the pitchfork princess: Confetti, Manure, and the Art of the Second Chance
February 14th | Written from the Funny Farm
Today is Valentine’s Day. A day meticulously manufactured by a capitalistic machine to tell women that their value is a derivative of a man’s attention. A day that insists we need to be pampered, pursued, and "chosen" to be whole.
To that, I say: Absolutely fuck off.
I’m 48 years old. I’m a spinster gypsy soul. I live in a van on a rescue farm called the Funny Farm, surrounded by horses and donkeys who have been discarded, mistreated, and broken by the same world that tried to break me.
As I stand here with a pitchfork in my hand, mucking stalls in the quiet chill of midlife, I realize I’m not just cleaning up after animals. I’m shoveling out the last of the patriarchal horseshit I was fed for four decades.
The Weight of the Silent Observer
My mission with my mosaic art at Tierra Azul Designs is to piece together light in a broken world. But you can’t find the light until you acknowledge the dark.
I grew up a highly sensitive person, a deep feeler trapped in a rigid, militaristic, and strictly Catholic environment. I was a silent observer of intergenerational trauma. As a young girl, I endured sexual violation; (NOT within my family system- unfortunately “trusted neighbors”). In college, I survived assault. I carried the heavy, suffocating weight of attachment trauma—not because my parents didn't love me, but because the system we were born into is designed to suppress the wild, the feminine, and the authentic.
Trauma isn't just what happens to us. It’s the frozen explosion that happens inside of us. For years, I didn't know how to process that internal debris.
The Numbing and the Crash
When you aren’t given permission to express your truth, you find ways to exit your body.
In my 20s, it was the holy trinity of numbing: alcohol, drugs, and sex. * Then it was extreme sports, pushing my life to the jagged edge just to feel a rush loud enough to drown out the pain.
Then came the toxic relationships—the repetitive, exhausting dance of codependency, trying to heal wounds I didn't even know were there.
It all eventually became a glorious, necessary dumpster fire. It brought me to my knees. It forced me to admit: I need help.
Dismantling the Programming
Healing wasn't a straight line; it was a demolition project.
The Emily Program: Six months in Minneapolis unlearning the lie that my worth was tied to the size of my body. Fuck a culture that tells women we need to be small and thin to be significant.
The Meadows: Digging into the roots of addictive tendencies and the brainwashing that convinced me my happiness was something to be found "out there."
The real "game changer" came through the somatic: Hypnotic breathwork, dance, and art therapy. I had to stop talking and start moving. I had to give myself the one thing I was always denied: Expression.
Thanks to the influence of guides like Gwen Payne at Inspired Sedona, I finally stopped being a victim of my history and became the architect of my future.
The Whole Enchilada
So here I am at the Funny Farm. Every scoop of the pitchfork is a deposit into my "Oaxaca Dream"—a tiny house and art studio on the coast, where I will grow my own food and fully opt out of the corrupt matrix.
Living with these rescued animals is the perfect metaphor. They are getting a second chance, and so am I. As I approach half a century, I am more liberated than I have ever been.
To my sisters in the eye of the storm:
On this "holiday" of roses and romance, remember this: Buy your own damn flowers. Acknowledge the breathtaking beauty of the woman in the mirror.
Love isn't something you wait for; it’s a job that starts on the inside. If a man comes along and adds value to your life, wonderful—that’s confetti.
But never, ever mistake the confetti for the party.
You are the whole enchilada. With or without the sprinkles on top.
Hold your pitchfork high. Let go of the "damsel in distress" bullshit. You are a powerful, raw, unleashed Pitchfork Princess.
Own that shit.
Yours truly, Amy; The Pitchfork Princess - XXX
