I never know…

Each Night as I lay down, I say a prayer for one more day. I wonder and wait, because I know how quick death can come, will today be our last? Will today be mine? I wonder a lot. And I am completely ok with that, this lifetime around? Has made me wonder, a lot, and about a lot. My teachers thought I wasn’t listening, and daydreaming? Maybe so, some, but maybe this mind of mine thinking of a better way. Mama Jean told me to play the quiet game a lot growing up. And maybe I didn’t speak properly? No ones really told me, except my kids, and my Mama.

But I love Mama Jean, even if we fight all day. Love is fight for something. A dream, of two crazy witches, woman, goddesses, Gods own, each from heaven, cloaked. Teachers in their own right. Different as hell, and yet friends. Because in 1963 these woman planted a garden, thinking it was just one plant, removed, and replanted. But I grew my roots back, and reached back to my Mama, and showed her what I did with what she gave me. And what Mama Jean helped me be.

Crazy is the definition of something we can’t understand. I have felt like that my whole life, growing, listening to people, trying what they say, failing at times and success. But I really don’t care if Mama thinks I am crazy, it would be nice if she could get me. Yeah, and I have had a fit about it. Yep. I own my fit. But, like, how do you tell your Mama she still won? That I came back and that is a win.

See? These two woman, so different, in this precious lifetime, show the power of love and Mother energy and how it comes together, even if we don’t meet. Woman are sisters above all. They may fight like cats, and scratch, but they love just as hard. And not all the same way. And I accept that and have displayed that here in my honest words.

My Mama’s don’t kiss and tell. They don’t have to, I tell. Meaning, I see what they have done. I have let the cats out of the bag, and told the terrible awful of my perceptions as a child growing up as Adopted.  And my anxiety about being cut off from my Mama. Like get over it, I had to? Ouch for us all. Ok? Everybody’s wounded, but I tend the wounded, because I tended my own wound. No one saw it, but me..

And I went through my growing up years being able to just power through. And be strong and tough, as boys to prove whatever I felt inside that needed proving. And Mama Jean gave me hell about it. She saw my insecurities, and she helped me be stronger, sometimes too strong. I work on it daily. Both, insecurities and strength, and tempering them.

But, I don’t want to go to bed at night wondering, “will I break through?”, or “will today be our last?” I so want more, of these woman. I know they are holding out, all woman hold out for the one. Now, I am not a man. But I am a Wo-man. Why can’t we make that work? I am so much better than a man. In of course a platonic if you must go there with your mind kind of way, I will clarify for the dirty brains.

I am going to bed now, and I pray, tomorrow is the day.

My dream comes true.

Thanks for diving deep with me tonight.

Gods blessing on you; always, and forever.

I love my Mama’s truly. But their minds can imagine some stuff! Look at me for one? And look how hard they are on themselves. When they can’t see me loving them both, with more than enough to go around, Chelsie Lynn will testify for that. Little poop. I love you.

Mama? You said you game me love and I threw it back?

Honey bun, I never let go of that love, what you talk bout?

LOL Always in my heart, mind and spirit. Forever in time.

Agape loves anyway. xo


Hell yeah I am crazy.


You have not seen the likes of me.

My Mama can hold herself for years, away from her own baby.

And with that Force. I come back with that Force.

Recognize my Mama in me.

You better think again about Mama?

If your wise?

She’s in me working her own magic.

Cuz we are bonded.

She’s using me to break free.

She wanted me to come back and wake her up.

That is a child’s code always.

If you don’t know that?

Well. Write it down and remember it.

Mamas count on us to make sense if a hurt.

She can’t run away from and that hurts more when I am near.

I am the antidote.

Her love for herself is within me.

Like a boat on the oceans horizon.

She’s seeing me more and more.

And my flag that reads, Grace!!!

Besides- people say crazy when they don’t understand. To cover up how dumb they are.

Intelligent people get that.

Einstein did.

My content is…

The missing piece to why Mama is like she is.

And as I write my side of this story my Mamas both are, well, either catching up or staying behind. In our past. Ignorant of truths remedy

As I speak of my sisters and there actions or lack of actions, who are they in our grand family dynamic? Friend or foe? Of what truly is and what can be? Who is the enemy here?

Is it me? Or is it Mama? Is it Mama Jean? Or is it ignorance? Meaning, not knowing? Not being told? Not being educated?

If this was England, and we the family of the crown? Who is Victoria choosing to be? Who am I? To they? An enemy of a life long gone. Like 55 years!! Your just now realizing you have a fourth sister and it’s 25 years later? And you don’t even give a shit? About her? Who’s from your own Mama? Wow!

Well. I am queen Elizabeth in this family, coming home from exile. My sisters may be who they please and we all can deduce from action or none, their stand. The fence of indifference to their own Mamas need. Wake the fuck up! Girls!!

Like I have to come home. All excited. About you all. And this is how you do me? Wtf. Mama. I feel bad for you. You raised them. Without me. That’s what you get. But I will do the work they don’t want to do.

No slacking here. I work hard for what I want.

I slay.

Here’s a video. She says what I feel.

Best revenge is your paper. Your skin. That’s give to you by birth.

Adopted people many times feel like slaves.

I own it. And refute it. I am no slave except to god who made me. Get straight.

That’s my Mama too! Back off! Let a girl get some love! You hogs!