Masonry Queen becomes Patient Gardener

I am the definition of contradiction, I am the Queen Mason and Patient Gardener, I am both and all at the same time.

From the age of naught, since the time I was but a spec on the imagination of my mother and possibly my fathers mind’s, I have been the Gardener in the people I meet’s lives. A wilting flower? No sweat I will water that sagging flower within you until it blooms once more in all its wonderful colour and array. That is who I am, that is how I have always been, that is how I will always be.

All the while I water your spiritual garden I neglect mine, instead of doing the required regular weed pulling, planting and watering I build walls. Walls around my spirit, my soul, who I really am, I hide. I am the expert in where these walls go, how they are built, how high they should go and what bricks to use. I am the Queen of Masonry.

I understand that in order for me to water your garden I have to do at least a bit of tending to my own, but not to the levels I should have. After all How much water can be thrown over a high wall? How easy is it planting a gorgeous orchid when you are balancing on the top of a wall the height of a skyscraper? Not easy, no. Perhaps my strength in tending to other peoples spiritual gardens is so strong for the fact that I have never really concentrated on my own. My gardening skills are unbalanced if you will.

When you are in a relationship, be it with a partner or with a friend, there are always three gardens to attend to much like the picture below - yours, mine and ours.

Firstly, on the left is your garden that you yourself need to tend to, look after, water, plant and weed.

Then on the right is your partners or friends garden, they to have to water, plant and weed making sure that it survives and grows.

Then finally we get the garden in the middle, our garden, this to needs to be watered, weeded and new plants planted every now and then.

If one of these three gardens is not being attended to then it becomes unbalanced, in discord and will start to resemble something much like a dead ant sucked dry by a leech, it can happen so fast, with a blink an eye, poof all dried out.

Look after your own garden too much and the other two get neglected, enough neglect and they slowly wither and die. The same is true when it comes to looking after the other two gardens more than your own, just this time yours is the one that withers.

All three gardens can be healthy and thriving, the balance perfect in the sense that all gardens are being weeded, watered and encouraged to grow but this takes hard work and practice. Just like anything else, like any garden, you can’t just put a garden together and expect it to grow. No, unfortunately you need to know which kind of plants work best under the different weather conditions, which plants need shade and which prefer full sunlight, how much to water them and what to plant next to them. Then on top of that “knowledge” you also need to think about the colours, sizes and fragrances of the plants you’re putting in your garden, do they compliment each other? Do they work well on the “whole”? and finally do they compliment the middle garden and in turn the third garden?

Now if you are a good mason such as I am, your garden will be filled with walls ranging from little hurdles through to impressive skyscrapers. How do you know where to plant the plants in your garden when you need to travel through an intricate maze first? Never mind knowing where to plant, how do you know what to plant because the sunlight falls differently depending on the day, month and season. The best yet is, how do you know what has already been planted if you can’t see over the walls in the first place?

With all that in mind how can we ever expect to know if someone else’s garden compliments ours if we don’t know what we have to begin with.

We are all masons in our own right, some of us are better with more experience, we all build walls. It is what we do with those walls that matters. Do we leave them up as permanent fixtures or do we instead break them down and use the remaining bricks in a water feature or paving the path in between the flower beds…. What we do is up to us.

I never knew what was in my garden, I was always busy watering others more than my own, the walls sky high, the sunlight very rarely filtered in. Ultimately, no matter what I did, I would never find the perfect partner or the friend that complimented my personality, my nature or my plants.

I still have many many walls to break down, 29 years worth of walls, all of them different sizes, densities and heights. I am retiring as the pro-mason now, I am handing in my wall making tools.

I am now a full time gardener, how about you?

Influencing kids… PG18

I am not a mother, never have been and honestly don’t know if I ever will be for the main fact that I fear for anything I give birth to - imagine me as a mom! (poor souls). That said, Amber’s post “Where is the line” and Joy’s post “Partying in front of your kids” got me to thinking - has my life influenced me? Did the deeds of my parents influence me?…

Please be warned that my life is kind of PG18 - for some reason I needed to warn you, perhaps so that you aren’t too shocked? You are warned…

If you have been following my blog you would possibly know by now that I grew up with the permanent smell of alcohol, what you may not know (due to slight omission) is the fact that my mother was also an alcoholic. So all my mothers men and all the kings horses including herself used to party it up quite a bit, it was when I learnt to sleep through anything and everything - shan’t go into too many details.

Growing up, adults who are drunk tend to want to offload their problems, they get soppy and in need of “therapy” - you know that need to talk about matters on their hearts. I was local therapist from the age of about 7, if not younger, that is just the first time I can remember actually giving advice to an adult.

I’ve heard it all, from problems with sex “She won’t do me no more”, “she’s frigid”, “Vibrators are better than men” (For that one I was 11 and I invented a vibrator attached to a electric blanket - she got the best of both worlds).

Then came the complaints about the spouses drinking… “He dwinks too much” (????), “He’s always too drunk to get it up” (use rhino horn it apparently works well or borrow one of mothers blue movies), “She snores when sheee dwinks” (why can drunk people never say the word drink, its always dwinks).

Then came the cheating “I think he’s cheating on me” (but you slept with so and so only last week, you can’t complain), “She’s shagging so and so isn’t she, I just know it” (No I have never seen her with him promise), “God I could shag him but I’m sooo shy” (This is how I think you should approach it, give him a few drinks, he’s easy then)

Suppose its not hard to imagine then that my sex education was a porn shop (among other things), I knew all the different shapes of condoms by the age of 13. Porn movies? Hell I knew what they were from a younger age than that. Sex was no mystery nor was it linked to the heart - I was taught that from a really young age. This was normal. Is that bad?

Keeping all of that in mind, it wasn’t unusual when my mother took me clubbing at the age of 12, they were all impressed that I managed to drink 8 ciders and still be able to dance. That was the night I was dared to smoke by my mother, I declined and had another cider instead.

I only started smoking when I was 14 and much to everyone’s chagrin it was not out of peer pressure, but rather “payback”, it was my only “anger” outlet. Sure I partied, I got trashed many a night, often with the older kids when I went to go stay with them during the time I was homeless. Hey I wasn’t innocent, I could drink anyone under the table, finishing a bottle of whisky on my own while out with friends was no mean feat. At the age of 21 I smoked 60 a day… pretty impressive surely? bowing? Wait…

My mother always believed that if you want to try something, try it and do it in front of her then at least she could “control” it, if something went wrong then she could “deal” with it. This included drugs, if we wanted to smoke dope, by all means do it in front of her, drugs were talked about openly and the fact that my brother was in hospital because of it, she knows.

I have spoken to a few people through out my short life, you know how topics come up “So how did your parents given you the low down on sex”, they always seemed to be fascinated with my answer and said that it was so cool, that they wish their parents had done the same. You know the conversation about parents allowing you to drink, some said my mother was mad while others applauded her, same goes for the drugs. What do you think?

Have you noticed how sheltered kids always seem to end up rebelling to the point of becoming exactly what the parents didn’t want?

No amount of sheltering can protect anyone from everything… Is it not better to be open with kids?

Are open relationships such as this bad for kids? Was it bad for me?

I am who I am today because of all the stuff life threw at me, am I so bad?

I ask all these questions because I don’t know…

I am not an alcoholic, I am not a drug addict, my only vice was ever cigarettes (did you note the “was”?). My younger brother had it just as bad as me but perhaps in certain cases more sheltered and then in others worse. He’s been in hospital for drugs OD’s, he’s had drunken rages, he suffers. I am not better than him, we just chose differently.

Is it perhaps not more a persons choice of how they want to be at the end of the day that really counts?

Perhaps that is just it at the end of the day, each moment of our lives we get to choose who we want to be, how we want to be and what we want to be…

I am no angel, but am I really that bad?

Breaking the chain

It has been raining for 3 days straight, some say it has been torrential bringing about the risk of flash floods and the likes there of. For me, I love the rain except for one fact, I can not sit outside nor can I walk in fear of drowning.

Today was a bit better, no rain but a wind that most definitely clears out any remnants of lurking cobwebs. According to the local traffic officer, the speed that was clocked on his spiffy trapper was a measly 100km/ph (62m/ph), not bad considering just the other day it was 120. The wind and I don’t get along very well, I tend to walk with it and not into it. This is mainly due to the fact that too much oxygen being forced into my lungs is not healthy and secondly I normally end up hugging trees for dear life as not to blow away. Blowing away for me is a problem, though surprising, considering I am well routed with balanced gravity in certain regions.

At one point on the first day it looked like the rain was taking a tea break so I stepped a brave toe outside and went for a walk. Alas the rain was playing joker and decided, just as I got out of decent cover range, to open its cumulonimbus banks and soak me to the bone. Today I stepped outside once more, this time ready to tie myself to the tree if need be, my walk was just not going to happen, the wind quite literally blew me right on back inside.

Indoors and I, we don’t get along too well, all the concrete and enclosed spaces start to cramp my style, my spirit and soon I start to resemble a wilting orchid. It is as if all the rain, wind and concrete start sucking me dry with no end in sight. If left to long I fear that I will become a fragile shell of Humpty Dumpty and no one will be able to put me back together again. After a few days I can feel myself on the verge of that shell, ready to break into a million zillion different pieces all splayed on the floor.

That “moment” is like a picture on the wall in a time warp, I can see it moving closer and closer towards me with little or no escape. Instincts kick in screaming “run run RUN” and I start bouncing off the walls. Bouncing in order to knock that moment onto a different train track, one heading in the opposite direction and not towards me. I suppose it is much like being in a daze and someone clicking their fingers right in front of your nose to wake you up, bring you to attention.

Life can be like that sometimes. Things, events, situations, people, they can drain us beyond reasonable coping levels. After a while we start to find ourselves getting to that point where get stuck in that “rut”, we start to stagnate and whither away. As we approach the “point of no return” our natural instinct kicks in, be it subtly or with force, it is there if we listen to it.

When it kicks in we might start to do strange things, things we may never have done before, go sky diving, laugh for absolutely no reason, have a drink in the morning, eat a full tub of ice-cream after midnight, paint our faces with acrylic, swim in winter, draw on walls or talk to inanimate objects (and hear them talk back)… this is us just wanting to break out, break free and just be.

Going wild is not bad though it might scare others into thinking we are having a “nervous breakdown” or “finally losing our minds”. At the end of the day it quite literally is just us breaking that ever present cycle.

So if you ever find yourself stuck in that rut approaching the end of the no return path, do something wacky, run outside and make a daisy chain, do something totally out of “normal”… break the cycle before it eats you alive…

Go wild, live and SMILE!

The purpose of self abuse

The purpose of self abuse is one that is quite simple and follows a certain theme. I will criticise myself either in my mind or verbally before you can and by doing it to myself first, when you criticise me then it does not seem so harsh, it is easier to take.

Does that seem odd to you?

Perhaps, perhaps not, perhaps you do it yourself.

How it comes about is different for each person. For me it was, from self-examination, because of constant criticism early in life. Everything I did or touched was seen as a failure and I was punished for it. From dropping a fork on the ground to tripping, spilling food down my front or a drink on the floor, I was punished either by words or beatings. It wasn’t only my actions I was punished for it was also that of my friends.

When I offered to do something it was always done wrong, from hanging up the washing to doing the dishes, taking out the rubbish or cleaning the bath. Even if it was done according to the strict instructions, it was a failure.

If I thought that I was useless at those things first then when I was told or punished it wouldn’t hurt so bad.

Being told that I am fat, being told that my nose is wrong, my feet are wide, my thighs big, my legs tree stumps, the list is long. If I told myself that I was fat first when others told me it would not bite so hard on my spirit, it would save me the pain of being told what I already believed.

It doesn’t only stop at telling yourself though, it morphs into telling people first “I’m the worst dish washer in the world”, “I look so fat in this dress”, “All my paintings are childish”, “I can’t take a photo to save my life”…

Survival of the fittest, adapt or be annihilated time and time again. Weakness of spirit or courageous strength to adapt? Neither is right for it is just pure survival instinct especially in someone young.

Once learned however this instinct can take a hold, as the child grows and transforms into an adult, these instincts can cripple a person. Negative thought biases take root and it becomes a way of life.

You truly see yourself as fat so that others won’t hurt you when they tell you so, you slowly become what you believe because there is no denying it. If others believe it then it must be true thought patterns take shape and mould your existence.

If you see yourself as a failure, not able to do anything right the first time or third time, those negative thought biases take shape as well, they become your existence.

It is not conscious.

There are also those that go to the extreme to prove their worth, they fight night and day to prove to others that what they believe is not true only to not believe it themselves.

There are many aspects to self abuse, many reasons for it to be there. Believing in ones self is seen as easy to some but can be a walking nightmare to others.

I once apologised for everything that I did in fear that the person I held in my heart would get angry at a simple failing and leave. Fear of abandonment ran and runs strongly through my veins. It got so bad at times that making a simple toasted cheese sandwich was a problem for me because I feared that I would do it wrong, that I would fail… a toasted cheese…

After the toasted cheese incident I was shocked to what level I had come, it was the lowest I had ever been. My fear of failure and transformed into my fear of abandonment, as if both where tightly tied together. If I didn’t fail at everything, if I did everything perfectly then no one would leave me.

Where does my fear of abandonment come from? On the surface I it is all the events tied together that formed these negative thought biases. My mother leaving me to fend for myself at the age of 14 definitely did not help but rather encouraged the view that if I was not perfect people pack their bags and leave.

The problem with this negative thought bias, and in turn built in fear, it leads to the if you start to fail often and people notice, leave first that way it won’t hurt you as much when they do.

It all comes back to the hurt myself first before others hurt me survival instinct. I call it survival because sometimes one gets to a point that you can’t take anymore, that just one more transgression on your mind or body will break you, break you permanently. It is much like evolution, they say that the leopard never had spots all those eons ago. The leopard developed those spots over a long period of time when it was threatened constantly, it adapted to its surroundings and in turn became safer from the environment it found itself in.

The difference between humans and the leopard though is strong. The leopard has its spots for eternity now, humans can shed theirs and become whole again. There comes a time when survival instincts are not needed, breaking their hold on us though is not the easiest. It takes time, constant self reaffirmation, finding the beauty within ourselves and eventually accepting ourselves for who we are and loving ourselves for it.

Not just saying it… doing it.

There is more to life than thinking we are bad, failures, ugly, fat, pathetic and useless for each time we think that we are stopping ourselves from living fully. We only answer to ourselves, no one else, why not love ourselves while doing it?

It’s a hard instinct to break once learnt, but it can be done.

I am learning that I am not a failure at anything, there are just something’s I don’t have an aptitude for and others that I excel at. Neither is good nor bad, it just is, I am me, the whole package.

Just because I can’t knit doesn’t mean I can’t paint it just means I have an aptitude for the one but not the other. If I fall off my bike it doesn’t mean I can’t ride, it just means I fell off. The fact that I love strawberries and can’t stand brussel sprouts doesn’t mean that I am less worthy it just means I have good taste buds…

There is a fine line, one that when we cross, is hard to climb back out of… that is self abuse… just because its hard to climb doesn’t mean that you can’t. The climb out will make you stronger, more your true self and allow you to shine fully in your true light not that of the sun behind clouds but in open view.

Let your light shine, I will mine…

The story of how I almost killed myself and why I am happy I didn’t…

No this is not Jerry Springer nor is it manufactured for the benefit of anyone, its a hard cold fact to swallow, but I almost died by my own hands and yes I really am grateful and happy that I didn’t succeed.

Suicide has been around for eons, since the beginning of times, it is not a new phenomena but rather ancient practice. Some used (and still do) to do it as a sacrifice for their Gods, others because they’d rather die by their own hands than be killed in war and then finally those who just can’t face another day breathing.

A conversation I have heard many times before:

Person 1: “So and so is just looking for attention, they told me today that they can’t face living anymore, how pathetic!”

Person 2: “Phew, so what did you tell them?”

Person 1: “I told them of course to get a life, stop moping around and to deal deal with it”

Person 2: “Good for you, you don’t need someone like that pulling you down”

Anything strike you as scary in that conversation?

When you are so low, I am talking lower than low, further than darkest of hell, you reach out for one last time. The night before, you find yourself sitting on your bed writing that letter, or worse yet, with the very thing you are going to use to kill yourself. What happens next is the continuation of internal dialogue ending up with you deciding to give it one more chance. You reach out to someone whom you love, you reach out hoping to get some help, for someone to take you in their arms and tell you that you are worth something to them.

Sound strange? No, you have to take into effect where that person is, where they are, each person has a different story. In every person who thinks about killing themselves there are commonalities, there are core emotions and feelings in each and every one. The circumstances may differ, there may be other emotions involved but the cores stay the same.

So what do we feel?

Helpless beyond reasonable doubt, we feel that there is absolutely nothing that we can do to change the situation we find ourselves in, we feel that it is all pointless. Generally we have tried, only to get stone walled or cut short before we succeed, the first, second, third or hundredth hurdle just seems too much, we are helpless. If the world seems to have given up on you how can you believe that you are capable or that anyone would spare the time to help you…

Hopeless doesn’t cover it,but that is what it is, we feel without hope for the now and the future. We feel that no matter what we do it won’t succeed, we feel that the world has given up hope in us so therefore we are hopeless. We feel that everything is pointless, why bother trying when there is no hope…

Unworthy and a waste of space, we feel that there must be a reason why the world can’t stand us, why we are so alone in our thoughts and our feelings, why we can’t relate to anyone, we feel worthless. We try to prove our worth only to get trampled on time and time again, people continually breaking us down. It all makes us think that in reality we would be doing the world a favour by getting “rid” of ourselves. We are a waste of fresh air, let them have it if they want it so bad…

Useless at everything we do, no matter how hard we try we seem to always fail, no matter what it is, it always seems to not meet others view of perfection. Time and time again we are told that we should try harder, we should do things differently, that we have failed either them or at the thing we are trying so hard to do, that what we are doing is wrong, wrong, wrong… There comes a time when we start believing and then “realise” that perhaps were right all along, that we are useless, a waste of space…

Unloved and meaningless to everyone that in the natural order should love you. Parents, family and so called friends seem to abandon you when all of the above are applied. You start to feel all alone in the world, born to be alone for eternity, no one cares, no one ever will. Life starts to look darker than dark, purest of black, how can anyone love someone so pathetic, worthless, hopeless, helpless and useless…

There are many different factors, these are just five of the main emotional themes that flood a person when they have reached the lowest of lows. They are reality, they are what they are. You may think it pathetic, by all means do, it just means you have amazing people in your life and that you have never been broken down so much that you got to that point. If you have amazing people in your life, thank them for they are a gift, imagine life without them, reverse their roles and play it out in your head. How would you feel if you are shown time and time again that people are just cruel, horrible, sadistic, uncaring, unloving and out for number one, what would you feel? How many times would it take you to believe that you are all of those things above if you are both told and shown continually?

I planned my suicide down to the last second, the details I will not give you nor the process, those that have been there know, but know this, it was clinically done and thorough. I wrote the letters to everyone that I had loved, I was ready, sitting on my bed with 30+ sleeping pills all neatly placed in my hand. Tears flowed down my cheeks and I said to myself “You are saving everyone else from yourself, you are doing them a favour, get on with it and save the world once and for all, God made a mistake bringing you into the world, you are now going to correct his gross mistake”.

I sat there for a long while just staring at the pills, three quarters of a bottle of whisky down my gullet, I was mellow, perhaps that is too light a term, I had courage like never before, I was ready. I put some pills in my mouth and swallowed them down, the taste of them made me almost throw up right there and then. I then reread the information pamphlet on what the pills would do if you overdosed, it brought me comfort to know that I would die in my sleep.

Suddenly I thought “What if my plans don’t go like I had planned, what if no one finds me and I rot in my flat for weeks”. The taste of the pills and the large amount of whiskey consumed suddenly clashed in my stomach and I threw everything up. All done, I sat once again on the bed, this time sans the pills in my hand. It was then that I decided to give it one more try, I was going to reach out to someone I did not know well and tell them I needed help, if they didn’t help me then I would finish the job. Please note that at this point I had told no one of my plans or that I had been thinking about it.

I sent a text message to a Therapist saying “I am in trouble, I need help, I am sending you this text so that I won’t do anything to myself, an emotional contract between you and me. That is all”. By sending that text message I had made an emotional contract, I now could not do it because I had promised someone else that I wouldn’t do it until I saw them, until I had given them a chance to speak to me. I was beyond shame, I didn’t care anymore what anyone thought, I was more than ready to end it, this was the last chance I would give the world.

No one knew that I was so low, no one knew the amount of times I had written those letters, no one knew that I had planned everything, no one knew because I had not told anyone, we rarely do. I didn’t want anyone to know because they would make a fuss, because they would seem fake in their kindness if they showed it, because I was beyond trusting their “love” for me, I just did not believe in humanity anymore.

The therapist phoned me on the Monday following the text message and she thanked me for keeping the contract, for speaking to her and for asking for help. Just by those words alone I felt some worth, hey she was a therapist and they’re paid to say those things but it made me feel like I had perhaps, just perhaps, done the right thing. A sliver of hope.

It was a long journey from there, it was scarier than scary at times. On my first meeting with her I didn’t care what she thought of me, I was beyond that, she asked me what led up to me wanting to kill myself and I told her. She validated the feelings I felt, she told me that she was surprised that I had lasted so long, she also told me that I had done the right thing by texting her. She then thanked me for being willing to give her a chance to prove that what I thought was not the case.

She proved me wrong, she showed me a different perspective and showed me how to deal with the people who had helped get me so low. She taught me and I learnt, I lived because she showed that she cared. It doesn’t matter that I paid her, no matter who the therapist is, they are still human and they still have the capacity to show care or to not, she did.

There are many different perspectives to suicidal thoughts, there are many different scenarios that play out, it doesn’t change the cores.

Sometimes people will say “Well how about I just kill myself, save you the hassle of dealing with me” or “You know what, I just can’t take this shit anymore, I may as well just kill myself”. If it is said in anger or tears, it doesn’t change the fact that it has been said for it means that that person has thought about it, had to have in order for them to just spit it out. If and when that happens it means that one or more of the above cores are present, it means that there is a problem that needs to be addressed.

Suicidal thoughts are reality, they are ever present and human. Those who have them are not abnormal, rather they are more than normal, it means that there is a problem in the “local matrix”. If you think these thoughts it doesn’t make you pathetic, it doesn’t make you weak or subhuman, abnormal or an idiot, it means that you are human. So often we reach out to those that we love only to get our feelings and thoughts reflected back on us, only to have them confirmed.

By me texting someone anonymous I felt safe, safe from peoples scorn, from their pity, from their rage and confirmations - I was so low that I knew I couldn’t handle any more of that. Making an emotional contract with a faceless person saved my life, by opening up the yellow pages, looking at the names and trying to figure out which one sounded like the one for me, I am alive today.

That was not so long ago, I now not only see my worth but feel it as well, I see and recognise my talents for what they are, I recognise the fact that there are bad people in the world and that we do have a choice about who we let in to our lives and who we refuse. It was a long journey but I am grateful that I did it, I am grateful that I am alive today and that I didn’t succeed.

Some might say “Oh come on I am different, you might have been able to do it but I am beyond what you felt, I am beyond love, less worthy than an ant in the desert” You are wrong, very wrong, reach out to an anonymous person be it online or off, but someone you don’t know, someone that isn’t a causing factor and see for yourself.

If someone has ever said those words I mentioned above or hinted at the fact that they are thinking about it, even in jest, don’t take it lightly. Do research online to see how you may help that person, speak to a therapist yourself to get guidance, but more importantly show that you care and love, give the person a hug not a slap in the face.

If you know of someone who has committed suicide, know this. More often than not there is no warning, they kept it quiet and in their own world, they did not want sympathy nor did they want anyone to try and stop them. There are always many factors involved, never just the one. I never uttered a word to anyone about my plans nor what I was going to do, how or when.

There is a lot of guilt left behind in those that remain, the loved ones in the suicidal’s life, the pain caused by this single act runs deep and far. The saddest thing of all is that they aren’t alive to see just how much people really did love them.

Hug someone today, tell someone you love them for who they are not what they are. Cherish the people in your life and support them, don’t break them down.

Some of us never got that chance, we lost loved ones to suicide, take it from us, take it from me.

Love with your heart on your sleeve, you could be the one that makes a difference…

________________________________________________________________

Related Posts:

Who you are makes a difference

Putting the “I” in Suicide by Persistentillusion

________________________________________________________________

With this post there are rules for comments: NO sympathy, that is all I ask. The reason for no sympathy is for the fact that I am not one bit upset or sad that I got to the edge of the abyss, instead I am grateful, it taught me many things, it made me live more, breathe more, love more, be me more… and love me for me

A monkey in silk is a monkey no less

Think about it, I know it might sound strange but we are who we are, we can try to be someone else but can you honestly tell me just how long that will last?

Why are we never happy with who we are, who we really are? Do we even know who we are? Sometimes I think not, we are bombarded by what society and other’s say we are that we forget that we have a soul, that we have a core that is constant, that never changes.

Sure the clothes that we put on reflect a certain image to the world, but that is just the image we want to project. I can be a the most vulnerable person on earth only to wear “heavy metal gear” to make myself look stronger, meaner, less vulnerable. For a Board Meeting I will wear a suit that costs a fortune to make myself look smart, professional and give the impression that I know what I am doing when in fact I am a quivering wreck.

We can dress ourselves up, we can change our appearance, we can adopt others way of speech, others way of acting, body language, just about anything we can morph into… but how long does it last before our true character comes out?

The truth of who we are will always come out, perhaps not so evident to everyone else, perhaps more to ourselves. It is this truth that we so often run from to the point that sometimes, when we do let our façades slip, we get upset with ourselves for “letting ourselves” down.

Are we ever happy with ourselves?

If we don’t know who we really are how can we ever expect to love ourselves, be happy with who we are, who we really are? Do we run from ourselves, our core natures, because they do not “fit” in with everyone else around us? What makes us think that everyone else is so perfect? Just because they seem to have it together it doesn’t necessarily mean they really do, perhaps, just perhaps, they are faking just like us…

In the past I lived a fake existence, it served a purpose and I do not regret it. By absorbing and reflecting others “fake cores” I was able to get through a tough time in my life where I was surrounded by a society that did not reflect who I was or how I was. If I had not done it I would not have been able to survive the years that I did, I would not have managed to find roof’s over my head, not managed to sell my art, or make money. Why do I say this? Because one of our greatest fear is being ostracised by who we really are, that is a true reality and happens often, we want to belong. Perhaps I was wrong about the culture of the society I grew up in, I believe I was not, those people were all fake and couldn’t stand the idea of genuine, they proved it to me many times. I kept this shroud of “fakeness” around me for a long time, only letting my true self shine after knowing someone for a while, each time I did I was shocked that they accepted me for who I was, they didn’t run.  Still to this day I am shocked that people like me for me, the genuine me, how funny is that? … or rather how sad is that?

The greatest gift to ourselves is knowing who we are, really are, and loving ourselves for it. Every second person I speak to, if asked what is at their core, they look at me and then start rattling off preconceived notions of the person standing next to them with a sheepish look in their eyes. They reflect what they think others want to hear, what I want to hear.

There is one fact to life that we can’t run from, that it is far easier to recognise others core qualities and reflect them on to ourselves than to take the journey into our deepest depths and acknowledge who we really are, what our core is.

Fake it till you make it by all means, wear a suit to give yourself confidence and to change the perceptions held by others but don’t let it change who you really are. Being fake has its purposes we must just remember not to allow that fake to become our reality.

Get to know yourself, your true self, love yourself for who you are and remember that it really is a gift to everyone else not only to you.

Genuine people inspire others to be genuine, to be themselves… spread the genuine and not the fake, perhaps you will be surprised that people appreciate you more than you know. We are all special and unique in our own right, each has a purpose, don’t shroud your true beauty for it is what we crave to see.

I want to see the real you not the fake you cover in.

Know yourself, be yourself, love yourself and allow us to love you just the way you are…

I like you, do you?

I wonder…

I wonder how many times you’ve been had
And I wonder how many plans have gone bad
I wonder how many times you had sex
I wonder do you know who’ll be next
I wonder I wonder wonder I do

I wonder about the love you can’t find
And I wonder about the loneliness that’s mine
I wonder how much going have you got
And I wonder about your friends that are not
I wonder I wonder I wonder I do

I wonder about the tears in children’s eyes
And I wonder about the soldier that dies
I wonder will this hatred ever end
I wonder and worry my friend
I wonder I wonder wonder don’t you?

I wonder how many times you been had
And I wonder how many dreams have gone bad
I wonder how many times you’ve had sex
And I wonder do you care who’ll be next
I wonder I wonder wonder I do

LIKE JANIS sometimes incorrectly listed as JANE S. PIDDY
2:32
And you measure for wealth by the things you can hold
And you measure for love by the sweet things you’re told
And you live in the past or a dream that you’re in
And your selfishness is your cardinal sin.

And you want to be held with highest regard
It delights you so much if he’s trying so hard
And you try to conceal your ordinary ways
With a smile or a shrug or some stolen cliche.

‘Cos emotionally you’re the same basic trip
And you know that I know of the times that you’ve slipped
So don’t try to impress me, you’re just pins and paint
And don’t try to charm me with things that you ain’t.

And don’t try to enchant me with your manner of dress
‘Cos a monkey in silk is a monkey no less
So measure for measure reflect on my said
And when I won’t see you then measure it dead.

‘Cos don’t you understand, and don’t you look about
I’m trying to take nothing from you
So why should you act so put out for me?

Dear Captors

I would just like to thank you for all that you have done, for all the years you held me in captivity. For the times that you beat me black and blue, abused me, the times you took my ability to walk away, the times you made me think of myself unworthy, the times when I thought I was subhuman and worthless, pathetic and an aberration to the human race.

Those years were the biggest blessing to me, each single moment that you put me through, a lesson for my soul, a lesson to my future, to my now. I will be forever grateful for the survival skills you enforced in me, for making me stronger than I would’ve been without you, for helping me be who I am today.

I want you to know that I do not harbour any grudge, I feel no hate nor anger for what you did to me, only happiness that you did. The years you held me captive are the past, they have no affect on my future, you will never again hold me in your grasp nor will I believe the lies you told me. I will never again believe that I am worthless or pathetic, I will never cower in the corner and take the brunt of your “punishment” for living, for being born, for breathing.

I am not a product nor am I a survivor of all that you did to me but rather a person who has just seen the darker side of life and now appreciates the light, a person with empathy to mankind and to the earth, a person who cares and who feels fully, you have no hold on me.

I may from time to time talk about the years you kept me captive. I do this not to stroke your ego or to enhance what you did but rather to share the lessons that you taught me and to show others that may still be captive that it is possible to break free from your tight grasp.

I would also like to say a big thank you to the fight that is within me, you have protected me when the going was tough, you got me through the darkest days of captivity, when the air was strangled from my very being. You ran on auto-pilot finding corners to sleep in and doors to run out of, when all looked hopeless you kept me going, for that I will be eternally grateful. Thank you.

I want you to know that I have broken free from you, I breathe full breathes with a real smile on my face, I laugh until I cry and you know what?

I love myself and I love you too

Me

The Long and Short Roads of Life

Tonight I thought I was clever leaving my walk late in order to have a nice Latte, darkness had began to fall but the urge to get out into nature overwhelmed me. Music in my ears I set off on two legs travelling the roads I have travelled many times before.

Over the last couple of weeks I have been pushing my body more and more by choosing a route that has the most elevated hills, they’re short but steep, ones that are (not kidding) close to 70 degrees in both directions. The initial reason for this madness was to put pressure on my knees and hips in order to strengthen the muscles and to put strain on my lungs so that I can feel the damage that I have done to my body for 15 years. Yes, pure madness…

Tonight though I decided to take the not so crazy hills and take the more even ones, in my area there are only hills, it is just the elevation that differs. As I walked I started to feel myself tire faster than I do on the steep hills, I was shocked that I was battling so much, but then it struck me…

The short steep hills are fine, you put your body through hell getting up and down them, but the agony is short lived. The less elevated ones, however, are more strenuous because they are longer lasting, causing more agony and pain, because just when you think you’re at the end you find yourself only at the midpoint. The benefit to my body would be to take the less elevated hills, although they are harder the benefits will be longer lasting than those of the 70 degree’ers.

Such as it is life, the short battles that we go through, the hardships that seem so steep to overcome when we’re in the mix of it. We recover from them far quicker than those that last longer, the effects on our spirit are also not as lasting. We soon forget the lessons that we learn, we start thinking that those short steep hills in our lives are the way to go and when faced with a problem we choose to go the quick but painful route.

The longer less elevated hills in our lives last a lot longer, they take longer to overcome and accept but the effects on our spirit last. Although it is not the “easy” route, it strengths our spirit enabling us to weather the storms that life throws us, we build up the resources to get us over the next hill.

There are no quick fixes in life, when we choose the quickest route to get over or deal with something it comes back to bite us and bite us hard. Add a whole bunch of quick hills together and you’ll soon find that you tire from life’s trials more easily, your fuel for life gets diminished and soon your spirit is flatter than an energizer battery.

Don’t run from healing, don’t run from dealing with the things that you need to address by taking the faster route for all you are doing is stunting your spiritual growth and your emotional well being.

The long road might be hard but is far more worth it…

Journey to my Soul

“I could give you no advice but this: to go into yourself and to explore the depths where your life wells forth.” ~ Rainer Maria Rilke

Imagine you are standing in a crowd of 300,000 people looking for your friend who is somewhere in the middle. You start walking in the direction of your friend, searching and searching, your walk slowly becomes a run as the panic within you grows, soon each of person in that mass starts to resemble the next, you search and your panic grows. Every single person is moving constantly, no one is standing still, confusing you even more. In your panic to find your friend, you start running wildly in the direction you think will lead you to your friend only to find that you have been running in circles the whole time. Panic panic and more panic, chaos reigns and envelopes you, your body is tired, your breath hard to catch and you still haven’t gotten any closer to finding your friend… chaos.

Breathe…

That was my mind, all the thoughts running wildly through my head akin to the mass of 300,000 people all moving at once to different rhythms all at once. A constant wave of thought all jumbled into a little park that is my mind with no bench to rest my weary feet. Panic started to overcome my spirit, I knew that I needed to find peace, I knew that things were getting dangerously chaotic in my mind but I didn’t know how to slow it down. No, this was not a conscious thought, at times perhaps it was, but it was just one of the 300,000 roaming around the corridors of my mind. I knew that I needed something but I did not know what, I was desperate without knowing just how desperate I was.

Now imagine that crowd of 300,000 in a high walled maze akin to those invented by the master puzzlers. The walls reaching the height of skyscrapers, so high in the sky blocking out the light from the sun. You are still searching for your friend in the centre but now you not only have 300,000 to contend with and sift through but also possible dead ends and wrong turns. Panic fills every ember of your being, the inability to see further than the next wall, never knowing whether you are closer or further away from the centre. Not knowing your Arthur from your Martha increases the panic and chaos, panic, panic, panic!

Breathe…

Every wall in that maze held emotional pain that was blocked from healing, each brick held pain and suffering yet to be felt. The crowd alone can cause much chaos and confusion, when you add the emotional walls on top of that you’re looking at absolute mindlessness. These walls were up for a reason, they were erected in times when, had I not put them up, I would quite possibly not have survived, they served a purpose. Problems come in when those walls stay erected, when we don’t face those emotions we “felt” during those times. They tie us down like heavy chains preventing us from experiencing true freedom, they inhibit us in our dealings with others and stunt our growth both spiritually and emotionally.

When I first heard about my friend Lee’s lymphatic cancer last year it hit me like a ton of bricks right between the eyes, it was both a wake up call and a realisation. I knew that I could not waste anymore time searching for my friend in the middle of the crowded room filled with tall walls, I had to find the centre and fast. At the time I did not know what I was searching for, I did not know what it looked like nor what it was, all I knew was that I HAD to find it. It felt as though there was a piece to the puzzle missing, a gap, that I could not see, I just knew that it was not there. It was once again not a conscience thought it was more an inner knowing, an inner longing that no words can describe apart from “craving”. With this craving flowing through my entire being I quit my job that had by that time deteriorated to the point that I had to watch my back constantly (Fighting the Gut). The journey to my soul had officially began without me even realising it.

After quitting my job I flew to England for interviews, got an amazing job and then had my visa declined three times. I got to see my friend in hospital, experience his love and his forgiveness (I got the chance, will you? and Life’s Lessons in those around us). During this whole time it felt as though I was on the right path, the knowing that burned within me pushed me forward through each hurdle. My outright certainty confused those in my life, they often told me that I was mad, that I need to be realistic and make decisions, each time I told them that I am following my gut, that I trust it. I had decided that the only way to find my friend, my centre, in a crowd of 300,000 was to listen to it and follow the directions it gave blindly.

When I got the phone call with the news that my soul brother had passed on I felt ice cold water flow through my veins and then a warmth, I was numb. My friends death shook my very core, it seemed to realign the walls in my mind causing the shaken foundations to falter and a few bricks to fall, it opened me up to feeling real emotions once more, but not totally. It also caused the 300,000 strong crowd to expand to 600,000 with increasing speed and chaotic frenzy.

Now imagine a 600,000 strong crowd of thoughts with faltering walls, the walls don’t stand much chance at all. The thoughts pushed and pushed causing a few of the walls to begin to crack, some to fall and others crumble. Where in the past I would have remained cold I was warmed with the intensity of my loss, a gateway had formed and the 600,000 strong crowd of thoughts ran riot, it felt as if a calm had come over me. A calm? A calm because those 600,000 thoughts were not walled in anymore, restraining them, they were not bouncing off walls continuously anymore, they were free to roam.

Once that gateway opened up and what I thought was a calmer state of being enveloped me it felt as though I was once again on the right road to freedom, I was getting closer to the centre where my friend was. The problem though is that when we are so used to a crowed head, just a few walls breaking down makes one think that you are closer than you really are. I was, in reality still very far from finding my friend, a 600,00 strong crowd is not freedom.

I returned to South Africa subdued and yet excited about my journey, to me I was making progress, learning life lessons and using them for good. My friends death had taught me to live and to not give up on searching, it reinvigorated me in my quest to find the centre. Some might say it is crazy and pointless to go searching for something in the middle of a crowd that big especially if you don’t even know what you are looking for, it all depends on how you look at it.

Slowly I started to settle down, now awaiting another round of visa applications for Ireland (Hello destiny my friend) I suddenly found myself with a lot of time on my hands. What does time do? It gives you time to think, bad? I don’t think so, by actively thinking you start facing the demons, recognising them and processing them. Suddenly I found myself once more contemplating life and the lessons I had learnt up to that point (Putting Humpty Dumpty back together again). At this stage I was still unaware of how to find the centre of the crowd, I was still searching endlessly but this time with less panic for each thought that I started addressing started knocking the numbers down, slowly the 600,000 became 500,000.

As I said before, when you are so used to a chaotic crowd in your mind it is what we see as normal, that normality prevents us from seeing further than the chaos. We become blinded to other options, and in some cases, we fear those options when they are suggested, why? Because by nature we fear change, change in what we know, our chaos becomes our comfort. Ironic? Yes.

I was once talking to a friend online when she told me to stop screaming at her, I was shocked. The chaos in my head, although diminished from the last count, was still strong causing my words and speech to jump like a jumping jack reflecting what was going on in my head. When I heard those words it clicked, in that instant when I typed “CALM” I felt a clarity overtake me. It was then that I realised that it was because of the crowd that I would never be able to find the centre, I would forever be searching but never finding. How could I find the centre when there were so many thoughts crowding my mind?

From that moment on, feeling that clarity of calmness and lack of crowds in my mind I started to say the world “calm” out loud when ever I felt that my head was getting jumbled. When talking to someone or typing I would repeat it over and over again either out loud or just in my head. Slowly time passed and it became a habit, when something upset me I would say “calm… calm… calm”. I started to see things differently, seeing things that were right before my eyes before but never noticed. Slowly I realised that I both had to and could break down the walls that I had erected all those years ago (Love who you are just as you are, Iridescent stars within the dark of night, This is my now).

With this new clarity and calm I felt the urge to start walking again, I loaded some quiet inspirational music that I felt talked to my soul on my mp3 player, plugged in the earphones and started walking. The music seemed to touch my inner core, the words spoke to me more than ever before. In the past music just related to my past, the things behind and in front of the walls, never before had it really related to anything else, like nature, how the world worked or what really needs to be done (Humans in Nature, Winds of change). I thought of them about these things often but never concentrated, my thoughts were always clouded, now they were crystal clear like a waterfall falling through the air.

Chatting to a friend she suggested that perhaps I get some meditation CD’s and start meditating to try and bring more calmness to my mind. I still had a 200,000 strong crowd bantering away in my head, I seemed to be running away instead of embracing the quiet with open arms. A latent fear clung to me, letting go of everything and embracing the quiet and the space I was in was saying goodbye to the life I knew and accepting a new improved but very different one, I was scared.

I went out and bought Meditation CD’s and started researching ways on the Internet to meditate. I was shocked at how much information was out there that gave you all the know how of doing it - this coming from someone who uses the internet as her primary learning tool it’s quite shocking that it never crossed my mind to do it before! So I read up on it and I started to sit on my bed just after I woke up with the meditation CD’s playing in the background. I concentrated on my breathing counting to 5 as I drew in and then 5 and I breathed out again slowly. After a while I began to feel the breath filter through my body and a clear open space within me opened up. I can’t explain its clarity or its perfection, it was safe and pure, clear of rubble and clutter, I felt like I could float in there. I was systematically breaking wall by wall down without even realising it (Downward Spiral of Self Doubt)

When I opened my eyes it was with a new vision, less opinions and more options. I started looking at everything in a new light. Where before I would look at a tree and see its branches or that it had lost some leaves now I saw the tree as an integral part of the universe, I saw it as a symbol in life and I took from it a message. Food started tasting different, things that were bland before became more flavour filled, my sense of touch heightened as well. People touching me freaked me out because it lingered on my skin for a long while afterwards and I couldn’t shake it. Things were new, I was a kid again, I was slowly shedding my adult skin and seeing the world as was intended (I’m done starving my soul, Universal Respect?).

I started meditating more and more after that first experience of what I call an open mind. Soon I found myself closing my eyes every opportunity I got, concentrating on my breathing and finding that open space again. My focus was to try and quieten my mind, a hard task with the now 100,000 thoughts cascading left, right and centre. I started to visualise each one coming towards me as I stood in that open space, I would look at each onr, see it for what it was, recognise it and then accept it.

This is a long journey, one I have often wished for a magic wand in order to speed it all up or to just make it happen. What I now realise is that the spirit within each of us, our souls know the pace they need to go, there is no rushing or pushing it to go faster. I have finally managed to quieten the mindless chatter in my head during meditation, sometimes thoughts will pop in and I once again recognise them and accept them then tell myself to let it go. Slowly, the more I do it, the longer the chatter stays away, I can now sit quietly embracing my space in total silence, breathing in and out light and energy of the colour I choose. I’ve started experimenting as well, I read that Buddhists when cold visualise warm colours flowing with their breathe, the other night I tried it and I started sweating on the coldest of nights.

For all the years I have searched for something that all along existed within me, I have been searching for my centre, my core, my soul. I am close, I can feel it in every breath that I take, the walls are falling, I am breathing in healing, for the first time in my life I am becoming me, the real me.

Through everything I have been through, all the lessons that life has given me this lesson is the both the greatest and most important. We are so used to chaos that we forget to embrace the quiet, I have not walked into a single thing (Mistakes and the funny side of life) since I embraced my space and the body I am in, I don’t judge just see, I don’t have opinions but look for options…

I now look at the world with a new pair of eyes and it’s beautiful, I see life for the first time and I am grateful beyond any words that a dictionary can offer…

To all those who have helped me I thank you

Life in a plane

Oh how I miss sitting in the cockpit, taking the controls in my hands and feeling the power of the air under the wings as I sore over the landscape below. Yes, take that shocked look off your faces all of you that know about my driver’s license incident, there are no people walking around the sky and to date no humans have been injured… promise. It was always said that I’d get my private pilots license before my driver’s if not my commercial license, quite shocking I know but they seemed to think that I was a natural in the air. Perhaps it is because I have been flying alone in big planes since I was 3, perhaps it is just my love for soaring through the air, who knows but I do feel total peace when I am up there.

It all started when I first got into a motorised glider just on 19, a gift from a friend who knew my love of flying. We were flying motor in action over the mountains in my area when the pilot told me take over the controls, I remember just grinning from ear to ear, taking the controls in my hands and thinking “This is the life”. I flew the little glider out over the sea, looking everywhere the eyes could see, it was one of the most beautiful experiences I have ever had.

The big one came when I rocked up at the flying club one day to tag along on a fly-in meet (flyers fly to a different destination for a scrumptious lunch) that I had been invited to join. I was meant to go in a 6 seater with a bunch of friends when another friend pulled me aside and said he’s flying alone do I want to join him in his Cherokee 160. Guaranteed front seat who was I to turn the offer down! So we did the pre-flight checks and got in to our seats, all electronics working, headphones on we were ready to go… That was when he turned to me and said “So what are you waiting for, I’m not flying you are… think its time you get the bird in the sky don’t you or we might miss out on lunch”.

My jaw literally dropped, I couldn’t believe what I was hearing, I grabbed the controls before he could change his mind and he led me through what I had to do to take off, what to look out for, etc. Plane on the runway, I got her all fired up and before I knew it we were in the air flying over the rather large river at the end of the runway that I had forgotten about heading towards the distant mountains, I flew all the way to the destination, 200km over mountains and beautiful landscapes. When we almost ready to come into land I started to give over the controls and he just sat there and laughed at me “No you’re landing as well”. My jaw dropped again… landing is way way different to taking off, getting the balance of the wings, the speed right phew… I am here to tell the tale aren’t I? Yes I landed the plane without hitch and the lunch was delicious. He took off from there, handed me the controls again once in the air and I landed back at the airfield at the end of the day.

When we got back I asked him why he had let me do that, all he said was that he had heard the previous year from the pilot of the glider that I was a natural and he wanted to see for himself so had decided to test me. He told me that he agreed wholeheartedly with the glider pilot, I was a natural, he added that he was surprised by the fact that a woman could be a natural in the air, for him women were just fearful while the men took to it like ducks to water, fearless.

I was really chuffed by his comment to say the least but it also irked me that he had had to test me to see if “miracles” could happen, to see if a woman could be a natural in a preordained man’s world. The lesson of what I showed him was taught to both of us, he went on to tell everyone about the “chick” that’s a natural flyer getting himself into trouble for going against pilot code and rules by letting an unlicensed person land and take off, it didn’t stop him. The lesson for him was profound - woman are capable in a “man’s” world, we are more equal than he had ever realised and his respect for woman as a “species” has been raised, never judge a person by their sex, race or social status. He stil carries it with him, I bumped into him last month, his first words after not seeing me in close on a decade? “Hey Natural” with a big smile on his face… (Between you and me, the management has since changed at the club so we’re hoping to get back out there and into the air again).

The lesson for me?

Never let anyone else’s views or expectations of you stop you from trying something out.

Why should we allow someone else to dictate what we can and can’t do just because of our sex, our race or our social status.

Don’t let social history dictate who you are, don’t fall back on it to get ahead the easy way, fight for what you want both fairly and equally.

Number one above all else, prove to yourself not anyone else what you are capable of because at the end of the day that is all that matters…