Infinity Kiss

They said I should be bitter, resentful and scornful
And mourn you.
But I couldn’t find the seed of all hate
to plant in my heart’s garden bed.
When I think of your name, for some reason it’s all ok,
even if you are no longer there, to hold my hand.
Because the truth is sweet man,
you were the first and will always be, my soul’s friend.
Because you opened my eyes something beyond ordinary life,
Because after you I just could not go back to the way everything was,
Because you made me feel and believe in everyday organic magic,
you made me live a fantasy now I know really exists,
and now I’m not willing to settle for anything else than the love I learned
straight from the heat of your knowing gaze,
looking right through me, where no one else had seen…
After all these years of hiding behind an invisible veil,
which you slowly peeled and revealed my shy skin.
You saw me real, raw and bare,
but what’s most astounding is I wasn’t afraid,
I let you go there…
You unzipped my dress, the one I bought to impress
but what you found most impressive was me without the fancy drapes.

So I washed my face and even thought of shaving my head,
because you made me feel at home and comfortable in my flesh and bones,
Cherishing my textured skin and the soul that lives within
your sweet kisses fertilised love in me…
You saw the shy eyes, that had many tears cried
and you wiped the tears and heard the gasps
and weren’t disgusted by my frail hands,
the many shots I told you I misfired, you said it was all nothing.

And although you never dared
to tell me about you wounds as well,
I saw them, silently burn.
And although we never talked about it,
we both knew this bond we shared was something sacred, beyond the ego space.
I don’t know if our minds realised at the time,
our souls were executing their grand plan,
our spirits dancing vivid.

I could not ever hate you or forget you,
as tempting as it is because sometimes my ego stings
And burns jealousy, blame and envy….
Sometimes I try to tell myself I’ll find someone better out there,
someone who truly deserves me and is ready to claim me…
your loss, you know?

But the truth is I don’t want anyone to replace you.
I don’t ever want to replace love,
because although the story might not have gone as it was “supposed to”
we both know what went on was supernatural, and I don’t ever want to forget that.
I don’t know if something better will come,
but the love you ignited in my heart is enough
to last me this life and maybe the next, where we’ll meet again.

The reason I know this is love is because
although I try I just can not find resentment for you in my heart.
And when I close my eyes and see you in my heart’s eye
I just hope wherever you are… you have a smile, even if in other arms.
I just hope you are safe and happy and not afraid to be yourself
and go after what you deserve, because I’m doing the same.

In this day and age, the honourable tittle of “doormat”
is reserved for people like me
who open the doors of their heart and say
“come and go as you please”,
it’s an open feast.
In my case it’s a banquet and no regrets.
Because what else am I here for
if not to share the most precious thing I’ve got,
which is this love, fierce in my soul.

So no regrets my dear man.
In case you, ever think of me again
I’m sure you’ll know how to find me,
in dark alleys, in your dreams.
Where I sleep tight, with you
and feel infinity in a kiss.

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To Love Oneself…

To love oneself…

What does this even mean?
We all have different understating of the word love…
A fleeting irrational, animal response? A mere feeling?

Most often people relate the word love, to “romantic love” between two people, in a relationship, but even the meaning and understanding of what a relationship is so distorted nowadays… We are more “connected” than ever, but more isolated than ever before, especially from our own selves. The only real home and sure source of love we’ll ever find, our own souls.

I believe real love is more than just a feeling.
Real love is a verve, and a most potent sacred force making the world go around…
Unfortunately, language often impedes us to make sense and even express of all our feelings…
The same with love, which yes, is also a feeling of affection, care…
Eros love, includes attraction and feelings of lust…
But real love goes beyond fleeting momentary feelings, real love is a virtue and a divine gift.
I shall attempt to deconstruct or sketch a clear picture of what this love looks like:
First of all, real love encompasses the words:
Kindness
Compassion
Acceptance
Understanding
Patience
Forgiveness
Attention
Empathy
Care
Resilience
Precede the word “unconditional” before all the above…
Now I could go into defining each of the above as well, but I trust we can all look up the meaning of the afore mentioned and get a clear understanding of what they all mean.
Although these words might look all “fluffy” and rosy, rainbows and butterflies, spring everywhere…
They are actually the most difficult things to practice, for us humans, trapped in our ego shells, but they are the most powerful and redeeming forces for any one of us.
So when it comes to self love, where to start?

First by accepting yourself, sounds simple right? Easier said than done.
Accepting our messy, broken selves who everyday we try to change according to societies expectations of what we “should be” as humans.
From a young age we are made to feel inadequate and ashamed of our short comings, some more than others….
So this is the beginning, accepting who you are warts and all, and realising you are not just your “mistakes”, “defects”, but realising that these things are actually what shape you into the unique wonderful individual that you are.
Realising that it is through these struggles you are actually being polished into the diamond that you are.
Realising that there’s nothing wrong with you, you are just the way god, the universe, the providence, nature, whatever you wanna call it intended you to be… Perfectly you.
This is the first step to self love.

Acknowledging yourself in all your glory as not just a pile of negative adjectives of everything the world told you, you “should be”, but being real with the truth of who you are, and being proud of that. Sure, you are not perfect, you could have a million defects which you want to change but we all do, but the first step in changing or “improving” any of those defects or bettering yourself in any way, is by first acknowledging who you are in the first place, acknowledging and loving ourselves into “better” versions of ourselves, not outcasting or berating ourselves for certain parts we are not quite proud of or we don’t like.

For example you could have a fiery temper, and tend to feel anger which you often try to deny, keep contained or reflect onto other people, until eventually you explode… and then you give yourself even more of a hard time for “losing control”, or being an asshole, or a bad person or whatever the condemning thought might be.
The first step is to have compassion towards ourselves, for having all these feelings and unhelpful thoughts, being human and vulnerable and simply not perfect.
Then gently, being aware of certain tendencies or unhelpful habits we might’ve picked up throughout the years for whatever reason, and try to transform them into something more helpful for ourselves and others.
For example that anger, passion, all that energy can be a powerful force for transformation, for taking action towards a noble cause with compassion and benevolence above all. Because we know hate or any destructive action doesn’t benefit anyone, it only damages all parties involved.

So it’s about acknowledging yourself in all your glory and go from there…
To illustrate this, in my experience, I’ve always been an anxious person for as long as I can remember, given my “difficult” upbringing, trauma etc…
For years I tried to negate, hide this anxiety and deep sadness I felt, I just didn’t want to acknowledge them because the feelings where too painful, they were real, but I thought they were a nuisance I had to ignore and just “get on with it”. I lived totally disconnected from my emotions, trapped in my mind, telling myself how “I should” feel instead of owning up to my feelings and which lead to years of destructive behaviour. First of all, I hated myself for all the things I should be and I wasn’t, I hated myself for all my “mistakes”, so often I kept myself isolated, I lived behind a mask, never showing my true self, all my pain. It was only when I opened the doors of my own heart to myself that I could be free…

I started to feel deep compassion for myself, because my anxiety and sadness where there for a reason, I’d had a difficult past, I’d gone through some very rough things that would leave anyone sad and anxious, and there was nothing I could do about the past, the past was done, but my emotions which I didn’t allow myself to feel, where still stuck there because I never allowed myself to process them…
So I started by accepting my past and the feelings that came with them, and realising how it was ok to feel everything that I was feeling. What’s more, I realised these experiences where actually a gift, these deep suffering allowed me to become a more compassionate person towards those in pain, these experiences taught me how to forgive, myself and others.
These experiences taught me the way to love.

Now I realise, there’s no such thing in the universe as mistakes, everything happens for a reason even if we don’t realise it or understand it at the time, everything is a lesson, everything is working towards the evolution of our better selves…

So back to loving myself,
This means forgiving myself for all my mistakes, things on retrospective I could’ve done better? But hey! We all try to do the best we can with what we have with what we have and what we know at the time, so what’s the point in dwelling on the past?
We can only learn, and move on, wiser than before.
Second, loving myself means being true to myself, in all aspects.
First, it means acknowledging my past, all it’s pain and owning it. It means acknowledging all my emotions, not judging them as good or bad, just allowing them to be there, and have compassion for how hard it is sometimes to feel a million things at once that my brain can’t even process.
Loving myself means chasing my dreams, it mean having the courage to break out of my shell and create a life I’m proud of, a live that reflects my values….
Loving myself means loving others around me as well, and not being ashamed of this love, not being scared of being who I am but beaming proudly all this Love I carry within me because, heck it’s a treasure I’ve worked hard to find, literally through many years and tears.
In practical terms it means, acknowledging all my moods, all my physical sensations and acting mindfully to take care of each one. It means being present to my life every second. Being grounded in love.
It means accepting my body as it is, scarred, hairy and all.
It means nourishing it with healthy food, it means giving it the rest it needs.
It means taking care of my mind, nourishing it with wisdom, allowing it to rest and have some fun as well.
It means taking care of my emotions and listen to what they are trying to tell me…
It means making peace with myself, from the constant war… it means working with me not against me…
It means unity, mind, body and spirit…
It means learning to trust myself, my gut, my intuition.
It means being true to my values and beliefs and not be ashamed of being who I am
It means having patience with myself…. having endless compassion for my ego and anxious mind.
It means living a life that makes me happy even if others don’t understand…
It means being in touch with my real self, my soul, endless love.
It means being a compassionate, nurturing mother towards myself.
It means being deeply aware at every time of what I’m feeling and thinking, and grounded, respond accordingly.
It means being mindful and present to my life.
It means acknowledging all my desires and feelings and not keep them exiled or be ashamed of them.
It means reconciling my heart and mind.
It means spreading that love I have within me with others and everyone around me in any way I can…
It means trying to make the world a more loving place.

“To know thyself is the beginning of wisdom.”
― Socrates

On Love…

“Your task is not to seek for love, but merely to seek and find all the barriers within yourself that you have built against it.” Rumi

The meaning of life is simple,
Yet impossible to conceive or achieve when you are trapped in your ego prison.
Of egoistic reason and exiled feelings….
I believe we are here from love and to love.
We are here from a highly intelligent, complex, divine, magic, loving universe…
Through which its marvellous, chemistry and loving science,
Allowed us humans , such intricate creatures to blossom.
To be alive, against all odds.
The privilege of having the awareness, that you are real, that you exist, that out of the infinite number of possibilities… somehow there was you.
That’s an act of wonder and love.
To be on this earth, to discover who we are, beyond all we are told we “should be”…
“Should be doing” or becoming…
We already are, love,
It’s in us, its in all nature around us…
We feel it, we are one.
Despite what the ego, or egoistic reason says…
Despite all the “reasons” why…
We shouldn’t love…
Or what is love even?
Despite our distorted views or understanding of what love is; we are all hungry for it and we all deserve it, and not just crumbs or cheap imitations.
Sadly, our modern society has turned love into almost a kind of commodity you have to have to work hard to earn, or if you are lucky find somewhere…
This is the ego which tends to separate, when love unites and accepts.
When we realise, who we are, love, we can’t help but love,
The ego doesn’t control our spirit, we are beyond shallow reasoning
To feel and cherish all that the mind can’t explain.
There’s nothing more powerful in the world than love, God…
Universal unity and acceptance.
Breaking us free from fear, from the separations of illusion and superiority the ego has created.
Love restores, love reminds us we are all the same, despite our outside shells, and different tastes,
Love reminds us that we are enough, we have enough, to exist, to simply be…
The loving universe that bought has us into being is looking out for us…
Love is already within us, all around us in nature, love is in the air we breath and water we drink, in all the elements.
Love is everlasting, and present in your heart, you just have to make contact to that fountain inside that will never run dry.
Love is strength, love is courage to try again.
Love is that nurturing, compassionate mother, we all have within us.
Love brings our higher selfs to light, love sees our broken parts but doesn’t dwell in our wrongs or punishes us for coming short.
Instead it compassionately helps to try again, how you can do it better, but it’s ok if you don’t always get it right, love accept things as they are.
Love is fervent faith… in the universe, in the power of love itself.
Love is courageous, it doesn’t shrink at the ego.
Instead it kindly tries to understand what made it so, where it hurts, why so much pain? Why do you put all these defence and pretence?
Real love reminds us thats it’s ok to be broken and flawed, the mortal, fragile humans that we are. Perfectly imperfect us. Like everything in nature and creation, we are fallible, ever changing and metamorphic, full of errors, sickness and mistakes but that’s perfectly ok.
Nature in all it’s wisdom lovingly accepts and nurtures every creature in their native state, facilitating their thriving and dying in the circle of life.
Flowers don’t compete or compare their beauty against each other they simply bloom and freely grant us with their fragrance and harmonious charm because that’s intrinsically who they are.
In the same way, leaves in the trees don’t resist the changing of the seasons, their colours turning green, yellow or pink, they simply let go into the flow because they know it’s all an act of love, from the sage Providence.
Loving nature than reminds us, that our natural, wild, “beastly selves” if you like, are ok as they are. There’s no need for striving for perfection or illusions concocted by the ego, we may be horrible but also wonderful, despite it all, always deserving of that unconditional love and affection we so deeply crave, yet we deny ourselves, for a million illegitimate reasons our illusions of self righteousness which impede us from grasping and appropriating of this divine love, freely available to us all.
Above it all, the soul just wants to feel at home, secure, at one, at ease with everything else… from the love source where it came from.
We don’t have to learn how to love, it’s a natural instinct ingrained in all of us, we simply have to kindly deconstruct all the barriers we have built against it and if possible refine and deepen our understanding of love, how we can demonstrate, express, and put our love, this passions, into use for ourselves and everyone around us.
Love is already within us, we can feel it, we were born with it.
Often in romantic relationships we are looking for that one person who we can feel secure enough to show our sensitivity, insecurity, and vulnerability, and inevitable neediness, the most intimate, our wounded selves, what’s always been there but for some reason, for our survival, in our sad modern culture of “dog eat dog”, we’ve learnt we have to hide from the world, so we don’t get hurt, again.
But in this way, in guarding our hearts with heavy armours against hurt and masking our tender vulnerability we are also impending love from entering and blossoming in our hearts. The love we are after so much, we also keep at bay, because we are scared of being vulnerable, with the potential of getting hurt again. Often we are so disconnected form our own hearts that we seek for illusions of love on a superficial level, ones which flatter the ego. But the beauty and magic of true love is when you allow that one particular person to journey with you into the depths of your bleeding heart; kiss and repair your wounds one by one.
In reality, it’s not our fault that we’ve built all these barriers against love, as we grew up we were hurt, so we devised all these mechanisms and ideologies to keep us from experiencing that pain, again and again.
But know that we are aware we can choose to let those barriers down and expose our vulnerable open hearts, with love to give and receive…
In this process of being brave and open hearted, it’s important to understand that those who hurt us, are people who are hurting themselves, we shouldn’t take it as a personal attack but as a reflection of their conflictive state. One can only respond with love and compassion towards this person, and pray they find peace, acceptance and love within their hearts.

Truth is we are all broken, and hurting and just to be loved and accepted. And cherished for who were are…
We are tired of the world telling us all we should be…. so we often run away to unhelpful habits…
But when you have, find, surrender to love, you can be at ease, because you’ve found peace and home within.
What the world can say doesn’t hurt you anymore, because you stand firm in your truth, broken, flawed, but loved and that’s awesome.

“The meaning of life is to find your gift. The purpose of life is to give it away”  Pablo Picasso

 

 

The Enemy Within

Things impeding me from loving myself…
Things I don’t confess to anyone else, not even myself…
I had a difficult childhood, to say the least…
I really could write a whole book…
My family had good intentions I know, but they just didn’t know how to raise an emotionally healthy child.

I’m afraid, it was a bit like the blind raising more blind for generations on end…
I won’t start from the start, I’ll save that for my memoirs, but to summarise…
I grew up believing I wasn’t worthy of love, I was taught that I had to earn my worth and affection, somehow, through hard work…
This resulted in me being an extremely anxious child, perfectionist, high achiever… all to be “accepted” and hopefully loved by my family and peers.
I never had many friends growing up, I was always quiet a school, and kept a lot things to myself…
I grew up believing I was weird and different from everybody else, given my family situation… I never had a “stable” home, like everybody else, a mum and dad under one roof, siblings and a pet… My upbringing was all over the place, I was like a hot potato my family passed around… from relative to relative, in their attempt to provide me with a better future?
So, I guess I thought I couldn’t reveal myself to other people or they’d think I’m weird, and I’d be shamed and outcasted, so to spare myself this pain, I isolated myself and found solace, in books and writing, and painting and in anything creative where I could escape my grim reality into the wonderlands of my imagination.
In one of those “shufflings” from family member to family member I ended up moving to Australia permanently, just to be abused by my disturbed step mother. The fairytale of Cinderella, literary became my life. Unfortunately, the fairy godmother is yet to appear but I haven’t lost hope…

I was 12 at the time, and found myself in a new country of which I knew nothing about, I didn’t speak a word of English, and away from my mother, the only person in my life, who I’d always felt had unconditional love for me and felt secure around but because of her social condition, and absurd revolts in my family which I’ll never understand, I never got to spend as much time with her as I would’ve liked to…
Emotionally things became pretty dire, when I moved to Australia, although I was now living in a beautiful country, in a nice house, I didn’t have a home, I felt very much lost and abandoned; my world inside was the Machu Picchu ruins I’d left back home, except my ruins also had the the gloomy aftermath of the Hiroshima bomb, not a pretty sight. Lucky it was all inside, and I was always all smiles…
My emotionally unavailable, workaholic father was hardly ever home and appeared to not take much interest in my emotional health. Unfortunately, this is a family trait since he was raised in the same way… I don’t blame him, although at the time I remember feeling quite resentful, and often questioned if he loved me or cared about me at all… I know now that his way of showing me his love was by working hard so he could buy me things me and a good education, which was always important, above all, in his family culture…
I remember “running away” from home on several occasions to see if he’d come looking for me, he never did. He was totally oblivious to the abuse from my stepmother, he didn’t believe me, it was my word against hers. I always lost.
At school, I didnt have any friends. First because of the language barrier, and later my insecurity and shame kept me from approaching anyone. Eventually, I made friends with other “rejects” as we were called… Academically, I was still a “high achiever” and a perfectionist still, but given all the other stuff I had going on in my personal life, much to my distress, I didn’t do as well as I would’ve liked to or knew I could, and for this I was always deeply resentful to my father, for never supporting me. I saw and felt envious of all the other kids with parents who were always there for them, picking them up and dropping them off at different events, doing anything and everything for them, I had to beg just to receive any “extras”. I had to complete a list of cleaning chores every weekend just to be allowed to see my friends, the few I had. If I wanted anything other than the bare essentials for existing, all hell broke loose, so I just didn’t bother and resigned myself to a miserable existence. By this stage I was very depressed although I did not know it at the the time, I remember crying myself to sleep for weeks on end, wondering if life was worth living, why my back luck, if there was a god where was he? Why was I Suffering? Why me? Why me?…
At 13, I developed OCD, and because my “rituals” and nervous “tics” (turning lights on and off repeatedly, asking the same question over and over, etc) disturbed my stepmother even more I was sent to see a psychologist. I saw her three times, until she suggested to have some sessions with my father and stepmother to deal with the underlying issues behind my anxiety. They refused to engage in any sort of therapy so I stopped going, she gave me some tips on what to do with the rituals, I took some of it board, it kind of “worked”. I just learnt to internalise the anxiety, so that it wasn’t apparent to others and keep it quiet, I learnt how to “hide it” better.
The cherry on top for me was the fact that I was flat chested, I remember being 13, 14, 15… and waiting… but boobs never grew. I remember seeing all the other girls getting bras and looking like women, whereas I was still as flat as a board. I got this from my mother who has very small breasts but at least something there, whereas I was zilch, zero, nada… I hated myself with passion for this.
I could not tell anyone about my teenage body inadequacy, there was no one I trusted enough to talk about my body issues and since at this time I had very little contact with my mother, first of all because communication back then wasn’t as easy as it is now. Also, I think part of me found it easier to deal with the pain of being away from her by just pretending she didn’t exist anymore. So nonetheless, my lack of boobs became another one of the monsters haunting me all the time… My body, just me in general… defected goods. My mind was a mess, my body wasn’t right… my family was nuts… and I couldn’t talk to anyone about it all. I kept shit bottled up for years.
I didn’t even know what was going on for me… I learnt to numb my feelings and dissociate, put on an act… of everything’s ok, people pleasing…. When inside I was crumbling.

At 16, I couldn’t take my stepmothers shit anymore, I’d decided I’d take “control” of my life and move out of home much to my fathers disapproval. I seeked refuge with an aunty of mine, I was “lucky” I suppose, to have some extended family nearby, who knew about my evil stepmother. My aunty was willing to help, unfortunately, she lived in a different state, which meant I had to leave my school, right at the most crucial time, the last year of high school, which supposedly marked your entry into university or not…. Although I wasn’t sure whether or not I wanted to go to university or what was it I wanted to do after school, other than to do something in the creative arts, which had always been one of my hobbies and outlets, but one which sadly, my family never nourished, not surprisingly…

Either way, I ended up moving states, changing schools and developing a full blown eating disorder. Quite rapidly I became anorexic. I did not what I was doing, I obviously did not set out to achieve this. If you are a reading this and know nothing about eating disorders I suggest you get informed. Eating disorders are not a fad or a trend or a diet or a conscious decision a person makes, but a serious and life threatening illness just like cancer or diabetes…

Anyway, this is how it happened for me; I was 16 at the time and “taking control” of my life… so I thought. I decided I’d start eating “healthy” as part of “renovating” my life. I remember always wanting to have a flat belly, a “bikini body”, I was flat chested so much to my distress there was nothing I could do about that, other than plastic surgery (which I did later on), but at this stage I thought I could “improve” other parts of my body, mind and spirit, I devoted myself to exercise, “eating healthy”, reading and doing art. I desperately wanted to be a “better” person other than poor, defected me… Things started spiralling out of control relatively quickly though… I started doing zero school work, I just couldn’t stop exercising a certain amount each day, I was very strict on what I ate and my meals started decreasing more and more, I couldn’t stop thinking about food… At this stage none of my clothes fitted me anymore, I was skin and bones. I remember looking in the mirror and seeing myself looking gaunt, tired and tragic and thinking how ugly I was and how somehow my exterior for once reflected exactly what was going on inside, a bloody nuclear war. So I hid in baggy clothes…
At this stage I’d never heard of eating disorders before, I had no idea about anorexia or bulimia or that things as such existed… I didn’t know what I was doing had a name.
But I knew something wasn’t right, although it was hard to admit it, I knew I was less in control of anything than before… exercise and food had taken over my life, I felt I wanted to die, I did not know what to do, I felt desperate and helpless, my attempt to be in control had failed dismally. It was then when I called my father, who I hadn’t talked to in months, crying my life out and pleading for help, I was desperate willing to do anything, I just wanted to be ok… and be “normal” for once in my life. My father, being a doctor himself knew nothing about eating disorders, but he asserted I go and see a doctor immediately. Which I did, everything happened very quickly after that first doctor’s visit which my aunty very kindly assisted me to. I remember her being very worried the poor thing, not knowing what the hell was wrong with me, why I was acting very strange… she was very kind and sympathetic towards me; and for that I’ll always be eternally grateful, I wish and hope I can somehow repay her kindness just when I needed it the most.
But back to the story, after a quick blood test, which revealed my emaciated state I was told to pack my bags I was being admitted to hospital. I remember feeling somehow relived, that maybe there was hope for me but also shit scared not knowing what was ahead…

This was just the beginning of a roller coaster “recovery” battle head on with anorexia, bulimia, my self hate in general.
My first admission was to a psychiatric hospital where they diagnosed me with infamous anorexia nervosa, a diagnosis which no one in my family understood, neither did I, all I knew is I was scared to eat, stop exercising and the prospect of gaining weight terrified me. Even though I knew I was stick thin, I just didn’t want to be worthless and fat, on top of that. After a week at the initial hospital, I was transferred to another clinic with an “eating disorder program”, where I had a three month stay until I reached a “healthy” BMI and with the help of a few inpatient psychology groups I only just started to scratch the surface of the surface of the massive boulder under all the anorexia symptoms.
Unfortunately after this first admission, now at a healthy weight, my family and me were all under the impression I was “cured”. Also unfortunately, the treatment for eating disorders in Australia at the time was mainly focused on re-feeding you to a “healthy weight” and that’s about it… When I was discharged nobody told me I should see a psychologist, psychiatrist, dietitian… have any sort of follow up, things which I learnt much later on are essential for any chance at ongoing recovery. But I was simply told “see you later”… which they did, time and time again, I relapsed. Once too many times, more than I like to admit.

In between hospital admissions I tried to do something with myself, take up study, design, social work, theology, have different part time jobs, in pretty much any industry you can think of… You name it, I’ve tried it… I managed to make a few friends, have a boyfriend, save enough money to have the boob job I always wanted… I tried to live my life as “normal” as I could, but it was all an act… I was still very much unaware of all my internal conflicts and self hate… Although my symptoms were somewhat “controlled”, and I tried to appear “normal”, I was just trying to fool myself and keep my family and everybody around me happy.
Internally I was still very much struggling… Eventually anorexia turned into bulimia, which was a whole another sort of hell. The good news was, I eating now! I was eating alright…. enough to feed a family of five for a week every night and vomiting it all back up, staying up all night doing this. I was working full time as a “Disability Support worker” during the day, not eating anything all day of course , but drinking litres of water and coffee just to get me through the day to earn the pay check, to pay my rent and spend the rest on food I would vomit in self loathing… Looking back I really don’t know how I survived this self flagellation. Needless to say, I couldn’t go on with this torment for too long, after about a year of this “binging and purging” vicious cycle (as this inferno is referred to in the industry), I admitted I had a problem with another type of monster this time called bulimia… which resulted being more expensive than anorexia I must add! I was broke and broken inside, now more than ever.
By this stage however, I was made much more informed about eating disorders and the treatment available. Although my family still and to the day do not understand much about my condition, I researched online, eating disorder treatment centres in Australia where I could check myself in. I ended up travelling interstate to a clinic with a new and reputable “ED” program, it was there where finally, I started making some breakthroughs into the anorexia/bulimia iceberg. Unlike the clinics I’d been to before, where it just was all just about the food and weight. At this clinic, the doctor and psychologist tried to explore with each client what was driving their eating disorder, as they did with me. After I was discharged from their 40 day program, which I returned to a few times later, they recommended I try “schema therapy” to treat the root of my problem with a psychologist in my city. So I did, I was determined to do anything to “recover”. Unfortunately, my family, my father in particular, who never understood the problem was not very willing to support my treatment financially, which meant sessions with a psychologist/dietitian were scarce, whenever I could afford them or whenever my father felt merciful enough to give into my begging for help.

Throughout the years I’d seen many psychologists, all of which apported a bit of wisdom I suppose, CBT, DBT.. all the therapies, you name it, I’d try it. Self help books, I’d read them all, but to be honest nothing seemed to make that big of a difference in my emotional state. Until, I met my “schema therapy” psychologist, Catherine, who knew me better than I knew myself. Only here, I became aware of parts of me I dissociated from, my “abandoned child”, my internalised, punitive father and step mother, who although I’d long ago stopped living through their hell, I was still tormented by their voices… The enemy within.
And this is a constant battle still, I still struggle to accept, love myself.
Í still restrict my eating.
As much as I’d like to say this is a happy ending I very much don’t know…
This is only a very brief outline of “my story”,
I’d like to say I’m “recovered”, but I’m not.
What is that even?
“Normal”? No one is, that much I’ve learnt.
I’ve also learnt that everything happens for a reason, although I may not understand it at the time, I believe there is a God syncing the universe, not necessarily punishing or rewarding people for their actions, but I believe there is a higher power overseeing this cosmic, comical tragedy… one which we just can’t comprehend with our tiny human minds and huge ego’s…
I don’t know if it’s a he or a she, if he/she wrote the bible or the Koran or any other holy book. But I believe the Universe works in weird and wonderful ways, a bit like me, I try to tell myself…
I know the antidote to my self hate is love, but heck….
Love, sounds so fluffy, so easy, breezy and wonderful, when the truth is, everyday I struggle, I wrestle, I slither and grapple on the filthy floor to even reach an inch of love for myself.
Going through this torbellino, has had its “plus sides”, I suppose… If you want to find a positive to every negative and “see the glass as half full” rather than “half empty”.

This quest for “recovery” has pushed me to “better myself” in a lot of ways I would not have otherwise ever been interested in exploring. I’ve discovered I’m really curious in understanding more about how the human mind and our emotions and body’s and “beings” in general and how we work… I’m deeply interested in what you’d term as, psychology, philosophy, spirituality, natural medicine… all of course with the hope of finding a “cure” for my internal ailments. I contemplate the meaning of life everyday…
I’ve also rekindled a passion for writing, one which I had as a kid but because of all the other shit I had going on, never pursued…
I’ve also developed compassion and understanding towards others, I’ve learnt to forgive and give others the love I can’t give myself.
I just yearn to break free of this jail where I keep myself captive, just surviving…
I know I still have a very long way to go on my “recovery”, although I don’t have a long way to go in life, I’m 28 and I feel I’ll soon be dead and I’m still struggling, the thought which makes me feel sick to the depths of my soul.
Who would’ve thought, loving yourself, would be the hardest task of a lifetime…
The opposite is so much easier, running a marathon each day, restricting my eating, depriving myself from living…
But I’m not giving up… until my last breath.

The doctor at the last clinic I went to, his name was Peter, who became like a father figure to me, ironically enough he resembled a lot my stern grandfather, (who my father got his charm from). But anyway, Peter had the motto of “turtle steps”, slow and steady wins the race. And I really took his advice on board.
I don’t know if I’ll ever see Peter again, for my sake I hope not, in an inpatient situation anyway. I hope to stay clear off hospitals for as long as I can and hopefully it’s all “up hill” from here, but I really don’t know…

If theres one thing I’ve learnt last year though, is that anything is possible, and you can expect the impossible, in both a good and not so good way.
Life give you lemons and melons in ways you least expect it. And it’s all to polish you and make you a better person, better than your former self.
We are here in this earth to learn love, compassion, patience… all the virtues and wisdom, oftentimes through suffering, for the evolutions of our souls, I have a feeling…

My story is not yet finished, and heck this is only the prologue of the prologue, which despite my perfectionistic tendencies, which in the past would’ve prevented me from posting this, I’m gonna do it. Even though I’m highly dissatisfied with it, even though it’s far from perfect, even though I’ve left so many important parts out, even though I’ve written this having only had about three hours sleep from the insomnia that’s been haunting me lately, (obviously from all my unresolved unconscious issues).
I’m going to publish this, because one of the things I want to do this year is to be true to myself, who ever that is… Let go off the rosy mask I try to put on and present the raw, real, broken, limping me.

I’ve learnt the clock is ticking and there’s no better time to do the things you want to do than now! Tomorrow, might never come, no one guarantees me I’ll live to see a new day, I’ve literally been close to death so many times…

So I’m determined to be brave, bite the bullet, and live my life the best I can, with what I have and can/know-how, now.
Be happy now, despite…
So this is part of my truth.
I’ve taken off my mask, so please excuse my ugliness….
But I’m daring to peak outta my shell for a little bit and face the world…. and man it’s bright out there, so turtle steps…
And with this, here’s the minuscule glimpse, into “my story”….

My pen, my brush, my magic wand…

It’s nothing short of magical what writing is…
My soul exerts an addictive power when I write…
…Feelings, events, mental occasions that would otherwise be forever forgotten, vanished into the ethereal unknown from which they came from, become concrete reality, or as concrete as everything else our senses can perceive and our minds can decipher, and are given a chance at immortality… Permeated into paper or virtual scrolls, transmuted from person to person, through generations…

When penning down our thoughts, we produce a resilient offspring which can withstand the test of time and far outlive their creator…

Writing transforms the human soul from a mere passive spectator into an able dramatist with magical agency…
Pure alchemy… To transform mere mental synopses, moving energy, rapid electricity into factual phenomenons, realities only we have the power to bring about…

Through this process of creation, the human soul is redeemed.
The absurdity, the mundanity and pain of everyday life are  converted and upgraded, have new value and find yet another meaning…

Writing anything is shining a mindful spotlight into one of the many passing, fleeting yet potent moments of ordinary life which catch our attention enough to devote them mental energy to…

Writing is giving each moment a chance to explain itself, writing anything is a way to find justification of the idleness of ordinary everyday life…

Through writing you become, a magician, a sorcerer, with whole universes under our exclusive control.

There’s no right or wrong in writing, it’s whatever the soul is willing to reveal…
When I write, I let my soul purge itself…. Come clean and confess that which has been troubling it, whats bought it joy or that for which it longs….

Through writing I paint internal landscapes… The human vocabulary becomes my colourful, assorted palette…

Writing just like any art, is an attempt to transmute the virile mundanity of everyday life we’ve grown accustomed to into something other, that which our hearts can perceive but our minds can’t comprehend…

Thus, art only makes sense when expressed and received with the heart.

Art is the science of the heart. So to make art, to see art in your life, you must be willing to let yourself feel all that which maybe unconsciously we strive to anaesthetise ourselves from or become immune to maybe from constant exposure… Art calls for us to be at our most fragile, expose our dermis and embrace that vulnerability…

Art can heal, it’s the souls therapy… It’s free reign to express our deepest fears and highest ambitions… Good art, is the soul in its innate craft without inhibitions and parameters from the mind…

Good art is you impregnating, making love to your chosen medium… Not worrying about the outcome, enjoying every minute…

Good art can’t be forced… It’s a testament to the attentiveness and patience of the maker, for the subject will reveal itself…

Art is floating around waiting for those attentive enough to pick up its call and hear it’s message at whatever hour, wherever it may call…

Anyone is capable of great art, all you need is just to be willing to surrender yourself and become the messenger through which art manifests itself…
Letting go of any ppreconceived ideas of what it should be, and let it be as it is… As it wants to be, as it’s meant to be…

The artist is a messenger who must remain faithful and true to the source, giving up the egos agenda…
Art is made with whatever medium you have; if you have paint paint, if you have words write… If all you have is your two hands but you are really inspired to make art, then that nothing turns into anything and everything and your life becomes art…

Serve your soul; that’s where good art is born.

Beaming Hearts…

My heart will forever be open, for you to arrive and walk past… Come and go as you please. I’m not here to tease, but to make you feel at ease, show you how I miss your sweet mystic… Remind you how you really are unique.
I’m quite comfortable walking around barefoot and naked, exposing my soul, just the way I am…
Without much to give other than the one most precious thing I have, sharing my love…

For what are we here for if not to embrace our full quirky humanity and make love large to life and all it’s wonders… Make love to our sadness, to our grief, to our anxiety, to our fear, to our shame and insecurities…

Compassionately ameliorate all the wounds bleeding in our being and resolve the enigmas tormenting our psyches…Learn to cherish, nurture and infuse in our pain and difficulty, grow stronger and transform our virtuous souls…

To learn how to put our egos aside and rest in the ever expansive inclusive awareness of our interconnected essence as one universal family. One constant intermutating living organism that is this world as we know it… Assimilate and exercise a new compassionate way of being, a more benign alternative, where there’s no more or less, in fact we are all the same, yet authentic and invaluably valuable at the same time. Where we are all safe to simply be unapologetically ourselves in all our magnitude…
Although we are living in a ticking time bomb, although we are floating in the middle of ambiguous air, perhaps in the middle of impending doom… Where nothing is guaranteed, yet anything is possible… Where strife and pain are very real, yet we can still rest in peace because we are grounded in love… We have roots reaching down into the earth’s very core, impregnated with the life-giving, benevolent, loving nature of the universe… And so know that through this sturdy, hardy, love we can endure anything, we can achieve anything, we can live and experience everything…

 
For what is life if not one massive playground, with no safety rails…
A laboratory where we are free to experiment and draw our own conclusions, learn our own lessons…
A collective cosmic drama made up of a million of individual stories in which each one of us is the main characters and authors our own novels… A monumental play in which each day the universe is witness to our laughter, satisfaction and sorrow, our many victories and defeats yet one where the only audience to please is really our own souls…
So I’m not here to spend my days living in the sidelines, I’m not interested in a shallow virtual reality, I’m not here to hold back and be my own captor, to retain my impulse and thirst for life, to experience things which satisfy my soul… I’ve got cards to play and I’m out to risk it all… Life is a gamble and I’ve already won the major prize of living life each day, lovingly, from my heart, spreading kindness wherever I am…

 
So I’m not afraid of getting hurt.
My heart has been constantly broken and repaired from the day I came I into this earth.
One thing I’ve learnt is that love is wonderfull and love can be pain, but nevertheless love redeems itself. Since it’s been said that when you love until it hurts there’s no more pain, only love remains…
Love is the antidote to hate, love is magic, love is alchemy… Love reintegrates the shattered pieces animosity leaves behind… Love cleans up the mess of scarcity, injustice and malice… And lovingly, compassionately, ever so graciously, turns them into lessons for the soul, more valuable than gold.
Pain and love, go hand in hand, love makes pain worthwhile. Pain is the murky elixir in which sometimes our hearts have to maride, to grow tender and allow for love to shine through…
Love is the noble paladin which greets and meets harsh words with turning the other cheek. Love looks at fear and insecurity with sympathetic and understanding eyes and invites them to come inside, not fight but hear their discharge and realise there’s a middle way, where it can all coexist in harmony, past the momentary chaos, it’s all part of life…

 
So regardless of your history, you can put aside your misery. Pure and true love and life are freely available to anyone, anytime, you just have to rewire your mind. Silence the cognitive, analysing critic creating your punitive and unforgiving reality and instead start to listen to your instinctively kind and courageous heart, it knows the way, it’s really wiser than we think.

 
Because somewhere along the way you learn that knowledge is not wisdom, money is not fortune, you can have abundant company and still feel alone. You can have everything and anything you ever wanted yet still not be happy or satisfied, you can search the world over looking for love and peace yet still not feel complete, for this things are only found within, whenever, wherever you are… At any time, you can start the journey and follow the trail for coming home, listening to the yearnings and guidance of your soul…
So even though it can be a long, bumpy road, know you are not alone…
As for me, I will never get tired of proclaiming the miracle of everyday…
The miracle of being, of breathing, of thinking, of feeling…
Of creating whole galaxies out of nothing but ethereal passing mementoes of my imagination…
If you are not consumed by the wonder of everyday life, you are not doing something right… So it’s time to take off the glasses of rigidity, of cynicism, of expectation, of lies… And instead look at life with organic vision and appreciate the beauty and magnificence of every second no matter where you are or what you are doing… Every second has the potential for magic, it’s up to us to unlock it…
So go out and make love, make magic, make divine life happen… despite the tragedy, in the middle of the agony.
Draw a smile upon your heart.

“Let my soul smile through my heart and my heart smile through my eyes, that I may scatter rich smiles in sad hearts.” –  Paramahansa Yogananda

I love you naked

To you beautiful dear stranger…

I see you and I love you, as you are, with all your quirks and all your fears.

With your freeting, anxious mind.

With your many mistakes and defeats, with your gloriously messy life…

There’s nothing wrong with you, you are perfectly imperfect you.

I love your eyes, your sad eyes from which many tears have come.

I love your mouth, that which eats too little or way too much. That which can never find the right words to say…

I love your stubby nose, that with which you can savour the fresh healing Spring.

I love your ears, those which expectantly waited for words of love…

I love your hair, that which you waxed, dyed and cut yet it’s still there graciously trying to keep you warm.

I love your crooked teeth, those sturdy yellowy soldiers you haven’t brushed enough.

I love your bulging belly, that one you so desperately try to flatten.

I love your flat chest, even though it’s now silicone clad.

I love your neck, sustaining your skull and the chaotic brain inside.

I love your thighs, those reduced from persistent exercise.

I love your back, your crooked spine.

I love your behind, that one that’s bony and flat.

I love your arms, those you use to give your favourite; hugs…

I love your fingers, those tipping this words…

I love your legs, those you used to run away from yourself, those that every time found their way home…

I love your feet, those bearing the weight of your existence.

I love each one of your toes, those for whom you don’t usually spare a thought.

I love your body whole, that martyr you often reject, that one which made you feel ashamed…

I love your crazy mind…

I love your lonely soul…

I love your bleeding heart…

My whole life I felt like something important was missing… Like I’d been abandoned and was all alone, defected and incomplete. 
My whole life I was always uneasy, restlessly looking for that something missing, for that someone I had to find, to feel love, to feel whole.

I thought I had to become, to strive, to transform into something other than me. 
I thought maybe one day I would graduate into being, that one day I would earn my worth.

Little l did I know that someone I was searching for was closer than I’d ever imagine, it was you all along…
The love of my life looking right back at me… ever-suffering you.
Through the good times and the bad you stood by me, patiently, benignly waiting for me to come to my senses and see you, acknowledge you, embrace you and love you like I am now, wholeheartedly and fiercely, like it’s the only thing I know how to do…

 
Because I’ve realised there will another you, who loves me as much as you do, who has so much love to give so freely, often to be rejected, but now I’m ready to receive it. I’m ready to commit. I’m ready to take on the world with you by my side, even when it’s dark, I’ll have your back. I’m sorry I made you cry and tell you to shut up. I promise to cherish you and fan the flames in your heart. Together we’ll chase dreams, together we’ll comfort and pick each other up, now together we will never be alone. I won’t never ever leave you behind, on you I’ll never give up.

 
I’ve realised now I was always whole, full of mighty potent love, bringing me back to life.

 
So watch me now as I open the door, please come inside… Watch me as I lift you up and carry you to me, sit in my bed, it’s not the most comfortable but it’s all I’ve got.
I’m broken and I’m broke, without many assets but this one precious heart to be your confidant, to write you poems and bring you flowers, to take you dancing and together explore the world.

Everything I have, all that I am is yours now, to treasure and to nurture the way only you know how… To dissect and discern, to decipher and to probe, to find the answers I don’t even know….

Let me dry the tears from your eyes, let me brush your hair back and run my fingers through your mane… Let me stroke your arms just the way you like it, let me make you tea, the one you wanted. Let me cook you food it won’t make you fat.

In my arms you are safe dear, you can rest. Your secrets I won’t tell. I won’t judge and criticise. You can put down your mask, your shield and armour, there’s no need to hide, you are free to be, free to feel, free to shine, blow out and reignite. 
The load you carry around, I’ll help you unpack, make yourself comfortable, feel free to lay back…

Inhabit this humble abode, this physical vessel, mind and soul are yours to forever honor and uphold.

You are enough, you have always been enough.

Lets stop this fight, it’s time we made up.

Welcome home