Yogi Knows

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You won’t realise the gravity behind when I thank you. Unless my face shows more than I know, but even then, you won’t know the history or the reasons behind my gaze. You have provided me therapy for the last few years, every week – solitude in one hour with strangers and your instruction. You are reliable. It’s more than what you say. It’s turning up each week with something new and interesting for us to fall into step with; completely losing ourselves with your guidance. Sometimes I feel so heavy in my heart with emotion, freedom, to release. Sometimes I lose myself under your words and I secretly let fueled tears burst from the sides of my eyes hoping you won’t see me and worry I am not okay. But, I am. I am more okay in that room of practice because of what you teach. My chest rises with the breath you give us. You have saved me these past years.

Your dedication is admirable and inspirational. The effort you put in to learn and be a master is a character trait rare to come across in some worlds. I enjoy from you the passion for routine and rhythm, and I share your energy.  That comes across powerfully from you – in a good way. In a stable and amazing way. To conduct a whole room of people how you do, with authority but friendliness and kindness as well, is a wonderful gift. I trust you. We trust you. You show us other ways, in mind and laughter.

When hearing of your new chapter I am reminded of a mandala illustrating the circles of life. Not the big circle, the smaller ones within our own life stories sometimes overlapping to create a beautiful new shade of colour, like in a venn diagram. How I can enter your arena in a difficult time for me facing my own challenges of love and personal development; and here we are drawing another circle, taking another turn, yet we are more in peace with each-other’s movements. We have crossed over to a new formation and created another balance which can’t fall down because the mat slips away; memories can’t be erased because the room gets bigger, the distance greater. Memories can only fade with time, but the body will always be thankful and store the sounds of early mornings on the white rocks overlooking the sun rise and the clinging of another glass celebrating a day lifting feet to sky. The sound of your voice is the one I hear asking me to forgive, to relax, and let everything go. I am so grateful for you creating another circle in my soul to help me always find home again, and in that moment I am sent to my inner quiet waka floating to the gods of the misty clouds.

One Day, Though Maybe Never.

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I tried. I tried in a way which feels like the word ‘tried’ has worn out and has less value.

I deflect the comments that ‘people give up too easily these days’ and I absorb the words of loved ones who say they wouldn’t have hung around so long. How am I supposed to find the middle balance of those statements?

I tried everything. Adapting, overcoming, asking for help, contorting myself to all the extremities in the hope I could fix it. I ran out of ideas, beyond usual levels of endurance, I tried.

One day, though maybe never, you will understand quite what I put myself through in an effort to keep us together and save our marriage. One day, though maybe never, you will have a glimmer of respect for my levels of endurance – to save Us.

Online Dating

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“Just put yourself out there” my friends say. Where exactly is out there? On the internet apparently. Out there for everyone to see, judge, click, swipe, wave, poke and text. I now have a few photos and a few paragraphs on a dating app that hopefully tells enough about me but not too much because let’s face it, there’s weirdos “out there”.

I’ve attempted app dating twice before but never lasted more than a week or two. Main reasons were that I only matched with a couple of people and the ones I did match with we didn’t get a conversation off the ground. I mean what do you say to a complete stranger? Someone who has a few bullet points and a cute quote on their file. I need to back up though, before you get to the file, you see their photo.

My friend asked me “what’s your type?” She was referring to looks. Typically, I would say clean shaven, taller than me, Caucasian, looks after himself (no crazy muscle pumping) and an incredible smile (very important feature). However, the last 2 guys I’ve had crushes on in the real world, neither of them were Caucasian, one of them had a beard and the other one carried a couple extra kilos. Why did I have a crush on them? It’s because I got to know them in my natural environment bit by bit learning about their personalities, humour, values, talents and ambitions. They are both good looking and the above listed traits made them more attractive. It’s so hard not to make snap judgements by a photo when I know there is so much more to it than looks.

In my first 24 hours I received 14 “waves”. Men letting me know that they have seen my photo (I assume they have read my profile) and they want to start chatting. 10/14 look like serial killers. I wish I was joking however I’m not exaggerating.

After 4 days I found out it’s not a free app and made the decision to pay for a month. Not ideal but feel like I need to give it a proper go. A month is a long time to me when I feel like I’m wasting my time scrolling through mug shots (many of which don’t live near me) and fearful of starting awkward chit chat.

I took the plunge and started 2 conversations with guys who waved at me. I chose 2 guys that don’t look like stalkers and focused on a common interest. Travel. It’s definitely the easiest thing for me to talk about without getting too personal too soon. I really don’t know where the conversation is meant to go next so maybe there will be a chapter 2 of this blog post.

Why am I persisting? More and more I’m hearing “we met through internet dating”. So, I better get on the internet and push through the awkward texting and hopefully it transfers into an interesting conversation with a real man.

Tragic Love

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I still suffer for you every day. My heart aches for your embrace, your kindness, and your warmth. I am robbed of our love, the happiness we shared. You took that away from us although rightly so at the time. And I am still angry at you for how you treated me. How we were – so foolishly caught up in the storm. You saved me from myself and my past, most of it at least, but you left me with new scars. Scars directly on my heart and in my memory. It’s been eight months now and I am still healing the wounds. How long will it take? I thought it would be over now, or at least starting to fade.

Everything thus far has been right, even though it’s been tough. What does the future hold? Do you think of me as much as I still think of you? I felt what I can only imagine as mother’s pain watching you from afar, struggle with your loss of freedom and success. Feeling your hand gently reaching out for a hug but knowing I could not come to you. I could not come to you because you don’t get to call the shots like that anymore. You don’t get to decide when to come into my life and turn it upside down. You don’t get to, I told you I won’t let you. But that doesn’t mean I don’t hurt from it. The days before and morning of. I just have stronger shoes to keep me still.

Have you met someone new? Are you replying to my note because you feel like you should, the way you felt for the other girls who still messaged? Or is my inclination at least partially true and you reply because there’s a part of you that is trapped with me too?

Magic but tragic, is what we said. And now, I am surrounded by magic each day that I create. But I still have this tragic love for you, so tragic that I can’t endure the thought of anyone else. I hold on to your last kiss from when you let me go. The last kiss that said you’ll see me later, but hell what have we done since then. We both clearly had some work to do, and I wonder – is that work that will see us together again or work that is sending us farther apart? I am stuck in this holding ground unable to move on, and I am tortured by not knowing where you stand. How can I move on if there’s the smallest glimmer of hope? One year on, I tell myself. After one year on I should start to pressure myself forward, or forever be stuck in this trap you’re holding me in. Much like your mam, I could cry at the thought of longing for your love. For hers, for your father – the story of tragic love.

Jewellery Graveyard

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Such beautiful pieces, once so cherished. Now stare back at me, little tokens of failures. Sometimes they are always waving, laughing, jesting.

That little place in Greece, the vintage place near our old home, the characters who run it, the walk we took on our last night of that first holiday.

Memories of where these little symbols of love were gifted and collected and treated. A whole fucking box of memories. Elderly loved ones who have passed on and left colourful gems to be remembered by. Even a bracelet my Dad gave my Mum when they were young, they’re not together anymore, yet the metal lives on. A subtle and constant reminder of a love in days gone by.

We can sort the legal bit and go our separate ways, the emotional side will scar for sure. But I’m left with these metal circles and shiny bits, supposedly everlasting with eternal shapes. For they remind me of you, of what we signed up for. Our contract of love was supposed to last so much longer than this. I thought I would wear those rings forever. Our little secret wedding, just for us. ‘Mutual weirdness forever’. That was the contract, that is what we agreed.

But now I am left with this jewellery graveyard. Too loaded to re-home, too precious to part with, yet will never be worn again and are of no value to anyone else. A last blast of defiance; a man will never buy me jewellery again, I will buy my own from now on, then we will never have to do this again.

You will be moved soon, for I can’t look at you each day, it’s a cycle that makes me so sad. For now, that is how it has to be.

Tip of My Tongue; Just Out of Reach

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This evening I was driving home from a dears friends house. My mind started wandering and suddenly it hit me. The word I have been struggling to find for a few weeks, it’s been on the tip of my tongue, just out of reach. When people ask how you are but you can’t articulate it or find the right words. Now I know.

Denied.

I feel denied. Denied a happy relationship. Denied an adult relationship. Denied the opportunity for my loving to have been worth something. Denied the chance to create a cosy new home together. Denied the future that I thought might have been possible. Denied a successful relationship. All the denied. All of the time.

When the word landed in my brain, I cried, like an animal, it wasn’t even a ‘normal’ cry. It was a noise. Maybe a howl. There is an absolutely stunning moon tonight, perhaps that is why.

I don’t often cry at maybe the more ‘usual’ things. I cry when I am sad and can’t work out why, I cry when I am tired or hormonal. But mostly, I cry when I am so filled with joy that my body just starts to leak from my eyes; when I am touched. At beautiful things. But tonight I cried a desperate, heart-breaking animal cry. It was sheer pain and hurt.

I feel totally denied of all that I thought my relationship could be, would be, might be, on a good day, if he was in a good mood…

I am so angry and sad and feel so cheated.

This is what I have been struggling to put my finger on. What the hell do I do next?

Children of Trouble

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The way you looked at me with your big eyes filled with fear. The way you looked at me filled with joy. You are only small and you have so much behind you already. The depth of your eyes shows the knowledge beyond your years. You stand there with your heavy worry, snacking on a giant feast. How do you see the world? Why do you see bears? What is your story?

You make me feel like you’re the only thing that matters – the you’s of the world are the most precious things. You could be brilliant – the best and the most – if we can support you to flourish. Your innocence is scary but your weight is heavy. You know so much but so little at the same time. What will you become? Will I be here to see it? Will you be jailed for your anger or institutionalised for your obsession and your difference? How can I stop it? That is my role, isn’t it?

Who are we to judge how you should behave. Einstein was a lost boy but now he’s a hero. Hawkins is a genius but he was not “normal”. These, you, are the greatest beings, they could be at least.

Your beauty is paralysing as I watch you be precarious but proud. Your nature is soft but your mind is complex. What do you say, sir? Let’s see what else is behind those thick and velvet curtains. Let’s see what else has not yet escaped from that marvellous mind of yours. Let’s go.

Happy Birthday

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Happy birthday beautiful!

I wish so much I could click my fingers, open my eyes and be with you. With the winter behind us and the arrival of spring we could find a nice spot in the park where the sun falls softly on us and the first blue bells in the grass.

Reminiscing of past adventures we realise turning one year older isn’t all that bad. Another year with love and friendship like ours is plenty of reason to celebrate. Like any good adventure story there’s triumph’s and falls, heroes and villains, romance and heartbreak. Let your new chapter begin! I believe the best is yet to come.

On this birthday may you feel steadiness in the waves of life and comfort in your spirit knowing Jesus loves you and so do I.

I look forward to the day we sit on the grass for real. That thought alone fills me with joy.

You’re a treasure.

Thank you for being you and giving all you have.

Enjoy your day. Your birthday!

Overwhelming Thoughts

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Where do i start?? Having just survived the most challenging year of my life, I feel it now maybe time to start unpacking what going on in my head.

The unthinkable happened to my son and I early in 2017, the life we knew was taken away just like that. Somehow, I’ve just had to get through each minute, hour, day, week and month. A year of firsts, every day a new day that i hadn’t lived before. Things i never thought i would have to deal with. Not knowing how to be, how to feel, support my son in his pain. Now the year of first has passed, i feel its time to tackle my thoughts, feelings and fears.

I feel the correct process for me personally, is to write these down and in the months/years to come I want to look back and see how far I’ve come, the ups and uncountable lows. However, every time I sit down and open my new journal/notebook and hold a pen in my hand, out of nowhere all these thoughts flood from my brain to my hand and it starts to shake. The only way i can describe it, is if you had a fountain pen and the ink starts to flood out of the end of it…..that’s what happens to my thoughts which all seem to scream ‘let me OUT of this head’ and they want to spill out over the paper. I then get so overwhelmed and cant cope with the overwhelming thoughts, I start panicking, breathing becomes quick, I get hot and clammy and then i quickly shut the book, put the lid on the pen and then i feel safe. My breathing then slowly returns to normal and i start to feel better.

But am i really safe?? I know those thoughts are still in there….knocking and saying to me ‘we’re still here…..we’ll come and get you eventually’, I then bury them. I feel like I’m putting off the inevitable. Does this mean I just can’t deal with this now? When will I be ready to tackle these? Will I ever be ready to tackle them???

So, I want to heal myself from within and feel this is where I must start but the overwhelming feelings mean I can’t yet…..I’m not saying never – which i suppose is a good thing!

Goodbye

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You tainted my body. Literally in all ways. Through my blood and through my soul.

It was five years ago, when it started. And it’s still haunting me now. For five years I’ve been walking around suppressing emotions and feelings I didn’t even know I had. I could not realise them then, because I did not have time. I had already left you, and home, and everything; I was on plane two days after I knew what you had done to me. Straight to another world where I didn’t have to look back at you, or look deep into me. Avoid it, suppress it, ignore it.

I was stubborn. Too stubborn to admit I was hurt. ‘I am not weak’, ‘I will strive forward’, ‘this will not ruin me’. I can see now that it ruined me. Not listening to my body, mind, soul; that’s what ruined me. I should have listened then, and I should have told someone – anyone – how much I hurt.

Goodbye.