What’s Meant to Be…

…it will, shall be, no matter the length

of time passing between you and

me. Stop dragging your feet, do not

fear — touch, reach out– I promise —

I am here; I bear no ill will, am holding

no grudge. The past is dead, finished, gone —

done. Years down the drain, keep calm — its

time to move on, and cast all anxiety aside. Pick

up the phone and call, what must you lose! We

already lost so much time. But descandsar

rest — I promise as we reunite, we’ll get by — for

what’s meant to be is..shall..will be…for what’s

meant to be is you — you and me.

  • Julia St. Clair, ©2017

    *Image from #StayQuotable via Google Image search


Puncture the wound on the

breast of my heart, tales of

new glories and old woes which

tear us apart, lay down the

blade, grasp deeply my hand, breathe

upon my breath as if this moment is

your last. A hole in a hole — salt massaged

into my wounds. A new day arises, yet

what else is there to do?

The Power of Meditation & How It Saved Me From a Farce

Buon giorno, everyone! The past month was busy, from my vacation in Florida to preparing materials to enter into another writing contest, but its safe to say I’ll post again daily now. Don’t worry, I knocked on wood to ensure this happens.

One thing that I cultivated more in these past weeks is meditation. One of my best friends is huge on meditation, and her actually meditating on the beach while we were in Florida really inspired me. From enhancing the power of prayer to the energy within myself, I’ve been more in tune lately and am currently using law of attraction exercises to bring me my heart’s desires. It is and isn’t easy — getting into the zone is easier when you truly let go, yet truly letting go is the hard part. The reason why is because its good to use affirmations and visualize your manifestations, yet if you focus too much, it’ll cause friction since the emotions and desired outcome are too attached to one another. After trying a new technique last night, and taking action with the last contest I entered in so far in terms of manifesting my career and lifestyle goals, I’m ready to fully let go and let go. I did let go and let God, and eagerly wait the desired outcome while surrendering my will to the higher power of the universe.

Speaking of God, the universe, or whatever you wish to call it (I use both interchangeably, along with Jesus, Mary, and specific saints since I identify as an open-minded Catholic and call for ancestors on occasion, too), its amazing how the higher power is always looking out for us. The first time I felt the strength and didn’t know it, I was driving and felt something have me take force of my steering wheel and go into the other lane without hesitation. I realized why five minutes later when the car in the other lane nearly collided with the one behind me, who was now parallel to them. The moment of awe, wonder, and “thank you, God” set in as I made it safely to class three years ago. Someone was watching over me and ensured my safety while on the road.

That same moment came to me five nights ago, but I wasn’t on the road traveling; I was in my own house. After a long day of working hard on my General Hospital spec script to submit to the Disney/ABC Writing Program and attempted realization in between, I finally took at break. It was after 10:00 pm, and I went to browse my phone when I noticed I had a missed call. I clicked and saw that 1.) the call was actually from the night before at 12:38 am and 2.) it was a number I didn’t recognize, yet it had my county’s area code. When this happens, its usually a telemarketer or a recruiter. Why a recruiter would call someone after midnight I don’t know, but I have had them message me at 1 am before, and always for, pardon my tongue, bull shit jobs that its obvious I don’t want since I put specifically on my requests “no sales position inquiries.” So I Google the number, as I always do when I receive a call from one I don’t recognize, and I was in shock by what popped up — it was the home number of someone who screwed me over in the past. Her parents’ info came right up; I was shook.

Out of respect, I won’t provide any details other than this person was a horrible friend and was my then-boyfriend’s mistress for the last 10 months of our relationship before I left for the final time and she officially replaced me. My mind might sound biased, but even before all that happened, I knew in my gut she was a bad person because of the things she’d say and do to people. However, I like to see the best in people and hoped it wasn’t true. It took all that plus her throwing her sins onto me and getting people to believe them to fully rip my eyes open. As one of my friends who has an amazing sixth sense said upon meeting her one time, this person is “soulless,” giving off nothing but the worst aura imaginable. That’s why God had me miss that phone call — to protect me from whatever mind games she wanted to play, despite the fact that five years came and went, and she got exactly what she wanted. The last time she bothered me four years ago, and she did it very sneaky since she makes people snap at her and pretends to be the victim, I fell right into her trap and the outcome was not good. I don’t know why she’d call me, but I do know she used that number because she knows I wouldn’t answer if she did on her cell phone. Yet her outcome of causing a farce was not achieved; mine of meditating that night and working hard the following day was, and I didn’t even notice her sad attempt until later.

How did I handle it? Through wisdom — the wisdom I acquired and continue to over the years guided me to block the number to ensure it would never happen again. This is a far cry from the girl I was years ago, who would’ve fallen into the trap of calling back and getting all worked up. As much as I would’ve loved to finally have told her like it is, its not worth it. Her energy is so dark and negative that it would cause nothing but pain, pain I left behind so long ago. I don’t wish her well, and I don’t wish her luck; I forgive her for stealing my life years ago and hope karma does her the justice she deserves, if it hasn’t already.

After blocking the number, I got on my knees and thanked God. I haven’t gotten what I want just yet, but I did prevent myself from dealing with something, someone, that was nothing but wrong. Never underestimated God, the universe, whatever you want to call your deity’s power; True Light only wants what’s best for you.

Have a blessed day and nothing but peaceful energy and vibes 🙂 !

via Daily Prompt: Farce

Changes in Self-Discovery and Realization: The Single Life, Good Friends & Tiempo per me

Sola— it’s no secret its been this way for me for over four years (five later on this year), and there’s only been one “Ghost of Christmas Past,” whom it felt as though he were five different men because his personalities and mental health were so complex. It took me years to realize the task I undertook being in a serious relationship at such a young age. I said in the past how I tried, and cried, for years to get back into a relationship, and towards the end of 2016, I realized I don’t need nor want one.

How did I come to this realization? Online dating; I tried it, yet again, having a much better experience this time around than previous ones (advice time: Bumble is awesome, stay away from OK Cupid, nothing but creeps looking for one night stands). I spoke with a variety of men, some weird, some cool, and one really nice and sweet. I even planned dates with some of them, and connected on social media. Yet despite these recent turn of events, I knew in my heart after having this positive experience on something I once thought desperate, even negatively, about that it’s not the right time for me. Per Me– for me. I never truly endured or experienced time for myself. I’ve had plenty of it, but it wasn’t until 2016 that I knew what to do with it. I was always used to being so-and-so’s daughter, so-and-so’s girlfriend, so-and-so’s friend that I had no idea how to truly be myself.

Another thing is I spent way too much time with the wrong people. When you waste time trying to fit in with individuals who possess no want, desire, nor need for you, it’s soul draining. For the record, I’m not here to demonize anyone; these are good people. We just didn’t go well with each other anymore. Maybe we never did after we explored other groups outside of My Chemical Romance, the band that bonded us all together. Maybe they incorporated me into the group more because they pitied me over everything that happened with my ex. Perhaps they thought they could change me, and I won’t lie, I thought I could influence them, too. Either way, the flame died, and there’s nothing we can do about it except smile and move on. I may not have many friends, but they are the most trustworthy, amazing individuals I’ve encountered so far in my 22-and-a-half years of life. I also have numerous acquaintances and colleagues who are awesome people, too. This attitude and more sets me apart with how I once was and most of those I left behind. Two things, actually: I’m grateful and always feel of hope.

Therefore, 2017 is the year of me– tiempo per me. Get a full-time job, start a career, have fun with friends, travel (even if it’s only the subway into Manhattan) and, if God wills and I feel its the right time, maybe just maybe date again. Namaste myself because as Stephen Hawking put it, “when there is life, there is hope.” Grazie mille.

Change– It’s That Simple

via Daily Prompt: Simple

As the first month of 2017 draws to an end, I feel the wind of change embracing me in open arms like never before. To begin, usually every January I have a little life crisis and worry that I’ll never amount to anything. This happened to me ever since I was a child. Note the word happened– this year was the first year this “crisis” did not occur. Ironically, the time in my life where it would be normal to be worried, I’m not whatsoever. I may not be full-time or working in my field yet, but I still have a job that I love. I have bills to pay and working part-time, I can’t save anything up, but its ok. It won’t be like this forever. Maybe it was the incredible experience I endured being a contestant in Miss New York USA (separate posts about that coming up) or the calmness that came over me when I returned from Rome last June, but I feel like if I keep doing what I’m doing, working hard in the office and on the side with my writing and job searching and give it up to God, everything’s going to work out. I don’t know how, but I’m trusting in the unknown and just know.

Breaking into the business– its going to happen, and I have a feeling soon. I won’t give too much away, but whether I need to intern again and work two jobs (including the one I have now), working full-time, being chosen as a writer in the Late Night Writer’s Workshop 2017 (please pray for me that I hear back positive news) or a little bit of both, it’ll all be ok. Moreover, its having hope and good cheer, no matter how heavy the storm hits, that matters most.

Cha-Cha-Ch-Changes– Professional Life

I chose this photo of the late and great David Bowie and the title of one of his many classics to sum up everything that’s going on. After tomorrow, I will no longer be working in Briarcliff. It’s strange, shocking, a welcome change, but bittersweet. It honestly didn’t hit me until I saw the midst of everyone packing today, once lively walls illuminated by colorful paintings, posters and awards now slain cream, dull and barren, ready for the new owners, who I pray treat the property with the tending loving care it rightfully deserves. As I saw my old department move, I saw what I’d essentially be going through tomorrow– goodbye. We’ll still be together, all the departments. I, for one, am much happier that I’ll be closer to my co-workers instead of my current spot, which put me with students, but I understand since it used to be the student and part-time area, and the tables turned where the students outweighed the remaining part-time. Not that there’s anything wrong with students, heck I was one 6-7 months ago and am debating on becoming one again, but I’m happy I get to be closer with my superiors and not having to go across the halls and the building.

Speaking of school and that full-time job that opened up in my old department, my former supervisor also interviewed me for the position today. It went very well, and he said I’d probably be one of the final candidates for the job, and would have one more interview with the department head. I felt, and feel, very confident and excited, the anxiety and at one point nausea which plagued me all week nervous on applying or not, and how everything would play out, just delaying me from seeing the positives in it all. I guess what made it harder is the fact that I absolutely love and appreciate my job now, so much so that it’s really going to break my heart a little bit whenever I leave, whether it’s for this position or another one in a few months, year, etc. As for the position in question, it’s a full-time job, a learning experience, a foot in a door and beginning to build a career, and it incorporates a key part of my plan– going back to school. I’ve narrowed my options down to two– education or publishing– and hope to narrow that down to one sometime in the new year. I never thought I’d seriously consider going back to get a master’s. Mostly because of financial issues, but also I thought I’d never need it. I never thought I’d have the need to go back until I realized how disappointed I was in how I was reeled into my undergraduate major with false hopes and promises. Don’t get me wrong; I’ll never regret the classes I’ve taken, the wonderful professors who taught and enlightened me, the education of my mind and thought. However, had I known how difficult it would be to become a writer in the television/film/media industry, I would’ve utilized my love of history and majored in that instead. Therefore, I made the decision that, whether I get this job or not, I will go back and get my master’s in 1-3 years time, and I’m pretty darn proud of that decision.

Also, speaking of interviews, I have another one on Monday, but for a marketing company. When it rains, it pours, and that’s with good things, too. Unlike from years and months ago, I become calm on the outside when getting overwhelmed and privately deal with the stress by focusing on the good. I find the stress goes down that way. I also try to put myself in other people’s shoes and empathize with the other side– what would I do if I were them? What would I want? How would I feel? These questions and many more are what we need to ask ourselves. Moreover, God forbid someone’s giving us a difficult time, instead of getting overworked and to the point of frustration, gently try to understand and offer the best help possible. Worse comes to worse, explain you can’t do anything for them unless they calm down, that way you can say you really did the best you could’ve.

No matter what these changes bring, as Mr. Jones, a.k.a “Bowie” put it, “time may change me, but I can’t change time.” Namase.


Daily Prompt: Liminal

Liminal— “of, relating to, or being an intermediate state, phase, or condition,” according to the Merriam-Webster dictionary.

Most common example of a liminal state: the thread between life and death

Reflection: It’s been hitting me that it’s been over 4 years since I’ve been in a relationship. Whether it was seeing everyone at Thanksgiving or hearing from family and friends who’s getting married, starting families, etc., it just hit me really hard. Although technically I’ve been “untouched” for four years, I’ve actually lost that relationship a year before, long before it was officially ended. Doing the first of many crises and breakdowns, my boyfriend at the time took it upon himself to take up a mistress, the woman he chose being a two-faced “friend,” who viewed their affair as a “relationship” although he was with me making the matter much worse. Thankfully, people knew — and to this day know — the facts and unadulterated truth, no pun intended. Why is this relevant? Because it was the start of the liminal point in my first — and to this day only — relationship.

Despite not breaking up yet, we were not together as we once were. We were with one another physically, as in being in the same room and other stuff, but mentally and emotionally, he was not there. That was and wasn’t his fault — my former boyfriend suffers from bipolar disorder. He is manic depressive. During our best and our worst days together, both when we were dating and before when we were just friends, he would erupt in violent mood swings, ranging from punching a wall and verbal screaming and outrage over a small comment or being “upset” to buying loads of gifts for myself and him, doing things and goings places and compulsive spending of his parents’ money whenever he was happy or feeling an emotional “high.” One moment he was an unrecognizable, hateful being, the next he was hardly the fun-loving, funny man whom I loved. This man simultaneously lifted my spirits and was the one thing pushing me down and holding me back.

When we first met in high school, he went to counseling anywhere from once to twice a week. That’s when he was the most balanced, and, despite the fact that the school forced him to go, boasted of its help and encouraged me to seek it for grief therapy when my grandparents and half of my family died within the course of a year. However, once he graduated, no one could force him to go anymore; he decided that rather than officially get diagnosed and psychologically elevated as recommended to him and his parents (they refused because they were in denial, too; now he was 18 and could decide for himself) that “nothing was wrong,” and he’d be fine. A year after that and his moods increased, his mind going very downhill. I loved and to this day love my ex because he was my best friend and first love. Yet even I can’t deny that there were points where I was afraid of him and in fear for my family, friends, and myself. Despite knowing, my support didn’t stop, only increasing, even to the point of becoming draining and overbearing.

Because I focused all my energy on trying to save and appease him, I lost sight sense of myself. I had no idea who I was or what I wanted anymore, both outside and within, always going by him for his approval for every aspect of my appearance and behavior. What started off as me being afraid of losing him and having him “model” me eventually turned into my ex full-on controlling me; if I wanted something that he didn’t like, I wasn’t allowed to buy it. If I received a gift which he thought was “disgusting,” I couldn’t use it in his presence. There is irony to this situation. As his mind declined and behavior became more erratic, his gifts to me grew less and more cheap, dull, and random to match his “mis-matched” moods. Yet God forbid I didn’t like them (and God, forgive me for using Your name this way to make a point), it was the end of the world.

I wasn’t the only one who noticed this — his mother and friends knew, too. We weren’t psychiatrists, but even Stevie Wonder could see that my boyfriend was suffering from bipolar disorder. Perhaps there was even a little borderline [personality disorder] in him, too. What separates and unites us is how we dealt with him as his disorder grew untreated and worse — all of his friends abandoned him, cutting him off. Some told him straight out, others just let the friendships die. Yet despite knowing he was sick, they said he was evil, calling him an “asshole” and wishing bad luck, pain, and violence inflicted unto him. I don’t blame them, I can’t — I’ll be the first one to admit that he would get violent during his low moods. He even hit his old best friend over the head with a glass bottle and blocked it out, getting heartbroken that anyone would accuse him of such a thing. I used to think it was acting, but I’ve seen great “actors” (meaning pathological liars and psychopaths), and he wasn’t one of them; he was sick. He was a good man deep down inside who was seriously, genuinely mentally sick. This realization is heartbreaking within itself.

In the midst of his physical and emotional fits and rages, I pleaded with him to see what was wrong and seek professional help. I told him not to hurt him, but because I loved him, and because I wanted the mental illness to stop destroying our lives and our bond. The response was not as planned — First, he turned the situation on its rear, calling me “abusive,” because I called him “crazy” and “sick.” Sometimes I’d lose my temper and say those words, for that I deeply regret. Yet most of the time I told him in a serious tone, sometimes getting to the point of tears over my heartbreak of how he was denying his illness and letting it destroy him and us. This went on for months. Then during our first breakup, he promised he’d finally get psychologically evaluated. We both believed this action would come, as he’d express his fears over the “what ifs” if the doctors saw there was something wrong. His biggest fear was being locked up in a mental hospital, and I promised I would stick with him and remain by his side no matter what. This leads to the second problem — he lied that he got psychologically evaluated, telling me with joy that the doctors said was “fine.” The story he told was even better, more like Drago’s training in Rocky IV minus the steroids. That’s how I know not he wasn’t the evil monster many portray him out to be because my ex was an atrocious liar; he thought he was a good one, but his over the top stories and facial expressions gave him away (“What’s so funny, [name here]?”). And yes, these increased the longer and longer he went without treatment. Did I believe him? No, but I wanted to. I desperately needed to at that point.

After our break and reconciliation, my ex resumed cheating on me with that “friend.” This time I was being totally blindsided, though I received warnings from my friends and other witnesses caught them together several times. He thought he needed someone physically with him at all time, and because I was going away to school, he replaced me before I even left. He just didn’t want me to know. He thought he found someone who cared about him and could help him, but this poor man was dead wrong. Unlike me, my ex’s mistress used him and his undiagnosed illness as a point for entertainment, thinking it was “hysterical” when he attempted suicide and used to incident to threaten him with leaving and telling me they were “together.” This all came out over a phone call, her bragging about how he almost took his life as he was breaking down before hanging up. Never in my life had I ever heard a human being howl, scream, cry, and act like an animal waiting to be euthanized. I was hurt by his betrayal again, but in the moment of life and death, it meant nothing. The news of my boyfriend putting a gun in his mouth rather then his member in another woman was the saddest moment of my life.

I spent the entire day on the phone with him, from 7:00 am to 11:00 pm, first convincing him not to kill himself, and then making sure he couldn’t run away (I was at my former university at the time and had no access to a car or bus to come down and physically console him). Despite being at my lowest point, I let it go to help him, to encourage him to get on his feet because life goes on, and there is no gift to us more precious than simply being alive. But now I knew our relationship was dead — I couldn’t physically be there to help him, he didn’t have the confidence to go on without a filler, and I was tired of being tired and a shadow of a being with no sense of self or purpose. About a few days later, when I knew his mind was in a semi-better place, I told him to make a decision — me or her. He could no longer have both. But if he chose me, he could never see or speak to her ever again. Pretty hard if they go to the same, mid-size community college and extension sites together, and he’s petrified of being alone, despite how he now saw she was bad for him, only bringing out the worse in everybody (and even if they didn’t fool around, if they were just friends, I would’ve advised the same thing. She was, is, an evil person. If I ever feel comfortable, I’ll write  about her as time goes on).

Two weeks went by, and he still didn’t make a decision. One day, I let my anger get the best of me when he uttered, “we’re always be friends no matter what.” Flashback to three years and three months beforehand when we started going out. We didn’t think nor know how serious this would be, and promised to do just that — always remain friends, no matter what. But “no matter what” had gone too far. I laid into him about “is this how you thank me after everything I did for you, I don’t even know who I am anymore because of it,” and his frantic interruptions became too much. “Fuck you, you’re dead to me!,” I yelled, hanging up the phone. I cracked — it was done. He called back, and I didn’t answer. Our relationship was over, just like that. Three years of love, trust, heartache, and pain sliced through his its by my words — “Fuck you, you’re dead to me.” And thus the liminal period of our relationship, and the whole thing in general, had come to a scratching end.

The liminal period of my relationship with my ex-boyfriend haunted me for years. Parts of it still hurt me to this day, two of them being how I could let myself go so long to hold onto something basically dead and also how I ignored the signs of my then-boyfriend’s mental illness for so long and dealt with trying to tell him the wrong way. We have zero contact (haven’t spoken to him in what will be 4 years in March), but I hear stories of him from friends, colleagues, my sister’s close friend who lives around the block from him, etc. He hasn’t gotten better, in fact only worse. I always used to feel guilty years ago, but I hardly do now. I was young, all but a child and not awakened to real life things and the appropriate responses to dealing with them. I was young and foolish, yet having and possessing a good heart. It came in handy as I dealt with such a hard and heavy deck of cards in life that I was forced to deal as good as I did. I used to think, and ponder deep into thought why– why did this happen like that? Why have this happen at all? Why did my boyfriend have to have mental illness? How could God allow mental illness to even exist? Like the dramatic leading up to and breakup? Why not waste away and grow apart like most people do? But then I get my answer that this is why liminal phases happen —  to bridge the gap from one point to another. It can be as painless or painful as we make of it; unfortunately, we humans 9/10 times choose the latter, perhaps because we are so afraid of letting go. Therefore, one must learn to cut the cord, to jump off the cliff, take the big leap of faith and leave the former life behind when the time is right before it eats and wastes away at yourself until there’s nothing left, no matter how difficult or heartbreaking it might be. As Jerry Garcia says in the Grateful Dead’s “Touch of Grey,” “I will get by. I will get by. I will get by-iy-y, I will survive.” We do get by — we get by all the time. Happy reading, everybody ❤ .

via Daily Prompt: Liminal

Reflections on Briarcliff Countdown, Week 4: Overview

La la la la la la…la la la la la la…

The “La La La” theme from American Horror Story: Coven blasts through my mind whenever I park my car and go into work each morning. After twisting up the windy Elm Road, I place my vechile in a spot and waltz on into the hall. Dow Hall. Dow– one of the most fascinating institutions I’ve been in. Before I started working in it over two and a half years ago, some friends I made in class brought me back to their dorm on break to show me the famed horror hall and Briarcliff Manor housing campus. I thought it was fascinating and rich in history, creepy, but exquisite, seeming like a combination of the Briarcliff Manor Asylum in Season 2 of American Horror Story (AHS) and the witches school in the previously mentioned third season, Coven. Something drew me there…I liked it.

Here I am almost three years later. I work in this building 3-4 days a week, but soon the time will come to say goodbye. The Briarcliff campus is no more; they are kicking even us office folk out, sending us from the bowls of Briarcliff to the light to Valhalla. No, not the afterlife of Viking legend, but the quant Westchester county town situated between White Plains and Thronwood, home to the Kenisco Dam, Kenisco Cemetery and, the ever popular, Westchester Community College– WCC. Everyone who’s ever lived in Westchester County has gone here at some point. I, myself, have taken college courses there, both as a high school student my senior year through something called the ACE program, where you earn college credit while still in high school, and as a visiting college student in Summer 2013. So its goodbye to one small town, and hello to another.

I came in this morning, and noticed in my supervisor’s and co-workers’ offices that their packing significantly increased from last week. I also noticed how we’re all going to an open house for the new office next Thursday. It’s always magical and bittersweet at the same time, though I admit, as much as I love this campus, the change of scenery is quite welcome. So far throughout the course of the day, there’s not much change. As the week goes on, we see. We shall see.