i belong to me!


I went through some shit. 

Don’t we all? 

It is important that we process and digest these powerful disruptions, taking as long as we need too. “Get over it” is the most harmful thing (in my opinion) we can say to ourselves and/or each other.

Last night, in bed reading, “Braving the Wilderness” by Brene Brown,I was in a state of incredulousness reading each word, my soul nodding in agreement.  Yes, yes, my spirit exclaimed repeatedly as I noticed my pillow was wet from tears that I hadn’t even noticed leaking from my eyes.  Am I crying?

“True belonging is the spiritual practice of believing in and belonging to yourself so deeply that you can share your most authentic self with the world and find sacredness in both being a part of something and standing alone in the wilderness. True belonging doesn’t require you to change who you are; it requires you to be who you are” (Brown PhD, LMSW, 2017).

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I had tried ‘belonging’ to everyone and everywhere before I had my two-year stint in the darkness, where I had been suicidally depressed, went through a few foiled suicide attempts, approx. 7-9 hospitalizations then emerging on the other side of hell sans decades of bullshit facades, clutching the gifts I had collected in the abyss, firmly, not yet understanding the extraordinary bonuses I had collected in that dark night of the soul.

After reemerging, things were different, I fully sensed bullshit. Had my intuition back, decades of societal crap were gone.  I was buffeted clean, and raw from the abrasions but aware, awake, and painfully exposed.  I had decisions to make.  Continue trying to fit in and risk having it happen again, or be true to myself and risk…

Being alone.

*sighs*, it was a scary no brainer, one ripe with emotion and trepidation, but I embarked on one of the most courageous and awakening journeys of my life that required writing a letter of ‘I love you, but this isn’t working out, let me know if you ever want to work on us, together and I’ll be there’ letters to more people than I anticipated.  The sound of crickets was predominately the reply I received.  I had to learn to surrender and accept the pain.  

I moved on.

It hurt, it did, but wasn’t I worth REAL and POWERFUL interactions that inspired my greatness?

My life became a tribute to the power of extreme quality over quantity.  The universe brought it with a level of spiritual siblings, of an ilk I hadn’t known existed. 


I hadn’t ever imagined as magnificently as divine has provided.

I then had to actively create new behaviors, rewiring the synaptic pathways in my brain.  Mothering my inner child and becoming my own best advocate and best friend, I found that no less will do now.  My bar has been raised.

“Once we belong thoroughly to ourselves and believe thoroughly in ourselves, true belonging is ours” (Brown PhD, LMSW, 2017).

I belong to ME now, and I believe in myself and universe more than I ever have, since maybe the age of 3-4.

“Braving the wilderness” is soul substantiating and authenticating.  When you read it, remember I said that it’s like coming home to what your soul already knew but didn’t know it knew. 

I’m not even done with it yet, still have about 1/3 left. 


I surrender to be disrupted and shifted.  I embrace the level-ups that are on their way.  To expand we must contract, and to be honest contractions can hurt like a bitch, BUT.

I am NOW leaving a legacy of hope, faith, determination, inclusion, self-respect, kindness, education, determination, resilience, and tenacity for my kids and grandpeeps. 

Yea, we do rise together. 

I’m sure there will be more about this.

Just wow.





Brown PhD, LMSW, B. (2017). Braving the Wilderness (1st ed.). Random House.

How the two years in hell began: https://tainamystique.wordpress.com/2016/10/20/meant-to-be-here-the-beginning/

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it’s plain to see, universe was not yet done with me
i begged, pleaded, and often cajoled, to no avail 
laying in the shadows, my heart splayed and impaled
on the fears that rose in my throat to squeeze and to choke me
had handed in my life card, let me go back, oh god, please revoke me

twas naught but the ultimate of my soul’s contractions, preceding
my bid in the underworld, done now, I’m limping, cut and bleeding 
all the priceless gifts and level ups, from my oft repressed darkness
tightly gripped in my fisted hand, stumbling, I made it slowly past this,

this sign, that harbingered my tango danced in the infinite dark
a sign meant to eradicate hope, purporting desperation, so stark
my eyes took it in, once more now from the winner’s side, a shero’s lane
abandon hope, all ye who enter here, no more, I surrendered to residual pain

I focused on the burning, and tears escaping, I was blinded by the dazzling light
my mind, heart and eyes had adjusted to the darkest, the bleakest hopeless night

but now…

tilting my face upward, toward the warm rays of the magnificent sun
I felt it in my soul, now, this leg of the journey was over, it was done
I had made it, I had survived it, a bit wounded, yes, but alive
now all that was left was to embrace self-love, forgiveness and to thrive

there was no more hate, no more pointing fingers at others, with blame
no more hiding from authenticity, no more guilt and no more shame
a rediscovering, ground zero, a blank slate, were waiting for me
I now had to discover, how to return to  me, audacious and free

when you’ve owned everything, and seen into the murky depths
there’s nothing left to fear, grab your courage and take the steps
every reason for me to shine my light as far as I can reach
I will be your friend, sister, lover, to shine forth mayhaps to teach
the pathways through the darkness that I marked now and saved
so I can remember the blessings in the abyss for the rest of my days.  

meant to be here – bravery

We think it’s a sign of strength to build facades of bullshit, to hide behind societal dictates.  We look at those being resplendent and raw, and judge THEM as being weak and not able to conform.  Yet as Jiddu Krishnaurti says, it is no measure to be adjusted to a sick society (Shaharazade. S 2017).

Shaharazade, S. (2017). Meant to be Here. 1st ed. New York.

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staring my shadow directly in the eye

peaceful now, paused, i realize

it’s not the enemy i thought it to be

just a repressed facet of my divinity


we’re taught to label each thing

this is good, no, not that, it’s bad

perhaps it fully depends on

the perspective that we have


we’re always hustling, rapidly skipping

on the pebble-strewn pathways of life

absorbing the discord and the drama

distracted by shame energy and strife


what if we exhale and surrender

to the balance of universe’s law

integrating all our shadowed bits

grace will catch us if we fall


tearfully i’ve thanked my ego

for guarding me all of these years

helped me to keep a brave face on

in spite of my trepidation and my fears


she relaxed and stopped screaming

and finally seemed to understand

now that i’m awakening woman

exquisite experiences are at hand


what we resist will persist

is what the spiritual philosopher said

he meant to do it constantly, mindful

of the fake fears, the perpetual dread

of doings things, heartfully, bravely

expanding now, every day at will

to turn back to our dead existence

is akin to swallowing a bitter poisoned pill  


shedding skin

As I’m approaching my half century mark, I can look back and see the long road from whence I came.  I was in my ‘feels’ today and for those that are close to me; a shrug and a what’s new may have been the response, however; being non-apologetic for ‘feeling’ and not fighting those very powerful emotions is very new.  As a psych student, I have researched, studied, and read about the toxicity of repressing emotions, and I believe blocking and curtailing my darkness is exactly what led me to two years in and out of psych hospitals with suicidal depression. 

Digital Camera

I am so grateful for my time here on this mountain in Puerto Rico, humbled by the opportunity to press pause and let everything for the last 50 years slam into me, ready to be acknowledged and honored, reading for archival.  I have 1000% surrendered to the waves of repressed emotion that has for the most part hit me like a freight train, but I braced for it.  I knew it was coming.  I knew it when I weaned myself off 11 psychotropic medications.  I knew it was coming when I started writing my book, “Meant to be Here” about the 2 years in the abyss. I knew it was coming when I embraced complete authenticity and stopped smiling at jokes I didn’t find funny, or when I stood in the midst of the tsunami, still, and let the storm rip from me everything that wasn’t mine.  I knew it was coming when I gave up trying to fix anyone and just loved them and me as is. 

And, come it did. Massive waves of exquisitely sharp spasms of residual pain assaulted every level of my being.   Feelings of loss and at times, the uninvited feeling of regrets.  The mourning of unlived paths which had died at the hand of my choices.  I surrendered time and time again, resisting none of it.  I surrendered and allowed source/my higher self to soothe me, knowing I am doing this all not just for the love of self, which is indeed primary, but so that I can fully be of service, using every experience I’ve ever had to help and lift the collective consciousness.

I didn’t anticipate how ‘alone’ this time would be, or that I’d miss my grandpeeps so much my arms would virtually ache to wrap around them, longing to kiss their chunky lil faces, tickle their sides and nibble on their toesies.  *sighs*

I didn’t anticipate my best friend dying last month.  I didn’t anticipate Facebook tagging her for me in a post, or that I’d reach to text her, and realize that I couldn’t. 

Here’s the thing.  Feelings are a gift, and are so necessary for the soulful navigation of this very human existence.  It is a way to purge the soul shaking experiences from our being, to know what’s important to our souls, to know what stirs our passion and to exercise empathy.  Repressed emotions lead to a plethora of physical and emotional diseases.  Research it for yourself.  I am leaning into every experience.  Today is my little cousin’s birthday, my deceased aunt’s daughter, the first of my best friends to die.  I held her the day she was born so many years ago, she was literally pulled from my aunt’s stomach and placed in my arms.  I miss her, and I miss my other cousin.  I miss so many people, but there are things I can control, and things I cannot.  I surrender once again. 

I no longer apologize for feeling.  I have the right to feel sad. I’m mourning these very real losses… ummm however;

Don’t get it twisted, a goddess is getting ready to celebrate the FUCK outta the half century celebration..

I made it

I’m here

I’m wiser and more authentic that I’ve ever been before

And well to be quite frank, my twerk is better than ever thanks to Zumba and healthy eating..

So yea..

What else is possible??


I just shed 49 years of bullshit, it’s time to PARTY!!!

which mask for today?

Her eyes reluctantly opened, a slow easy smile spreading across her face, until she remembered what day it was. Dread began to fill her body, starting with her toes. She sighed and got out of bed. Observing her morning rituals, she embraced the necessity of today’s activities. Sitting in meditation, she tried fruitlessly to quell her apprehension. She was doing it for her son. He had waited a long time to find his happiness and he needed her to be there, and not embarrass him by being ‘too’ anything i.e.. Too loud, too raw, too real, too emotional … and she was often ‘too’-it-all.

Stepping out of the shower, she walked naked the hallway/living room where long, antique oak clothes rack ran the length of the wall outside her bedroom. She surveyed the different suits hanging there. Discomfort filled her belly as she padded over to the chaise and sat down perusing the various suits. One for every occasion, which one should she don. Which one was perfect? Which one allowed the circumstances to unfold the way they wanted them too.

Standing up, she tossed her head, stepping purposely toward the clothing rack, universes, galaxies, and supernovas orbiting and swaying with her hips. Tentatively, she reached her hand toward the rather sedate, monochromatic, persona of middle class, middle aged woman and covering up the splendiferous nature of her true self, she stepped into the dull, proper, uniform, the even, average façade-suit. She felt the light of her authentic being dim, as she zipped up the suit, patting it down in places where it bunched up and wrinkled. I mean why not, she thought, everyone there would be wearing one. It was expected. No-one wanted to see the brilliance of the true being underneath the opaque livery. The empty peg was noticeable in the midst of the four uniforms hanging there. Head to toe wear, dull enough to mute the most wondrous, lit spirits.

She gazed back at the peg resentfully, as she made her way to her door, properly contained, and controlled inside the dismal get up and prepared to fit in.

Sound familiar?