Don’t dig for answers that can’t be given to you yet…

I’ve become overwhelmed by words of late. My daily job involves so much reading and writing , as well as so much learning. It has become harder and harder to find myself a place to sit and read for enjoyment.  The words flow through me like a bucket with a whole. Unable to hold the depth and beauty that comes with time spent in contemplation of another thought. I can barley find a moment to sit a write a poem , either good or bad. Anything really.  This is a part of me i miss greatly.

But instead of giving up and into the tiredness of my mind, i have finally woken up to the beauty of audio books . I now find myself sitting a breathing in books i never had the time to read. I’ve begun to expand my experience in written word in a way i have always avoided.  And this delayed realization and obviously pointless stubbornness has pointed out another point of growth within me.

So often i have avoided trying an experience based on my inability to adapt to change. A need to stick to what i know and feelings that are familiar. As such my ability to trust life and let go has been such a torturing lesson. One that keeps me in a space of reflection and less in a moment of learning.  How many times have i lost a great experience to this fearful stubbornness? how much love has passed me because i stuck to my stubborn need to hold on to my trusted methods.

I’m in need to blow my world open with the excitement of trying to live my life in new different to the ways I’ve previously lived.  Maybe the way I’ve handled my current heartbreak and attempts to let go , are less about the subject of the pain and more about the method of release i have chosen.

letting go and letting God , requires a sense of flexibility.  A trust in that which i can’t know.  I’m still trying to have control.  I’m still anxious in my inability to know the outcome.  I’m stubbornly deluding myself into the belief that i am free, when in fact i am not. For if i was , him messaging me over a month ago would not have allowed me to break down.  I would be in a place of allowing and releasing. which is currently not the case. Instead  i control.

I’m so desperate to have an answer to my issues , a method and road map to certain healing . Maybe that is not the way to heal from all of it.  Perhaps Mr Rike was right about living to the answers.  It looks like I’m back to needing patience, and some flexibility.



The seed needs rain to Grow

My life felt heavy this weekend. I woke up unable to carry myself. My chest felt heavy, my eyes were full and my company felt lonely. It was as if i had stepped in to a box and tightened the lid , unable to leave it.  The romancing of the darkness. Its something that i find myself experiencing every now and then. As if life is a tangible thing , a ball in my hand , that i just longed to throw a away. Not in a suicidal way , but in a no longer wanting to carry my emotions kind of way.

My heart felt like a burden . An object I longed to reach in and pull out, and throw into the sea. My mind was an organ i longed to silence . I wished the voices and reminiscing would stop. I was stuck within myself unable to escape my own existence.

i don’t think i suffer from an existential crisis, it is merely an existential angst mixed with longing. Long for the way things were , longing for the way things could be, longing for the people i once knew, once loved, longing for all the people i will know and will love. A constant tug and pull between letting go and having it all, and holding on and keeping what i have.

Nothing is wrong. Life is just a process of growing and healing the pain we justified keep for so long. The bags we carry and refuse to put down.  I have spent the better part of this year trying to put it down. The sadness, the heartbreak, the fear, the shame, being left behind ,the feelings of not being good enough, the mocking , the being told who i am , the limiting beliefs , the ghosts in my mind and  constant thoughts that I’m not good enough. I have been trying to rip those bags out my own hands and leave them where i stand . Walk a way. Yet i find my self standing in place next to them. Sure some of the bags have rolled away in the wind, but some remain.

But healing is a process. One i have been learning and growing through. A weekend of tearful overwhelm and slight break down  doesn’t change that. Be kind to yourself as you heal. Free yourself from the judgement that you could be doing any better then you are. Some days will require a little more from you then others. This is okay. You aren’t the moments you fall apart. You are the soul that grows through it. I’m trying to remind myself of that. I’m human and feeling is the most important part. Sometimes these feeling will flow like a thunder storm of sound and water. And that is beautiful. The flowers of healing that grow from that is worth the slight discomfort.

I am learning to accept myself and how i express emotion. Its taking me 27 years to figure myself out and its been and interesting discovery.

You can’t move forward if you keep reliving the lessons of the past. 

My life seems to be a constant lesson in letting go and learning to trust in the outcome of things i can’t see.  A reoccuring lecture on how my need to control my existence is the cause of all my pain.

I have this memory of being in High school. I’m in my second additional language class . There are two guys in this class with me. One is the guy i had a crush on . He was the brother of my sisters best friend . He was cute smart and funny. The third was the boy i have since come to learn i was actually always in love with.  He was a mutual friend , who was cute and funny , but annoyed me . I was so convinced that i was in “love”( i mean more of an intense crush, i was 16, i never used the word love) with the first guy that i distracted myself from anyone else . Trying to control my story.  The second guy crept into my heart when i wasn’t looking.

So i have this memory of standing by my desk with him and a friend and we talking.  I cant remember about what or why. Then i just remember looking in his eyes.  He had the brownest most beautiful eyes.  It took me off guard. I’m pretty sure i started distancing myself from that moment. i genuinely freaked out. it didn’t help that at that point in our lives my best friend at the tme was in love with him. if i fell in love with him it would mess up everything.  When we, the girls ,spoke and we talked about how great of a guy he was, i always said he had nice eyes, but always to support her crush. In my mind i always found the reasons to dislike him. How he had a stupid hair cut. or was untidy or how he would look for me just so he could annoy me.

But memory is a funny thing. It disappears when you need it and returns when you don’t.  It can be a form of torture if you let it. Now as the days pass and i find myself trying to move on from the idea of a once missed love. i start to add other memories to the reel. Memories of how we actually spent more time together then everyone else. How we used to discuss movies and music . How he was actualing around me all the time. But more then anything how much i loved having him a round.

i am always trying to control love. Telling myself what i can handle and what i can’t. I’m always breaking my own heart. Trying to prevent the story of my parents from playing out in my life. Yet here i am , failing to learn the same lesson over and over again. Recreating the story of falling in love with a man who comes and goes.

i feel like i know what the lesson is , but i cant seem to practice it.  I cant seem to get this right. To let go and have no expectation of the outcome. But the memories are strong , and he is still something i long for , something i think i need, i want to need. i wish to catch up the years i was young and stupid and find out if he ever loved me . Or is this a teenage girl fantasy i’ve locked myself in?

i need to stop reliving the past but the past keeps finding his way back into my life, and to be honest i don’t see a world where i won’t let him back in.

A pointless anti-romantic rant

Who am I to write myself a love story. Surely that is the job of fairy Godmothers and wishing pennes. On whose authority should i stare at the mirror dictating what path my heart should follow?

The never-ending torment of a lonely heart exists in the desire for love ,accompanied by the burden of a relationship.  A relationship that is never designed by the parties participating in it. No, a relationship is designed by all of you beings claiming to be in love and in happy homes. You are telling  lonely souls what games to play , how may days to wait before messaging, which tears to keep to themselves , what sacrifices and compromises to make. When falling in love these days, it is  as if I can’t even pick out the paint for my walls with out the imput of every married soul that has come on my path.

All i wanted was to spend the days of my life reading books next to you and fighting over whether we will eat beef or chicken  for supper . Yet here i sit alone . A lady in waiting , because men must make the first move and its to soon to message you back and i will regret telling you I’m in love with you.

But  all this helpful advice has ever served to do, was hand you a plan ticket, allowing you to sow your seeds while I weep like a 20th century idiot  embroidering cotton handkerchiefs awaiting on you  to return.

what an idiot I’ve become.

When silence is a poem…

The season begins to rotate, changing from the warm summer days to the chilly start of Autumn. I’ve always found the in between seasons to be the most beautiful. Filled with slow change and feet dipped into warm and chilly all at the same time. Until now I’ve had to watch the beauty of these moments from calendars and post cards. Having grown up in a city where there was no distinct seasons, merely winter and summer, one never truly got to see the colours fade and bloom as the days moved forward. This is the first Autumn I find myself driving on an over cast day with the sun trying to be present , and have leaves softly fall on my windscreen. The air also has a sweet chill in it that has me starting to feel different. Like the season, I find myself morphing into a new phase. A beginning of a new experience is upon me. I can’t tell what it is or why , but the future feels like it’s filled with something subtle but exciting. At the same time I find myself drawn to silence. As if my words feel out-of-place in this moment. Sit still . Be patient. Temperance is the theme of the end of the month. The chilled breeze is teaching me that peace is found not in sound but in the slow allowance of sleep and rest. I am in need of sleep and rest.

The last 6 months has been a rollercoaster that I can’t seem to articulate to anyone. Not even those who were close to me during this time. I haven’t been able to write a poem in the last 3 months. Not due to a lack of emotion or content . But due to a lack of will I guess. Often the need to constantly express everything is a resistance to breathing calmly for me. So like the leaves that fall softly in the breeze, I to will slowly let go. Slowly release control. Temperance. Let everything come in its own time.  Prehaps I let this be my art for a while. The quiet. The silence. Me breathing.


“…there are times when silence is a poem.”

― John Fowles

I don’t need a reason to write

It’s been a while since i have taken to write anything here. i don’t know why, other then the feeling that i have nothing worth contributing. but i felt a reminder today that the purpose of my blog was never to be an exceptional writer, but instead to give myself a platform to express my emotions as i please. to be quite honest I am in need of some self expression lately.

These days i feel constantly judged and defensive. My heart feels strained and my mind in a knot. and its not just about romantic yearning, its about the depth of life again. I m always told i take life to seriously and i have to stop thinking , but none of that advise actually relaxes my heart or release my mind.

i want to stop wanting him or thinking about him. its become ridiculous and unproductive. i want to be free from the attachment. im crying over a guy who is travelling the world and living his best life, all the while not thinking about me. I was in a good place emotionally 4 months ago , but now i seem to be counting hours and checking my phone. Let me let you go.  I always though that it was me holding on to him, but somehow lately i feel its the other way around. Surely he has some idea how i feel. surely he knew how leaving his stuff at place would be. surely he knows. Yet , here we are. me trying to move on , afraid that he will return the moment i do, and at the same time afraid that he might not return at all. Let me let you go. If I am what you want let me know. Else let me go. i deserve love and happiness and someone who is certain about me. If we are to move in this circle without a clear conclusion, then what is the point. could we ever really call it love then?

The anxiety i cause myself these days is exhausting. everyone tells me that my “problems ” aren’t real. that is very isolating to hear. i feel almost like i’m not valid to exist in life , unless my issue are about a husband or child or someone physically attacking me. But these small little issues i tend to have , are keeping me from get to the stage in my life where i have “real problems”.  I’m trying to not always get back to the space where my anxiety is a defining characteristic of my life. but doesn’t help when everyone tells me my feelings aren’t real.

his absence hurts. work feels hard. and most nights i feel like crying. its not always going to feel this heavy. i know . But ignoring the feelings aren’t helping either