Yet to Fully Break

At last, I am becoming anchored in a calmed position of new awareness. No longer romanticizing Monday morning rituals, fashioning sheets to crisp perfection, while degreasing his four poster bed.

I can still remember the overstuffed ashtrays that filled every vacant tabled edge of his apartment, strangely this memory makes me smile. At the same time, knowing the permeating dimensionality of the clutter and smell that was part of this hypnotic space has created a haunting imprint within me. I regret to report as the power of this hold lifts from me, it is leaving me emotionally disjointed.

With eyes soothed to a close, I can feel his bare feet resting on top of my naked legs. I imagine myself kneeling before him, folding freshly laundered sox’s to a tweaked perfection. With fluctuating shame, I admit in my private mind, that I habitually lust after our dead recollections. My nerves begin to tense and recoil in regret, I hate all of our razor edged memories and begin to release them one slash at a time. Yet I let them back in over and over throughout time.

Often I crave the warm and intense moments that we once shared, but those were few in comparison. As truth nears the abandon rooms of my mind, tacking reminders to it’s warm edges of denial. I slowly remember the endless activities, escapades, and events that I despised so intensely. Especially those with strangers, many against my will often ending in conclusive falsehoods. But it is the hypnotic influence of your voice and the constant wrestling between detachment and connection, conflict and heaven, no and yes. And of course one more slam, one more hit, three days running from electric to death. Addiction, regret, sex, fantasy, rushes, drugs, decay, death, filth, and rock with no soul.

To this day your vocal cords continue to twist up around my mind, a strangle hold of control. I won’t glorify my version of the stalkings as I recall them, I admit this would not be fare. They are also too painful to reflect on and present, I choose now to detach. I believe your tactics may have oddly worked, I jerk most days thinking of you. I wonder if this twisted brain wash choke hold will ever fully dissolve to an infinite fade.

Unthinkable, not one soul I know would wager that you could break the unbreakable. It has been a few 365’s. Again I ponder hard, was it the drugs? the sex? or was it simply a pile of misaligned and jumbled circumstances that happened to fall into place. Either way, I try to live by no guilt no shame no blame…

I have to ask myself, do I even hear what I am saying? do I even know what I am thinking, do I read what I am writing. I do – the loop does get thinner, it does get better, but it has yet to break.

RUNT

A DILUTION of ME TOO

I believe deep within the warm curves of my heart, that the current conversations encompassing sexual harassment and inappropriateness are all importantly valid. As all topics of discomfort are, I feel the daily mega stream headlines we are seeing today are all deserving of examination. I believe they have also come to fruition for the greater purpose of enlightenment and the brighter transformation of all people. The timing could not be more perfect for the evolution of fresh perspectives as we move forward through the climate changes of intentional sexual identification, conduct and respect .

On a cellular level I am more than familiar with the infrastructure of all of these disputations. I have experienced, healed, and triumphed through my own variety of life’s configurative platforms. I have profound respect for all who have spoken up and claimed their rights and freedoms of both voice and body around the world. I also have deep compassion and understanding for those who have continued to live in silence. And the countless list of brave warriors who have yet to meet their own inner empowered selves. I honor each individual experience as passionately as I do these rising topics of debate. (side note; applause to all on your journeys) 

I can only speak of my own opinion within these pages. One of my perspectives is that it is of equal value, to understand the materiality of both having a voice while harvesting an understanding of rape culture and harassment in positive ways, through education and or ones personal experience. It is also constructive to give voice and thought to any situations should an individual or group arise causing the pendulum of consciousness to swing in a counter productive motion.

When someone is seriously assaulted, I think it goes without saying that there is no humor to be found in either cause or affect. When someone is hit on, as most everyone is at some point on their earth adventure. Or an advance is perhaps taken in a direction that is not of their choosing, these to are not acceptable. I also feel that not all of these illustrated scenarios are equal to an assault as they may be portrayed in the arenas of “Big Press” as of late.

I realize some of my readers may argue my point of view and I am ok with this. What is important to me is the topic of clarity and the communicated word when going public with a statement of allegation. All words are valid, but words can be powerful, they can also be dangerous. As always choose your words wisely especially while illustrating conflict or resolve with another. 

I feel that it is critical to be as scrupulous as possible when in a moment of recollection. As we sit in our varied states of reflection. Especially when we are recounting interactions between ourselves and one or more about incidents of unwanted actions. Should projections of accusations begin to circulate, it is imperative, actually it is our obligation to both self and to society to be as pure as our cortex will allows us to be. To recount the movements of the moment through our verbal communications as well as our physical display, to the best of our abilities. Naturally trauma often makes this an impossible task for many. The concept of this writing, as you may have gathered rest on a loom of allegations more than a pedestal of legitimacy.

These writings are absolutely not intended to be about “victim” (a term I dislike) shaming or blaming. I understand my words through this segment may raise a brow or furled lip. This also is not my intent. My hope as always, is to remain open to both the light as well as the dark of all human experiences. I feel all aspects of life are of value and deserving of honor, it is what we learn and extract from each moment that allows us to evolve, should we choose. It is also up to each individual to evoke a culture of change. (my humble POV)

I do my human best to keep in mind that facts, voice and action are what create empowerment, not ego or the distortion of facts. I feel it is best to be discerning, in our hearts and thoughts as a collective, if we intend to ride purposefully onward with positive intent summoning healing while we advance as a people for future generations. As we heal the wounds of a #metoo manifestation. Keep in mind that this requires honesty, reflection, and a seeking spirt. Compassion and above all else love will take us to the next where we aspire. Love is the primary action of satisfaction that will mend all agitations that prod mankind’s desires for change.

The topic of words continues to rise up within me, I believe all words are good. The spoken word in conjunction with body language are two of the most powerful gifts entrusted to man. They can also be dangerous if used improperly, we see it each evening should we choose to dose ourselves with heaps of American Nightly News (insert a bit of laughter here). They may be counter productive to a cause of beautiful benefit when motives are not grounded in truth. Or when inserted as a tool of manipulation dicing up topics of importance. Particularly when fueled with a fear based desire opposed to respectful uplift-meant and positive intent. Always, choose and craft your words wisely especially when applying them toward any living creature, yourself, another, group or topic.

The words assault and rape are two impactful verbs, they are heavy and deserving of respect. Not only for what they represent as actions, but for the many who have walked through the narrows of discomfort and for those who continue to do so. These are the very souls who without choice faced the distorted powers thrust upon them. Abandoned in thick ponds of what many felt where an infinitude of helpless disconnect.

When words are tossed about recklessly via press or gossip, rooted solely in spectrums of ego and not rooted in actuality. They can unfairly and dangerously begin a witch hunt, destroy a family, career or community, through public humiliation or the unintended aftermath of false allegations. Obviously I am not referring to situations of factual physical assault, verbal abuse, rape or any other persistent undesired behaviors. I am talking about actual crimes of against mind and flesh.

AFTER CARE
It is within my clearest of thought that not only is it up to an individual who has experienced an episode or multiple episodes of aggression. Or in my perception an oppurtunity to evolve to greater life understanding, through their own experience and purpose. And to find appropriate care when they feel they are able to, if they are able to at all. To seek the support of loved ones, medical care, legal assistance and to eventually, if they should desire, carry out a message of hope to another who may still be suffering. It is also in my opinion that this is a positive oppurtunity for the encircling community to support an this individual through their composite of progress and diminishing pain.

Please bare in mind that many of us shut down or take on new patterns of behavior after an act of life disruption. Pay gentle attention to sub currents of new moods radiating post event, mild to severe. Often police or HR may not be contacted as emotions are bottled for reasons only known to the nervous system of those on the receiving end of an assault or harassment. If you sense something is up, my soft suggestion would be “If they don’t speak up, gently step up”! 

It is our fundamental right to participate in the wellness of others. It is actually a gift of living to engage in the betterment of our societies. Often it is the inheritance of fear based illusions that dictate to us that we “should” not be involved in interactions of unpleasantries. I encourage all to release the hype of this tainted thought. Listen instead to the love rooted truth within you and reach out. Surrender the well intended yet distorted teachings that many of us have been exposed to throughout our lives. Most all have heard them in our upbringings in one form or another. “It is none of your business” “They need time to heal” or “they want to be left alone”. While many of these these may be true, it is better to listen to your own “core” even when your gut feelings may feel new or uncomfortable at first.

It is ok to learn to step out our of comfort field of emotional vision and into what is right. If there is a change happening with a loved one or even a stranger, take a chance, take action and offer them your time and your presence. Listening is often more important than knowing what to say. An open ear and a warm smile can go a long way. This is often all that is needed, at times it can be just this simple.

ON DILUTION
I personally find it diluting to this very important topic to determine every advance as an assault, every grope or kiss in an environment of office, play or even home in hours of post convenient reflection as an act of unwanted aggression. Of course NO MEANS NO and YES MEANS YES! Cornered persistence and repeat situations along with a 100 areas of silvery gray variance come into play. It is up to each individual to use their wisdom to be fully honest with themselves when recall is required or desired.

Let us be careful about turning an EXTREMELY VALID and IMPORTANT moment of conversation and social change into another watered down political period of correctness. We should be seeking graceful forward motion with all causes. Avoid blind rage and the emotional white noise of mach protest as they only build barricades to justice. While detracting from the serenade’s of progress being sung as clarity and fundamental civil rights are set into place.

The point of a cultural shift, be it political, social or spiritual is to build a pathway of evolution not a division founded on singular needy spotlights. In other words, when your voice is valid, use it, stand by your sister, brother or other in need. DO NOT waste it when your ego is hungry for attention or locked in a mode of narcism, personal gain or out to destroy another living creature in a Wendy Williams-ish “hot topic” segment, with no genuine interest in social change.

My strongest belief is that we are all purposeful creators. We are all contributing to a climate of change, capable of supporting, loving and shifting the dynamics of tomorrow and the NOW. I am proud to be participate amongst like minded peers in this vast expansion. Politically, sexually, socially, culturally and spiritually. I truly believe we live in one of the most exiting times ever to be had. Furthermore I feel the #metoo movement, when in proper circulation is a powerful tool of uplift-meant, empowerment and change. 

As Always Love and Light
The Empowered Runt

AN ABSOLUTION/raw

AN ABSOLUTION
Tuesday, October 25, 2016

I have to release this absolution, I have to do this process again, I have to rework this forgiveness of self one more time, it has been over a year since my first formal attempt. I will do this as many times as needed, I thought doing this process once was enough. I don’t know why, I would never suggest doing it once to another going through this same living procedure.

I must acknowledge where I have progressed from, where I am advancing to and I will enjoy a moment in between hopefully while embracing a breath of clarity on this journey. Reminding myself one more time to softly appreciate all that arises within me and all that is, for that it is. For now all that is churning is pure, murky and forceful, here in this very moment I harness it the best that I can. This eruption is designed to keep me alive, it is pure fight or flight no different than that night. I need to survive and express what is rupturing forth through every cell of my body.

My anger is bigger than I am, my regret is monumental, MY REGRET EATS ME ALIVE EVERY DAY. I must forgive myself, I must see this for what it really is I must see beyond and bigger than this is I must take off my earth lens. This human experience is far to limited, it is killing me it is unnatural, it is causing a spiritual hemorrhage from within. A stomach cancer rupturing up through my solar plexus on a daily basis. My core black cancerous energy reflex wrestle daily is beyond the recommended daily allowance. If I do not take steps today I will surly be on a direct rode of permanent discord.

I absolutely take the time right now right here to understand again what was taking place during the time I met Bernard. I wanted Fun, Adventure, Security, Danger, even sabotage… But I did not want what took place, I did not want what had happened to have happen to me or anyone on this planet. I did not want what took place not on a conscious level. I did not want to loose my life so completely, and even if I did I no longer choose to.

On the night of the (gang) rape I did not arrive expecting there to be such a disturbing event. I did not know there where going to be 10 or more rotating hustlers in and out throughout the evening to day break. I did not know this “man” was going to be a crazed freak, I did not know foreign objects of flesh destruction where going to be forced inside of me against the will of mine. Only to be surgically removed followed by a weeks hospital stay. I did not know that situations where going escalate as they had.

I did not know it was going to be the beginning of the end of a period of my life where I had some idea of control, if I had any up until this point living. I did not know that this was the beginning of the unraveling of my my living. Of a fairly reliable human being, colorful yet reliable and responsible.

I must forgive myself for being with Bernard, I chose to be with  him, I even loved him in a weird way, I did deep inside and still do I can’t escape the bond we had. Our bond was primarily stacked over drugs, manipulation and co-dependent abuse. I know this to be true, I know it was not a love of heart and soul. I understand the stronger I was emotionally the more empowered he felt to bring me “down”, I know there was a deliberate pattern of drug use put upon me when I would show strength and manipulation and needles came into play. And those words “know one will ever love you like I do, you are a defective, destroyed, junkie boy.” “But you have me always….” and I’d stay.

I forgive myself for letting myself be a part of this. I forgive myself for inviting it, I forgive myself for creating it, I forgive myself for being a deliberate hunter, once I was pulled into the meth pool. I have to cut myself some slack letting meth take control for this period. I know how easy it is to become a meth “addict”, I don’t know if I can forgive myself for loosing my job, I don’t know if I can forgive myself for loosing my apartment. I don’t know if I can forgive myself for leaving and loosing my beloved New York and my beloved sense of HOME and TEMPLE, but I am willing to try. I don’t think I can do and honest absolution but I can make an honest attempt to try.

Every day is a reminder of what I lost, everyday is a reminder of how low I have gone. Every day is a reminder of my failures, every day is a reminder of my removal from self, society, career, home, self, humor, love and truth… Not a reflection of triumphs everyday, I see the anger not the joy, often when I sit in this place (no matter where this place may be) I choke on the the past, present, and future, the noise is unbearable there is no silence (within my heart and mind).  I know these are only feelings… they are brutal feelings with a fierce lasting echo…

This THIRD YEAR ANNIVERSARY OF BEING IN CHICAGO IS KILLING ME. FIVE YEARS AFTER THE EVENT AND STARTING METH IS NOTHING, BEING IN LIMBO AND WAKING IN THIS ROOM EVERYDAY TO A LIVING VOID IS KILLING ME…. EVERYDAY FOR THREE YEARS HAS BEEN AN OXOGYN TENT OF DEATH. With slow pricks of light, I cling to each needle of light glorifying each to grand magnification in hopes of realization. Doing the work, waking each day, plugging away only to remain skin deep in me. Less memory, true there is less fear, more insight but very little forward movement and questionable hope.

I forgive myself for my lack of genuine appreciation, I forgive myself for trying and failing, I forgive myself for being so hard on myself. I forgive myself for not seeing the brilliance of my journey, I forgive myself for the tears and sorrow. I forgive myself for the lock down, I forgive myself for the seclusion, I for give myself for the clutter, I forgive myself for the my forgetful mind, I forgive myself for not having sex, I forgive myself for jerking off only to slam videos. I forgive myself for now living in a way I normally would consider intolerable and unimaginable.

I forgive myself for over spending or shopping to much to compensate for the INFINITE VOID. I forgive myself for all my insecure doubt projecting onto others my own flaws. I forgive myself for not being able reach my goals as fast or as clearly I demand. I forgive myself for fucking being stuck. I FORGIVE MYSELF FOR FUCKING BEING ANGRY ALL OF THE TIME, I FUCKING FORGIVE MYSELF FOR FAILING….GOD DAM IT FUCKING LOST IT ALL AND I DON’T EVEN HAVE SPACE WHERE I CAN LET ANYTHING OUT. I DON’T HAVE SAFE SPACE.

I can’t write an absolution because my life does not exist (feeling not a reality)—- I may return to this for now it does not mean much other than a rant. there was no proper purpose to this…3:33pm

7:55 PM
I return to re read you my rambling page with the understanding that – this is how I feel, and this is ok. 

This has been a raw edit direct from my private notes…this is what we experience sometimes every moment of the day…. it gets exhausting.

Love and Light Always
Runt

 

THE MOST DANGEROUS THING

 

Unfiltered, here I am, naked, no decorative words, no room for flounce, not now, not within the womb of this cool circumstance. Raw and writing, it is we, it is he, Fernando along with the others which equal the new entirety of me.

I’ve decided no longer does it matter if there is an audience for my words or images. I now write because I need to write, I create my art because it is not only an essential part of my creative expression. It is a necessary segment of the healing equation, I still fall back on these words “art saved my life”.  Now I write with a slant on the unfiltered, just me and my selves. If another is helped as I stagger on my current path of wonder and stumble all the more glorious. Perhaps the flow of these writings will read more organically without the hindrance of self-criticism of thought, word, art and tongue.

I am afraid I am finally facing the raw fact that my trauma has become one bitch of a battle. It is increasing in bite and fervor. Sobriety has been a song and one I don’t give much of a shake about, even with all my trauma bullshit I have not thought once about drugs to deal with it. The trauma however is rupturing, ripping, splitting and soaring through the roof of my being. I am not sure who is winning in this wrestling match of wills. I do know I am not happy with the feelings beating me up each day, leaving me exhausted, bruised and raw.

Most days my thoughts are so tangled that I make no sense speaking. When I do manage to speak I often trip up my vocals. I mutilate simple sentences for example, ga-ga-ga-goo-goood goood morning. For a normally fairly grounded intelligent sounding person it becomes a bit humiliating. I often rock back and forth when I am alone typing, channeling my never existent autistic youth.

Yesterday, despite my gut intuition, I met with a therapist for the second time. It took me almost five years to reach a point where I was capable of receiving “professional” help. I understand fully that he has not been trained in trauma recovery, and may not even be queer sensitive. But surely he has a degree, and I assume based on his appearance he is of the human species. I also hope he had entered this field with an empathic heart, he does not seem old enough to be jaded and over his profession, or is he?

Aside from him being late for the second appointment in a row (note both appointments). Cutting me off, not hearing my needs then telling me to ignore my feelings. He then instructed to “Move on” “get over my past” to “get my old job back full time” please note I can barley function in my current part time position. I was instructed to “change my thoughts”  again. I explained this is something I do all day through many spiritual and personal teachings, meditations and techniques I have even developed along my personal journey.  I explain what someone in trauma goes through. I explained that I/we need tools to move forward and heal, I explained that I/we would like to learn how to cope with the subconscious thoughts that strike in the middle of night. Example: when I/we wake tossed on the floor in the middle of the night. Living out a rape, how do I/we move past that… I am enraged right now simply thinking of this session… yet I am moving forward I can not even finish this paragraph. _ RAW WRITING.

A bad therapist is the next worst thing to the actual traumatic event itself. I can not imagine anyone speaking these same words to someone who has just comeback from a tour of duty or lost their family to some horrific action of violence. I suppose a gang rape to faggot is just another disposable crime even in the eyes of a therapist. (please note the wrong therapist I know the majority are absolutely brilliant)

An average day for me, requires about 3 hours of meditation just to make out the door. Before I can go to my humble semi-stress free part time job. About once or twice a week I have at least one severe flash back during my waking hours. Two weeks ago, while walking down my block I hallucinated a full on rape, asshole ripping open, choking, suffocation, blood, restrained arms up against a fence the full nine yards. That was a pretty average scenario as of late. The week after the same situation took place while I was writing while sitting on a bench in the local park looking at trees. Boom out of the blue, restrained, suffocation, notebook on ground etc…. but this is my current unreality. “don’t think about it” he says. Again I say… seriously?

Last night three nightmares woke me up, usually I do not much of them, only the fighting, sweats, screams etc. But they are becoming more vivid as of late. Today I had to leave a simple task job after only an hour, because I freaked the F*@K out. My 10 minute walk home took about an hour, I was in a trance state the entire time. I crashed from exhaustion upon my arrival home (rather where I stay). More daymares, physical fighting and screaming and kicking. And he tells me “change your thoughts” “move on” I think to my self again, sarcastically, seriously?…I sorry I just forget to come out of trance states and nightmares to say “get happy” “get over it” Move On”….

Yes “change your thoughts” I agree completely, I do it all day everyday, minute by minute. This roller coster practice is enough to drive any normal person insane. I gently participate in many meditation techniques and lovingly embrace every fricking letting go method there is. But I can not delete reality, when something has never been dealt with it has to come out somewhere. Fact? or Fiction?

The most dangerous thing to a person in trauma recovery is… and I will say this again and again. Is having an unqualified person sitting opposite them on the other side of a desk when you are in therapy. This is not only dangerous it is negligent and can even be lethal. Last evening I felt so hopeless, lower than I have been, and closer to ending my life than and period in recent history. But I am as stubborn man, I will make it through this. Salt stains and all, I may not have much say during this period of my life that is up lifting. My core self is still in here somewhere, and it will come to the surface again. Until then, however long that takes be well be kind and be loving the best you can.

Thank you-

 

 

 

 

 

 

MEETING CLARITY

In time comes clarity, jumbling, stumbling, bumbling through every sensory awakening soft bright and abrupt. Oh this thing called clarity, I foolishly thought I had met you, 10,000 clones before. Nothing could prepare me for this present interpretation and layered manipulation. You are almost to much for me to bear, yet I stand before you with weighted feet. It has been co-decided that I am ready to face you. Now I am awake, I have been prepared for what I am willing to face. Lets move forward, lets get on with this-

Like a child learning to crawl or gurgling words for the very first time, so is this fresh awkward revival of  perspective. The human mind is the kindest of all tools within this filtering machine, this contraption of flesh. With the passing of time and shedding of outer escapes the emergence of memories have brought my past to present on regular rotations. Details spared for the faint of heart-

The terror is quite real, although hallucinatory, some call it a flashback. I call them living theater of the dark and deadly. I am ready to finally face these memories, I thought I already had many times over and over again. They now appear upon my daily walks, I understand this is not unusual, they are far to real. My breathing halts, with hands restrained, sweat begins, sensory blood drips, and the choking is consistent, boom black out. Before I know it, books and phone drop to side-walk for 5 to 10 until I can escape. With jaw dropped open vacant empty screams hover over flaccid lips. I pull it together once more and enter the realm of the real, and continue my stroll. I remind myself that this is a temporary normal, this is what has finally come to the surface. Perhaps drugs where not such a bad thing, maybe denial and madness saves lives. But you can not move forward with a life of denial, my core self is a survivor, enough said

I have chosen to face this at all cost, I have chosen to ride this out. I have decided that I am ready to once and for all face the UGLY of it all. Even what I have yet to remember of that night in November 2011. I am not stopping until this is done. I will never be able to help myself or another human being if I do not take care of this. I grateful that this experience is coming to a head. For all of those who may be working through trauma, I know it is a tough challenge. I am also confident deep in my heart that it is worth it, truly these experiences allow us to enrich our personal human condition. This is our classroom for living, when the moment is right, when our personal light is re-lit we are able to understand and carry on for another. That’s what this journey is about…

Love and Light
The Empowered Runt

INTIMATE FRONTIERS

 

One of the final frontiers left on my trauma recovery trail is intimacy without thoughts of chemical crutches. Through my adventures I have come to fully appreciate, embrace, understand and honor the impact trauma has had on my sexual unraveling. As I continue to mend the last of my obscure life interruptions. My approach has remained sensitive yet expeditious to right what feels wrong within. 

Sex and intimacy are two subjects that have been increasingly seeking attention within my mending psyche. Like all matters of internal importance, when the time arrives for me to heal and release them. I experience what I describe as an electrical itch or a soft urgency. Overtime I’ve “plugged” into my own inner clatter of sub-current speak. I do my best to listen and react knowing that my higher self has prepared me to move onward. 

I then begin a sensitive and respectful process of analyzation. Followed by my spiritual and human work, whatever feels right at the time. Before I know it issues begin to dissolve and release. Once the wheels are in motion matters mend rather fast. Through this wonderful mashed up journey of mine. I have been afforded the gift of heightened personal awareness. Along with a desire to take ownership and action of what many of us call our “personal truth”. What was once a process based on fearful hesitation is now rooted in joyful anticipation. I mend most issues fairly swiftly these days. Rather than pushing them off onto endless task lists. No longer do I treat my life as a chore, I am excited to experience change. I am now a participant in my own life, no longer a by-stander. 

Since the experience of my rape in 2011. Intimacy without chemicals has been a seemingly impossible situation to conquer. I have abstained from sex for just over six months now. Living in fear of flesh, sex and slamming is not a life time solution. It is what I choose to do for this period of time. 

Sex for the time being is not worth the price of admission. Not if the cost of entry is possible death by meth. I am not against the use of drugs, let me make this clear. I am not the moral police, I think drugs can be a hell of a lot of fun. Or…

Speaking only for myself, rape and crystal meth addiction took me to the darkest of spaces. They nearly took everything from me, they both left me for dead. My body mind and spirt felt like a peasant beaten in the dark of night by authorities in a third world country. Bloody, cold, unvalued, forgotten, not even a statistic… Just another discarded gutter fag. 

CURRENT TRUTH
Messages of intimacy continue to erupt around me. In my thoughts, my art, dialogues, writings and meditations. At a gallery opening this Saturday past, the subject of rape was a topic shared in private between several woman and I. As they asked questions about my photography and the subject matter. The images are a reflection of my mending experience after my gang rape. The images specifically encapsulate the “middle space” of my healing process, post darkness. When light begins to re-enter ones life. They are about the comfort of being SAFE. The tears flowed from a few of the women’s eyes. As they shared with me their own intimate tales of assault. One woman spoke of her experience for the very first time. 

An earthy sophisticate in her early 70’s described a terrified and obviously determined 10 year old girl. She had kept locked deep within safe from family, authorities and monsters. A fragile child never allowed to be speak for all these years. I was deeply honored that she felt SAFE to share her story. I stood with her as she held my hand I shared some of my accumulated perspectives. Along with a few tools that have helped me on my path. She had no tools 60 years past in rural Indiana. “He did the crime, I received the life sentence” she confided. For me this marked the beginning of the end of a long drawn awareness cycle. Or the opening to the closing of my intimacy release.  

CONTINUED OPENING TO A CLOSE
The following evening while on a rare venture to a club here in Chicago. I was busy doing my usual hoof and shuffle. Through thud and base while gagging on “fog juice.” I was approached by an extremely good looking and sexually aggressive young man. Although I declined his repeated advances. Intimacy triggers sparked through the epicenter of my pulsing brain. In general I do not “hook up” with folks I meet in clubs. This evening was no exception, I performed my usual twirl, cocktail and escape.

Not being able to figure out my emotions of the moment. I climbed from basement dance-hall in search of cab or sub-rail to destination home. That is when I had a snap second of desire. The desire was not sex, meat to hole. Although I had a nano-nag thought about companionship. Triggered by the handsome Mr. Generation next. My side saddle urge was to score a “teen” of  little wicked Tina. Then pop a rocket into my vein, this was not about getting high. This was about the demolition of fear and emotional retardation. I thank GAG (God Angels and Guides) for awareness, this is the key to all growth and recovery to all situations in my life. Ooh, sweet golden awareness, how I love thee.

Many men I know use crystal meth to take a sexual experience to a level of epic distortions. This was not my goal, my hope was to drop my own barrier walls. To be comfortable enough to allow another man to touch me, breath on and or in me. Most importantly to allow myself to reach out and be sensually connected. “Formal” sex was not a part of my conscious check list. My other objective was to be high enough to drop my sarcasm and humor. Often my defense mechanism when uncomfortable. 

This all sounds pretty basic, right? Passionate, tender heated, embracing, verbal one on one love. Love and communication without fear, free of hesitation void of calculated actions. Not so easy at this stage of recovery, difficult enough in daily life. Nearly impossible when rank and raw. I am getting there, patience is the other golden gift. 

This is not about body parts or geometry. This is about heart, head, flesh compassion and intuition. This formula use to be a part of my core approach to connective communication. Actually, it is still a part of who I am, it always will be. I proudly own this nugget of my personality. No matter how dormant it may be during this period of my semi-muffled sexual resurrection.

None of this is new, it is all part of the life detour recovery game. I am not special with this one, millions of us do it everyday. Anyone who is a champion in this accelerated course of Trauma 101 understands these various stages or repair. We all have our own pace and our own ways of making it through. I feel the shift, I see the horizon, I feel that this current veil has almost lifted.

Many I know in formal recovery programs would react to the very thought of sex and meth as a red flag. Naturally for many it probably should be, thats not my story. For me it was a 5 second cause to pause. It reenforced all that has been coming to the surface as I continue to move through these final frontiers. I realize now how much I have restored in my life. Just how much of me has come home to this temple of flesh no longer in decay. Recovery of any form in my eyes has zero timelines. It requires love, patients and personal sensitivity. It takes as many moments as needed to pause and shift up the game plan. Write your own rules or co-author with someone you trust not with someone you are suppose to trust.

All of our stories are important just as our lives are. We share our stories so we may heal. We also share our stories because this is how we help another human being in their journey. We each have a profoundly unique message and gifts in this lifetime. We each have our own platforms to use our voice. It may not be a lecture hall filled with Ted Talks fans, a blog, or big media presentations. It may be listing to your neighbor, being sensitive to a stranger on the street. Or finally being brave enough to let down our guard and be authentic with your partner a friend or even a family member. In these days of electronics that I adore, lets not forget the magic and power each of us harness.

Love and Light Always
The Empowered Runt

 

Intimate Frontiers

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Artist Intent:

To invite the viewer to experience the intimate process of self-renewal. A moment captured here within these layered images. As layered as the emotions and the process itself. Where the foundation of the moment is based on openness, willingness and a seeking spirit. After a gang rape that took place in New York City in November of 2011, the artist finds himself safe at last in his home of current refuge. Images shot between the floor boards and box springs of his bedroom. Are symbolic of a safe shelter where once a similar setting of contrasting events took place 24 inches above.

This murky event birthed a nightmare of denial, addiction, and a full social shutdown. Distrust, loss of all hope, material goods and above all love of self and others. These same experiences also gave birth to grand opportunities to embrace spiritual, creative and emotional life change. These photos capture flashes of those moments.

Alone he is safe to explore his desires with little fear, no judgement or limits. A sense of vulnerability is unavoidable in this instant of self-love and passion. During these intimate moments he must earn even his own trust. As he literally makes love with his bed frame, the object he once held onto to save his life. Unable to embrace another man at this stage of healing. Without the crutch of chemicals from spike to vein. He companionship entangled in his own arms. Unavoidable looks of question, hesitation and fear rise to the surface of his face. Eventually comfort is found in the knowledge that all is ok…

This is not about the dark of the journey nor the light of the discovery. This is the the story of the in-between, the passionate self rediscovery of a life still unfolding and a soul healing. This is a love undone: the story of one.

Transitional Leap:
At this mid point between ages of 52 and 53. I have made a huge artistic transitional leap. Out of the 10,000 plus images I have created over the last few years. I have taken the steps and printed my first creative works in large scale. Professionally mounted and framed with purpose, care and love. This is the first I have ever seen or ever touched my own work. Which may sound strange, pieces I have sold have gone directly to the buyer. Never passing my final critical eye.

On Saturday January 30th 2016 I will participate in my first group show. My message remains the same and I never mind repeating. It is never to late evolve, shift your story should you choose and change. Never let go of your dreams and trust me when I say your words, your thoughts and your life all hold dynamic powers.

Love and Light Always
The Empowered Runt

A LOVE UNDONE / A STORY of ONE

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This conversation continues, based on my perspectives and experiences through rape and recovery. My intention with these conversations is to encourage an understanding of what the act of rape actually is like for many of us. More importantly the process of recovery and living an abundant better and brighter life through the process.

No rape or trauma experience is the same, yet there are many similierties in the after effects and after care. Within the soft walls of these talks I share my concepts of love and recovery.

This particular talk is designed for those who may be supporting a loved loved one on the mend. And finding it difficult to understand the emotional shut downs or “triggers” behind a projected emotional illusional exterior.

Love and Light Always
The Empowered Runt

A BRIGHTER UNDERSTANDING PART II

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A RETURN of PUNK ROCOCO

THE RETURN of PUNK ROCOCO and THE SWISH MAN
Material goods do matter to each of us, I suppose. In various volumes, intervals and sizes.

This week I rewarded myself, with what I consider to be an insanely delicious find. Falling perfectly within the spectrum of my palette of 10,000 shades of taste. A sweet gold rimmed, floral dusted 60 piece plus antique dinnerware set. Including traditional borscht size bowls and all the service pieces. With storage bags and custom cut protectors for creamer, sugar bowl, butter plates, relish dishes, pie servers and such. Offered up at a generous price, wrapped with tender loving care. As if I where any other customer at my place of employment. For the first time in years I felt like a “norm” member of functioning society.

Oddly, I emotionally tripped out for a few days in a entirely new way. “Poor me,” I caught myself in a cloud of old thought splatters. “I have no storage to store these pieces, when will I ever have a place to call my own home again?” “Poor me, boo-hoo” the conversation continued within. “I have no one to cook for and no kitchen to cook in with no presentable space to serve”. …

Reality check dude, gentle calm comes as the rivers of progress and light flow. Showers of gratitude relax the mind and soul. This is no longer a trip of baggage or drudgery. Although this mini expenditure commanded four trips of escort to see this snappy-set back to the abode where I stay. After all this was a labor of reward and love.

One more time, as often the case. I breathed in a breath and exhaled slow, accessing the truth of my current state. It was time for one of my progress inventory self evaluations to put things in perspective. This always gives me clarity and confidence. Allowing me to return to my core determination, without force or friction. I then began to visualize the future, bathed in glorious possibilities.

I remind myself, it really does not matter how many pauses there may be on the road tween now and forever. Forward motion is an action of many movements. Sometimes part of action arrives in the form of a pause. Even periodic steps of reverse movement, a concept I have become understanding of over time. Momentary backward steps are where I have learned my most valued lessons. I have become grateful for any periodic hick-ups.

Life need not be difficult, but awareness sometimes arrives through the struggle of figuring “it” out. As the mind, spirit and core-self stretches it functions much like a muscle, in the body becoming stronger and expansive.

Throughout all these motions of learning I try my best remain aware. That there is continuous, mass life magic unfolding around me. I remind myself to always be sensitive to this fact. Each day I thank the forces that I engage with. Also I have learned to take time to thank myself for both the large and little steps along the way.

NO SNATCH
It can be easy to slip into the travesty of re-victimization of ones past. For myself, trauma at times has left me feeling as if everything in my life could be snatched away at any given moment. This is a lie, permeated deep into my nervous system, mind and flesh. From past events that no longer need be my truth. That moment has past, ownership of the present and future now rest proudly within my own palms.

The on and off again retraining of heart and head can be kick ass fun. As the blanket of lies of previous beliefs unravel. Powerful new truths are spun and revealed throughout each day. What I love, and what I have learned along my rape and trauma recovery trip is. I do not ever have to live as I have post-trauma or even pre-trauma again. I can live a life WAY BETTER than the life I had ever known at ANY TIME in my PAST. From birth through my tomorrows-

The true beauty of my life catastrophe, is it has stripped me naked of every illusion of learned living. I have decided to refinish my life and re-stain it the way I see fit. I have decided to Re-master and re-mix the livin’ cluck out of it. And that is pretty fricking awesome. I am still laying down the tracks, like all of this life it is a work in progress. I am slowly nailing it with a loving heart and at times an uncertain mind.

MURK-SKID
Now when my head slips into murky thought. I find myself on the mend, swift and quick after each dark dip. The plunges are shorter, darkness is lighter and the length of less frequent trips has contracted. These days I catch myself before I hit any deep trenches. If I do hit a what feels like and oncoming dark skid. I find them to be nothing compared to the hells of past detours. I actually giggle a bit when a pop flash moment passes over me with it’s dark soul sap. Now it feels much more like a cleansing rain in comparison to the past pain experiences. These moments now tend to last seconds, minutes or an evening, tops. Mad applause, mad progress and nods of acknowledgment to the forces above, around and within as always.

This morning I felt a need to snap a few shots of my new fancy-ass dinnerware. To prime my mind with inspiration and remember that I have options in life. Once more I may return to the days of “PUNK ROCOCO” and dine in service. In the early 90’s, my urban cabin rocked from floorboards to rooftop. With a decor of vibrance and whim, often wanted I’ve lusted refine and re-explore this this side of my nesting visions. But I have been to scattered, to afraid and filled with self doubt. Now I am finally free to redesign all segments of living body, spirit and house. To entertain seems like nothing to some, after living in fear of people for the past four years or longer this is a massive goal. I am now ready to open the eventual doors of home now that the shutters of my heart are unshackled once more.

The greatest gift of my queer “SWISH” heritage (terms of my choosing). Is being proud of slapping together a mash up of razor sharp living with no apologies. Dripping with gold leaf, flounce and fleur de lis, along with crisp clean lines or whatever design collisions rock my trousers on any given day.

I now understand that I/we/anyone can live the best life possible. Unstoppable are we, nothing is unreachable, yes perhaps proper time may be needed. But our dreams, desires, and determinations are all in the works with our chosen intentions in motion. With our best interest at universal heart. We can live our highest truth and achieve our perspective joy.

At work I don’t believe anyone knows my full story, that is probably best. Only bits, chips and a few word droppings… not many in my “real” life know the full spun tail either, perhaps to much to digest for some. The mind gags with what it can not digest, as always I understand we are only human. I don’t think many can possibly understand. When a man looses everything, simple gestures of fulfillment can fill voids unexpectedly. (gratitude reflective smile)

Even I did not know how much one set of silly frilly dishes could mean to one boy. Who now uses the word man more than I ever thought I would. My grannie dishes symbolize more than a material purchase. Eventually filling a cabinet or being a beautiful presentation piece for a home spun feast. They are a represent progress, hope, recovery, discovery, and symbolic marker of rebirth and a return to a higher self.

Funny, suddenly I have a strong desire to serve salmon. With a side dish salad sound track of Edward Scissor hands, Berlioz, Richard Hell, Sex Pistols and Miss Patsy Cline. Along with a guest list of many for a dinner divine.

Through this experience I humbly have a greater understanding of the importance of my job. A not for profit resale shop. Helping the HIV and queer/trans community here in this City of Wind. A place I may not have normally visualized myself employed at. In a city I normally would not have chosen to return to. If not for the circumstance of a soul implosion.   I do believe there is a reason for everything, always with my choice to opt in or out.

For our clients and self as well, what may seem to be a simple and unimportant purchases. Really can give a lift, shift and roll to an individuals perspective on life and self value. When you have lost dignity, spirit, home, health, body, self worth and mind just to name a few. A bushel of dishes and a kind gesture can go a long way.

NO SHAME GAME
Some shame the need or desire for material goods. I feel there is nothing wrong with decor or a frock uplifting a spirit or boosting ones worth. Actually I no longer believe in most forms of shame. I do agree with many who feel it is the decadence and sole reliance on only the material. That leeds to spiritual, emotional and social debt. These are the track marks of imbalance up the decaying arm of society. Leaving one greedy not quenched, hooked and always needing more. I am quenched and I wish to fill many a goblet-cheers and may we all pass a gift along. Of spirit, coin or deed.

Love and Light Always
The Empowered Runt

A RETURN of PUNK ROCOCO and THE SWISH MAN

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Through my own experiences of loss and attraction. Both of friendships and family, as I have flowed jagged and soft through my journey of rape, trauma, addiction, self re-discovery and life expansion. I have felt moved to open up and document these sessions. These talks are based primarily on my own experiences with a clear understanding that many of us who are reclaiming our minds, bodies, emotions, sexualities and the rest of our lives. Share many common bounds as we ascend our chosen greater paths of living once more.

These particular talks are designed for those who may offer up open hearts and hands. Assisting a loved one on their journey and finding the process of healing sluggish, frustrating and confusing and perhaps not understanding why healing and a return to a “normal” life is not taking place as you find fit. Or in the time frame that is within your expectations.

These talks are from a s survivors perspective in hopes of providing a fresh layer of understanding. One that may not always be able to be taught by Flat text reading. Sometimes, no matter how empathetic an individual may be. It can be very difficult to fully understand the pain of another without the experience of rape and trauma. I wish my gang rape upon no one, nor the wicked trip to needle park.

Love and Light Always
The Empowered Runt

A BRIGHTER UNDERSTANDING PART I