My concert

I was depressed. Holed up in my room to prove that I do not need to seek attention to move past my pain. To be loyal without their commitment. To not indulge in the toxic environment.

I finally decided to go out. To treat myself to a concert I planned on going to for months. I was hurt by the response of a loved one who even guilted me for this. The one time I actually did something since all of this. Turns out there was a motivating factor in this lashing out.

Anyhow, although it killed my excitement, I went anyways. Alone. Another lonely soul stood near me, and something told me she was alone. I asked as she confirmed. She relayed to me she bought tickets for two for a person she’d been seeing for half a year. She communicated with him, he expressed his excitedness to go. She hopped on a train and came four hours to San Diego, for him to flake on her leaving her stranded at the train station.

I’m not sure how I knew, or why she fully opened up to me about her heartbreak and depression but she did. I needed someone raw and real and relatable that night.

My holotropic journey

I know I keep talking about my holotropic breathwork experience, but I am still in awe of what I witnessed yesterday.

I imagine it’s somewhat like an ayahuasca trip.

Relatively quickly after drinking, you will notice your heart rate go up and your temperature begin to oscillate. You may be sweating in one instant and shivering in the next. Your extremities might tingle at times, especially your palms.

It is said

Many people come to Holotropic Breathwork as a last resort, or when they are in a psycho-spiritual crisis.

And while I wasn’t sure what I was getting into, attending a generalized breathwork class, I was for sure going through a psycho-spiritual crisis and in need of this intervention. It was meant.

People come to HB to:

While I didn’t know anything about it before, I did notice when I was done I looked at the sky and told myself I’m no longer afraid to die (without giving thought to it either). My depression has been lifted, my crying spells over my love betrayal ceased and I felt…healed.


It treats past traumas. My ears rang, body shook, I blacked out and regained consciousness as I watched my arm involuntarily press against my cheek. It felt like magic. It was magic.


Last night, a tree and a flower crossed paths. Both examples of life. The relation not coincidental. Resin from a tree and a flower blooming from a plant. It was meant.

I was approached: “You needed to be here,” I did. Embraced, breathing together I felt a transfer of energy.

Vibrating, shivering, shaking, tingling, involuntary movements, ringing in my ears, crying, screaming, blacking out of holotropic transpersonal experiences.

Awakened, dusting dead bark and protruding forth. I came through.


I had the most  transformative experience today and I am so grateful for it -words cannot even express.

Drudged in deep depression, yet with the awareness to know it’s not good to sit in it while my energy was basically non-existent and wanted to tie me to the bed.

I mustered up courage to go AA, only to have people see me on the verge of tears and chickened out. A knockdown.

Hours later, I chose to end my evening giving one last shot. A sacred practice. I spent two-and-a-half hours in a deep, hypnotic trance. Crossed souls with someone who saw me, felt me and facilitated breathing a little life back into me.

Ironically, there’s a Leo eclipse tonight that’s also in Aquarius. This allows us to get to know our true selves as boldly as a Leo would , while displaying that for all to see like an Aquarius. This eclipse is for letting go and transforming.

In my practice, I felt numb tingling all over, involuntary movement and a blackout. I came back somewhat reincarnated and alive.

Tonight I hope you do something to open the gates of transformation too. You deserve it.

I wish you all the best of journeys to knowing yourself more deeply and truly. 💕

As for me, it seems like a fast turnaround but I am ready to forgive, let go and focus on growing all the amazing parts of me that I know I have grown into –despite my closest love seeing me as a lost case.

See I knew where my intentions and heart and good efforts were all along. I just lost sight of that in the muddied mire of loving so much that I adopted views that weren’t accurately representative of who I am.


Huge heart and passionately loyal, I am going to let everybody see the huge light I possess so no one is mistaken.

In a perfect world, I wouldn’t be here.

So, this is it. My final goodbye (tuh, if only I were so brave). And here I am finding myself on a toilet, proving just how SHITTY life can be. I love my dogs, yet they are a source of guilt for me. Cookie is so cute, timid and damaged. I find myself in her and am glad I have been allowed a chapter in her life to help her see not everything is scary. Pebbles is so intuitive. She can always tell when something isn’t right. She uses herself as a weight, pressure to ease mine, as she sits on top of me. She also barks when she knows we’re arguing. She paws at me to pet her when she knows I need to feel texture, something soft to soothe this rash reality. She also brings me her ball, thinking that exercise will make anyone feel better. Hell, maybe she’s right. But the problem is that I just don’t have the energy to throw the ball anymore. I don’t have the energy to do anything anymore. Including live this wretched life that I was selected for. What did I do in the past to deserve this? I’m sorry, whatever it was. And here I am again, as it is almost 7 a.m., wondering how the day is stretching, running beyond me again. I am a mere hamster on the wheel, except for that I notice the mundane task of doing so and realize I have the option to step off. Everyone is too busy running, on autopilot, worried about the next step and I’m just worried about my last. I don’t care what you do with my body, but I want my story told when I am gone, okay (that and my dogs taken care of)? Tell everyone how I got here. And that is not to say I didn’t contribute my parts. I was a shit show from 19 to 25, hell with as much history as I had it had to manifest in myself somewhere, but now…now I am just a woman with a tendency for depression, with a history of trust issues who just wants to love and be loved in return. It’s still not easy, but that’s what I sought, simply.  I listen to the a/c fan whir in this room dimly lit by blue dragonfly lights at the twilight of 5 a.m. and feel as though I am either at a hospital or my grandma’s house (I went there when I was sick and she lit blue lights and blasted her fan). I like it because at least then I know I would be taken care of. I am ill, emotionally. Tell them all how I had no one to go to. Anonymous Reddit people provided more consolation (thank you). Tell them how you left me in my darkest hour (not to say that you had to be obligated to me, you stuck with me through a lot and I appreciate those times), and how my siblings just couldn’t read into me wanting to be invited to spend time too (it’s no one’s fault, please don’t take the guilt for this, I just want you two to live happy lives and although mom was horrible, she was young and she can’t help herself I want her to be happy too. I forgive you mom. I love you). Tell them how people who posed as friends hit me up, got my hopes up that someone could be genuinely interested in my soul, only to use me to get to you. Those people don’t matter that much, but then why does that shit hurt? People don’t know how much they can impact a fragile person. Tell them how Kay severed the cord; although, most people tend to do so with depressed people because it becomes too much. I tried to hide it from you, though —and it still happened. Which is why I don’t feel as though Julia could handle it. Why risk the last person I converse with? I’d rather keep it superficial (it’s not anyone’s fault, please don’t feel guilty). And then there will be the people who will criticize as usual and say I had those people to talk to, I just made excuses. No. Maybe you don’t get. Maybe someone who’s been here before will get it. Or maybe it’ll be like my fucking life and no one will get it. I had an inkling of a person I could expose my real raw self to without knowing they may expect some superficial “I’m okay though” response. I want to disclose that I’m not okay without the pressure of acting for anyone else’s comfort, or without being judged. No one can do that for me right now. No one. Hell, trying to get you all to understand is past the point of mattering anymore. Never mind. Tell them how I persevered, got my masters only to have my dreams ripped away from me like the dreams of immigrants (not that it’s the same, it’s not) finally reaching the U.S. border only to be met with harsh awakenings. Tell them of all the abuse. Every, last, bit. Tell them how every single mishap, underserving mishap —some of which has led to some that are deserving, has forced me to believe that I was meant to be life’s punching bag. Each jab taking something out of me. And now look at my life. It has dwindled down to nothing. Down to me being bedridden, without a job, single, broke, a bum, unwanted, fat, with nothing to contribute to society (or maybe something but I have been barred from offering what I have). I am nothing. My life is nothing. I want to close my eyes and finally feel nothing.


Tell them:

  1. Abusive relationships
  2. Cheating relationships
  3. Mom, oh mom
    1. Drug
    2. Gang
    3. Jail
    4. Domestic violence
    5. Psychotic breaks
    6. Physical and emotional abuse
  4. Castrating grandma
  5. Sectioned off as not one of my siblings
  6. Sexual abuse
    1. Grandpa
    2. Mom’s friends
    3. “friends”
  7. Public judgment
  8. Fake friends
  9. Harsh criminal system
  10. Everything, tell them everything!!!

I talk to you, cause I have no one to talk to:

Trying to contemplate, what yesterday was all about

I sat in my car for a half an hour because my gut kept whispering, “Don’t go out.”

But that’s not where it started, where it started was somewhere between a locked door and awkward vibes.

I get that you’re tired of my questioning; however, I didn’t think it would blow up like this.

You know, it’s never like I volunteered to feel this way. But what I did volunteer, in hopes, were my thoughts to you. Hopes, that never came true.

Like I said, I was working through it in my head and it only exacerbated things more to bring them to you.

I just find it hard to believe that was the basis for you being so pissed with me. I tried all of Debra’s communication techniques, and called your fouls -you say lets try, 100% all in, but you didn’t care.

Anyhow, fast forward to my night out. I was never up to anything, if I was why would I invite you out?

You ask me to give you the benefit of the doubt, and last night I asked the same. I shook her hand to send a message, and she took it a whole different way. I guess me frozen, from shock of her audacity, and moving to introduce her to you wasn’t enough.

Yeah, you got me there, I’d be mad too. But, see, you’re taking this and I have no clue what you’re going to do.

See, me? I love you, so I’d be mad but be there by you, true and true.

So surprised, you check everyone else, but this time you decided not to.

I also never flirted with the girl in line, she asked me a question and like you said, “I didn’t know I had to be an asshole.”

I’m screaming it at you from the top of my lungs, “I have not done anything to be disloyal to you.” I may have my moments with trust, but I would never do that to you -ever.

It hurts, I toss and turn in the night, feeling pulled to get you to look in my eyes and see that person who I was -bowing out when times get rough -that person’s no longer me.

I had visions with you, I got hung up on getting a house, having a child. Hoping you’d envision it too. But you dropped the anchor, weighing me down, you couldn’t see that with me.

I agree, what happened last night, was fucked up and for that I’m sorry.

I just wish you would see, I was with Leilani that night, hadn’t done anything near the direction of flirting or being shady.

I guess I’m just reiterating, something you would never believe.

I love you. I’m sorry. And I know for you these feelings will never be enough.

Not going to make it about me, I love you and I wish you good luck.

Rites of Passage for People with Passion


Brené Brown wasn’t lying when she said, “When you love something so much, you are willing to eat the shit sandwich that comes with it.”

Basically, she was saying that every profession has a shitty side. If you are truly passionate about whatever it is that you pursue, then you are more than willing to eat the shit sandwich that no one else will. They just aren’t as committed. It’s a dreadful thing for them, but an opportunity to jump at for you.

In lay terms, it’s being happy to be Paris Hilton’s rug that she walks all over –in hopes that Kim Kardashian will be a household name 10 years down the line.

My journey to my dream has been a 10-year shit sandwich in the making.  A triple-decker, overstuffed sandwich that I’ve been all too happy to eat.

They aren’t lying when they say it takes 10 years to master something, from being a celebrity to being a therapist.

This, is my passion.

I have a long way to go still, but I am just now beginning to see the light at the end of the tunnel. And even though it’s like a grain of salt in the night, being able to see my goals manifesting into reality is so, so rewarding.

I got my first taste of surreal-ness when I was sitting in a Starbucks using the Wi-Fi to apply for graduate school in social work.

I was like, “I’m here. Am I actually doing this?” The fact that I was even going to be seriously considered as a graduate candidate tasted so delicious to me.

And I’m having that same feeling right now. I’ve been so caught up with keeping up –mid-terms, finals, breathing –that I didn’t have a chance to sit back and see what I have become.

All this pressure and I haven’t combusted, so that must mean I’m making diamonds…right?

Today, I realize I am becoming the woman I aspired to be when I was 13-years-old. Today, I am manifesting into the passionate, strong, independent, justice-seeking leader that I looked up to so much.

I looked at my peers around me in my adolescence –Channing, LaRayia and others –and wondered why I was so infatuated with them. I mean, I love women, yes, and these people are beautiful, but there was something more entrancing than that going on. They were inspiring, they were the souls my soul aimed to elevate to (and beyond).

It just never felt right before. When is my time?

I would say to myself, “Amber, you want this so bad but you’re not acting on it, you’re still being shy.”

My body told me that when my time had come it would fall into place so easily.

Graduate school was the lubrication that transitioned me from contemplating to acting.

Now, in the busiest month of February, as I am writing scripts for LGBT awareness events that I’m hosting, pulling together vendors for Domestic Violence workshops and advocating for what I believe in –online, offline, in school, protesting in the streets –I realize…. I am my own inspiration now.

I’m not fully at my goal yet, but I look at me and I make me proud.