Today I feel awesome.
I did yesterday too.
And the day before that.
It's the 20th Jan 2012, so I've felt pretty awesome for 20 days running now.
I woke up on New Years Day and I just felt different, life change-ingly different. I woke up with an 'open heart' and I've kept that heart busted wide open every day since.
I've spent ALOT of money in self development to find that open hearted space. Each time I did, I'd bust this ol' heart of mine wiiiiiiiiide open. And I'd return back to my home space with that big busted wide open heart, and before I even walked through the door, I could feel my heart start to shrink in size, shrivel, go inward, retreat.
I've come to realise, that the only way I can keep an open heart, is to live in my own truth. Smell it, INHALE it, live it, breathe it. Truth. Sometimes it fucking hurts, mostly it's just so damn free-ing.
Open your heart, trust me, it's 'the new black'.
Friday, 20 January 2012
Sunday, 4 September 2011
9 words
Today I feel better.
"I don't want to be married to you anymore".
Those 9 words are the most powerful, thought provoking, life changing, challenging words that I have ever said in my entire life. Those 9 words have changed the lives of four people forever.
I have said them many, MANY times before. To the point where I gave up telling my inner core peeps that I'd said them yet again; because somehow, I'd say them, and never be able to follow through with them. Of course it doesn't help when the person you say them to HATES to lose, at anything. And is also the best salesman I know. Somehow I was always worn down by the hopes and promises that resulted after me saying the words.
So I just got on with it, put up and shut up. Healed myself as best I could, yet there was always this huge scab right there, ripe for the picking. I'd give it a red hot going over about once a year, a bit of pus would ooze out, then the antiseptic and bandaids would come out all too quickly (in the form of hopes and promises) and the scab would dry up. Left for another day.
I've done alot of self-healing, alot of 'inner work' you might say. Attended many workshops, read a bookshelf of books, studied reiki, attending individual counselling, couples counselling, spiritual healing. Shit NO ONE could accuse me of giving up too quickly on my relationship. 5, years dating then 12 years of marriage. That is a long time to feel de-prioritised.
The healing path I've followed is now a well worn, comfortable one. I finally summoned the strength, courage, self esteem and self love to acknowledge to myself that I deserve MORE! So a few months ago I said those 9 words for the last time. This time I was prepared for the antiseptic and bandaids, and had the strength to hold my hand up and quietly let myself be heard.
The last few months have been one of the most challenging times of my life, and given all the bullshit dysfunction and death I experienced in my childhood, that's saying something! At times I feel completely overwhelmed by everything, sometimes I feel like running from it all. But somehow, I breathe, surrender and get on with it. The only thing that I can rely on right now, is change. Just making the decision to return back to my career roots and look for a full time role in the industry I gave up 6 years ago (to work in my ex's business) has given me so much power back, and I haven't even got a job yet.
Things will change. I will get a job, I'll reclaim my financial security and I will move forward. I feel so free, despite all the uncertainty and fear. Not once have I doubted my decision, I know in every cell in my body that I've done the right thing. I like to think that I've left my relationship in the healthiest way possible, having done so much healing around it, whilst still in it. There's no built up bitterness and resentment from my end.
So the scab has been picked, the pus has been revealed in all it's ugly glory. My heart has been ripped right open as a consequence and I am left feeling vulnerable, raw, fragile at times, completely Popeye strong at others. It's not an easy path I've chosen, but fuck I'm glad I finally had the strength and conviction to know that I deserve more.
So today I feel better, the incredible heaviness and overwhelming sadness from last week has shifted. The tides have turned this week and for now at least, I am better.
Thanks to all my (four) readers who offered words of support last week xxx
Monday, 29 August 2011
Dusting myself off... again.
Today I felt like wallowing.
Actually yesterday I felt like wallowing too.
Truth be told, I've felt like wallowing for 5 days now.
I feel unemployable.
I feel unloveable.
I feel unwanted (at times) as a mother.
I feel like a loser.
So with that heavy in my heart, tears freshly wiped from my face, I set off again on my running path. Funny how on the heavy days, you feel like your runners are filled with concrete and lead. 'There's no freakin' way I'm going to break 45 mins today' was a thought that kept drifting in and out of my head as I pounded along the path. I forgot to smell the salty ocean, I forgot to listen to the waves fighting up and over my running tunes as they crashed against the cliffs, I forgot to listen to the lyrics to every single song that shuffled up and out of my ipod.
All I could really think about were the things that I was trying to run from, trying to run out of me. I tried to fight those thoughts, ignore them, smile at them to see if they'd magically disappear. Instead I just started crying whilst running.
Crying whilst running is HARD! So much snot, so little time to breathe and sob.
I didn't think that the run was much chop. I checked the time, 45 mins on the dial, whaddyaknow. I went to sit on the rocks afterwards but there was a school excursion right there (of course there was). So I just took a slug of water from the bubbler and clomped off home, with my concrete and lead filled runners.
I didn't feel the usual sense of accomplishment, exhilaration, satisfaction. Nuthin'.
I cried less though. And I managed to apply for another job, despite still getting over the disappointment of missing out on the best job I've ever interviewed for. Oh and I emailed the HR person for the best job I've ever interviewed for and thanked them for the interview, let em know how much I loved the sound of that company, that role. Sometimes I'm like a dog with a bone when it comes to letting go of things. Mostly that just kicks me in the arse, but hey, you never know. I don't believe it was tenacity that killed the cat... I contacted a job agency in the business area I really want to get into, gave them my resume. I had a cup of tea lovingly made for me from the kid that I felt so unwanted from yesterday. I connected with both kids over a card game. I did less headmiles over feeling so unloveable.
I found myself dusting myself off... again.
I'm off to bed, to read myself to sleep. Tommorrow actually IS another day, who knew?
Actually yesterday I felt like wallowing too.
Truth be told, I've felt like wallowing for 5 days now.
I feel unemployable.
I feel unloveable.
I feel unwanted (at times) as a mother.
I feel like a loser.
So with that heavy in my heart, tears freshly wiped from my face, I set off again on my running path. Funny how on the heavy days, you feel like your runners are filled with concrete and lead. 'There's no freakin' way I'm going to break 45 mins today' was a thought that kept drifting in and out of my head as I pounded along the path. I forgot to smell the salty ocean, I forgot to listen to the waves fighting up and over my running tunes as they crashed against the cliffs, I forgot to listen to the lyrics to every single song that shuffled up and out of my ipod.
All I could really think about were the things that I was trying to run from, trying to run out of me. I tried to fight those thoughts, ignore them, smile at them to see if they'd magically disappear. Instead I just started crying whilst running.
Crying whilst running is HARD! So much snot, so little time to breathe and sob.
I didn't think that the run was much chop. I checked the time, 45 mins on the dial, whaddyaknow. I went to sit on the rocks afterwards but there was a school excursion right there (of course there was). So I just took a slug of water from the bubbler and clomped off home, with my concrete and lead filled runners.
I didn't feel the usual sense of accomplishment, exhilaration, satisfaction. Nuthin'.
I cried less though. And I managed to apply for another job, despite still getting over the disappointment of missing out on the best job I've ever interviewed for. Oh and I emailed the HR person for the best job I've ever interviewed for and thanked them for the interview, let em know how much I loved the sound of that company, that role. Sometimes I'm like a dog with a bone when it comes to letting go of things. Mostly that just kicks me in the arse, but hey, you never know. I don't believe it was tenacity that killed the cat... I contacted a job agency in the business area I really want to get into, gave them my resume. I had a cup of tea lovingly made for me from the kid that I felt so unwanted from yesterday. I connected with both kids over a card game. I did less headmiles over feeling so unloveable.
I found myself dusting myself off... again.
I'm off to bed, to read myself to sleep. Tommorrow actually IS another day, who knew?
Monday, 22 August 2011
Running with Gangsigns
Today I feel like running.
So I did.
9kms to be precise; my house to the beach, along the cliffs to the neighbouring beach, then to the next beach, then back to my beach.
I run to music, LOUD. My running playlist is full of 90s dance tracks; it's a wonder I don't stop mid-run and break into the Running Man. Running is a fairly new thing for me, and it mocks me quite a bit. I don't actually like it all that much; I HATED it when I first started, so I signed myself up for a 10km run to force myself to run more. I'm like that, I love a challenge, especially when I feel mocked by things. These days though I'm pretty fit, so the running is kind of, dare I say, enjoyable? Certainly enjoyed myself when I ran today, dressed to the bare minimum of shorts and singlet, the salty air licking my face and sticking to my hair. I felt ALIVE man.
Whilst pounding the pavement, rounding the bends of the cliffs, watching the icy blue water hammering up against the rocks, I thought of running as a metaphor for life. Everyone runs to the beat of their own drum don't they? Some go at it like a dog on heat, barely pausing to take in their surroundings. Some shuffle along cautiously, pausing to take a breath, take stock. Others just amble along without a care in the world, no real purpose to it but taking it all in. Me? Apparently I run with gangsigns. My little sister taught me how to do them. We laughed when she taught me as she is so hardcore that they totally suit her huge man hands. I have such tiny little dainty hands that they just look out of place, ironic. So today I looked down whilst running, pondering on the metaphor of it all, and noticed that my cute little dainty hands were running with gangsigns.
I'm at the biggest crossroads in my life right now. My world is full of conviction, confusion, laughter, tears, growth, stagnancy, mockery, irony. To me it makes perfect sense that I was running with gangsigns and I didn't even know it.
So I did.
9kms to be precise; my house to the beach, along the cliffs to the neighbouring beach, then to the next beach, then back to my beach.
I run to music, LOUD. My running playlist is full of 90s dance tracks; it's a wonder I don't stop mid-run and break into the Running Man. Running is a fairly new thing for me, and it mocks me quite a bit. I don't actually like it all that much; I HATED it when I first started, so I signed myself up for a 10km run to force myself to run more. I'm like that, I love a challenge, especially when I feel mocked by things. These days though I'm pretty fit, so the running is kind of, dare I say, enjoyable? Certainly enjoyed myself when I ran today, dressed to the bare minimum of shorts and singlet, the salty air licking my face and sticking to my hair. I felt ALIVE man.
Whilst pounding the pavement, rounding the bends of the cliffs, watching the icy blue water hammering up against the rocks, I thought of running as a metaphor for life. Everyone runs to the beat of their own drum don't they? Some go at it like a dog on heat, barely pausing to take in their surroundings. Some shuffle along cautiously, pausing to take a breath, take stock. Others just amble along without a care in the world, no real purpose to it but taking it all in. Me? Apparently I run with gangsigns. My little sister taught me how to do them. We laughed when she taught me as she is so hardcore that they totally suit her huge man hands. I have such tiny little dainty hands that they just look out of place, ironic. So today I looked down whilst running, pondering on the metaphor of it all, and noticed that my cute little dainty hands were running with gangsigns.
I'm at the biggest crossroads in my life right now. My world is full of conviction, confusion, laughter, tears, growth, stagnancy, mockery, irony. To me it makes perfect sense that I was running with gangsigns and I didn't even know it.
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