I've Felt It, Too , livre ebook

I ve Felt It, Too
Published by Gatekeeper Press
2167 Stringtown Rd, Suite 109
Columbus, OH 43123-2989
www.GatekeeperPress.com
Copyright 2021 by Kristun Kimok
All rights reserved. Neither this book, nor any parts within it may be sold or reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems without permission in writing from the author. The only exception is by a reviewer, who may quote short excerpts in a review.
Library of Congress Control Number: 2020951092
ISBN (paperback): 9781662907548
eISBN: 9781662907555
I wrote this book for me,
if we re being honest.
To remind myself that I don t have to
carry all this anymore.
All this guilt, this extra weight.
Holding onto it doesn t make me stronger.
Letting go to pick up other things does.
Contents
The Fool
The Lovers
The Tower
The Empress
This book is about baggage.
The trauma that flows through life
until you decide to make it stop.
Until you decide this is no longer
who you are or how you want to feel.
It s not the story you re bound to tell forever.
It s growing pains and abandonment issues
and loving so hard despite whatever comes your way.
You are never alone.
The Fool
As much as I want to pretend
that airing my secrets out
will take away their heat,
there will always be memories that burn.
Those embers linger
in the fire of my soul,
keep me warm
even when I dream of snow.
I have always known stories are powerful,
I just didn t think anyone wanted to hear mine.
There is a lot of darkness pressed into these pages.
But there is also so much light.
My life is nothing more than a gentle,
playful expression of my demeanor.
I am here to help, to ease, to listen.
Who you are -
your morals, beliefs
how you treat others -
is so much more important
than a career.
Our true power lies in the
empowerment of our peers.
Remind someone today
why they are important.
Hold space for those
who have forgotten.
We all start somewhere.
As long as the focus is on growth,
there is no need to rush the journey.
I m loving these odd moments
holding space and learning grace.
I ve come to realize that
what I want
and what I can achieve
are two different paths.
The fork in the road,
igniting curiosity and separation
from Self,
from love,
from source.
Which of course are all the same.
What I desire is machine-like productivity,
what I am capable of is keeping up.
I often forget that I m the one
setting those expectations.
Losing compassion for myself
along the way,
not knowing when to stop pushing,
yet understanding that personal growth
doesn t abide by my timeline.
The universe may have my back,
but divine timing uses her own clock.
I am the reason my life is what it is.
The sooner I take responsibility for that,
the better off I ll be.
Every day, there is a different mantra in my head.
I can observe others behavior without being critical.
There is no need for judgment.
No need for me to form an opinion.
Try to break from, or better yet, silence my ego.
Work towards not having those thoughts.
Be at peace.
Know not everything involves me.
Be receptive.
Be open to criticism.
Don t take everything personally.
Stop for the smallest second, look around,
and appreciate the abundance life offers.
Don t rush from one thing to the next -
stop and heal.
Offer myself patience and time.
I am a spiritual being having a human experience.
Sometimes, I need to remember how bad
it can get to fully appreciate the good.
This too shall pass.
I think people are afraid of their power,
that s why they so willingly give it away.
I keep saying I ve been
trying to learn grace,
but every time I level up,
another obstacle forms in place.
These challenges are getting harder
as I m growing with age.
All I can do is lean in move forward,
try to put down some of that
baggage along the way.
I m starting to think that people
motivated by happiness
are the most dangerous.
The change we want cannot be bought.
The peace we feel comes from within.
I have always had
an affinity for bees.
I think it s because
they belong to something
greater than themselves.
I have always envied
that kind of purpose,
that sense of belonging,
that bond of family.
A sad realization
occurred to me today.
The voice in my head
telling me I m not good enough,
the one who whispers
from the back of my brain,
it belongs to you.
I m still trying to impress you
even to this day.
She asked me to describe
my childhood.
The word na ve came to mind.
I said it was because I felt as if I lived in a bubble,
separate from the world
yet, that wasn t quite right.
I didn t know my life was different.
Most high school kids aren t
rewriting their mother s college papers,
while grounded for their own low grades.
Most girls aren t woken up at 3 am
after daddy comes home.
Anger in his veins, saying,
Why won t you wake up?
I wanna talk.
That material gain
could fix every pain
because vulnerable was not
a word I was taught.
I wasn t allowed to have boundaries
but emotions
weren t really up for grabs either.
It took me 29 years to learn
the rest of my life
didn t have to be like that.
maybe my parents gave me
better than they ever got,
but I still internalized
everything they said I m not.
You taught me I didn t need anyone else,
that I could do everything on my own.
But I realized I m stronger
when I trust people instead of being alone.
I switched my approach
to accommodate that growth,
now seeing you isolate,
trying to carry all that weight
is another tragedy at home.
I m sorry about what
happened to you,
all those years ago
when you were so young.
I m sorry you grew up
with such anger in your heart.
Such anger directed at me.
I m sorry the life you have
doesn t seem like enough to you.
I m sorry you don t remember
doing that to me, too.
I go back and forth
on the impact of what you did to me.
One thing I know for certain
is that you changed the way I viewed my body.
I wanted so hard to impress you,
to grow and watch you be proud.
I thought that if you could see
how great I am at everything
you would love me enough to
want to get to know me, too.
just maybe I could
trust my secrets with you.
Get off your high horse
about my past alcohol abuse and cocaine.
Did you forget that it was you
who taught me it s better to numb out pain?
I m not good at calling,
perhaps I ve never been.
But I think about you often
I care more than
I will ever be able to say with words.
I wish we could have
met in different circumstances.
That witnessing my soul
could have helped heal
some of that midwestern hurt you endured.
I wish I could fill your ears
with all my knowledge
of divine understanding, purpose, and
metaphysical attributes of hope.
I wish you would close your eyes.
I could paint pictures of peace
your heart would inherently call home.
But that s not realistic.
Most likely, you would believe me crazy.
Crazier even, than you do now.
But that couldn t be.
It s as if you missed your bus stop years ago
and became too afraid to depart into the unknown.
Your pain was your companion,
always faithful, always there.
It s interesting how we let the fear creep in.
A fight breaks out, no one takes responsibility.
The adults in the situat