THE FINAL STRETCH

Word Count: 4,391 | Reading Time: ~20 minutes

I know you saw the word count + read time and thought, “No way I’m reading all of that.” Fair enough. Especially if you’re Gen Z, I don’t expect you to have the attention span to get through it all. But let’s be real—how do you expect to shift realities if you can’t even focus beyond a TikTok-length video?

It’s been 22 months, 96 weeks, 678 days, and 16,274 hours since my first & last blog post on April 4, 2023.

77 Google Notes, 27 unfinished Google Docs, pages and pages of journal sketches later, I can finally move forward with…

A single blog post. Yay! 

This is how we redefine progress, right? 

Or is it just me gaslighting myself into a self-critical spiral? Underplaying the immense inner work I had to complete just to produce said blog post (it took me 2 damn months).

The rewards aren’t satisfying because they don’t come with the external validation I secretly crave—a sense of inner security, knowing my work is seen in its full expression and it matters.

i thin

That’s a “problem” with Inner & shadow work, the results are intangible and aren’t seen by the public eye. I can’t show you physical results like a finished painting and say, “Here! Look at what I’ve done! Look at the good work I accomplished!” 

But my growth is real. It’s here. And it’s now.The trick is, only those who’ve walked through the dark can see me (yay for becoming even more invisible!), so unless you can meet me at my level of emotional depth and authentic expression, you may never truly meet me in my growth.

So, what kind of massive, otherworldly growth have I experienced? I’ve gotten up close and personal with the messier parts of life: Grief. Loss. Betrayal. Break-ups. Exploitation. Neglect. Collusion. And, of course, spiritual warfare.

I’ve been healing from 3 years straight of heartbreak, disappointments, setbacks, delays, detours, accidents, and straight-up fuckery. It’s felt like I’m navigating an invisible matrix of laser beams while playing whack-a-mole with fate.

And at this point?

I am. Angry.

I am furious, resentful, and bitter, teetering on the edge of “I give up” and “I don’t give a shit” on a weekly basis. One step away from dropping it all for good and escaping to the peaceful abyss of foreign lands where no one knows who I am. A stark contrast to the rest of this post, where I bitch and moan about feeling exploited by my closest friends and soulmates in this lifetime.

Rage, Reality & Reflection

For months, years even, I’ve been moving in a stop-go pattern that has now been shifting on an hourly basis. Like hello adaptability! I am your newest spokesperson and expert because you’ve definitely kept me on my toes (more like on my knees, crying at every new devilish inconvenience).

Every time I think I can take a deep breath and get my bearings, there’s a new crisis to handle. You might think I sound dramatic, extreme, or even mentally unwell, but let me tell you—you have no idea what it’s like to feel energy the way I do.

And the kind of energetic interference I have to keep fighting through makes my blood boil.

Sometimes I stop and ask myself–what’s really making me angry? The fact that my soul has been desecrated for years by people who were supposed to be my closest friends and confidants? By the universe, which supposedly is always working for me, not to me? 

At times, what I think I’m angry at is the loss of control. This new reality I’m trapped in where my actions and the results of them are completely out of alignment. I never know when something will work out peacefully or if it's just the next thing that will go awry.

Every day, I feel a deep, incomprehensible fury at the way the events of my life have played out since May 2022.

Angry at society.

Angry at myself, too—though I’ve come to understand this self-sabotage as the tendency to turn my anger inward when I feel trapped by my circumstances (thank you, Astrology & Shadow Work). When I want to destroy myself, as if I cannot make a move to turn the tides, do what I need to do, or get what I need to get, I know that’s a call for transformation–a push to break free from powerlessness and take action, or shift my perspective.

I’ve accepted that peace will not be handed to me —not in the way I’ve patiently waited for it to come. Oh, no. Not I. This post comes to you because I realize this isn’t about peace at all. It’s about conflagration–an intentional fire designed to keep me in a bed of red-hot anger to channel and transmute into art. Anger from decades of betrayal, exploitation, and neglect….all to ”trANSmUte” (one of my least favorite words) into creative potential & self-mastery.

Because I mean….what the actual fuck? This is the ultimate solution to injustice? “Transmute” your emotional energy into something “constructive” while no proper recourse is taken? Expend all that time and energy to regulate your unspoken pain while the scales stay unbalanced?

No wonder Libras are so out of whack and obsessed with their exes.

But, whatever. 

I see the game.

The past year and a half has opened my eyes to a completely different perspective of life—one that suddenly makes sense of why we used to have duels in society. Imagine a space where conflicts are mutually agreed to be settled in a physical arena, where actions speak louder than words, and issues are put to rest forever.

Now, that’s an idea I can get behind.

-ADHD TANGENT-

A slight tangent (get used to these— I have what we like to call an “ADHD mind”): Several years ago I worked with a trainer at my kickboxing gym. He pissed me off one day in November 2019 by reneging on our deal, and he knew it. Best part? I was still scheduled for one-on-one sessions with him.

Do you know how damn good it felt to channel my anger into that session, knowing that he was safe and I wouldn’t end up in jail?

The fact that he was wearing body pads and I could happily kick him around, slam some knockout hooks to his body, and blow off steam was everything I needed to move forward from his disrespect.

Think about how good that could be for our mental health and how many relationships it could save.

Imagine a society where we could step into a padded ring, fight out unresolved tension, and leave it behind. 

Doesn’t that sound like a better way to settle conflict than empty words and endless pain?

-END TANGENT-

Back to me. 

So, yea. I’ve been really fucking angry. So angry, in fact, that it’s been integrated into my daily norm.What am I angry about? Well, well, my dear reader, let go even deeper into my headspace and emotional world.

Soul Crushing Revelations: A Sliver of Insight into My Current POV:

Out the Deep End

For 13 years, you're trapped in the cycles of depression, anxiety, and suicidal ideation. After a body trauma event, you decide to dig deeper into your depths to open up Pandora's box and try to get your shit together, only to spark a five-year long journey into the shadows. Slowly, you start to heal from decades of drowning in the deep bowels of emotional neglect. You climb out a well of despair with your bare hands, each self-love & self-compassion exercise serving as the stakes you use to climb up the wall and back into the light. You recover lost parts of yourself, discover Astrology, Twin Flames, and spirituality. Through this, you learn how unconditional love feels, start trusting again, and experience the world and relationships in completely unprecedented ways. You open up, you let yourself be vulnerable, and begin to speak your truth after 10 years of silence, dissociation, and emotional isolation.  For the first time in 7 years, you dare to believe in your future again.

Whiplash

Then just as you begin showing up for yourself and ask for reciprocity in your relationships, you’re met with a disgusting truth: nearly every connection you’ve invested in was fake and never built to support you in your depths and authenticity. Just when you think you’re free from your social anxieties and insecurity in relationships, it becomes a reality and you’re pulled back into quicksand you start to wonder if you’ll ever be allowed to leave. You realize a quiet, unspoken emotional convenience always existed in the background of your friendships—something you could never name, but always sensed. Painful clarity emerges: while you’ve brought the water, the emotionality, the strength & the depth, they’ve been taking what you give, but never truly meeting you in reciprocity. Your years of anxiety weren't "in your head"—they were your intuition, your gut picking up on the invisible imbalance. And when you try to balance the scales? They demand that you stay satisfied with what you have, try to emotionally manipulate you into staying, or punish you for walking away. They quietly erase you from their lives, uninviting you to their wedding as if you never mattered. As if you weren’t the one keeping the flame alive in their connection at one point. But you’re still their “close friend” on Instagram, as if your presence still holds some token value, but only in the most superficial, convenient of ways. 

Broken Promises

You realize after spending years submerged within yourself, misunderstood and emotionally neglected, that the reason your pain and needs went unnoticed wasn’t because you were invisible—it was because acknowledging them would force others to face what they refuse to acknowledge within themselves. 

Your vulnerability wasn’t disrespected and unseen because it wasn’t real or truly unseen, but because seeing it would require others to confront their own shadows.

You made quiet promises to yourself and to the Universe: 

• never leave a friend behind

• never let someone suffer the way you did, unseen and unaccounted for,  the way you felt in a “sisterhood,” where the people you believed to be your support system watched you fall over and over and over again, comfortably in their own selfishness.

  
  

You made a quiet promise to always lend an ear and helping hand to a struggling, lost, forgotten soul because you swore you would never overlook another human being and become a part of The Problem™ .

When you feel your entire life purpose is wrapped up in a need to heal the world, mend collective wounds, and solve world problems, even as an expression of your own wounding, you’re faced with the reality that your deep intention, no matter how good-willed and loving it seems, doesn’t mean shit to most human beings, not even your closest friends.

You learn that your goodness, your willingness to show up, your inner strength becomes the source of their jealousy. Your deep intention, no matter how pure it seemed, is reduced to some fucked up “victim-savior” narrative because in truth, that’s the reality of relationships built on transactional convenience vs. authentic “give-and-receive” reciprocation.

And then. 

Manifestations Blocked, Denied, Deleted, Canceled.  

After years of inner work and shadow work, everything you’ve been pursuing and everything you’ve come to believe about partnerships and relationships, everything that’s important to you, gets flipped on its head. For the sake of self-preservation, you’re asked to go against everything you believe in. You are absolutely denied everything you ask for. In fact, you get something completely different–or the opposite of what specifically requested.

You get something that causes a kind of harm you could never fathom. 

You continuously meet others who are living your dreams, opportunities and relationships you’ve struggled to attain. You have friends and meet new people with the exact skills, expertise, and resources you seek, but they purposefully withhold.

(I don’t say that in a “I'm entitled to what you have,” way—no, it’s more like a “I feel like you’re better than me and I have no concept of sharing or equal exchange because I only understand one-way relationships where I need to feel dominant” kind of thing).

Or worse, you watch your friends manifest your unspoken desires, and wonder how they can easily make things happen while you’re left struggling with small breakthroughs.

Even worse? You’ve helped them reach those goals, spoke their future  into existence before they even believed in it for themselves. And when it's your turn to receive? They’re no where to be fucking found. 

Why Did I Ever Care So Much?

Your entire modus operandi, the way you’ve moved for 30+ years of life, has been centered around understanding and connecting with others. You’ve collected a diverse array of knowledge and skills—not just to widen your scope but because you knew it would help you connect with a diverse set of people. You’ve spent your entire life understanding how to better support others emotionally, being the “BEST FRIEND,” (Leo-Gemini placement problems) only to realize that you’ve been innocently following the golden rule–treating others as you’d like to be treated. You’re trying to soothe the childhood trauma you’ve endured being targeted, outcasted, and ostracized in your environments time and time again. 

And then what do you learn? That to truly claim your sovereignty and freedom, you have to act like you don’t care whether you’re accepted in your environments? You can’t “rely on external validation.” No, you must be detached while simultaneously knowing when and how to connect, who to connect with, and how to navigate each encounter with high-grade discernment and responsiveness in boundaries? This, apparently, is the key to security, because its more likely someone is engaged in self-deception, self-betrayal, and they can’t relate to you sincerely due to their lack of self-reflection, embodiment, and empathy. Because many won't don’t do the work to heal & grow. 

You come to realize, what you seek, what you care about in this lifetime, may never come to you. And you’re expected to be okay with that. You’re expected to socialize without any sense of purpose, without expectation of genuine interaction in return, because apparently, that would be “transactional,” because mindless conversation isn’t draining, of course. (....?)

Because yes, of course it makes total sense to want to spend time with others when they can’t see you through anything other than their own limited emotional perception and awareness.  Because what the actual fuck is the point of relationships if no one truly sees or hears you? What the hell are you relating through….? Ignorance? And why is this fact so casually accepted as a norm and not a glaring social red flag that there are relational skills going seriously unmet and uncultivated in American society?

(Because just in case no one’s told you yet–the objective does exist, everything is not subjective [our literal sentence structure is subject-verb-object…] and you can absolutely be wrong [1 + 1 will never equal 5]).

My Body is the War Zone

Imagine. You are so unsafe. So insecure. In your job, your relationship, your finances,  in love, and in your body (not because you haven’t learned to love your sacred vessel, but because you’ve become aware of non-physical entities that will disrespect your physical boundaries without adequate protections).

Sometimes the atmosphere feels so heavy and suffocating, all you can do is hyperventilate and cry on the couch, wondering if you’re even supposed to be here—why you’re not allowed to take yourself out, if you must.

It’s amazing how you can cry your entire being out 10 times over… and nothing changes.

Do you get the release you need?

Yes.

Did the magic wand to fix all your problems ever come?

Nope.

Did the cycle break?

Hahahahaha. I'll let you know if it ever does.

Your body. My body. A war zone. When every cell trembling from the emotional residue of battles through grief and rage fought within, my heart space unwittingly becomes the war zone itself. A space of self-betrayal. And it’s…heartbreaking—disconnecting from your heart center, not because I don’t want to love, but because she believes it’s beating for a true companion, unaware of the manipulation she’s been pulled into. She doesn’t understand how she’s been wired to sacrifice your life and well-being for others comfort, stuck in toxic beliefs about unconditional love passed down generation after generation like a sweet womanly poison.

So, THIS is just a look into where I’ve been the past 22 months—eaten alive by chronic emotional neglect, seasoned by betrayal after betrayal. I haven't even mentioned how atrocious my dating life has been.

I feel unbridled anger and violence brewing within me at times, and nothing can quell it. No amount of kickboxing, rest, food, alcohol, or substances can free me from this state. 

I can muster a bit of space for other feelings, but not much, and they’re quite manic. 

Patience? Compassion? 

Fuck that noise, they’re not welcomed here with the pain. 

Because, the audacity of asking me to care about someone else’s feelings while no one cares about mine. The kindness and care I was once built on now feels like a joke compared to the stark reality I’m faced with.

And still, I Keep Going.

I keep going. I carry it all, and I persevere. My innocence, my empathy, my light. At times, it feels as though they hang on by threads, while my current reality shows me how casually deceitful and emotionally bankrupt people are. Despite the times I’ve blamed my kindness and tried to sever ties with it, I will always reject any corruption trying to take over my soul.

But let's be real, how many true choices do I have other than to put one foot in front of the other, with as much bravery I can muster in that moment?

Like the goddamn fucking Terminator, I respawn after each critical hit, rising again and again, more resolute on my path each time, even within the uncertainty. Every scar is an upgrade or a doorway to full integration. I am indomitable and I don’t lose. Even when it seems like it, I’m still winning.

But I'm still in..."the Process."

And I fucking hate it. I hate the process so fucking much. I hate this karma so goddamn much I'm ready to claw out my soul from underneath the cover of my soft, gorgeous melanated skin. 

I hate it because of how meaningless it’s become— it's how long it takes me to do anything. The fact it takes hours for me to post something on social media I know no one will read.

I Am (not) A Shadow

When I moved out of my family home, I thought I’d be totally supported. My parents asked if I would be okay, and I confidently said, "Yeah, I’ll be fine. I have my friends to help me." I was so certain, because I just learned how to trust and I believed in my friends. But holy crap was I wrong. Instead of love, support, loyalty, and community, I have judgment, insecurity, negative projections, jealousy—everything but actual friendship.

People see me and experience a reflection of everything they repress, ignore, deny, or never integrated from their shadows. Do you know how much worse it gets when I add in racial dynamics? What it means to be a Black woman in this line of work? 

Human beings see me, experience a mirror effect, and try to siphon my energy without ever genuinely acknowledging the work and heart I consciously pour into this process. They take without asking, undermine me, and project their insecurities while pretending to care when their actions say otherwise.I don’t just promote shadow work—I embody it. 

I’ve learned it the hard way the past twenty-fucking-three years of life. 23 goddamn years of this bullshit just because another human can't untangle their own pain.

My humanity is casually ignored through a lack of empathy and understanding because I am perceived as someone who "always has it together," or "have so much," or "be so much," and "look so perfect."

Does anyone consider the effort that takes? To try to do the right thing, produce good work and have the answers?

Nope.

No respect, just jealousy and robbery. . 

I’ve learned that people want to take what I’ve worked so hard for, without ever recognizing the blood, sweat, and tears behind it. They want to claim my growth and wisdom as their own, as if they did the work. But they haven’t.

They come to me like lost children in the night, unconsciously asking for unconditional love. They enjoy that care from me, having needs met that they’ve never spoken, parts of themselves seen in ways they’ve never experienced before, introduced to a level of (self) awareness they’ve never accessed prior to being in my energy.  Receiving and accepting it all while giving almost nothing in return. Like I am their mother–someone they can casually emotionally abuse and ignore like our patriarchal & parasitic systems have taught them to do. 

No recognition of the sheer skill, wit, and determination that it takes to be me and do what I do. The feats I accomplish, the fuckery I endure when the world tries to keep me out of my power–something that's happened at every turn in my life.

I’ve been torn down and rebuilt more times than I can count. I’ve learned the hard way since age 7 of what it means to stand in my own power. And through all of that, I’ve come to realize that most people won’t honor the work because it would mean acknowledging how much they don’t work on themselves, the journey, the suffering—it’s easier to take it and pretend they did the work themselves. They want to claim my growth as their own, as if they were there in the trenches with me, enduring every scrape, every failure, every moment of doubt. But they weren’t.

They haven’t done the work.

I have.

I've built myself from the ground up from self-compassion and love. I've healed hot pools of lava made from pain coursing through my bloodline for generations. I've unearthed all roots sowed in toxic soil of selflessness, self-betrayal, and self-abandonment, low self esteem, codependency, and enmeshed relationships. I've built emotional awareness, agency, and regulation. I know how to approach difficult conversations with grace. I understand my personal values and how to walk in alignment with them. I've practiced surrender, shedding unhealthy relational habits as quickly as I can. I can hold space for my emotionally-colored, multi-dimensional, full human experience.As I’ve planned.

And What have I Learned?

In this final stretch I’ve learned to trust myself implicitly, even when all I can feel is my red hot fucking anger. I listen to every single intuitive nudge. Every call to cut a cord or check in on the alignment in my connections has been correct. It’s become more about the timing of when things will come to light and to what degree it will screw me. I’m not going to pretend I’m good and well, because I’m not. I’m living moment-to-moment, faltering through the dark with little clues as to what could blow up in my face next. I enjoy each reprieve that comes, knowing that it will be gone in a flash.

I’ve learned how to love and respect my anger first and foremost, which is a huge generational curse breakage. as I inherited my mother & father’s rage, unspoken dreams, unfulfilled wishes, and buried pain.

Born to two strong Jamaican parents who taught me never bend to someone else’s will, I’ve known the essence of sovereignty, leadership and the importance of fighting back since childhood. I was raised on classic Jamaican reggae–from Bob Marley’s soothing rhythms to Cutty Ranks’ raw lyrics–I know I don't need to hide from my anger or fire because it is mine. I can let it burn and work from there, for my fire is kindled by the deep socio-economic and political imbalances within global systems and world orders. The grief and leviathan rage at the sight of oppression–the silliness of fear-based hierarchical rule. 

I’m learning how to hate. I never hated before, but boy do I feel a deep rumbling in my gut to enact a vicious will into being at every moment in time. But I cannot. Instead? I’m here writing. Transmuting. And I don’t know if I even like it. (I've learned positive, uplifting things too, but that's not the focus of this post because at this point everything's been turned on its head).

-Mini Spiral-

I hate trying to produce something to get social media engagement because I don’t operate like that? I believe you interact with what you like and you don’t what you don’t. Why do I have to make you like what I write? 

*Cue doom spiral—when I feel no one likes me, no one will read or listen, and my words have no value because I have no value.*

-End Spiral-

And I start questioning everything—my purpose, my path, my worth.A process I go through every few days (if I make it that far).

Sometimes, I spend days strung out in self-doubt. Then I’m reminded that this journey is true when synchronicity after synchronicity affirms my alignment with the universe. When I think of all the people who’ve tried to latch onto me and my success, who’ve tried to hold me back, I remember an entire culture built to conspire against me—and yet, I rise.

That’s when I know I am an indomitable force of nature and I will succeed.

And that’s what this blog represents–the climb out from under. It’s more than this rant-y and wordy blog post. It’s my soul. My freedom. The digital space I’ve carved out for myself to speak my truth and honor my worth, on my terms, under no one else’s control or exploitation. I’ve let go of jobs, opportunities, 20+ year friendships, childhood bonds—all to strip away everything between me and this blog.I've learned how to walk within my own timing and follow synchronicities.

Most importantly, I’ve learned that the soul is forever while your current social position may only be temporary. Choose wisely–yourself, your values,  and what you stand for. Every single time.

My soul is immortal, and I do not die.

That is my true power, no one can take it away. 

Fuck around and find out.

Ashley Lauren Elizabeth DaCosta.

Lilly M.

DMM.