Here I stand

Today I stood up for myself. Against someone I utterly adore. I am still shaking. I feel like I could vomit but I have been down the road of letting go of what I believe in for someone I love and it ended in disaster.

I may not be running ahead but I am moving forward and, right now, I'm okay with that.

I love it when it is all too much

Today my gym buddy cancelled on me. Again. Instead of mope about I decided to take advantage of the mild weather and install the key lock I bought last week. To do so I had to steal power from inside so jigged up an extension cord through the window and noticed how filthy the windows are. So, once I installed the key lock, I washed the windows (well, the ones I can reach without a ladder (which I do not own). The beauty of it is that I am now sitting at my table, drinking a cup of tea and looking out sparkling windows.  Spring cleaning has come a little late in my house!

I am constantly assessing how much time I have before my next planned activity so I can work out what I can fit in.  I am planning on going to Zumba at 2015. It is now nearing 1900 so I have an hour to enjoy my tea, finish this post, return the drill I borrowed from my brother-in-law, wash the car and drive to gym.

I fill my life with activity so as to dull my mind. While I love being social and getting out I am acutely aware that I am doing so to distract me from the fact that I am deeply discontented with both myself and my life. With every passing minute, my life seems to get further away from where I want it to be.

So I fill every corner of my life. I rush from one task to another. I cram as much into each day as I can. Not for the right reasons though and, no matter how much I 'accomplish' in a day, I am not satisfied. At the core I am unhappy. I am deeply saddened by my life. I am heartbroken that I am without my children. I am ashamed of the choices I have made. I am embarrassed that I cannot get a job. I am hurt that I am unloved. I am shattered that I am a time filler, only seen when people have no other options.

There are times when I can look at my predicament and see light. There are fleeting moments when I feel contented. And I have been blessed to have experienced sheer joy.

However, when I compare myself to other people I realise I am a freak. People have commented that I achieve in a morning than they would do in a whole weekend.  This is how I have always been, to a point. I don't see myself as superhuman or special in any way. I do what needs to be done. So if this means that I do three loads of washing and vacuum before work, that is what I do.

On weekends when I don't have the kids I am probably home for a total of about 6 hours all weekend. I am generally only home to do the inevitable chores that come from living, to shower and change clothes. I will see my parents, sister, cousins and aunt. I will visit friends and go to the gym. I will go out and dance whenever I get the chance.

I believe that life is meant to be lived and I intend to get as much out of it as I can. I was sheltered from the world for over a decade. I have a lot of catching up to do. And I have a lot of work undoing the damage of that time. Two birds. One stone.

Rock on.

Focus

My life is like and artistic photo - where the focal point is not on the most important subject matter I have been thinking about the thugs I post about. The reason I don't post about my children is that it is too raw. Too painful. And way too depressing. I am cornered. My ex is the smartest person I have ever met. He's also calculated and strategic. He's methodical. And that's how he has planned and executed this.
I honestly don't believe he is an evil man but I think he saw a sucker and took the advantage. I'm the fool that feel for it.
Kudos to him. He now has a new girlfriend is buying a new car and training to be a blacksmith. He's chasing his dreams and catching them.
My focus cannot be on my dream. My dream is unattainable. I have been advised to get a new dream but that's like telling someone to change the colour of their eyes.
Instead, I choose to focus on the tiny glimmers of happiness I get from listening to music and dancing. Time to let go is fast approaching. I'm not ready but I probably never would be. There's nothing you can do to prepare yourself for the shit life deals you. Focus on something else. That's all I have to keep me going from day to day.

My cup overfloweth

I am far from a perfect mother. There are times where I lose my temper and others where I just want to crawl into a hole. But being a parent does not require perfection. Ninety percent of parenting comes from just showing up.

I am not perfect. No matter how hard I try, I never will be. When I fuck up, I apologise. I explain everything in plain terms. I call it like it is. I will admit fault and I try hard not to repeat my mistakes. There are also times when my children have to accept error and when they do they also apologise.

My children are the most incredible people. They have big personalities. They have their own opinions and I allow the to express them. They are kind and thoughtful. They have beautiful manners. They are both considerate, in different ways. The most rewarding thing is seeing how much they love each other. I have fucked up all over the place but when I see them hugging each other or holding hands I realise that they will be okay.

Sure, they are going to have hang ups and only like 95% will be my fault but they are treasures. They will have shit to work through as adults but I hope I will have the skills to help them work through that and I know I will have the relationship where they will be able to turn to me for assistance. I know this because my children ask me the most intricate and personal questions and I deliver them the truth. Every time. They know they can trust me and that is priceless.

Tonight my daughter had a major meltdown. Admittedly she was tired after a big day but I know that, with her, the truth comes out when she is tired. For my son, it's when he's angry.  But my darling little girl lost the plot tonight. She had the middle of the bed last night and her brother wanted his turn tonight and she just fell to pieces. She didn't want to miss out on "Mummy time" because we don't get to spend every weekend together and she misses me (aw!). So we both ended up in tears and I reassured her that I would love nothing more than to have my children in Melbourne with me all the time.

She settled down and insisted on lying on my chest for story time, just like she used to as a bub. By the end of the chapter I had my gorgeous princess in a fitful slumber, drooling contentedly onto my chest.

I feel thoroughly blessed. I am not a perfect mother but I don't have to be. My children need to know that there is no such thing as perfection. And the best bit is they love me anyway. Despite the yelling and the occasional dummy spit on my behalf. That is a very comforting thought because I will never be perfect. I will continue to fuck up as they get older but they will know that I love them more than anything else because I will show them that. I will cook their favourite meals, I will smother them in hugs and kisses, I will ensure that our time together includes the things that they love to do. I will tolerate hours investigating reptiles at the pet shop and shopping for birthday presents when all I really want to do is curl up in bed. I will watch the same movie for the 400th time and laugh, not because it is funny but because my children are still experiencing the joy. I will read until my throat hurts. I will laugh. I will cry. I will talk about the difficult things and explain stuff as best I can. I will, as patiently as I can, teach my son to use the sewing machine. I will dig up worms with my daughter. I will do a plethora of things I don't particularly enjoy to see their faces light up. I will bathe in cold water on a windy beach to ensure they are safe.

I have said over and over that I will not change who I am for anyone but I will blur those boundaries for my children. Considerably. For they are worth it.

No warm up shots

Life does not give you second chances. There is no draft mode. There is no ability to sift through the negatives and choose what to print. Every fuck up is etched upon the history of your life.

Plus, the nature of humans is such that people remember the failures moreso than they do the success. Even celebrities are not immune - top of the list recently would be Miley Cyrus (ill-fitting beige rubber pantie twerking with Robin Thicke) but then there's Lindsay Lohan (distinct inability to drive), Britney Spears (baldie's intended "mysterious" tattoo is actually "strange"), Justin Bieber (dribble mouth), Chris Brown (douchebag woman beater), Demi Moore (breakup crisis), Courtney Love (drugged up), Naomi Campbell (anger management frequent flyer) and Michael Jackson (face meltdown). Even the perceived flawless are not safe - Miranda Kerr (flyaway dress on the runway revealing her g) and Jennifer Aniston (endless string of failed relationships).

Pick me up

There is this running joke between me and a friend. She consistently thinks that, when we go out dancing, someone will pick me up despite the fact I am not interested in being picked up. Honestly my heart is unavailable right now.

That aside, we were out dancing last night and she, as usual, was incredulous as no one was interested in me. At all. So, considering she was driving, she dared me to try to pick someone up. Challenge accepted. There were rule - I had to smile and be charming (sure, I can try). So she chooses a guy from the wings. I approach, smile, introduce myself and start making small talk about the lady in full Japanese dress on the podium. I get shot down in flames. Not satisfied, she makes me try again. This time, I get "have a good night" in response to my introduction alone. Still not satisfied she makes me try a third time. I try again. Smile on, shoulders down, drink in hand and the guy turns around and walks off before my name is out of my mouth.

The proof is in the pudding. She has now agreed not to make comments again and accept the truth.

Why not?

Lots of people tell me they don't understand why men aren't interested in me. I have been conditioning myself to think positively and focus on my strengths yada yada.

Tonight I got to thinking that maybe I am missing the fundamental flaw my ex spews at me. So, here are the reasons I think make me unattractive as a mate.
I am fussy - I have annoying allergies and intolerances and refuse to eat crap
I like a clean house - things put away at the end of the day, dishes in the dishwasher, towel on the rail, washing in the basket
I am insecure
I talk too much
I am touchy - I like hugs, kisses and holding hands
I am opinionated and outspoken
I am socially awkward
I am not a good conversationalist
I tend to be overly needy
I fall deeply when in love
I like men - some men are jealous of male friends
I have high standards
I am generally pretty annoying - I tend to fixate on things and find it hard to let go
I am cranky a lot of the time
I am routinely misinterpreted
Oh, and I swear like a sailor

What is love?

Yesterday, the ACT legalised gay marriage. Today, that ruling is being challenged. Clearly, I am not gay so the decision either way does not affect me directly. However, it affects the community. I have concerns about the path Australia is taking. We are becoming such a nanny state.

I do not agree with constant video surveillance in the CBD "for our protection", I do not believe that shots are only suitable before midnight, I think helmets for hired bikes is taking things a bit far. Where's the ability to be spontaneous? And as for plain packaging on cigarettes where is the evidence proving that tobacco sales have plummeted?

It is now illegal to carry an open container of alcohol in public. That is just plain un-Australian! Bars cannot serve beer nuts anymore due to safe food handling laws. At most venues your photo ID is scanned on entry. Workplaces can install video surveillance as long as "reasonable notice" is given to employees.

What impact does legalising gay marriage have for most people? As far as I am concerned it makes no difference to me whether two men/women live together. The fact that they choose to do so as defacto or a married couple has no bearing on my life. Let them do what they want. I am all for love. I am also keen on equality. To me love between a man and a woman is no different to that between a couple of the same gender.

For those consenting adults who want to marry, let them. Man and woman, man and man, woman and woman - they are still two people in love that want to celebrate their union.

Taking a cynical approach to the situation; marriage is a money-making industry. Keep the economy afloat and allow all and sundry to marry. Then reap the money again when two thirds of those marriages fail.

All in good time

I don't want to be woe is me but tonight I am. The rain is pouring and the air is cool, it's late, I've had a big day and I had to end a possum's life on my way home. I hate having to kill anything. Hell, I feel guilty if I stand on an ant in summer and kill it. A moderately sized ringtail possum is just a bit too much. It had been hit by a car and has sustained major trauma. It was in a bad way. Even if I were the most talented of veterinary surgeons, I would not have been able to save it. Admittedly it was probably only minutes (if that) from death but,as Einstein would say, it's relative. A minute goes by in a flash when you're looking into the steel grey eyes of a man. But a minute of writhing in agony would feel like eternity.

Anyway, that small act was significant enough to tip me over the edge today. I just want the warm body of the man I love snuggled into my naked body. I want to be held. I want to be wanted. I want to mean something to someone. I want to make that someone smile every time he gets a text, just because it is from me and I want it now. I don't want it in four years time or a decade from now. I don't want to be the lone lonely loner anymore. I want to be someone's first choice not a time-filler or bit of stuff.

Everyone says it will all come to me in good time. Well, time needs to organise her shit. Time is now bitch

The power of touch

Today someone from work touched me to illustrate a point in his conversation. It gave me shivers. I know that touch is healing. It soothes me when I am stressed. It calms me when I am hectic. It lowers my heart rate and it makes me feel good.  When my children are in Melbourne I take full advantage of hugs and kisses.  I touch them whenever they let me.I massage my boy and brush my girl's hair. I hold their hands. I hug them tight at night. And I love every second of it.

When they are not here, I can the whole week without being touched. It's only when I see my family on the weekend that I am hugged.

Touch is not the same when it is not skin on skin. There's a reason that kangaroo care is so successful with newborns and premmie babies. Humans are designed to be near each other and touch each other frequently. We crave human interaction and the most intimate form is skin on skin contact.

I remember the first of my girlfriends to have sex.  We were in middle high school and she was mad for her boyfriend. She was nervous about losing her virginity, especially as she was the first person to do so. The girls wanted all the details afterwards, as girls tend to do. All I can recall from that conversation is that she said the sex was pretty average but the feeling of being wrapped in her lover's arms afterward was the most intensely happy moment of her life. I concur. There is nothing more reassuring and affirming than having the man you love embrace you after sex (even though I knew he did not love me back). It is the deepest sense of satisfaction, contentment and security I have ever known. The warmth, the rawness and the acceptance of imperfection is nothing short of miraculous.

I miss that. I miss it more than I care to admit and more than I want to. When you crave something it can cloud your judgement and lead to poor decisions. I am working on letting go and accepting my fate but it is a primeval need and it is proving more difficult than I had hoped.

Leave me alone

I make no secret of the fact that I have a lot of love to give. I ooze the stuff. It takes a lot for someone to break through but once they are in I will love them forever.

Lately I have been feeling more lonely than usual. I think it is because I have spent a lot of time on my own. I usually try to surround myself with friends and family. Someone encouragd me to spend time doing exactly as I please - one of the joys of being single is that you have no one else to consider. Thing is, I am considerate.

I am generally okay with being alone. I can handle spiders, I mow the lawn, I can fix shit around the house. I am not scared to come home to an empty house. I can cook and clean and do washing. I don't need someone. I want someone. I have a particular someone I would like but he's unavailable (Blake when you're done, send Ryan my way).  Okay Mr Reynolds is somewhat out of my league but I like to aim for the stars because then at least I might land on top of the world.

I like being held. I miss hugs. I love masculine energy. I find it intoxicatingly good to be around men. I love the way they move and smell. I love the way they talk and the lack if bitchines.

I know it is unlikely that I will be loved but I want to be wanted.

Stigma

I am ashamed that my marriage didn't work out. I know that I tried everything I could and gave more than I should in order to make it work but I am still embarrassed at my failure. I feel guilty that my children are part of a broken home. All the terminology surrounding my situation is negative. I know that I am in a better place for leaving an abusive relationship but I feel selfish about doing so.

I know that I worked at every facet of my married life. I held three jobs concurrently to financially support my family, I cooked, I cleaned, I arranged our social life, I managed the finances and I encouraged him to achieve his lifelong goal. I also took blame for the situation on board. Even after working a full week, cooking meals at night and driving for three hours to get home I would turn on the bedroom eyes and (I have to be honest here) force myself to attend my husband's needs.

Then there was the day I finally realised that nothing I did would make the man I was with love me back. From that moment I had no reason to hang on. My attempts to placate an angry and sometimes violent man were falling on deaf ears. My needs had been ignored for many years and my dreams for the future were not being catered for.

Truth be told, he wanted someone I could not be. I knew it before we were married and, although I brought it up many times, he would insist that he loved me (and at the same time try to change me into someone else). I should have trusted my gut. Sure, I could play the part of country bumpkin (hell, I can pretty much do anything I set my mind to) but it brought me no joy. I tried desperately to find peace in the situation but I was going against every fibre of my being. I was separated from my family - geographically and emotionally - and life was devoid of all the things I loved to do - eating out, going to movies, drinking and socialising with friends. Instead I was wrangling chickens, herding cows and traipsing through mud in sleet and wind. I was living in squalor and wearing clothes with holes. Anyone who knows me would attest that this is not who I am.

Despite knowing that I gave it my all and that I could never be the woman he wanted I am devastated. I am disappointed in myself; I reneged on a promise and that tears me to pieces.

I also worry that there is also a stigma associated with the divorced woman. I am the unwanted one. A discarded bit of stuff. I do not want to spend the rest of my life alone but my ex makes a good point. If he spent 15 years with me and could not find something to love, who's to say that there is anything lovable within me at all. Perhaps that's bitterness on his part. Perhaps it is hurt speaking. Perhaps it is that I was just not a good match for him. But what if it is the truth?

Eh

As instructed by all and sundry, I have been working on acceptance. However, to me acceptance is a fancy term for giving up. Rather than admit failure (e.g. that you cannot achieve your dreams), you say you accept your current predicament. Rather than fight for something you want or someone you love, you let go and move on without battering an eyelid.

Accepting things you cannot control might be healthy for emotional well being but I wonder whether it is just another form of apathy; psychology for the lazy.

Frinspiration #1

I am starting something new - Friday inspiration, or Frinspiration as I like to call it. I think it will catch on!

Today's Frinspiration comes from one of my favourite people, Teddie Roosevelt. A manly man who spoke his mind, Theodore Roosevelt was homeschooled and inspiring, following his interests throughout his life and doing so with valour and style.

It is hard to fail, but it is worse never to have tried to succeed

Theodore Roosevelt

It is easy to get disgruntled in life. It is easy to follow the path. It is easy to stay in your comfort zone. It is also boring as fuck. Aim high peeps! Chase your dreams with vigor and enthusiasm.

Meeting Mans

I had a session with a dating coach recently (see Ignite Mr Right). It was enlightening and more than a little depressing.

Camille suggested I redefine myself and develop an alter ego to aim towards (psychobabble for "you're fucked up and need to change everything about yourself"). So, meet Mans. She's smart, funny, confident, content, fun, relaxed, fit, healthy and energetic. She's not needy or self conscious or insecure.Mans adores her children and loves her family. She is sexy and full of mischief.  She's not sad or lonely or stressed. She's not scared or scarred or damaged. Mans is beautiful, well groomed and stylish. She lightens the room when she walks in. She is bubbly and interesting. She is a strong in conversations and is entertaining. She dances like a pro and drinks like a fish. She smiles frequently and from the heart. She is not cynical or bitter. She is a patient mother. She's creative and rich. Mans is loyal and generous.

The perfect lover

I have again spent some time thinking about my perfect man. There are essential and desired traits. The essentials would include:

• Intelligence
• Honesty
• A sense of humour
• Good manners
• Sex appeal
• Soft lips (that he is willing to let me lick whenever I want)
• Eyes like the sea after a storm
• Manly biceps
• Skills in bed
• Grace in dealing with my allergies and intolerances when ordering food
• The ability to drive. Well
• Well versed in the art of hugging
• Unembarrassed by PDAs
• Confidence
• Independence
• Reliability
• Style

The desirables would include:

• A hot arse with the ability to carry off tracksuit pants (There is a caveat on this - tracksuit pants are for within the home only; they are not outerwear)
• A fuckton of money
• A car of a calibre that my mother would approve

Things I could take or leave depending on the individual:

• Facial hair
• Tattoos

Things I will not tolerate:

• Metrosexuality
• Lies

Okay, I am going to step off my rainbow coloured cloud and back to reality now.

Slut like you

Our society is fucked up when it comes to sex. I believe it comes from the hush-hush of everything relating to the underwear region from the time we are born.  There is a preconception that women that sleep around are sluts and men that do are studs. Who are all the studs sleeping with if not the sluts?

I have no problem with people sleeping around. I do have a problem if they are doing so deceitfully however.  Cheating is the greatest form of lying and lying is my number one pet hate.

The reality of having sex with any number of people doesn't bother me (safety first peeps!). It is not the way I choose to live my life. I have never slept with anyone I have not been in love with. Yes, I know what you are thinking and you are right, my number is very (very) small.  I am not ashamed of it though.

There is a part of me that envies people with the confidence to sleep with strangers. Though it does not appeal to me I can see how it is a means to an end. In our disconnected and dysfunctional society we have set ourselves up for shallow physical relationships without any depth or meaning. Internet dating sites are rife with people hooking up for sex. Like I said, there is nothing wrong with two consenting adults fucking for pleasure. It's just not how I roll. I also worry that it is not great for emotional health. I believe humans are designed to form connections with people; relationships based on trust and mutual respect. I do not believe in monogamy for life but I do believe in monogamy for the duration of a relationship. I also believe that relationships develop healthy consideration for others.

I worry that when I get to the point where I am looking to date I will be so far from the norm as to be about as appealing as roadkill.

What I think of me

I have recently found C Joybell C.  She is a writing Goddess. My favourite of her quotes is thus:

“The only person who can pull me down is myself,

 and I'm not going to let myself pull me down anymore.”  

- C. Joybell C.

I have always worried about what other people think of me.  It has only been in the last eighteen months or so that I have taken the time to contemplate what I think of myself. Until then, I was so preoccupied with appeasing other people that I had never stopped to consider what matters to me.

It has been an unpleasant journey. I struggled through the last half of a decade. Every day was a battle. I would wake up exhausted and, looking back, I was probably on the verge of depression. I blame my sheer stubbornness for not slipping down the dark path though I had every reason to do so - isolation, an unhealthy relationship, overwork, illness and financial ruin.

I have spent countless hours, days even, looking critically at myself and assessing what I see. There is a lot I don't like and I intend to keep working at those things but lately I have been able to see some that I can tolerate. I am even able to turn some of the things I dislike about myself around and see the positive side to them.

I am at a point of neutrality and I am comfortable here.

For better or worse

Looking back at my marriage today made me realise how immensely proud I am of myself. I gave more in the 15 years we were together and our 12 years of marriage than I ever thought was possible. Some may say I was misguided, naive or just plain stupid but I loved my husband unconditionally and I gave him my heart and soul. I dedicated love, blood, sweat and tears to helping him achieve his life dream. I sacrificed my dreams. I willingly gave of myself over and over again. I gave and gave and gave until I had nothing left.

Looking back I can see that he never loved me. He tried to mould me into something other than what I was. What I am was not good enough; did not suit his needs. That's not his fault. I enabled him to do so. I did not stand my ground. My love for him was so great that I relinquished over and over again. I consistently succumbed to his requests in an attempt to try to get him to love me.

I was unloveable. Fundamentally flawed.

I have spent countless hours working tirelessly on my multitude of issues. My failing and shortfalls. I have (metaphorically) looked at myself in the mirror; dissected every fibre and put myself back together again. When that wasn't good enough I rinsed out my heart. Letting the pain and guilt wash away. When I looked again I still saw flaws so I pulled myself to pieces again, examined every one and inspected the damage done. I have poured so my time, effort, tears and energy into rebuilding myself. I am not perfect, nor will I ever be! I still have more work to do. I have insecurities and fears that I need to face. I have already established boundaries and I am working hard on sticking to them. I falter and I fail but I pick myself up, dust myself off and try better the next time.

I am devastated that my marriage failed. When I walked down that aisle in the dress I had designed after working two jobs and studying full time to marry the man I was in love with I had every intention of sticking it through to the end. Little did I know at that point that the man I was besotted with did not love me and that, in the end, it mattered not what I gave to him or the marriage he never would.

Regardless, I can look back and say that I dedicated all of me and I only let go when I had nothing left. I wish things had have worked out differently but they didn't.

Free writing

There's real therapy in letting emotions flow. There have been times when I have sobbed my heart out on the couch until no more tears will flow. At other times I have put the music on loud and sung relevant lyrics until my throat is dry. I have moped, I have wailed, I have bitched and moaned, I have danced with joy. Lately, I have been sitting in quiet contentment.

Today I am torn into pieces. I know that this is fleeting. I know that I am stronger than I have been in decades. I know that I can again pull myself out of this pit but today I am feeling like I have been shredded.

I find that writing helps me heal. I let the words flow from my brain to my fingers without censoring them. I don't share them with anyone; they are for me but they ease the pain and and help wash the crap away.

Reflecting

This morning I accidentally caught my reflection in the mirror before I put my dress on.  I have to say, any guy that does not want a piece of me is a fucking idiot. I am finally in a happy place in myself and it shows.

A colleague told me yesterday that I was "glowing" and the barista this morning described me as "glamourous". When I went for a walk last night I was whistled at. While all of this is flattering, it is the way I feel that matters. I have a contentment I didn't previously possess. I feel grounded and strong.  I like it!

Hjarnspoken

My cousin from Sweden recently visited me.  He stayed for two months and I consider myself very lucky to have had him as a part of my life for that time.  During his stay, we spent countless hours talking about all sorts of things.  One of the topics was my lack of self esteem.

His observation from our time together was that I suffer from hjarnspoken.  The literal translation of "hjarnspoken" is brain ghosts and it refers to imagined problems resulting from obsessions or unfounded fears to paranoia or even hallucinations.

Now, considering this, I don't think he was suggesting that I am paranoid and I know I don't suffer with hallucinations but he may have a point. I tend to focus on negative comments about myself. I struggle to see why anyone would like me.

No one sees it like I do.  Humans are very good at denigrating themselves and their self worth and I have mastered the skill. Someone can say a hundred positive things about me and one negative and all I will remember is the negative one. The hundred positive ones could be lost in Siberia. As far as my brain is concerned, they don't exist.

I have been working tirelessly on this for many months. For me it is a real sticking point. I am making headway much of the time but then one of the four people that can truly break me will say something negative and I slip back again. I regain ground with greater speed these days but I am working on getting to the point where no one can floor me.

Insights

I went out dancing with my sister and a friend recently. I have mentioned before that I don't care what people think of me when I dance. I dance for me - it is cheap therapy. I find it cathartic. To me, dance is healthy escapism; a safe way to go elsewhere for a few hours.

A guy, Gav, came up to me when the DJ stopped playing at the first bar and said I was entertaining. He then introduced himself to my sister. Gav was in awe that we were siblings. He then went on to make various observations about us noting that I have a strong wall up but summising that if anyone managed to penetrate the wall they'd be treated very well. 

Interestingly, I had a traditional Thai massage earlier that day and the masseur said something similar. Apart from telling me that my body is stuffed and that in her twenty years of massaging she had never had to work so hard to fix someone she also said that I had a troubled life. She spoke of how I had been mistreated in the past and needed to focus on me. She said that I had been broken but that this was a chance to build a different me. As she puffed with exertion trying to massage out my knots she encouraged me to tear down the walls I have built. "No one can get in to see how beautiful you are on the inside if you block them out". 

She spoke throughout the hour long massage. I never said a word. She talked of many other things including my low self esteem and that I am a perfectionist but that the work I was doing to rectify these things meant progress and that I needed to keep at it as I am just about to break through. 

Need for nothing

I'm all I've got. I can rely on no one.  That used to really bother me. I once weighed all my worth on what other people thought of me. No more. My levels of apathy have hit an all time high. Throw your insults at me. I am bulletproof. I just don't care anymore. Not that I won't get hurt; I take it all on board, but no one has power over me anymore. I no longer change my wardrobe, hairstyle, vocabulary or ideas based on what other people think. Don't like my shorts? Don't look! Don't like what I have to say? Don't listen. Don't like that I am quiet? Find someone else to hang with. I am at the point where I am unapologetic about who I am; what I like and what makes me happy.

It has taken a long time and a lot of work to get to this point.  I regress. But I pull myself up. I can now question myself critically and get to the bottom of my shit pretty quickly. A year ago I would agonise over the smallest things.  Big decisions are now generally easy mainly because I spent countless hours finding me. I had previously spent decades doing what others wanted. Sacrificing all of me for those I loved. It took me a long time before I could stand up for myself. I have pissed off a lot of people in the process to get to this point. I no longer let people walk all over me and there are people that find that very confronting. I am creating boundaries and constantly reinforcing them. It's tough going but totally worth it.

When I don't care, when decisions have no bearing on my life, I'll do whatever others want. I am pretty easy going. I go with the flow. I am accommodating and flexible.

I believe it is the expectations we place on others that lead to disappointment. Now that I have reached the point that I expect only to be treated with courtesy I find it easy to walk away from those that cannot deliver that. Everyone deserves a base level of treatment. Those in my life that can't see that can GGF. I am no longer a doormat for trampling on. This magic carpet will lift up and fly away if mistreated.

So, if you are in my life it is because I want you there not because I need you. I have found self contentment and it sits pretty.

Sandy vagina

I hate sand more than... well, anything. It gets into everything. It's coarse, irritating and sticks like glue. It's difficult to walk on and, regardless of how careful you are, penetrates the house and makes the floor gritty.

I'm not a fan of denegrating female body parts. I totally get the sandy vagina insult when someone's in a bad mood; that'd set me back a week. Gross!

Pearls of wisdom

Truly insightful tidbits are harder to find as you get older (and more cynical). I have come to rely on my own judgment. Right or wrong, these are the pearls of wisdom I have found in what has been my most difficult, heart wrenching, depressing and fun-filled year of my life. I have experienced my darkest moments in the last twelve months. During this same period I have also had moments of pure joy.

Look after yourself. No one else will. Eat well, drink water, exercise, stretch and try to sleep.

Nothing in life is permanent. This too shall pass. A blessing for hard times but a curse when you know you are onto a good wicket.

Let your children be. Guide them, encourage them, educate them but don't change them. They are perfectly imperfect just the way they are.

Fear is the ultimate enemy. Being scared can stop you from doing what you want or what you know to be right.

“Not everything that counts can be counted and not everything that can be counted counts” - Albert Einstein. Do more of what you love. Happiness is a transient state so fill your life with as many happy moments as you can capture. Smile, laugh, breathe. Explore new things and soak up the good ones whenever they come around. 

Stop comparing yourself to others. You have no idea what they have sacrificed to get to where they are; the troubles they face or the pain they feel as they battle their way through life.

Love with everything you have. Love so when you look back you have no regrets. Love so wholeheartedly that you can never stop. Ensure the people you love are of such quality that, regardless of what happens or how much time goes by, you'd drop everything to help them out if they needed it.

Humility is a strength few possess.

Forgiveness holds great power. Start by forgiving yourself and work from there.

Acceptance is key. Fight for what you believe in and seek out your dreams but accept that you won't always win.

Anticipation

A great entertainer will build atmosphere in the crowd before a show. There is nothing in nature better at creating space before making its appearance than the sun at sunrise.

Predawn is my favourite time of the day. I love the subtle changing shades of light before the harshness of full sunshine, the flattering long shadows, the quiet, the calm peacefulness and the hope of early morning. Being out at predawn sets the tone for my day. It is my time to clear my head and reset for the onslaught of another day. Ultimately I like to run in the predawn and let the resultant endorphins do their thing. But I injured my knee indoor rock climbing (well, indoor rock falling to be precise) and, as a consequence of favouring my good knee I have hurt my back and cannot run without excruciating pain. So I have been walking in the morning.

As I've mentioned, I have a love/hate relationship with walking. The pace irritates me, especially on sand, but it gives me am opportunity to find a better headspace. It's a way to create anticipation for the day ahead.

Conditioning

Retraining the brain is hard work. Conditioning is a strong psychological response (think of Pavlov's drooling dogs). I've spent a great deal of time and effort in the last year turning shit around. Seeking the positive; ignoring the negative. Turning what could be construed as negative into something positive. 

For the most part, I am making progress. Where something would have previously floored me for weeks, I can now let go. Sometimes very quickly. Other times it takes a little longer. But I can usually get to the point where I can move on. Progress. 

I still struggle with some people but I still find them affecting me less and with reduced intensity.  I still find that my immediate response is negative but I give less shits about what people think of me. This is for two reasons. Firstly, I can see the pedestal I put people on (often times without merit) and I am dropping them down. Secondly because I am starting to find things about myself that I don't detest. 

I am slowly unravelling the conditioning of my past, surrounding myself with people that don't bringe down and changing my response. There is a balance required. I don't want to overshoot the mark. I will never be liked by everyone. I will always have traits that are not perfect. I will come across people that look for the negative in others. I am aiming for realism. Not every cement that comes out of people's mouths is going to be a criticism (no one is more critical of me than I am) but there are times when others have an opinion of me that is not positive. That's okay. They are entitled to their opinion. Trick is to find people that accept my flaws and love me anyway. I am no longer in the game of changing myself to suit others, regardless of who they are. I will not apologise for who I am. Fundamentally flawed? Sure am! I am going to own that shit. Embrace it and wear it with pride. 

I have worked hard to get to where I am and the essence of who I am is okay. Not angelic but a long way from the bitterness of pure evil. I'm content with who I am considering what I have been through. I may be a shadow of who I could be but, let's face it, how many people truly live up to their full potential? 

I accept that I am not perfect but my intentions are good and I will not compromise on that. Ever again. There are so few things I like about myself but my generosity, honesty, integrity and loyalty will not waiver. I will love with my whole being which will mean I give more than I receive. I will stick by those I love even of it means supporting them while they do things I don't agree with. I will be there for them to pick up the pieces. I will hold them, feed them and nourish their souls. I will encourage them. I will put their needs ahead of my own. And I will sleep better at night knowing that I am doing what makes me proud. 

Fuck conditioning. I am not here to appease others. I am not put to impress them with falseness. I have learnt the hard way that moulding yourself to someone else's ideal is dangerous, damaging and impossible to maintain. 

Throw your judgement at me. I can handle it. Warts and all, I am okay with who I am. I will not apologise if you don't like me. There are seven billion people out there - someone else will. 

Too late

I'm building up. An urban survivor. Impossible is nothing. No holding me back. The only way is up. Effort with ease. All total bullshit.

I'm fragile, scarred, fundamentally flawed. But I am resilient. I get up each and every day and try something new. I am not a failure but I have found a million things that don't work.

So; focus on the positive, do more of what I love, breathe and soldier on. Left foot. Right foot. Left foot. Right foot.

But the niggling worry that all this effort is too little too late sneaks in. I wonder whether the temperature differential is just too great and the constant wind will wear me down before I can build the strength the keep up the fight. For there is no end to the shitstorm of life. There is always a battle waging. The war is never won.