Words in Hiding

2017-red-flower-on-blackFor a little while, the words were gone, leaving things in me backed-up and unsaid. Well, they weren’t gone, gone. They just seemed to get off on not being accessible to me in particular. They toyed with me in hateful ways. Grazing my fingertips with wisps of rhapsodic and entrancing that danced away when I tried to touch them


Dulcet whispers from a distant room promised to help me put pen to paper but flitted away when I got close.


Even worse, they directed my sluggish gaze toward hazy glimpses of diaphanous and evanescent that waited for my eyes to focus then disappeared in a teasing poof  … glitter flickering in their wake.

I got tired of being fucked with, so I stopped looking. Just gave up for a bit and allowed no release for the thing inside of me. It swelled and grew until I could barely move. Filled me up to the brim with no outlet in sight. And then, just like that, the words started to show up in new places. Hidden in the sweetness of her kiss, lounging in plain sight along the curve of her arm or dangling coyly from her curls. Not running away anymore. Just there, as if they were there all along and I was just too stupid to see.

I am awash in words. They rise through the floorboards, effervescent and light. Hang from my ceiling waiting for me to reach up and pluck what I need. Others, flow past my calves, a soothing elixir. I lie back, float away in a state. Blissfully aware that though I have been here before, the words were not as sweet as this.

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Shadow Work

FF Flower March 17There’s a lot of instruction floating around about finding oneself. Listen to your heart. Tap into your power. Dare to be you. Follow your dreams. Conquer your fears. FIND HAPPINESS WITHIN!!  

I can’t begin to count the number of times I’ve heard any variation of this advice over the years. I’m sure I even spewed some of it myself right here on this blog. Wait … do I sound bitter? I sound a bitter. I don’t mean to. I will never say that there were not times when a decent bubbly mantra helped me through a rough patch. And there were many rough patches, so I was willing to take whatever help I could get. I looked deep within, mantra-ed and meditated my ass off,  gathered crystals, cleared chakras, called on ancestors. But the perpetual pit beneath my ribcage simply did not give a fuck about any of it.

Maybe I’m doing it wrong, is what I thought for a while. Maybe I’m not focused enough on what I really want, or I’m too focused on what I don’t want and causing my own negative results. Even during the times that I felt loved and hopeful, I was still SO damn sad and never sure of what I was doing or why. I just couldn’t see an ending for me that was ultimately happy.

Please don’t misunderstand. I’m not saying that those methods of self-healing don’t work. They just didn’t work for me. They weren’t what I needed at that time. Instead, I needed to get my theoretical ass kicked, and that was facilitated by my interactions with others.

It happened when I went toe-to-toe with someone who challenged every fiber of my being and wasn’t afraid to tell me when I was wrong. It happened when I stopped feeling sorry for myself long enough to actually hear the pain in my ex-husband’s voice when he spoke to me … pain that I caused. And it happened when I began to understand that the bullshit that I was trying pass off as “finding myself” and “living my best life” was actually me avoiding the real work of healing — and frankly, being selfish as fuck.

There’s no question that I stepped on some heads while I was clawing my way out of the hole I was in. And I’m not going to lie and say that I reached back in to help pull anyone out. I simply couldn’t see what I was doing to others, and probably wouldn’t have given a damn anyway. I made decisions that were piss poor, then justified my actions by pointing a finger at someone else. I can say that now, because claiming the part of me that is dark and selfish is just as important as claiming the part of me that is powerful and giving. Denying either is pointless. I needed to face that shadow side of me to understand the full spectrum.

Now when I pray, I don’t just ask for health and happiness. I ask for compassion and the capacity for pure love. I ask for forgiveness for my actions that have caused others pain. And I ask for the strength to always move in a sphere of honesty and authenticity. And sometimes I do it with crystals, and sometimes I ask my ancestors to be a wind at my back. I’m very grateful for open eyes and true love and understanding for every part of me.



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Sleep Paralysis

Beautiful Tulip Flowers Red Flower For Desktop BackgroundsTurning in bed used to be just turning in bed. Lifting my hips from the mattress, shifting as the sheet slipped over my body, and settling myself into a new position. Soft and cool and comfortable. And alone. For a while, alone.

I could stretch my legs as far as I wanted. Spreading myself across the span. Still accustomed to staying to one side, but gradually … ever so gradually … moving myself toward the middle of my queen-sized pillow top. Inch by inch. A bit more every night. Cuz why waste all this good bed space sleeping on one side all the time? Spread out, woman! You’ve got it all to yourself.

But when turning in bed meant turning into her, now THAT was something new. Not like the cool, comfortable mattress, but still soft and welcoming … and mine.

First for a night, then another and another … until turning in bed and not having her there became foreign. And not just foreign, but forlorn. Because there’s a difference between sliding a leg across an empty mattress and sliding a leg along hers. Pulling the blanket over cold shoulders or shifting myself into her and pulling a drowsy arm across my waist? Cotton sheets or cocoa skin, smooth and warm as running silk? Decisions, decisions.

So when I turn to reach for her and she’s not there, and I feel my heart sink a bit, I think that maybe I’m done finding myself. Maybe I can trust myself a little more. Because I’m 46 years old, and I know what I like … and being alone is fucking overrated.  Plus, two grown ass women don’t have to stay on their sides. We can both sleep in the middle, across the middle, diagonally, however the hell we want. Arms and legs entangled, breathing each other’s air, heart beats matched to a tee as we dream in blissfully enchanted slumber. Such a simple thing, but a really big thing.

I think I really need to get this rest.


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The space of newness — Randomness #6

finally felix_bubblesSomeplace between the din of chaos and the silence of loneliness, I stand in a bubble of stark self-awareness.

It’s delicate and freshly blown — a little something I put together to shield myself from the waves that crest slowly in the distance, dark undulating walls that barrel toward me like a locomotive. They’re studded with the flotsam of my old life: the broken shell of guilt I called home for so long, the sharp judgments I cowered from … glistening blades of regret … jagged points of shame. And now the questions also bubble to the surface … because who doesn’t want to know more about the woman who left a seemingly good man to live alone in her own gay ass truth?

The upsurge rushes forward, looms over me like a monster and breaks hard. A crash fills the air, peppered with the awful tinkle of a million shards of broken glass. My little bubble quakes under the impact, but holds firm.

I’m still here.

Still standing.

Becoming surer every day.

I’ve fortified these transparent walls with things that cushion the onslaught. Soft, velvety things that catch me when the waves try to knock me off my feet — the love of my children, the support of beloved friends, my mother’s lasting example of strength and resilience, the power of true love, and even my own muscles, still sore from the stress of this journey … but sore in a good way.

There’s not a day that goes by that I’m not learning something new. Discovering who I am and introducing a bit more of that woman to the world. Finding out what it means to love myself and also what it means to give authentic love to others. And realizing, after 46 years, that being in love is more than fullness and joy. It’s work, nurturing and co-operation. It’s also understanding that the dysfunction I claimed as love in the past was just that. Now I can have more. I want more. I deserve more.

The waves will calm after a while. And for now they’ll slam into my bubble and simply bounce away.

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A look back…and ahead

finallyfelix_self loveI started Finally Felix back in 2013.

Looking back through my old posts, I’m amazed at how much has changed over the years. How much I’ve changed.

The journey from 2013 to now has taken me to depths so dark and lonely, I don’t know how I was able to climb out. At the same time, I’ve experienced levels of joy that I didn’t even know were possible. And surprisingly,  I’ve discovered new parts of myself that were sometimes great…and sometimes made me cringe. Despite that, I’ve enjoyed getting to know this complex woman developing in the mirror before my eyes.

And yes, I’m in divorce talks with my husband, I’m moving into my own place in a few weeks, and I’ve finally traveled beyond the fear that held me hostage most of my life … but I’m still not at the end of this. I’ve got children to mange through this transition, a frustrated soon-to-be ex, and a huge life change that is looming before me like a giant wave … but dammit, this space feels so fucking amazing!

If you are coming to this blog early in your own journey, please don’t be deterred by what can sometimes feel like an unattainable goal. Because, there were absolutely times when I felt like there was no end to this. Moments of guilt,  pain and doubt  that left me broken … do you hear me? BROKEN! But please know that even if it feels like you’re standing still … you ARE still moving.  Shifting your whole life takes time; be kind to yourself, give yourself permission to mourn what you’re leaving behind and to celebrate what lies ahead. And whatever you do, do not stop moving … even if it feels like you’re only creeping along by centimeters, it’s still movement, it’s still getting you closer to where you need to be … don’t ever stop.


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Watch her soar

“You yourself, as much as anybody in the entire universe,
deserve your love and affection”  
– The Buddha

The concept of self-love is something that’s thrown around a lot, isn’t it? I used it years ago when I was promoting a book I had written for preteen girls … It’s a nonfiction titles that encourages girls to open their minds, expand their horizons, and explore what’s inside! My marketing pitch always included a generous sprinkling of the key words that every librarian, school teacher, and parent loved to hear: Self-love! Self-confidence ! Self-esteem!  GIRL POWER!! WOOT WOOT!!!

What the fuck was I talking about?

A few months ago, I came to the stark realization that I’ve never really had a clear grasp on those concepts — especially self-love. I sat alone in a darkened room and allowed that painful understanding to billow through me like smoke. It started as a ball in my chest and unfurled into the memory of quiet girl who loved to sing and dance, was good in school, and had dreams of city lights and a life of friendship, freedom, happiness, and love.

At some point, that carefree girl faded away and in her place stood a bitter woman who was willing to push down her own needs for the happiness of everyone else. She lived her life in snatches of time, coming out of her tight little shell to spread shriveled wings for a brief moment, but always retreating back inside. Even this blog has played a role in that game of hide and seek … a brief, passionate escape hidden in plain sight. I write in this space with no name and half a smiling face — anonymously outspoken, secretly strong, an inspiring example hiding behind a giant bouquet. No more.

finallyfelixI am Felix.

My real name is Felicia. I started using the name “Felix” as a way to blog and take part in online lesbian communities without outing myself to family. That was more than 5 years ago. The name has certainly stuck, and I often feel like the life I’ve built as Felix is more real than my actual life.

Felix has attended pride, gone to lesbian bars, made connections in the LGBT community, and lived and loved as a woman who was not afraid to embrace what life held for her.

Felicia has spent years tiptoeing around a bitter husband, and her children have never seen their mother truly happy. They’ve never seen her at all, really. For the sake of my own sanity, it’s time for Felix and Felicia to become one. I don’t know what that’s going to look like, but I’m finally ready to find out.

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Still standing

finallyfelix_celebrate2It’s done.

The words that I never thought I could utter have been said. Left my lips and took on a life of their own outside of my anxious mind.

A few weeks ago, I told him I’m moving out. Then I contacted a lawyer and began divorce proceedings. Tonight we actually talked business: settlement money, child support, budgets … all that.

I did it.


Our conversation was not easy. It was tinged with anger and hurt feelings and more anger. But it moved. It moved to a place of collaboration that I at one time thought was impossible. It’s happening.  I feel … good. This is the right course. It’s a far from over, but it’s further than it ever has been.

*breathing and giving thanks and stepping forward.

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FF Flower March 17I do words for a living.

My job is to put words together to get people to take action. I’m the one who entices them to Buy Now or Learn More or Hurry and get up on this limited-time offer before your slow ass misses out.

For the most part, words come easily to me, and I have tremendous respect for the power they hold, be it through storytelling, music, poetry, and yes, marketing copy.

That power is amplified for words spoken in anger. I’ve expressed some of that here about things said to me, but I’m also very guilty of piecing together sharp sentences, serrated and laced with venom to hurl at people I care about… just to see them flinch. That kind of language can leave a scar that may never go away. This might explain why it has taken me so long to gather the right words to tell my soon-to-be ex husband that I’m leaving.

In my mind, it’s a done deal, for real. I’m out… already found a place… my stuff is on the low packed…I’m halfway out the door. But when the time comes to simply say “I’m filing for divorce and moving out. We need to tell the kids,” the words catch in my throat. I’ve stressed more about finding the right way to say these things than anything else.

I do understand that there are no “right words” for this. And no matter how I juggle my nouns or twist my adjectives and verbs, there’s no way to soften this for him.

The pep talk in my head is all, Just say it, Felix. Yank off the band-aid! While the hesitation in my heart know that it will hurt him, a lot — even though he knows it’s coming. We’re all grown ups here. Love and loss is part of the game.

Praying my next post is telling you how it went that we are both still standing and moving forward.


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Another step–coming out to my daughter

finallyfelix_coming-out-flowerSo…I came out to my daughter this week.

Holy shit.


Writing it all big and gay like that is actually me screaming in my head (and giggling a little bit after). This is something I had decided to do weeks ago. She’s not a baby, and she deserves to know what’s happening in her mother’s life. After all, these steps I’m taking are going to impact her, too.

So I walked home from the train last Wednesday night, amping myself up the entire time. It was cold and starting to drizzle, but I barely noticed.

Each step became a mantra, You can do this. You can do this. You can do this.

Every breath was a small motivation, Look how far you’ve come already. Look at all you’ve been through. You are so much stronger now. You’re strong as fuck! This is just another step in the journey. It’s exactly where you need to be. It has to be done. 

I mantra-ed and motivated myself the entire way home.

When I walked into my daughter’s room,  I made small talk for a few moments and almost walked out. Almost. But I didn’t. Instead, I took deep breath and told my oldest child that her mother is gay. I also told her that I was incredibly proud of her for being independent and free-thinking at her age, because I was so NOT that way when I was 23.

At 23, my concern was to do what everyone else wanted. I did  what was expected because I was a good girl and wanted everyone to be happy. I was not happy. And would not be for a very long time. I wanted her to know how important it was for her, as a young single woman,  to never sacrifice any part of herself for the expectations of others.

Her response? “OK”

Me: Really? Uhh, OK. Do you want to ask me any questions?

Her:  Are you dating [insert name of the love of my life here]?

Me: We’re not dating. But I like her a lot. I like her..A LOT, a lot. She’s very special to me.

Her: OK

And that was essentially it. I know she’s a thinker, so I told her that she should never hesitate to come to me with questions or just to talk about this…or anything. At this point, I’m an open book. Ask me anything, boo!

Yes, I still  have a few big things to tackle in what I know is the final leg of this journey, but I actually feel like I’m Standing in Real Truth for the first time.

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Goodbye 2016. Go kick rocks.

finally-felix_mourning-flowersSo much has happened this year. Politically and socially,the world is a much different place than it was a year ago. Many people have transitioned out of this world…famous people, not-so-famous, but very well-loved people as well. Most recently, my mother-in-law passed away. It was difficult watching my kids lose their only living  grandmother. She helped us raise them, and I know they are heartbroken.

It was also strange seeing their father (my soon to be ex-husband) broken and helpless as he watched his mother die. I offered him words of comfort and understanding, and I supported his family in the ways I could, but that’s all. There has been a deeper shift with us. I don’t think that’s a bad thing. His anger has mostly gelled over. I think he is as ready to get to other side of this as I am. A few weeks before his mom got sick, I told him that I was undoubtedly gay as hell and probably liked ass and titties more than he did. I think he doesn’t really believe me. Oh well. Not up to me to prove anything.

About 9 years ago, I was in a very creative space. I wrote a book, I got it published, I was doing well with marketing and promotion, but something wasn’t right. Here  I was selling a book about confidence and self-empowerment, and yet I didn’t even know who I was. I was hiding, even from myself. That space was amazing and confusing at the same time. Eye opening. I guess that’s when all the questions really began. If I’d only known then what I know now… le sigh.. 20/20 hindsight and all that jazz.

Today, I’m more sure of who I am, and one thing I’m certain of is that I don’t want to hide anymore. There are people who genuinely love me. And they will continue to love me when I am being authentic and true. I clearly see who is worth my time, my trust, my love, my honesty. Everyone else can go kick rocks.

I promise myself that 2017 will not be spent in hiding. I promise myself that I won’t stifle my love, my soul, my voice, my laughter, or my needs in order to make others comfortable anymore. I’m not getting any younger, and frankly, holding up this facade is exhausting my old ass.

Letting go feels really amazing and terrifying. But I’m so here for it.

And to the person who is visiting my blog and then calling me from a restricted or blocked number, refusing to speak. Stop it. I know who you are. If you want to talk, let’s talk. If not… let it go.

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