The Missing Piece
Knowing that you are held
Just 38 days ago, everything about my life was different.
Freshly into a break up, four weeks into a new city in a new country, and reintroducing myself to you for what feels like maybe the fourth or fifth time.
I lost my third wave of subscribers. I had a plan. Then the plan changed.
I’m seeing more people reintroduce themselves online lately, and personally, I’d like to see more of it in life.
I reconnected with two friends I haven’t talked to in a while and catching up was a form of reintroducing myself and relearning them.
Greeting my host this morning felt like a reintroduction. Life moves through me so fast—rearranging, dismantling, rebuilding—that by the afternoon, I have to introduce myself to myself again.
I’m reintroducing myself often now and there’s something about making my reintroduction a gentle, quiet ritual that removes the fear of not having a great first impression or becoming someone new.
Because the beauty is, I am never estranged from myself. Only and always meeting new versions of myself.
Online, the running joke is that January lasted a year.
But for me, January felt like January.
I felt each day, and they all counted.
December and January were hard.
I spent three and half weeks with someone I love.
Days later, I passed out. Twice. In a grocery store.
Then I traveled to 6 different neighborhoods in Mexico City and stayed in 14 different Airbnbs.
Spending 1-2 nights in one Airbnb at a time, except one 7 night stay.
14 shocks me. I didn’t realize that until now. I thought it was 9.
It’s been 38 days.
I was present for all 38 of those days.
Trump has been in office for 25 of those days. The fires in Los Angeles started on January 7th.
It’s been 5 weeks on my own.
Picking up every 1 to 2 nights and still full of energy.
I was in these Mexico City streets like Rue—except my suitcase isn’t full of drugs.
I’m carrying millions in intellectual property. Like a boss.
Pure ideas. From my mind.
Sandwiched between the clothes and toiletries that make up my life.
Girl. Powering every step like a Jimmy Neutron jetpack.
I’m flying through the streets on a high—fully carrying myself.
I don’t know many people who can move 14 times in 38 days, across six neighborhoods, and still emerge with an unmistakable sense of rootedness.
This is what many people are after when they call themselves grounded.
How did I go from passing out to never running out of energy?
Dominion.
I have dominion.
This is what dominion feels like.
It’s trust—where care and power meet.
It’s natural to wonder why I am in Mexico City moving from one place to another—or why am I not staying in one place until my visa expires—or why did I take the risk of traveling to another country to see someone I love.
To keep it a buck, why not? I’m grown!
If I hadn’t made these choices, I wouldn’t know what it means to have dominion.
I had four weeks to leave St. Louis. I didn’t really have three and half weeks to find my own way in Mexico City. I had less time. That part was complicated.
Each step of the way I acted in service of my overflow by acting with dominion.
A friend tried to tell me my nervous system could ‘finally relax’ after a client paid an invoice.
I told him: mind your own nervous system. I’m not dysregulated—I’m alive.
People need to learn the difference. Your nervous system is your own damn business.
So, what is this overflow? What is dominion?
How were you overflowing with energy when you moved 14 times?
Owning the truth of the moment, baby. That’s it.
Pretending not to want what you want or need what you need uses up a lot of energy.
The truth doesn’t.
Over-complication is not of God.
I stopped pretending I wasn’t both infinite and limited—human and divine.
I asked myself what desires I wasn’t allowing myself to have for fear of seeming too much of this or that. Then I spoke them. Then I committed to them.
Commitment is sexy. 14 moves later, and now, I’m the hot Deathwife next door.
I had fun every day I closed my suitcase and checked out at 11am.
Dominion is one word for doing the damn thing.
Here’s what changes things—
You know that constant fear of being too much?
That’s actually your overflow.
That’s your essence.
It is the all that is you.
Moving 14 times in 38 days for someone else could feel like too much—but I’m an adventurist.
I live for this. I was made for this. It gives me boundless energy because facing my fears and going beyond my comfort zone gives me life.
This is where I belong.
That much movement in such a short period of time was temporary, but I like rolling like that.
I left my lover’s nest in tears, fainted in a market days later, hopped back up and said, alright world, bring it the fuck on you delicious, gorgeous son of a fearless bi-yotch.
I heard you. The answer is yes. I’m ready to be who I say I am.
You can add another book to your reading list or you can live.
Being too much and having more than enough are the same thing.
If you fear your too-much-ness, you will never know more than enoughness.
Awakening to Overflow by Learning to Be Held By the Hands of Life
Until now, many break ups and betrayals in my life eroded my trust in myself and in life.
This led to chronic self containment.
You might call it masking.
Different than self abandonment or self betrayal, whose primary energy signature is neglect or disregard, self containment denies and shrinks.
It’s a pretender-liar-self deceiver.
A frequency that is chronically untrustworthy.
It’s the fear of fully inhabiting your range, your depth, your complexity.
Your mess, your glory, your hypocrisy.
Because it’s obsessed with perfection.
The most self aware among us get stuck here.
It’s the nature of things. Living is scary.
So, isolating yourself to heal? There’s a time for that.
But now, your full, messy, Goddess-human glory?
Is ready to be felt. Experienced. Touched.
Not policied. Managed. Controlled.
When you don’t feel undeniably worthy of life and living, time always feels like you have to earn more of it. Like you’re running behind, even when you’re standing still.
It validates most people to hear someone suggest that Capitalism is the ultimate reason for their lack of time or energy.
Are you 'most people'? I don’t think so.
But the refusal to own that is why you might not be stewarding your most precious resource—your essence—with more love.
I’m not saying your life needs radical change, but I am asking: are you fully experiencing your essence, in all of its glorious overflow?
And do you know, without a shadow of a doubt, that you’re in good hands when you do?