The Consequences of Truth

The other day I wrote some truths that i had been feeling and denying for a long time about a show I was associated with. Please note the past tense language use is not a typo. We are no longer associated. Purely a decision on their part.

See after writing and posting my post, I meditated on it. Knowing this piece of me was on display and they still had no idea how I had felt, was troubling to me. I felt like eventhough the feelings had passed with my writing, that the residual energy mixed with their unknowing would poison the circle when i entered it. So I lit my candle, said my prayer, did a meditation for several days. What came to me as an answer was "share your truth, so truth may show its face". I took it as a possibility to spark conversation with people i had grown to care for. An opportunity for us to have a real conversation about how alienated I am made to feel sometimes in this space I love so much. I thought, clearing the air before Friday was necessary. It would be a good thing.

So I shared my post. With explination of why I write in my blog space. Because it is my safe space. It is the only place I feel my truth is accepted and not judged, because well. ... Lets face it, i have a readership of 2. One is my faithful unknown follower, the other is me as I proofread for gramatical errors. Even with the unpredicted occasional browser, its not a blog that can/will ruin the life of anyone. It is just me, documenting my time in this transitional place of my life. [I'm digressing.]

So I send them the link to my post. What follows is silence for most of the day. Until late in the night, like almost 2am when the angry phone calls begin. I pick up because I am awake and I am thinking, cool they want to talk. No they don't. (I am paraphrasing, as to not rehash the almost anger i had at the time) They call to dictate to me what I will and won't do. They call to tell me I'm crazy. That I am no longer welcome even as a paying customer in the space. That my measly, insignifigant blog was damaging and hurtful to them, thus burning bridges. WOW!

Never had I imagined this response. I truly thought that they were of more rational minds. I found I was wrong. As I recounted my motivation for writing and eventually sharing my post, my lady friend refocused my attention to the answer I had received. I thought about my feelings. Searched my spirit. I knew this was their truth. That with these late night phone calls, and many early morning text messages, they had finally shown their true face to me. And I am okay with that. I am okay with them not being apart of my life any longer. What now?

Our paths are bound to cross in the future, we have many of the same aquaintences and friends. We attend many of the same events. I will even be serving on a Board of Directors with one of them, so eventually we will interact. But I am not worried about it. I am at peace with all of it. You may ask why? What could/would allow me to be okay with a loss I considered major? The difference is me. It took a day of cuddling with my bubbly princess, an early morning meditation, and the council of a trusted friend for me to remember that I am different. I am not the same woman I was last year or even last week. I am certain and strong in my character. The people that are genuine will not abandon me because of someone else's biased opinion of me. I know who I am. Better yet, I love who I am and know that other love me too. I know who I want to become and I am well on my way to becomming. I am no longer the broken woman, desperate for attention and love. I am love, at least becoming it. People are attracted to my energy.  I do not need to go to that specific space to meet someone, I am confident enough to venture out to other spaces alone and talk to people that are interested in me. Because I am interesting. My life is full and satisfying, and beautiful and complete in its ever evolving way. So it is okay to let go of this space. Whether to form my own or simply discover new ones, it is okay to let go. This space doesn't need me and I don't need it. We'll be okay without each other. And I golden with that.

Love & Light,

C. Joi Sanchez
www.jsanschez.wordpress com

Respect

I'm no good at making demands. One of my toughest challenges in this life has been confrontation and getting respect. I used to ( and still do) believe that if I was nice and respectful of others, I would receive the same in return. It wad how I wad raised. What I was taught. But the older I get in this technological based world, I am quickly learning that is not the case at all. There is no longer lessons of courtesy or manners bring taught in homes. So far gone is our society, that even some of our elders have forgotten these basic lessons. I find what is considered courtesy & respect varies from culture to culture as well as between sexes and sexualities. Respect is no longer a universal language. Its now broken into bits, digested according to individual ideas. Its become such a complex and complicated system to navigate that half the time, I can only seem to show respect by holding my tongue. Shrinking my presence to the satisfactuon of others.
But what does that leave for me? What does that mean for me? If in order to respect another, I feel I must disappear? In essence, disrespect myself.. I ponder this fine line between courtesy and respect deeply as I watch my children play the game all children figure out eventually. I call it playing against the middle. They ask one parent for a thing, if that parent says no, they move on to the other parent or another adult until someone says yes. Eventually someone says yes, and that is the moment the inital parent must decide if they will allow it to happen or intervene and be cast as the "bad guy". Usually I let it be, unwilling to get entangled into the fruatration that will come from it. I often wonder if that is the "right" choice. If I am teaching my children a good lesson or if this is a major contributor to their misbehaving. But then I remember how great my kids are 90% of the time.

C. Joi Sanchez
www.jsanschez.wordpress com

A River Ran Through Her

Today I received some of the most disapponting news of the year yet. A show that I regularly contributed to, lets call it, WoCC, let me know that for the next 3 months, they wouldn't need me to perform. They didn't want me to perform. They had already gotten something/one else. 

Reading the news via text, I wad stunned. Until the next text came saying, hey if you have sitter issues, you don't have to come at all. See these next couple months, I am also House Managing this same show. I.e. I am responsible for the space while they put on their show. Which to me is something I no longer look forward to. I now dread having to sit and watch someone else do the thing that each month I would meditate and put a lot of deep thought into doing. Cause I have no idea how to watch it without bitterness in my heart, losing something that means so much to me.

Considering this change came a week before the show. It was sudden like the crash of a tsunami wave. I could see the swell happening subtly, yet failed to be able to predict it coming. It is disheartening.

Its also a reality check; A reminder from "leaders" of a community that I will never fully be accepted. Because women like me are considered in varying regards, none of which are good. Its the type of reality check that makes me wish I wasn't this freak of nature queer woman. That at some point prior in life, I would have made a decision about my sexuality one way or the other. I feel wrong to be who I am, a woman that simply loves people. I refuse to make a distinction based on body parts. Men, women, and everyone in between us nothing more then a soul wrapped in flesh. Flesh that will one day not exist, so why should I choose whom I will love based on that?

It also makes me wish people could own up to their bullshit. Stop claiming a friendship that only seems to exist when they want something from me. Stop saying how concerned and hopeful you are of me when all of your actions and words prove otherwise. Don't tell me how lovely and attractive I am yet, condemn me because a few of my former lovers are men. Don't say you believe and support my art but never attend a performance or go so far as to lie not to come. . Don't tell me how much you love children, and care for mine but can't stand to be bothered with the reality of my life. See.. Its a cancerous clusterfuck that only spreads if I let myself feel all the things it brings up. So I write it out of my system. Leave these negative feelings in this page and hopefully wake tomorrow with positive thought and love in my heart once again for WoCC.

I sometimes wonder if I brought my girl child into this environment and not my male child, if it would be better received. If because of the speratist views held by the powers that be, would they be so annoyed by the presence of a female youth. Would I still be confronted by their insecurites (for lack of better phrasing) if the cutness I cared for while balancing my monthly commitment to them was feminine and not masculine. Except that is a senario that would never happen because my daughter is not in school. She does not require me to pick her up an hour before show call. She has someone to be with her all day, everyday when I can't. So as lovely as that theory is to ponder, it is an unrealistic senario that won't ever be tested. Furthermore, my son has plenty of feminine energy. He idealizes his mother and all the other strong women that surround him. And I'm 60% sure he will grow up to be a gay man. But I'm digressing and that is another post.

This is about WoCC dropping me and how I feel about that. I must admit again, I don't feel good about it. I do not like it. And as the anger leaves my fingertips, my spirit is reminding me that I probably needed the break. That perhaps this space and the people that hold it are not my community. Maybe I am meant to form my own community. A community where people truly do accept one another regardless of their life decisions. Where support, real support is not a "friend" acknowledging your homelessness,hearing how you've been sleeping on the trains and hoping from couch to couch,  having a  room for rent yet saying they can't/won't rent to you because of a perceived fear of your crazy ex or the inconvenience of your children. Yet in the same breath, proclaim how they plan to procreate. As I type this out my system, my spirit is reminding me that a true friend will never tell me lies and spread gossip behind my back. She won't abandon me when I am down, and she definitely won't steer potential love interests away from me because if what she believes about me.  No, my spirit reminds me that this is not my space. Regardless of how connected I feel to it, it will always take more then it gives. It will never compromise its position or beliefs. It will not conform or make room for a queer girl like me. This space will suck me dry if I let it.

This situation is a heavy one for me to process. Partly because I recently lost a long time friend that introduced me to this space. She, much like these women, held certain beliefs about me that she never cared to talk with me about. She just consulted herself and concluded that 15 years if friendship wasn't worthy of a conversation nor clarification. And that was that.
The other reason this is hitting me so heavy is because it is within the community if this space that I reclaimed my joy, found myself, and came out of a deep deep depression. Although, I wonder sometimes, if I  would have done those things on my own. Without the wonderful people I have met through chance encounters.
Also, I am alone. Completely and utterly alone and as free as I am, I can't shake this lonliness that is beginning to set in. I can't change my awkwardness enough to aquire a companion that accepts me. I fear that in the pursuit of my art, I will always be alone. Maybe thats how it has to be in order for me to succeed. I'm okay without a relationship. But I would like to have sex with someone other then myself. I would like to kiss a set of lips I didn't create. I want to be held at night. I want to feel loved, if only for a night. Is that asking too much?
Lastly, my art is personal. Intensely so. Every month I push myself to create something people feel. To send out a piece of my soul. To connect with goddess spirit and be her incarnation for those 7-10 minutes that I occupy the stage. It was important to me. And it was told to me that it was important for me to do this because of who I am. Because of what I am. I am the mother of two perfectly blended children of ancient ancestry. The pieces I create represent how linked the two cultures are despite the denial of that fact. The first time I was asked to do it in September, it was a convenience sort of thing. I was surprised and humbled to be asked to continue it month after month. I finally felt a connection to something bigger then me, as if I mattered. I took pride in the creation & execution of each piece. Without it, I feel disconnected, useless, & unnecessary. Like before, as if I am in a place I don't belong and am unwelcome in. 

Maybe its just me and I'm overthinking. But is it really foolish to listen and express one's feelings? I can't help but think this is it. I will never be asked back. I will be forgotten and go back to being the unappreciated dormat I felt like prior to my infintismle rise in promenance.
Maybe it's all in my head. And now thats its out, i am thankful. I am appreciative of the experience. 

C. Joi Sanchez
www.jsanschez.wordpress com

Respect

I'm no good at making demands. One of my toughest challenges in this life has been confrontation and getting respect. I used to ( and still do) believe that if I was nice and respectful of others, I would receive the same in return. It wad how I wad raised. What I was taught. But the older I get in this technological based world, I am quickly learning that is not the case at all. There is no longer lessons of courtesy or manners bring taught in homes. So far gone is our society, that even some of our elders have forgotten these basic lessons. I find what is considered courtesy & respect varies from culture to culture as well as between sexes and sexualities. Respect is no longer a universal language. Its now broken into bits, digested according to individual ideas. Its become such a complex and complicated system to navigate that half the time, I can only seem to show respect by holding my tongue. Shrinking my presence to the satisfactuon of others.
But what does that leave for me? What does that mean for me? If in order to respect another, I feel I must disappear? In essence, disrespect myself.. I ponder this fine line between courtesy and respect deeply as I watch my children play the game all children figure out eventually. I call it playing against the middle. They ask one parent for a thing, if that parent says no, they move on to the other parent or another adult until someone says yes. Eventually someone says yes, and that is the moment the inital parent must decide if they will allow it to happen or intervene and be cast as the "bad guy". Usually I allow it to just be, out of respect for my elder and an unwillingness to enter into unwanted frustration. But I sit in wonder, if this is the right course of action. If my silence is the transformative power turning me into a dormat. And what is the lesson my children extract from my inaction? Do they recognize my constant need for peace? Or do they too learn, to take their mother for granted?

C. Joi Sanchez
www.jsanschez.wordpress com

Wake up & smell the coffee [12.31 delayed post]

Today someone told me I needed to "grow up & accept life", as if believeing that two people that love each other, is childish. I should have known better then to talk to this person because she is a friend of my (soon to be ex-)husband. She is not my friend. She is also blessed to have someone in her life that actually loves her. Her spouse seems to understand that you must work through problems together to solve them. While my spouse is content to run away. To dump hope and vows on the waste side and move on to ruin someone else's life. What she, and he, and everyone else telling me to "be strong" fail to realize is that divorce had never been an option for me until he forced it on me. I never considered it as an option. Because a broken home is/was not an acceptable station in life to put my children in. Its weak to say I can't do better then this for them. To say that our family is not worth the effort or time it takes to have a real and lasting relationship.
I know I just saying this because I am hurt. I am dead on the inside, to the point where I would prefer to not live through this. Everyday I wish I'd have just let him kill my body three years ago so that my heart, mind, and children didn't have to go through this now. I hate this. But it doesn't matter. What i want, believe, hope for. And as much as I am magic, I can't conjur a solution that doesn't result in him still leaving me.

C. Joi Sanchez
www.jsanschez.wordpress com

NWW- Wants

Right now I want to be angry. At him, at myself, at her; the failure of my marriage, my loss of home, sense of security, threads of mental stability, the lies, betrayals, abuses, absurdities and lack of regular sexual contact with another human.
But I can't.
I literally can't. I feel the emotions begin to swell from time to time but dissapaite by the time they've reached my brain to be processed into words. I don't know how or when it happened..  Maybe New Years Eve?  possibly from the moment I took off from Vegas.. I have no clue. I do know that somewhere in this past month, I turned a corner. I am not a desperate, lonely, fearful, angry, spiteful girl. I am a quiet, motivated, inspired, driven, focused woman following her vision. I'm not hung up not tied to my past any longer. I see past mistakes before I repeat them and have consistantly chosen a different response.

Case in point: A week ago, I was able to endulge my stalker fantasies and dillusions of marital duty, and loom on J's FB page for the first time since July. Back in the summer, he deleted me to "protect his company from our personal bullsh*t storms"; which had escalated to previously unseen heights. (lets just leave it at that;  it was bad). I understood that, and thought nothing of it since I still shared a computer with him & could loom on his various pages any time I pleased. However, once both laptops were broken, his phone became the only source of internet available. Fast forward to last week. I'm cruising along on my stalking spree, when I scroll back through his post to September. There it sits, a picture of our children; my children hugging & playing with O. My daughter draped from her neck like a Jesus piece on display. My son, our son, hugged her thighs, his tiny hands probably cupping her ass. Looking at that picture, reading all the "congrats" from people I had once considered friends, seeing J flaunt her with our kids, praising her as his saving grace, his "tomorrow"; I damn near passes out from the flood of anger spreading through me.
At this point, you may be saying 'aren't you two divorced?" Why get upset?"  The picture was dated 2 months before I was even informed that he had decided to move on with his life . Meaning he was parading our kids through his new relationship, without ant regard for the marriage he was in. People I thought were friends,we're just as fake as he was then. It hurt that he was out and about with her explaining away a marriage he preferred not to have. Replacing me with her without a second thought. At first I was embarassed to be the last to know. At that moment though, looking at that picture, I was defeated. I had been made a fool of and  Now I can write about it with no shade. That night, staring at that picture I had a choice to make. I could get upset and blow up or I could leave it be and continue to move on with my life. I chose the latter, it served me well.
Even now while he continues to act in the same manner as before ; i.e. combative & secretive, I remain cool, calm, & collected. Viewing the bigger picture for once. It serves me to be calm and remaun focused. I channel my energiea into my art. Eventually I will love again, probably not the same way I loved him. No one will/can ever again have that much of me but eventually someone will prove I am worth it. And it will be a love that both serves me and deserves me.

C. Joi Sanchez
www.jsanschez.wordpress com

#newyearnewview

"when you change the way you look at things, the things you look at change"
A timeless truth to life and the universe. For about 20 mins I was bumbed because I had thought that the circumstance if having no money, would have hindered my ability to have a "good new year."
Believing in magic and superstition as I do, I believe in the theory that how you begin your year is how you spend it. And I thought I would be spending 2013 stuck, if I couldn't get to where I was going. Then, ever so wisely, my dad said to me "maybe you'll just be travelling this year". Bing! Bang! Boom!  My mind flashed. I finished his sentence, the above quote. So now I am on the train to brooklyn. Rethinking everything about my situation.
  Its really time for a new view. Not a new me, just an adjustment in how I look and react to things. A change to the energy I carry, distribute and receive. A change to how I become the person of greatness I see myself becomming.
Starting with today. Today it becomes official when I go to sign the divorce papers. For the last year I've been crying, allowing myself to attribute it to love. From a different view, I see it has been my spirits way of mourning a lost love. He woll always be the image I hold in my heart because at his.core, he is a good man. But maybe he's not the right partner for me. From this alternate view, I am okay with that. As of today, my ties to him are gone. I know because of the shift I feel inside my skin. I see his face and no longer see that man I loved. And I'm ok. Even better, I am good. I know its okay to let go.
Today I am free. I set myself free from worry, guilt, fear, doubt, hypocracy, arrogance, anger, jealousy & irrational hatred. I will become the change I want to see in the world. Starting with this:  changing my view.

C. Joi Sanchez
www.jsanschez.wordpress com