I am a phoenix

Phoenix Feather

All my life, I have struggled with trying to understand who I am. Whoever I am…or whoever I was…has seemed to change tonight. I’m not going to go into details, but things happened. Unexpected things, and I lost a dear friend (not through death, just differences). It was in that moment that I realized I was putting more into trying to be the person that I thought the rest of the world would accept instead of trying to be who I truly was. Even when I tried to be who I truly was or who I thought I was, I didn’t really know what I was doing or where I was headed. It seemed like there was no pathway, and I was already in a dead-end alleyway. But something changed tonight, and I feel like I have truly found myself.

As I’ve said in another post here on this site, I believe that no one can truly be defined by just one word, term, or category. Now I know that for sure. I know now who I am, and I am far from a number, a color, or a word. I am far more than the ‘girl who survived’, although that’s a good legacy to have.

However, I want to create a different legacy, one that I have crafted myself. And so my journey starts.

My journey to the freedom of self-expression, knowing who I am, and knowing that no matter what happens in my life and even if my own body can and does feel like a prison because of being sick, there is nothing that can truly encase my soul or my spirit. Even if that may sound hokey. There’s nothing that can truly imprison me, and I have tried far too hard to be what I thought others wanted me to be. Now I realize that it doesn’t matter what or who I am - they will hate me anyway. So, why not just have fun with it?

Normally, I would end this post with something like ‘so, who am I?’ and then give a small list of what makes me who I am. I now realize that lists are hollow, and so are words if they are not believed. In addition, I have more to say than just a small bullet list of maybe five or six traits that supposedly make me up as a human being.

I know that I chose this life - somewhere in a dimension beyond this one - and I know that I am who I am because I have survived. And now I’m willing and ready to fight for everything that I’ve believed in, had faith in, and everything I’ve wanted to do for the past twelve years. I am ready to fight for the music career that I’ve wanted and wished I could pursue. I am ready to write a story that I can publish into a book, and I’m ready to do it all under the name Saruta Valentine.

Because Saruta is special to me. You may be wondering why I speak of myself in the third person, but the reality is, Saruta is not my real name. I am not going to share my real now - not now, maybe not ever. I am Saruta, and I will be her. I will be her, the character that I created in my years of desperation for the fear, anxiety, depression, and hatred to stop. The years that I fought a minutely battle against my mental illnesses, physical illnesses, and everything in between. The years where I wasn’t healthy, and a fictional character that I created named Saruta Valentine was all I had. Then, one day, I decided that I would become her.

I created Saruta with the fact in mind that she was completely and still is completely based off of myself. Everything that I believe, everything that I’ve wanted, and most importantly, all of the pain I’ve felt in my life. The older I got, the more I realized that this story I was creating around this fictional character looked closer and closer to the story I had lived in my real life, and so comes the story that I intend to publish.

However, it seems that as I discover who I truly am, I find myself to be a phoenix; a mythical creature that I have been so fascinated with ever since I first learned what it was. I love the legend of the Phoenix, about how she dies over and over again, just to be reborn as a goddess more beautiful than the last. I believe myself to be that very legend, and I would like to brand myself as so.

Even as I have felt like nothing but a barcode that needed to be fixed, I have died over and over only to be reborn again. Now I understand why. Because in the ashes, decay, and debris of who I once was lies the glowing feather - the ember - of everything that I have ever been meant to be. And now I take that feather into the palm of my hand, hold it to my heart, and allow it to light up my soul. With its warmth, I will find everything I have ever searched for.

With its warmth, I will be me.

Good Enough

My mind and heart are filled with tears. My demons, as they arise and their heads they rear. If love was gone from this world, I don’t know that I could go on. It seems there is no one that I can rely on. No one but God, the One who is in charge of everything, my Father who resides in heaven, and reminds me of my seven.

If I could manage to escape, where would I escape to? It seems that there is no use. No, I feel trapped, and there’s nothing I can do about it. All I can do is watch the hour and count it.

This life I was given to live is something I consider a privilege, the one that I fought so hard to maintain. So, why is it that it seems that everything I do to try to add meaning to myself is an attempt in vain? All I can feel is the pouring rain, and the iced blood in my veins. But I am alive, and there’s reason to fight. Perhaps if I were to allow Him to take it into His hands, I’ll be able to sleep tonight.

I want nothing more than peace, nothing more than my demons to cease. But if there’s some gateway to sanity, it seems caught up in a vanity. The mirror that reflects my soul, if only I could bear it my own. I tread this earth with no one to call a friend, and wonder if things will be the same near the end.

But I don’t intend to have an ‘end’ soon, as I’ve fought for my life for as long as I can remember and there’s nothing I wouldn’t do to stay of this earth a member. As the blood in my veins flow, I like to think of the red as flame. I want to believe that strength is my name. That I am a phoenix destined to be reborn, into a life that is less torn.

Of course rebirth is something that is figurative rather than literal. At the grave of my love I’ll stand someday, and name my first son after. But still another will I stand with at the alter. With a name that rings beautiful butterflies in my stomach, reminding me of a lost life that I once lived, and the face I somehow knew from the beginning.

I believe that everything happens for a reason, and to some that is treason. But there is nothing worse than floating through this life without meaning, and there’s nothing better to me than grounding myself with healing. Because as I hold his hand and allow him to guide me towards the future, I will never forget the past. As I am a different person than I was before. It seems that the person I was at twenty-three and am about to be now at twenty-four has developed and transformed from the very core. I don’t feel like the person I was born as, only the person I was destined to be. I was given these challenges, but they can’t trample me.

There’s nothing that can truly bring me down, and I would much rather be spinning barefoot in a summer dress than in a funeral gown. White adorned with crystals and a royal crown.

If there was somewhere I could call home, it would be the fictional world I created for myself. The world I created in the desperation of every broken piece of my soul that shattered as a teen. I never put it back together properly, it seemed. But that’s okay, because in the mosaic I have created I now am everything that I’ve wanted to be.

And that’s good enough for me.