Me.

Who I am today is not who I have always been, and for that, I am grateful.

I am grateful for every moment that had me doubled over in laughter.

I am grateful for every moment I had to question if I wanted to still walk on this earth.

I am grateful for every moment that felt like a sword was pierced into my heart.

I am grateful for every kind word from a stranger. 

I am grateful for the deep connections that I have built with the people who I care about the most. The kind of connections where it feels as if our souls are intertwined. 

Every moment is significant.

Every moment is a lesson.

If you pay attention, every step, whether it’s forwards or backward, is a step closer to bringing you closer to who you are.

The you that you have been suppressing.

The you that you didn’t even know that you were.

The you that left your consciousness as soon as you were brought into this lifetime.

The you that you were supposed to forget about.

As I stand today, I am glad that I am not who I used to be.

Who I used to be was distanced from everything that I am.

I was a mere fragment of myself, lost, and not understanding why I couldn’t see any value that I hold. 

Every moment brings you closer to yourself.

I am more me than I have ever been, and now I have the clarity I never knew I could have.

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No fruit in my womb

If I had an opportunity to speak to myself ten years ago, I think the past version of myself would be flabbergasted at who I am in the present time. I think being so open and honest about my political standpoints, my sexuality, my mental health, and my spirituality would be enough to drop past Brookana’s jaw, but the biggest shocker is my standpoint on parenthood. 

I never dreamed of a career. I never cared about working and proving myself through my education and job. I never really cared about making a lot of money and having the best of everything. Those things never mattered to me. Ever since I was young I dreamt of being a mother. I wanted to help mold my children into the people that they wanted to become. I wanted to show them that there is so much more to this lifetime than what we can possibly fathom. I wanted to show them the beauty that surrounds us, and guide them through those lessons that can feel like torture just to prove that it’s not for nothing. I wanted to aid them in evolving as spiritual beings, and I wanted to applaud them every step of the way. 

I have thought and wondered for ages who these people were going to be and what kind of life we were going to have together. I never planned for perfection. I planned for stability, for moments of joy, for lessons. I thought about family dinners and making sure that my kids would feel safe to talk to me about anything. Having an open line of communication and being their safety person always meant the most to me. 

The point is, my heart’s desire was always to have children, biological or not. 

Back in the early years of high school, my hair started to fall out in clumps. My periods became extremely irregular, and when they did come, they were awful. My endocrinologist actually suggested the idea of me getting tested for PCOS, and it wasn’t long afterward that I received my official diagnosis. I didn’t care about anything that the gynecologist had to say. I stopped listening after I heard her say that when the time comes I might face difficulty achieving a pregnancy. 

For many years that broke me. It became an obsessive thought that would keep me awake at night. I don’t think I was mature enough to realize that motherhood isn’t blood. I couldn’t grasp the idea of adoption or fostering. I thought that my dream was crushed, and if I couldn’t have biological children, I couldn’t be a mom. 

I started dating my husband a week before my sixteenth birthday, and when things started getting serious, I started to think of the future. I thought about what our home would be like, what our day-to-day was going to look like, and who are children were going to be. Thinking about our future and being excited over it made things so much worse when I would remember that there was a chance that I couldn’t get pregnant.

For many, many years my husband and I would discuss what our life was going to look like, and children was always the main goal. 

Then, a couple of years ago, I started to transition into the person who is sitting here right now. I started doing more things for myself and really dove deep into self-exploration. For the first time in twenty-six years, I finally saw myself as important, and I gifted myself the right to be selfish. 

These past few years have been incredible. I don’t do things because I think that I have to, I do what I do for me. I have never felt more secure and proud, and this shift has really helped me be the person that I always knew that I was, but was afraid to show. 

About a year and a half ago, I went to the gynecologist because my husband and I had been trying to have kids, and it just wasn’t happening. To make a long story short, it would be incredibly hard to conceive, and if I were able to get pregnant, it would be incredibly dangerous for me and the baby. So, biological children was just something that was for sure out of the question. 

I made my peace with that long ago, but it did take my husband a little bit more time to understand that I couldn’t carry children. To be honest, finally hearing that pregnancy wasn’t in the cards for me made me feel somewhat at peace. For over a decade, not knowing if I could have children or not loomed over me, and knowing a definite answer gave me much-needed closure. 

We started the process of fostering with the intention of foster to adopt, but when we were towards the finish line, we decided to pause. 

My husband and I are young. I am twenty-eight, and he is twenty-nine. We have dreams of moving to the northeast and having a farm. We want to travel the world and see and learn as much as possible. We want to make the most out of this lifetime, and having kids at this moment in time would take all of that away. We want to be living our life together for us, and not for kids. 

So the person who always wanted nothing more than to be a mom became unsure, and if you were to ask me right now if I saw kids in my future my answer would be no. 

I just got to this place of independence, and I don’t know if I want to give that up. As much as I love my husband, I even have moments where marriage seems too much for me to handle. 

It just baffles me how you really do evolve as time goes on. The thought of being infertile haunted me for so long, and now I am beyond grateful for it. If I had kids years ago, it would have been the worst thing I could have done to myself. 

Life never turns out the way you expect it to. In five years’ time, I could be on my farm in the northeast with two kids, you never know. But for now, my time is for me, and I am perfectly happy with that.

Drained and Uninspired

I am drained. If there was a way to measure the amount of energy, willpower, and motivation that resides within me it would alarm even the calmest of souls. I am not immune to this feeling, being bipolar has been a great mentor in showing me the lifestyle of the chemically imbalanced. With that being said, I thought my severe lows and my extreme highs were of the past, but it looks my brain is trying to humble me once again. 

Microdosing has truly made a significant difference in my quality of life. By reading the first paragraph this might come as a surprise, but truly, life has been better than it ever has. I have found stability, balance, and joy. I have been more introspective than I have ever been and focused to make what I desire manifest into my reality. I don’t just wish for a difference, I make it happen. When I do find myself falling into a low, I can usually get myself out pretty quickly. The same goes when I start to experience some moments of mania, although I can’t really recall my last true manic episode. So that is why this time I am scared. Because I can’t get out. 

I have been feeling myself drift for a little while now, and my depression and anxiety has been having fun trying to show me what I have been missing. I know that some of it stems from my career path. I was supposed to be an author. I have half of a manuscript that I poured my entire soul into, and now I just lack the inspiration and energy to complete it. I was working with a publisher, we were in conversation about the publication process, book tour, the art. Everything. But I needed a paycheck now, so I had to put my dream on hold. And now I feel as if my energy is being wasted. I love creating and building up a story. I enjoy nothing more than developing a twist that no one was expecting. I become giddy when I create a character that is relatable, and to show their journey. I want my readers to feel everything from the safety of a cemetery to the sadness that a character may feel to the jolt of excitement that shoots through them from the climax of the tale. I want to leave an impression on those who take the time to read what I poured myself into. That is what I love. That is what makes life sweet for me. Despite knowing this, there is not enough of me to do my job, take care of my animals, take care of my husband, take care of other tasks that I need to complete to stay alive, and take care of myself in the form of creativity. 

To make a long story short, I feel stuck. I feel stuck creatively, mentally, and passionately. I feel as though my soul has once again detached itself from this vessel and now I am walking around doing everything that I am supposed to be doing but without gratification. I don’t feel fulfilled, I don’t feel happy, and I just feel stuck.

Suicidal ideation is an unwelcome friend of mine. Although I have been able to keep it at bay for the most part since November, it recently has been at the forefront of the battle lines inside of my head. It became apparent that I was in battle once again last week when I was lying in bed, using everything I had to convince myself not to do what I really wanted to do. The problem with being suicidal is you don’t know what to listen to. Your mind is telling you that you are so exhausted that you can’t carry on any longer, but your heart is pleading for you to give yourself another chance. The thought of dying is the peace that you are looking for at that moment, but taking your last breath in this lifetime is just as terrifying. You want both outcomes, but it’s almost as if you don’t want to be responsible for that decision. 

When I say that the only reason why I am here is because of my animals, I truly mean it. Anytime I have almost done anything, my furbabies can sense it, and they shield me from myself. Last week, all six of my babies recognized the agony that I was in and did everything in their power to comfort me. My dogs are always there to put their weight on me to help soothe my anxiety. My cats are never too far away to jump to my aid and lick my tears away. When I feel them, I can breathe again. They continue to watch over me time after time. 

I think, for the most part, I am authentically me. I am unapologetically sarcastic, dry, a little cold, lazy, honest, overbearing, controlling, loving, caring, sweet, an interesting mix of spontaneous, and someone who needs to plan ahead. I am quirky and odd. I can see the big picture of the universe and use the secrets that I have access to guide me through my life lessons. I am neither a pessimist nor an optimist. I look at patterns and I tend to be realistic with my approach to things. These are just a few things that put together the puzzle of me, Brookana. 

There are certain places in my life when I feel like I can’t fully be me. I find myself masking at work, and by the end of the day, I am just absolutely fucking tired. At work, I am soft-spoken, tender, respectful, and kind. And while all of those traits aren’t necessarily bad, they definitely aren’t all of me. By not being everything that I am, I am not being authentic, and that grows tiresome. 

I know within time I will get out of this low. I know I will start creating worlds and stories again, and one day, hopefully not too far from now, my manuscript will be complete and someone will be thinking about my words after they read the final page of my story. 

Mental health is scarier than any scary story I have ever written, but I am determined to keep fighting no matter what wounds I might inflict on myself. 

The Damage of Insecurities

When I was younger, I never felt like I was enough. I was told that I was too fat, too mentally unstable, too dramatic, not ambitious enough. I was even compared to the neighbors’ children. I knew that I was loved, but I always felt like there was more expected from me, and when I would succeed there was still a higher expectation from me. I think feeling that way for the majority of my childhood has brought on a level of insecurity that I am now attempting to battle as an adult. 

I am not a skinny girl. The only time that I have ever been “skinny” was when I was first diagnosed with type one diabetes, and I remained “thin” for a few years after that. I can acknowledge that I have an unhealthy relationship with food. I use food as an emotional crutch, and I can easily say that I sometimes binge. I had a family member who was hyper-fixated on food, and there were always little comments made about my eating and exercising habits. While one could say that their concern was out of the goodness of their heart, it always felt like they would have rathered me to look like them rather than myself, and that was beyond hurtful and damaging. Sometimes I look at myself and I think that I am disgusting, revolting, hideous, and I just want to hide in my bed and not be seen by anyone. Then I think about how I need to limit my calorie count and exercise for hours every day, and I spend hours researching herbal remedies to help suppress my appetite and detox my body, and then I think “why can’t I just have a healthy relationship with my physical body?” When it comes to my physical being, I am either confident with what I look like or I wish that I could be a completely different person. I know we all experience some sort of body dysmorphia, but I can’t help but wonder what my insecurities and relationship with food would look like if I had a different experience growing up. 

Who I am as a person is someone who I have consistently worked on. There are a few memories that I have from growing up that have stuck with me. I remember one time I was in an argument with a parent while one of my grandparents was over, and that grandparent made some comment to my parent and they replied “I have tried to change her but she is already like her blank*.” The moment that comment left their lips I felt immediately not good enough. The person that my parent compared me to was someone that they despised, someone who they wished was completely different, and it made me doubt myself. They wanted to change me. They voluntarily admitted that they made an active effort to change me, who wouldn’t question who they were as a result? Another time where someone close to me made me doubt myself was when I was told that I would never be a success. I would never graduate from college, and essentially, I was going to be a loser. They were right about one thing, I didn’t graduate from college, but that was a choice that I had made when I discovered that there was more to life than working a 8-5 job. I figured out how to live life differently, and although I have zero regrets, the intent with their comment was made out of hostility. To insinuate that I would never be what society’s definition of success is and that I would never amount to anything caused some damage, and once again, made me question myself and what I am capable of. 

To say that I wasn’t loved by my parents would be disrespectful to them as well as untrue because I know that they have loved me for my entire life. The way that my parents showed their love was through providing, and as much as I appreciate and love them for that, who I have become today is who I chose to be, and not who they raised me to be. It would be fair to say that there has been problematic behaviors from both of my mom and dad, as well as extending family, that has affected me into my adult life. There were two people in my life who always brought me comfort, who always made me see my worth and the value that I bring to this world, and I am forever grateful to those two people. My grandma and my aunt were always the ones that I felt the safest around, and I am forever grateful for them, because otherwise I would have had a very lonely childhood. 

Due to the fact that I never felt like I got the love that I was looking for from my parents growing up, I know I have developed an insecurity with the people who are now in my life as an adult. For example, my best friend. I am constantly worried that I am not being a good enough friend to her, or that I am not doing enough for our friendship. Sometimes I worry that her relationships with other people hold more value to her than her relationship with me, and I worry that one day our friendship will end because of that. I know it stems from fear that I am not good enough, and this insecurity is one that I hate the most. I know that she and I have an incredibly special bond that is really hard to come by. We have been friends for well over a decade at this point, and we are family. But I am scared that one day she won’t be there anymore. I feel like it’s an internal battle. I know that we have a solid friendship. I know that we can have open conversations about literally anything and everything will be okay. I have trust in our friendship, and yet I need validation that everything is okay. I am even that way with my husband. If I feel even a slight shift in his energy I immediately think that I am not good enough for him and he wants to leave. I think that something is wrong and that he is no longer happy. Even after he tells me that everything is okay, I still worry. I honestly think that it stems from my best friend and my husband being the first healthy relationships that I have ever had, other than my grandma and my aunt, and I am terrified of losing that. This is something that I recognize is INCREDIBLY unhealthy, and as much as I hate to admit, on the verge of approaching codependency, and I need to learn that I can’t hold so much doubt and fear within my relationships with people. Although I feel like I am the type of person that may need more validation than the “average” person, it is unfair for me to expect those around me to provide that. 

The person that I am today is someone who I have made an active effort to evolve into. There are things about myself that I need to tweak, but that is why we are here. We are spiritual beings having an earthly experience, and to say that I have learned a lot would be an understatement. Of course all of my shortcomings are not my parents fault. I take a lot of responsibility for my faults and flaws. I sometimes wish that my childhood was different, but there is nothing that I can do about my past other than use it to positively influence my present and future. Insecurities are little demons that we all have to battle, and hopefully one day mine will be a part of my past.

*Omitting name due to privacy.

Why I’m Here

I am here, but there are countless times where I had wished that I wasn’t. 

Pills, knives, razors, they aren’t just things that you use every day.

To someone like me, they are a means to an end.

They are the key to unlock final peace.

The thought of death doesn’t scare me.

In fact, more than anything, I look forward to death.

The idea of a peace that you aren’t capable of achieving in this realm completely captivates me. 

But also the notion of a new beginning brings me to a land of curiosity.

Suicidal ideation. 

Suicidal ideation.

Suicidal ideation.

Are you weak if you think about your death?

Are you weak if you think about what you are in control of?

No.

You’re strong, and the strongest among them all.

If you have thought about it and you’re still here, that took a kind of strength that others cannot possibly understand unless they have experienced what you have gone through. 

The reality is: you’re still here. 

Why?

For me, I live for one person.

This person has come to mean the world to me.

I see this person, I see who they are growing to be, and I am not ready to say goodbye to them yet. 

I see all of the goals that they are close to accomplishing, and I want to watch them live out their dreams.

I see them appreciating things, and it brings me hope.

I watch them go through the lowest of lows and walk out the other side just fine. 

I watch them stare at their furbabies with more love than they have ever felt, and I want to watch them continue to experience that amount of pure bliss and admiration. 

I see them exploring being a mother to humans, something that they have wanted for what seems like forever.

I live for me.

I live because I have more living to do.

Your moments of darkness are just cracks in time. 

The great thing about cracks is that even if they appear, they can always be patched right back up.

You matter. 

You have more life in you. 

The darkness is temporary. 

Mastering the Art of Loneliness

I am a conundrum. 

There are so many aspects of myself that I question. 

Here are some examples: 

I am bisexual with a preference for women, yet here I am in a healthy, loving, committed eleven-year relationship with a man who I love more than a hobbit loves The Shire and food.

I love my family, and yet I don’t speak with them much at all.

I enjoy writing, and yet I am lacking inspiration.

But my personal favorite: 

I thrive in my alone time, yet I am starting to drown in the Lake of Loneliness. 

For years I swore off allowing others into my life, and for the most part, I still do this to this very day.

I have told myself day in and day out that my husband and my best friends were all that I needed, but then there are glitches in the matrix where I realize that I am actually lonely. 

I crave friends. 

I crave interactions.

I crave developing and maintaining relationships with others. 

And yet here I am, twenty-seven with a husband and two friends who are my family. 

The issue remains: “Am I actually lonely or do I want what others have?”

I think it is a little bit of both.

I am a difficult pill to swallow.

I am highly opinionated.

I can be clingy.

I have a million ideas and I want each one to come alive.

I don’t sugar coat things.

I ask the questions that most people don’t want to answer.

See the problem with knowing that you aren’t really likeable is knowing that you aren’t really likeable. 

My issue is that it is hard for me to put on a mask. 

Some people can hide everything that they are feeling and thinking with ease, but I just can’t do that.

I don’t like confrontation, but I also don’t like bullshit. 

As the kids used to put it: I am not fake. 

You get what you get with me. 

I also am not the type of person that trusts someone right off of the bat.

Some may say that this is a coping mechanism due to previous trauma.

Like I am building a wall against my fragile soul to protect myself from getting hurt.

But I just think it is being smart. 

I am being cautious, sure. 

But I am just being smart.

So here we are.

Faults and flaws filled to the rim. 

And I am confused by my emotions.

Do I want more friends or is this another glitch?

I think I want more friends.

I think I am done with mediocre friends though.

I don’t want acquaintances. 

I don’t want friends that I meet up for coffee with to say hi for an hour once every other month. 

No.

I want relationships.

I want a friendship where we can sit on one of our couches and have deep conversations about the world.

I want a friendship where I can trust and rely on them and vice versa.

I want a friendship where we can feel safe around each other.

Where it feels like that friendship was destined.

Like you are soulmates in the friend realm. 

I have had relationships like this, and they are beautiful.

Your life becomes a little bit better than before.

You start to smile a little more often.

But more times than not, they dwindle away.

I am over that.

I want something that lasts.

I want a true friendship. 

I have mastered the art of loneliness.

Now I want to conquer the world of relationships. 

Soul in Yearning: Fostering & Adoption

The world that we live in is not a world that I am happy about. You would think that as a society we would be more evolved, but the truth of the matter is that we are not where we need to be. Not just in America, but everywhere. Racism is still lingering around, causing harm and pain everywhere you look. People who belong to the LGBTQ+ community are being told by others that they love that they made “the wrong choice” or that “they are not good enough.” Women are still fighting for their rights. People who are seeking asylum in “safe havens” are being turned away for not having thousands of dollars to pay to legally be there. This world is not where it needs to be. 

As a woman, I can admit that things have improved, and I can thank the women of the past who gave me the opportunities that I now have. I can vote, I can obtain birth control, I can work any job that any man can work, and I can speak my mind. (With that being said, we cannot deny that human trafficking, child marriage, and slavery is still a horrifying reality in our world.) So because of the rights that I have, I can have any career that I want. I can be a doctor, a contractor, a history professor, whatever I want. 

Now with that being said, I don’t think there was ever a time where I have wanted to run towards a certain career path. It is interesting because there are women out there who said “I can’t wait to become a nurse” who became nurses. The same with teachers, accountants, business owners, etc. That was never me. I love to write, and I am making a career out of that, but it’s not my biggest dream. Every time I publish a piece that I am proud of I do feel my self-esteem going up, but it’s not enough where I feel like I really have accomplished a dream. 

My dream has always been something that you still could consider to be a “job.” And from what I hear, it is one of the most challenging jobs around. I have always, and when I say always I truly mean ALWAYS, wanted to be a stay at home mom. I remember being a young girl and playing with baby dolls and feeling as if I were on cloud nine. I remember thinking of names and sticking with those names for years. Penelope and Oliver. I even had the nicknames picked out. I used to daydream about finding out that I was pregnant and telling my partner, and us crying for hours due to the elation that we felt. (The dramatics) To this day, I still have recurring dreams of pregnancy and birth, and my husband and I holding our child for the first time. Those dreams are starting to fade though, and new dreams are starting to come forth. And I love them and yearn for them just as much. 

I found out a few months ago that it would be highly unlikely for me to conceive and carry my own child. You would think that it would hurt. You would think that it felt as if a dagger was plunged right into my heart. But I have known that the likelihood of me having biological children was slim to none since I was a young teenager. I have PCOS, which is Polycystic Ovary Syndrome, which makes it very difficult to conceive. I have to take birth control in order to get my period every month, otherwise, I could go months in-between periods. I am not ovulating if I am not getting my period, and in order to get my period consistently, I need to be on birth control, which will prevent me from getting pregnant. The fucking irony, am I right?  My doctor said “sure, you can lose weight, but your body still won’t be able to carry a child safely.” At one point my husband and I went probably two years without using birth control or condoms, and yet here I am. Childfree. The woman who has dreamed about being a mother for her entire life, (well, for as long as can remember) can’t have children. I feel as if I am the leading character in a tragedy.

I made my peace long ago with alternative ways of expanding our family, and to be honest, thinking about those opportunities bring the same, if not more, excitement with the notion of bringing tiny humans into our world. There is a way where my husband and I could have a biological child, and that is through surrogacy. Not only will that be difficult in more ways than one, but it’s also costly. My husband and I are a younger couple, so dropping tens of thousands of dollars on something that is more likely to not work is out of the question. So then I started researching and looking into other options. Then I found my answer, and that was when my soul lit up. Adoption. Fostering. Foster to adopt. That is the answer. That is what I have spent my entire life looking for. My flame came back and it was brighter than ever, and I deep dived into what that world would be like and what kind of parent I could be to my child(ren.) Then I started daydreaming of new moments. I started daydreaming of the moment when Stephen (my husband) and I received the phone call that we were matched with a child. I started thinking about learning everything that there is to know about them, including their dreams and aspirations. I started to think about how I can teach them about values and morals, and how I would show them that it is okay to stand up for what you believe in, including yourself. I want to show them that this world isn’t perfect, but it sure is beautiful. I envision giving them everything that I have just to watch them smile for a few moments, and my heart starts to melt. 

I feel like I love a child that I don’t even have yet. I don’t wake up at the butt crack of dawn to wake my child up for school. I don’t hear “mommy” yet. I have five furchildren, and I know that they love me and my heart is so full because of them, but I want to be a mother to human children so, so, so badly. Instead of pregnancy dreams, I dream of a young boy. Ten to be exact. And I see him in the dead of night multiple times a week every week. And then I think about him all day long and I yearn for him. I know my son is out there in the world just waiting for me to find him. Little does he know, he is already so loved. 

For years I warned my husband that there was always a chance that we would never parent biological children, and he always would say “Don’t worry Bebe. We will be parents no matter what.” But I think he held on to hope despite his encouraging words. I think this because of his tone after my gynecologist appointment a few months back. You could hear the shock and the sadness after I told him what my doctor had said. For me, it was important to focus on how Stephen was feeling after hearing that information rather than placing focus on myself. I had already worked past that painful information. I was able to embrace our new reality with open arms and accept that we will be parents, just not through blood. Stephen, as much as he was always supportive of the idea of adoption, still was hoping that there would be a medical miracle and we would conceive. I asked him what he needed from me, I tried to comfort him the best that I could, and I gave him time to process the information before bringing up the next steps. I wanted him to work through his pain, and I wanted to help him the best way that I could. 

A few months went by and we started talking about when we should start the process of fostering. Our goal is to foster to adopt, but we are aware of how difficult and lengthy of a process that can be. It doesn’t matter to us what ethnicity our children are, it doesn’t matter to us if they are apart of the LGBTQ+ community, we will welcome any child that needs and wants a loving home. Our goal is for adoption, but we are more than happy to foster and open our home to children who need one. For a little bit, we stalled on starting the process of becoming parents simply because we didn’t know when the right time would be. The reality is there never will be the perfect time to become parents. All we know is that we are ready now, and we are willing to do whatever it takes. 

So we filled out an inquiry with DCFS, and now our journey has officially begun. I am so unbelievably filled with excitement, eagerness, anxiety, and nerves. The only fear that I have is that Stephen and I won’t be approved, but I know that we will be okay. I keep telling myself that in eight to twelve months, all of this will be in the past and I can officially enjoy the present. I can’t wait to see my children, and I can’t wait for this phase to begin. 

I love the fact that women are being so open with infertility these days. I love the fact that I don’t feel ashamed for not being able to have biological children. I want to be able to share and document this process because I don’t want anyone to feel helpless when it comes to being infertile. Also, I think it is important to know what going through the process of fostering and adoption is like. 

Whatever faith you belong to, or even if you don’t belong to any religion, could you please send out positive vibes and energy, prayers, or phrases of manifestation for us? It would be the greatest gift that you could give Stephen and me. I truly believe that one day very, very soon we will be parents, but a little extra boost would be extraordinary. 

Anyways, hearing the news that you can’t have biological children shouldn’t devastate you to the point of giving up. Depending on your perspective, it could actually be really beautiful. Your child, no matter who and where they came from, was destined to be yours. Your souls were meant to find and be with each other. Just remember that the soul of a human being is superior to blood.

The Beauty in Belief

We grew up with the idea that there are three things that should not be discussed. Politics, religion, and money. And while I can agree to that to a certain extent, I think we have been trained to not talk about those things because they can become quite uncomfortable to talk about. With that being said, typically the most uncomfortable topics are the ones that need to be discussed the most. So, on today’s episode of “What the fuck is on Brookana’s mind today?” I would like to introduce you to the world of religion. 

My dad was never a religious person. He doesn’t believe in God, or any deity for that matter, and that is totally fine. My mom identifies as a Christian, and she tried to get my brother and I involved in the church at a young age. I briefly mentioned in another piece that I was confirmed as a methodist, but I never have believed in God. I don’t believe in the Devil, resulting in me not believing in Hell. Truthfully, I think I mostly went through with confirmation because I wanted to hang out with the other kids, and I thought it was fun. I was actually so against the idea of God and Heaven and Hell that I actually used to mock the people who believed in it. I wanted to rebel against it for some unknown reason, and I never shied away from making my opinion known.

I used to have very little respect for Christianity. I honestly thought that it was a religion where people could pretend to be amazing individuals in the church so that they could feel better about being horrible in the real world. I thought that Christianity was nothing more than a hypocritical, thieving, and conniving institution where people could get away with everything because “Jesus died for our sins.” Now, I still think that there are some people who lean more towards the questionable side within Christianity, however, you can say that about every single religion. There are always going to be a few bad seeds no matter where you go. 

There were points in time where I felt the need to believe in something. I had always been open to there being something beyond this life. I would research different religions and think to myself “yes, that is absolutely correct!” or “wow, that makes a lot of sense.” There were times where I thought “maybe I should just be a Christian.” I would find myself praying to God, trying to connect, but there was never anything. I never felt a connection. My heart was never in it. I never believed in God, and yet I was trying to because I knew I believed in something but I didn’t know what it was. 

You see, I had always had a special relationship with the universe. I have always walked outside barefoot on the grass so that I could feel the Earth’s vibrations shooting up into me. I used to feel an incredible amount of peace by lying on the grass (despite my extreme allergies) or by touching a tree or holding a flower. Animals have always been attracted to me and I have always been attracted to them. I feel the most wholesome when I am outside and I can hear the wind blowing past me or the birds chirping. 

I have always felt that I could see and feel souls from beyond. I used to have premonitions when I was younger. The dream that I remember the most was my brother and I playing in our playroom in the basement of our home, having a conversation at the same time. I played with specific toys, I said specific things, and then a few days later, it all happened exactly how I dreamt it. I remember in high school I once told a classmate of mine that I could see and feel spirits. He laughed at me and told the whole class. It didn’t bother me though, because people don’t necessarily know how to handle something that seems too out of the ordinary. Some people aren’t capable of accepting the things that are right in front of them. Another thing that I have known about myself is that I am EXTREMELY sensitive to energy. I can tell you if someone has more good or bad intentions. I know when someone is lying to me. I know when someone isn’t feeling well. I can feel what others feel. I can easily figure out who a person is within moments of being within their presence. I used to think that I hated people, but as I have gotten older and have learned about my gifts I have learned that I do not hate people, I just hate the energy that radiates off of them. I am trying to learn how to not allow others’ negative energy to penetrate me, but it takes time and skill, both of which I need more of. (By the way, if you were curious about what gifts I have I am a Clairsentient Empath with a dash of telepathy.)  

Anyway, I have written an article about my religion and my beliefs, but in case you didn’t read it I am a Wiccan and I practice witchcraft. I have never been more at peace in my life, and I have never felt so sure about myself or my path. This is what I am supposed to be doing, and just like I have said before all the beliefs that I have ever had finally have a home. Another beautiful thing is that I don’t believe in God, but I have found my deities. My deities have been so helpful to me and my path, and I truly have a deep connection with them. I work with Brigid and Hades, and thinking of them brings pure bliss into my soul. 

This leads me to why I am writing this. I have noticed that a lot of people think that what I am doing is nonsense. A lot of times, people voice concerns over me reading Tarot, talking about spirits, or even doing rituals. I like to talk a lot about Wicca and witchcraft and make videos explaining it because I think there is nothing to hide. In fact, if I could, I would teach everyone about my beliefs. This is only because I know that I find all belief systems so intriguing, and I thought that maybe others would like to learn as well. I refuse to ever be the type of person who gatekeeps my beliefs or the type of person that pushes my beliefs on to others. 

Many moons ago, my mom said something to me that has stuck. It has been something that I have often reflected upon, but haven’t fully appreciated until the past few years. When I was a teenager and in my “rebellious” years, she once sat me down and told me that it doesn’t matter what others believe in as long as it brings them peace. She said that, as a Christian, believing in God and in Heaven is comforting to her, and it isn’t anyone’s place to judge what brings people happiness. And you know what, she is absolutely correct. Now that I have found my spirituality and my “home” I understand what it feels like to be attacked for your beliefs. In my eyes, as long as you are not harming anyone or anything then I would want you to find peace with your beliefs or even a lack of them. Even if you don’t believe in anything at all that is fine! 

It boils down to this, no one, no matter what religion or belief system you belong to, can say with one-hundred percent certainty that their belief system is factual. There are thousands of religions out in this world, and any one of them could be what actually happens, or none at all. There is even a possibility that once we die that’s it. It could just be blackness and nothing. We don’t know. But that is the beauty of belief. There is something so special in the feeling of believing and resonating with something so much that your soul feels at peace when you think about it. There is nothing that feels better than strengthening your spirituality, and for me, working on my gifts. 

I am a human being, and I have had to learn a lot about respect and appreciation over the years. When it comes to others and their beliefs, especially with Christianity, I have had to learn to allow others to believe what they want to believe if it makes them happy and if it helps their soul. I don’t think that there is a single person on this planet that should judge someone else’s belief system, or tell them that it is not real. Those people are the people who are somewhat empty on the inside because anyone capable of tarnishing something so precious to another person has some life lessons to learn. 

So, with that being said, no matter what belief system you believe in never allow someone to make you feel bad about that. Take pity upon them, because they are lacking while you are thriving. There is a little bit of magic within us all, and that magic stems from the soul.

Why I Will Be Spending the Holidays Alone

I have made a decision that could forever impact my relationship with my family members, and I refuse to feel bad about it. I lived in Texas for three and a half years, which means that there were three years where I did not celebrate Thanksgiving or Christmas with a lot of my family members. At the time, it was awful. I felt so lonely and I missed everyone so much. Phone calls felt like salt being poured in the wound, and times that used to feel magical turned dark and depressing. 

I live within an hour of all of my family now, but I have made the choice to not spend holidays with anyone this year. Last year spending time with my loved ones felt perfect, but there are HUGE differences between times past and the present. 

First off, I live in America. I think everyone across the globe realizes that the way the coronavirus was handled here was laughable at best, and now we are suffering the consequences as a nation. I feel like our leader isn’t the only one to blame, due to the countless people who actively decide to throw parties, not wear masks, etc, but nonetheless, these people could be umbrellaed under Trump and his negligent and careless response to this deadly global pandemic. Anyways, with spikes starting to occur again, and many questioning if the second wave is here, I do not feel comfortable being indoors, in a smaller space, with lots of people. Especially as an immunocompromised individual I need to take as many precautions as necessary. Now the family members reading this are probably upset at this point do to the fact that I am traveling out of the country in less than a week to attend my best friend’s wedding, however, we pretty much have the resort to ourselves, everything is going to be outside, we all had Covid tests that were sent out to a lab, and we will be wearing our masks. I am also traveling to Salem for a few days after that, where I will be practicing social distancing, I will be getting tested again for Covid, and I will be wearing a mask. 

Now another reason why I won’t be participating in this year’s holiday festivities is because of the election. Most, if not all, of my parents have different beliefs than I do, and that is totally fine! However, I do not like or appreciate the way that some of them have handled it. Now, I have been VERY vocal about where I stand, and there have been times where I have said things when I probably should not have. I have been honest and upfront about my lack of respect for those who follow Trump, and although that may be hurtful, at least I am being honest. And just to clarify, I haven’t lost full respect, but respect has been lost. I know for a fact that they think I am “crazy” for my beliefs, so it couldn’t come as a surprise that I feel that way. Anyways, I don’t feel like being gaslighted or told that I am wrong or told that I am crazy for voting for the side that actually gives a fuck about civil rights, so I am making the choice to avoid those conversations. Also, it is difficult to have a conversation with anyone who refuses to hear where you are coming from. I have found that Trump supporters like to just yell at you when you start speaking about what you believe in or they just insult you. 

Thirdly, I am skipping holidays due to my mental health. Everyone has had to go through depression and anxiety this year, especially with Covid and the election. For those who suffer from clinical mental health issues, this year has been actual hell. I think that the chaos that has been this year has finally caught up to me, and as a result, I have suffered with my mental health. I have been working with the same therapist for over a year now, and I am accepting that I am allowed to create boundaries for myself if I feel like they need to be there. I used to be that person that didn’t prioritize myself and my well-being over others, but I am not that way anymore. If you have kept up with my pieces, you would know that I was kind of reborn earlier this year. I firmly believe that this was my “selfish” year. This was the year where I focused on healing myself, on finding myself, on figuring out what I wanted out of this lifetime. This was the year that I really became confident and happy with who I am. I stopped caring so much about what people thought of me. I stopped dropping my life for others when they are incapable of doing the same for me. I even gave my husband an out, because he was uncomfortable with my newfound freedom and realizations. At the end of the day, twenty-twenty was a terrible year, but it also… wasn’t? I feel found. I found myself. Twenty-twenty was my year of metamorphosis, and I am happy that I can finally see my value. When you respect yourself life becomes so much sweeter. I know that there will always be things that you need to do that you do not want to do, but there are going to be times where you can choose to not participate in something. My stance is that although my personal evolution is something that I am happy and proud of, there are many other factors as to why I need a break. This year has been toxic. This year things have come to light that have swayed me in a different direction. This year has been rough. Like I mentioned before, my mental health has paid the price for that. I refuse to sacrifice myself and my energy just to appease others, so I am taking a break. 

This is a toxic time. This is a time where we must be diligent about protecting ourselves. I have worked tirelessly with my therapist to come to this realization that it is okay to distance myself for a bit from everyone, including those that I love. This is what I need to feel better. This is what I need to get my energy back on track. This is what I need to detox of toxicity out of me. I love my family and my friends, I really do, but I am just starting to love me and take care of me and I need my time. 

The holidays are meant to be a time of joy and happiness and celebration, but if you don’t feel that do you really need to “celebrate?” No. Anyday can be a holiday if you really think about it, and it is okay if you need to isolate for a bit in order to heal and work on yourself. I am sure that a lot of people reading this will be upset by the words that I have written, and that is okay. You are just as entitled to your feelings just as I am entitled to mine. I wish I felt bad about not wanting to celebrate the holidays, but I really don’t. I already feel happy. I already feel like I can breath. I love that I am going to have this time to continue healing myself, and I like the pressure is off and that I am no longer anxious about that. 

Don’t feel guilty about giving yourself time. You deserve to go through your journey and process however you need to do it, and don’t allow anyone to make you feel like you are making a selfish or bad choice. Take care of you, it will be the best thing that you can do.

In the world of politics

I am not a closed-minded person. When it comes to politics, I would consider myself to be pretty liberal, which is ironic considering the people who raised me. I come from a family of divorce, so I am lucky enough to have four parents who I really do love. All four of them worked hard to provide a beautiful life for me and for my brothers, and my life is as wonderful as it is due to the blood, sweat, and tears that literally excreted from their bodies. I am definitely my own person, but there are bits and pieces of all of them within me. With that being said, I think I am the black sheep of my family. I am openly bisexual, I am open (probably too open) about my mental health struggles, I decided college wasn’t for me and I have been working tirelessly on my business and my writing, I have moderately modified my body with piercings and tattoos, and my political beliefs drastically differ from those in my family. I am different.

I have seen a lot of posts on social media lately about how people are saying that they still want to be friends with people or still respect people who may have a difference of opinion with it comes to this election, and I am going to tell you why I personally have an issue with that. Read this with caution. 

The political climate in our country at this time frightens me down to my inner core. January 20th, 2017 changed our country. Now for better or for worse is your own opinion, but in my eyes, this is not the country that I grew up in. I grew up in a world where we were told that the USA was the best country in the world. Every morning in school we would say the Pledge Allegiance to the Flag. We were told to have pride in being Americans. To me, that’s laughable. The past three and a half years have been a joke. 

I came from a place where telling people that I was an American wasn’t a thing that I thought about, but now I am embarrassed. I am sad. I am distraught. Seeing how divided we all have become as a nation is truly devastating, but not as devastating as watching humanity being ripped away more and more with each and every day. 

I can’t even begin to fathom what people of color have gone through for all of these centuries. Can you imagine what it must feel like to be a human being but are constantly told that you are not good enough? Could you imagine dying because of the color of your skin? Could you imagine being the victims of police brutality but then when it is brought up “black on black crime” is constantly used as an excuse? I sure can’t imagine what that is like, and I’ll tell you why. It is because I am white. I am sitting here, watching my brothers and sisters suffering every day, and it sickens me to think that there are people out in this world that does not see an issue with this. Our country was created on a foundation of racism and colonization, and we have been working hard, or at least I thought, to crack that foundation. But now it seems that racism is at the forefront of our nation, and it is disgusting, humiliating, and shameful. In my opinion, the ones who deny it are the ones who are responsible for it. That goes for everyone, not just government officials. Also, just a quick side note, something that makes my blood boil is the riot, looting, and destruction of statues. Can we just take a moment to talk about that? I am sick of people saying that it is not okay for people to be doing those things because destroying property and taking things doesn’t do anything. To me, that screams “We value material things over those who have faced oppression for countless years.” That’s pathetic, and if you value humanity you should reconsider your stance on that. People are fed up, and rightfully so. Just think about that. 

Let’s talk about the LGBTQ+ community. I am apart of that community, and I am proud to be apart of it. What this “president” wants to do with our rights, especially trans rights, makes me want to throw up. June 26th, 2015 was a beautiful day for our country. That was when same-sex marriage was legalized in the United States. Now that is being threatened, and that is an absolute disgrace. I don’t care if it is religious or whatever, the fact that anyone would take issue with two (or more, I don’t judge) people being in love and wanting to celebrate that is the most atrocious and vile thing. 

Let’s talk about women’s rights. If I have a government telling me what I can and cannot do with my body I will scream. I am a woman who is basically infertile, and you will NEVER hear me say that someone else should never be allowed the option of abortion. If I was pregnant and wanted to use that option I would hope that I could find a doctor to do it for me in a safe manner. And I would hope that insurance would help me to pay for it. Just like how I think that companies should always allow birth control to be covered through their insurance companies. Also, while we are at it, let’s start paying women equal wages, okay?

When I talk to Trump supporters the main thing that is always brought up as to why they support Trump is money. Taxes, stocks, blah blah blah. Now don’t get me wrong, I am not oblivious to the fact that we need money to survive. I use money to put food and water in my body, to pay for my house, to take care of my animals, to pay for my insulin, and to pay for the five mental health medications that help me want to actually stay alive. (Hey dark humor, how are you?) We need it to survive. But what I find interesting is that the majority of Trump supporters refuse to either bring up civil rights topics or they just deny them altogether, which is laughable. There is this blind allegiance that I don’t understand. Like with me, I can see the pros and the cons of Biden, because he is human and there are things about him that I like and don’t like. But Trump supporters only CHOOSE to see the good. Blind allegiance. 

My summary is this: I feel like most, not all, but most Trump supports are hyperfocused on the financial aspect of everything rather than the human aspect of it, and that is why I can not be friends with people who are on Trump’s side. How can I respect people who don’t place a value on civil rights? How can I trust that they care about me as a bi-sexual woman when they support a man who doesn’t give a fuck about the LGBTQ+ community or women? Sorry, but I don’t have respect for Trump or anyone, even family members, who back him. He is a child-man. He throws temper tantrums when others threaten his God complex, and I am not here to enable him or his minions.