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Journeying as a humanitarian has always been my birth right and calling. My becoming has been a lifetime of unusual misfortune, while also feeling truly blessed to bear witness to miracles most never get to experience. I'm a writer at my core and all other mediums are always an extension of this part of me, through poetry and a deep acceptance of life on life's terms; the raw and real relentlessness of truly feeling it all, and accepting the pain with the pleasure with equal fondness and love. Having a multi-disciplinary approach as an artist was how I felt most comfortable in the world as a human being. The 9-5 always came second to my personal happiness. Having an array of multiple traumas, severe manic depression, alcoholism, PTSD, chronic illness and more recently, my struggle with neuro-divergence, is part of why my life of good and bad extremes, has been the one consistent pattern in life, but in having felt true moments of peace, I hadn't yielded the ability to strike a balance between the need to
One day things came to a standstill for me, and my self-love plummeted to the point where I sold myself out. I took the advice of all before me, and jumped on the workforce bandwagon. Where I was once a tour de force dreamer, with positive
How much does one love oneself enough to lose everyone around them, at the expense of being oneself?
In the last decade I've been in the woodshed licking my wounds healing, studying to the point of restlessness,
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