care of you, a forever feeling, her hands care taught me to love my hair even when I missed wash days, when I think about how it feels to have gotten here, how it feels to be this black, and this women, when I think about how my identity is questioned into me, like a locked home being forced open, their mouth speaking into pressed ego’s, like a joker game, I go blank, there is a truth heavy into me, when it comes to putting my soul into absolutes for them, it is only when I remember that each word are extensions of meanings I remind my soul that our home has never been one to follow rules or spectrums, rather acknowledge that they are there, and never the end of my written, I am a home that feels with the mind and listens with the heart, I am someone with contradicting senses there is always another way about my every extension, I know what it feels like to not belong, and to feel like you belong into a type of extension, I speak in only my reality and dreams, sometimes, a better me is growth, is spring in late November, meaning I can be this intangible too, is to accept me, is soft, is a love without trapped chains, there is always a way about everything, I know this, I know this because I know what it is to heal like you want to save yourself from yourself, I also know how my hair welcomes her texture into a room, how their hands have no welcome mat here, when I see my people being shamed for what they have had their whole lives appreciated first outside of my skin I remember why we speak so highly of us, why I speak so highly of us, why we love so highly of us, I know this, I know this because I know what it holds to be self and fire, my journey with my identity has always been becoming, has questioned my existence, a six part better self that begs a better me each day I am with, or without my depression-, let me sweeten your tongue for a life time, I am a Fire in the Rain, saga moja, in collateral beauty publication of me first, first, who I am, second, what I am becoming, third, when I become, forth, where I will become, fifth, how I will become, and lastly, why, I am becoming. So you see, my journey is a forever written.

Poetry: Melody of Being Animate

7.6.19 – 8.6.19 | will you count me in

When asked about my more of blackness I am filled with emotion and blood, can feel my palms get sweaty a me watching their tone to my skin is me remembering that I did not miss any mirrors on the way here, this is a soul that is learning about her body and how it allows to take up all the air in a room, like all the elements of this blue planet done gone blessed her with so much ache, with so much love for what is becoming to be both black and woman, to be this black and woman, I am a black woman that has no shame into her own mind, will bare you her depression type 4 that has taught her how to love when death tries to do us part, be the squeezed hand held so tight calling out to soft hands look here, will count you in mississippi’s like, one mississippi, love yourself first before you love other homes, two mississippi, love how it feels to care for yourself first this world will not apologize for what it has done to you and when you have chosen a path that has reckoning of both identity and love it will be a gentle reminder of who you’re allowing yourself to vine into, it will be a prayer, a kind solitude that needs no reaffirming, a gift for the next gratitude into your home, three mississippi, do not force a you that is still healing, you have yet to unlearn and this is more than okay, in this world it is a must to hear your own voice with your eyes, touch your fingertips and watch your ambiance dance this is anthem enough, is to hear your voice and feel you’re enough, to love my 4c from a generation of royalty, of history and passed down recipes is to love me back harder, is to love this body, is to love me back into this body is to mean to know how to love back harder, so the next time someone asks you about your blackness too, pour them a cup of chai, welcome them into your soul, let them meet everyone at home, let them know this here knows what it means to dedicate a whole day to her 4c, let the guest you welcomed into your home know this here is going to be a while.

Poetry: Melody of Being Animate

7.6.19 – 6.6.19|my name.

The truth is I thought about this so much, I re wrote it to be perfect when in fact we are nothing but, the truth is when I am asked about where I am from I say black I say Kenya I say Africa and nothing else, sit and watch their mind make me a mistake like I shot gunned so hard like I pulled out that chair so they could fall flat on their ass, like so they know that broken taste sentence be the worst punch line in replacement of who am I, like waking up from a bad dream, the truth is, this question does not intimidate my existence, it ignites my fire and I am watching the question burn alive into my voice I have engulfed its existence full stop, set it alight into the sky told the wind to drag its ashes right through black twitter ready to be asked again full stop, I will not stand here for this I am happy about my blackness so when you fix that mouth with that tone and say things like the n word is derogatory, I am reminded again that you know nothing of what you think your savior dressed skin looks like, the truth is, when I look around me about how my blackness is seen in a room covered by eyes it does not feel good to been seen by these thoughts I mean what I’m saying is passive racism is to be seen by their own thoughts, a savage waste land of my blood my hair dry from all my heat, damaged, I am attempted to set them on fire and this time I choked on my tears, the truth is, when asked about my blackness I say beautiful, I say look how much of my parents, I say love and blackness and enough, and then I say my name too.

Poetry: Melody of Being Animate

28.5.19 | Mine.

Who am I, I am someone that deeply holds my voice close to my amour, I am the kind of depression that allows others holds their hand and whispers to them that vulnerability is important, who you are is important, explain we are so much into a world that does not care about things they can not touch, that you can not bleed enough for them, I am someone who will give you love letters that help satisfy your soul first, I believe in our capability, I want to reach into your mind so you know what humility looks like, touch your heart with my eyes when you tell me what has been keeping you alive today, my view of this world is the most balance, it is both a growth a reality of two outcomes of myself and who I am becoming, I’ve held conversation about this breath enough, space in and out of mind for who I am first then you, I am the kind of breath and fire and soft and watching people make choices, watching who I am becoming make choices, humanity is both list-full and limitless, when I brake my bones for you you will know, when I call you it might be 10 years down this growth, I watch the way we speak, my home, my curiosities are somewhere along side impulsive and intensity, I am one or the other never both, to co exist is to understand and make room for the person who is the truest self first, if I do not learn from who I was I would never be who I am becoming first, -don’t completely lose yourself into things and people, lose yourself completely enough to evolve on to the next glory/ prayer/ gratitude/ self. -what/who will you choose to become.

Poetry: Melody of Being Animate

Burning Spring Love. (fell from the sky.) | 15.5.19

hey love, kiss me, tell me you can bring down the sky for me, tell me the stars ain’t nothing compared the way I make you feel like without this love there is no other matched to what I am with you. tell me how you found us, tell me all your hidden secrets, tell me you’ll listen to my silence even when its raining, tell me how much you love spring, the way it leaves us to love harder, how talks like this are the best kind of kink, I remember when you asked me what passion was to you, how you could taste it near my lips, how close we are to sparking these flames, nothing like spring in late November, write me away, use your words, tell your fingers to stop misbehaving next to flames this bright, tell me again how you can not leave my burning spring, how you’re not afraid to lose me, how we ache apart enough to close any lost words, sometimes we may burn buildings and ask the spring to leave, the way you understand how I love, how my hands are the place you feel the safest, how my voice is reason for it all, learn me more of your scars, tell me how you keep that voice, how you love so hard, we are both this way, both melting into each other, you don’t agree with me, we fight about how our voices both hold our love, how they cradle something this inherited, how we wind each other up, how we love to hear our love out loud, there’s nothing more dangerous than love.

Poetry: Melody of Being Animate

20.4.19 | Guest.

How do you follow me into my home, I’ve been thinking about what manifestation is, what it could look like in this state, I’ve also been talking out loud trying to remember how to use my words when I am this unexpected, I have always told myself that it’s always going to be okay, that you’re allowed to be here too, when my depression visits it brings all the ache with out the twins, knows how to flood in memories, this type of meeting has always still been this way, has always felt like the very first time, and like the last time, what do you call an insomniac with dreams, an unstable mentality into a life, how do you call it again, I’ve gotten so used to being lost that the word its self has fooled both meanings, everything in me is preparing to shutdown, there are two of me here, what is that name again trauma, healing, these words buried so into me I can’t help them out of me, sometimes I’m scared about it all, I don’t exactly know when its going to end, I’ve been holding onto my pieces picking up its shards my hands bloody, I know there are guests of who I am living here, coming in out as they please, they are sloppy, careless and misunderstood, so caved into harsh words that have never belonged here, you tell yourself not to bring that kind of talk here, we did not agree on these types of unnamed chaos too, my existence feels like its on pause again, somewhere I can not even give myself the permission to do anything but breath between these four walls, this has always been beyond a feeling, I know what it feels like to heal, I know my breath has done gone been here too long we want us back so hard, we still do not like the process of understanding everything when guests are this rude into our home, I still have dreams to bring me back alive and well, want to break all these pieces into more pieces and say look this is how I am made it here too, I am learning courage in so many conversations, learning there are more than two sides to every word, I am teaching myself that it is the best thing to fail and hearing my own plea’s is me condemning me to come into myself as I step outside of who I am, to look at all of me and hand my trauma the key for next time.