jasminesuntrell - Tumblr blog

jasminesuntrell · 10 hours

Text

Focus, Baby (26/30)

The theme of previous two years was Boundaries. Understanding what mine are and navigating how to assert them.

The theme of this year is Standing on ALL Business. Which means honoring my boundaries and committing myself to betterment.

My feet tired though.

It's hard as hell to stay upright when it feels like the pressure from curating my own tiny universe is like standing in Louisiana heat draped in a wool trench bedazzled with bricks.

But I know I have to. So, I keep on standing. I stomp around when my knees start to shake. When the blisters start to ache, I dance in place. I create whatever motions are necessary to maintain my positions.

Even now, when my whole being hurts, I have to remember the mission. Boundaries and betterment. Stand on all your business.

0 notes

jasminesuntrell · 1 day

Text

Maybe Portugal?

I try not to but I dream anyway. Of a place where I can raise my daughter without constant fear of her being killed for her skin, her presence. Of a place where houselessness is a choice and not a circumstance. Of a place where I am not constantly forced to prioritize a paycheck over health.

I dream, against my will, of escaping the United States of Hell.

If I don't die from terroristic acts of oppression it will be from suffocating under its weight, trying to ignore it to no avail.

I dream of less anxious conditions. Of a place I've never been. Of a place that may not exist. Of a place that has to be, HAS TO BE better than this.

I just have to find it.

0 notes

jasminesuntrell · 1 day

Text

Imaginary (Non)Boyfriend (24/30 - Late)

I missed you last night for the first time since I accepted that I cannot hold space for you to drift in and out of my life.

I missed you earlier today too. Until I realized what I miss is the home I was building in you. A safe place that never came to fruition.

I was missing the figments of my overzealous imagination. I was missing all the vulnerability and trust I shared with you in earnest, thinking that you saw me.

I was not missing the real you. The manipulative and sometimes cruel you. The flippant 33-year-old adolescent who weaponized my bared soul against me, you.

I missed what I thought we could be. But we couldn't because you wouldn't and that's really all that matters. One-sided relationships are not meant to persist.

1 note · View note

jasminesuntrell · 1 day

Text

American Realism (23/30 - Late)

My body needs rest. More rest than I've got "leave" left. Capitalism.

0 notes

jasminesuntrell · 4 days

Text

Mycophobia Pt. III (22/30)

In March I told a man I was terrified of mushrooms and because I've come to realize people really love mushrooms, I hastily explained that the fear is rooted in my obsession and severe trauma surrounding death and that, I view mushrooms as the product of death. He probed more and eventually I let it slip that I feel that I am essentially a mushroom and really I'm terrified of myself- a creature who thrives in darkness and only exists because of death.

And he said but mushrooms live. Mushrooms are alive. And some other scientific shit about the complexities of their makeup or ecosystem. Don't ask me, 2002 was the last time I took Biology.

But it fucked me up because I've been so focused on the death and the rot and the murk that preceded me and succeeded me I had not realized being a mushroom doesn't make me the symbol of death, rather the proof of life after it.

I am not saying I'm no longer scared of mushrooms or that I'm now fully comfortable with myself. Just that there is something to be said for the ability to grow in absence of light. To be able to nourish yourself off decomposition.

3 notes · View notes

jasminesuntrell · 4 days

Text

No Days Off (21/30 - Late)

The only time I get close to regret about becoming a mother is times like now when my body is failing me; I'm fucking up in school; I'm stressed about work- I'm just incredibly spent and I have to find a way to keep going because I chose to make a human.

And I guess I could just be a trash parent; there's far too many out there but it really doesn't seem fair. She did not ask to be here.

So, because she's here I have to do everything I can to be here too. I can't give up on myself. I don't get to spin out of control. I don't get to spend a week in bed.

And I don't resent her for it nor do I wish to go back but I'd be lying if I said I didn't miss when I could choose to not care.

1 note · View note

jasminesuntrell · 6 days

Text

Ms. H (20/30)

When I was nine-years-old I fell in love with Lauryn Hill and I think it was because something about her shade of brown and the shape of her face and the fullness of her lips reminded me of the home I have always known- my big cousin but y'all can call her Kelle Holmes.

Three years, one week, four days is all that separates us in age but Kelle had already lived too many lives before I reached the age of five.

And when I saw Lauryn Hill on the TV the first time after that traumatic summer in Winnsboro, all I could think was maybe one day my cousin, the poet, could have her words carry her away from the hell in which we came.

My cousin still reminds me of Lauryn Hill. Shit, they might have around the same number of kids. Both born with last names that start with H. Both severely misunderstood and chronically late. But they'll get there in their own time. And it will be worth your while.

Kelle, I hope you know that you are worth the while. And that it's not too late to let the words you hide become alive and guide you away from the hellish place we came.

Home ain't a place but wherever you find space to be. Give yourself permission to be free, my love. Embrace how formidable you are, Ms. Holmes.

5 notes · View notes

jasminesuntrell · 7 days

Text

No More Fucking Butterflies (19/30)

I have decided the next man I meet who makes me nervous is getting blocked, walked away from- I'll run if I have to. No conversation, no glances, no more whirlwind romances, I'm not giving chances. I'm through.

Who the hell decided butterflies in the tummy was something to romanticize in the first place? For me, I think it's my body trying to tell me to get as far as I can from this demonic creature who will only cause me harm but I kept thinking it's a good thing if his presence can make me stumble over words.

Hell no.

Neutrality is the way to go. The man you're mostly unaware of until he gives you good reasons to be. The one who doesn’t prey on the unbalanced chemical reaction that happens when you lay eyes on him.

And maybe the love story won't be the stuff of an indie romance film but it will be stable and real. It won't give you more material from which to heal. It will provide you with bliss more enduring than the intoxications of fleeting butterflies.

13 notes · View notes

jasminesuntrell · 8 days

Text

Feverous Feelings (18/30)

I knew I would love my child more than anyone and anything I've ever loved but what I didn't know is how I'd notice everything about her to the point that if she sighs a certain way I know she's about to ask for chips or she finds the game on her tablet frustrating.

I couldn't have guessed I would be able to tell she was running a fever by the way she was holding her head up as I was plaiting her hair. I didn't know that I'd notice her scalp felt warmer and that reading high fever temperatures would make me want to cry.

Then my little sour patch said, "Oh, Mommy, I'll be fine!" And I know she's right but I still want to cry because fevers with unknown causes are shitty reminders of how I can't protect her from everything.

And if that's not the hardest part of being a parent, it's definitely in the top three.

1 note · View note

jasminesuntrell · 9 days

Text

Defragmentation (17/30)

I feel like a rubber band being stretched over something that doesn't really fit. The materials of my composition are slowly separating. I feel like I'm deteriorating. This is what is meant by being "stretched too thin."

And now it's resulting in exhaustion and managed mania. The damage from the inevitable breakdown won't be too severe, nothing permanent, but it will still be there. The disruption will still happen.

I have not healed to the point where I can successfully defend myself from myself and walk away from my spirals unscathed. I'm still trying to learn how to not put myself through the wringer every time anxiety and imposter syndrome collide.

Until then, I will continue to ride the waves and be thankful I've learned to swim and be grateful I'm an emergent surfer and be appreciative the waves are not the violent storms they used to be.

2 notes · View notes

jasminesuntrell · 10 days

Text

Five Years Later (16/30)

I know you're not the one. (At least, I don't think so.) But you're still the ideal, fuck a prototype.

There are a few people who have made me better by allowing me to love them, wholly and holy.

You are one of them ones. The ones with a sanctuary inside their bones. A godsend to a godless goddess. And I just want to always acknowledge it.

2 notes · View notes

jasminesuntrell · 11 days

Text

On Being A Flower Consistently in Bloom (15/30)

Do not misconstrue the hues in my hair, my atypical antics and the flowery habits of my speech as evidence of a Black girl "carefree" when I care way too much about almost every damn thing.

The enigma in all black. A suburban legend. The manic pixie succubus put here to remind you nightmares are still a type of dream.

Like the square root of -1, i may seem unreal, but, perceptions and projections are deceiving. My entire existence is rooted in sincerity.

The freedom you recognize in me, the quality that you envy, the basis of your attraction, is my exhibition of unflappable authenticity in every me lived and living.

4 notes · View notes

jasminesuntrell · 12 days

Text

We Will Try Again Tomorrow (14/30)

I feel off so I am turning everything off, including my brain.

2 notes · View notes

jasminesuntrell · 14 days

Text

Antisocial Socialite (13/30)

It takes me 4-5 business days to get dressed for just about any function or affair because most of the time I'd rather be in my bed doom scrolling and entertaining bullshit. Plus, I try to avoid the general public.

Yet, I feel like I'm always booked. My calendar is full with events. I guess I desire to feel I'm doing things besides work, domestic labor, school, and the varied happenings of my offspring.

But, truly I find social interactions taxing and even more so when they happen in-person but I keep going anyway because I also like it. So, I'll just allot for my extra long prep and accept that I am who I am.

2 notes · View notes

jasminesuntrell · 14 days

Text

The Emancipation (I Get From Love) of Angie (12/30)

On this very day, nineteen years ago The artist of my life, Mariah Carey released what many consider her comeback album The Emancipation of Mimi on the very same day my best friend and twin flame, Angela Giaimo became emancipated from childhood.

I have never been very spiritual. I'm not Ace of Base; I struggle to see the signs. And I'm unsure what I believe about this universe but here are some things I know coincide:

Mariah Carey and Angela Giaimo are both Aries.

Neither Mariah Carey nor Angela Giaimo have middle names.

Mariah became my favorite artist primarily because of lyrics and Angela and I first bonded over us both being lyrics girlies.

Like Mariah, Angela is an amazing writer and musically inclined.

I tried to get my ex-best friend that I nicknamed "MiMi" to use The Emancipation of Mimi as the theme for her 18th birthday, just two months after Angela's 18th.

That same ex-best friend betrayed Angela, and her treachery brought Angela and I closer because I was on her side, the correct side.

I never knew Mariah's album came out on Angela's birthday until today, the number of years later that is the same as my favorite number.

When it comes to Angela, It has never been a question that our connection is inherent. I would not scoff at the concept of it being ancestral and supernatural. And while I have no mystical gifts that will tell me she is pregnant the way her brujería informed her of Saviour's impending arrival, I can sense that it's by more than chance that she's tattooed on my spirit. And why I love Angela Giaimo with my whole soul, even more than I love Mariah Carey.

2 notes · View notes

jasminesuntrell · 14 days

Text

A Stern Talking To (11/30 - Late)

I have to learn to be kinder to myself. Not hell-bent on holding myself accountable while not accounting for all the factors that have me in the positions I am in.

Over-scheduling my whole life. Over here trying to pencil in a cry in the shower on this day and perhaps a fifteen minute breakdown the next.

Doing too much yet always feeling like it's not enough. Well, last night, my body was fed up. I slept more combined hours than I had the previous three days. Woke up, confused and disappointed in myself for my body needing to rest.

That's crazy as shit to read back.

I can't keep doing this to myself. I can't model this behavior. I don't want Saviour growing up thinking productivity is the only thing of value and what you can do for others is all that matters. I don't want to stress my body into early death and leave my baby without her only parent.

I had to write this out to plead with myself to do better. Please, Jasmine. Give yourself as much love as you give others.

3 notes · View notes

jasminesuntrell · 16 days

Text

ADHD (10/30)

I thought about using ChatGPT to write a poem for me but then I got sad at the thought that AI might replace poets and started thinking too deeply about my own participation in capitalism and american exceptionalism both involuntary and willing and how Jessie Spano got addicted to caffeine and gave a word when she said, "THERE'S NEVER ANY TIME!" Because how are we almost midway through April? I know this is mostly just rambles. Forgive my inability to stay focused. Except I do focus, on everything, all at once, and overwhelm my brain until it malfunctions and I scream out in public. I don't remember where this was going but that's par for the course when your neurons stay diverging.

4 notes · View notes