Not waving but drowning…

To what use is a bridge when the river is so deep,

the current so strong,

that one has no choice but to drown?

N. Hardiman

There is a recurring concept in Steve Carell’s film Dan in Real Life that questions how quickly it is possible to fall in love with someone. We’re obviously talking deep connection, the one where you instantly are transported to another dimension when in the company of this person. I hate to throw the term out there, but one might be described as a ‘soulmate’.

Let me explain the concept before you roll your eyes and walk away; these mates can appear in many ways, shapes and forms. I have a certain friend with whom our soul connection made us instant kin. People that you lose touch with but who reappear just as their sage-like wisdom and advice are needed. They enter our lives and forever alter them for the better, even if by giving us the information required to make the changes ourselves. Or to show us what we need to make our own earth-shattering realisations. Though it broke my heart to do so, today I said goodbye to my favourite kind of ‘mate’… surely a painful necessity.

See, the thing about soulmates is not expecting them, and then not expecting anything from them. They play their purpose and teach us the lessons we require at that time, like being reminded how it feels to be truly loved and cared for. Or that you are more than deserving of the right person. There is something to be said for being able to converse with someone purely through eye contact. I have learned so much about spirituality, nationality, ethnicity, culture (mine and theirs), have been encouraged to write and to engage in my passions and to remember to breathe through life and all it has… both good and bad.

The born romantic in me has always wanted to really believe in the concept spoken of in Dan in Real Life, but the past two weeks of my life have shown it to be true and so very possible. My heart is full from having been shown such love and humanity, and my soul is golden from receiving this honest, intimate friendship. There have been many tears, and no doubt there will be more, but the time has lapsed on this love affair and I am now tasked with working out how to encounter my every day without them once again, truly grateful that our brief yet profound relationship ever existed. This I will use to breathe underwater and safely bring myself back to solid ground.


Home is… where?

An absence of purpose.

If there are readers out there that have wondered at my absence these past few months, I was collecting new thoughts from new changes and new challenges.

It’s amazing how the concept of ‘home’ can surface in more than just as your dwelling of residence. Even then, the place you live is not necessarily ‘homely’. You don’t always feel at ease, safe and secure in your abode, or with your housemates. There are different places and people I feel at home with, even streets, parks and rivers. One thing I have struggled to find since the passing of my beloved mum is the place I reside to have that feeling of ‘home’. A sense of feeling safe, at ease, settled. Yes, this was a spiritual, emotional and mental residence I have been continuously working on within myself, but also of a literal sense. I required a residence that I felt ‘at home’ in. Retrospectively I realise that so much of this came down to my inner quest, I nevertheless spent a decade uneasy. I tried to dress up my surroundings but to no avail. I pretended to cook for myself and keep a domestic life, but I could see no point in doing so. I was constantly ready for the next event to necessitate another move to spring up from nowhere.

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Autumn in Coburg, Vic

I eventually found it, a little piece of paradise that was my own home, and moving from it after nearly three years was my own choice. I found it here, too, in the wonderful suburb of Coburg. I got to spend three months in an old, dingy house, constantly cold but feeling safe and at peace. I found a routine and also found joy in every moment I walked out into my neighbourhood. My soul has claimed Coburg, and the northern suburbs of Melbourne as a whole, as its spiritual home. It’s funny how, after spending a seemingly infinite amount of years altering and adapting yourself, the moment you feel you can finally take a leap forward and let out that long-held breath is the moment when the world decides to test your assurances. Yet, that doesn’t need to be a bad thing, nor does it need to send you reeling backwards. In fact, sometimes it is just that final bump in the road that is needed to jolt you into place.

The passing of my housemate in Coburg was sudden although, in retrospect, not really surprising. A friend I made earlier this year at ‘school’, we had a friendly and warm dynamic in the old stone house. After being notified of her death, I immediately reverted to fight or flight, and stayed that way for weeks, instantly in crisis over where to go and what to do. The decades of PTSD training my brain had undergone had made it a master of meltdown, yet I still somehow found myself a roof over my head.

And what a roof…

After my freefall of fear, I landed safely on my feet in shoes of cushions… no shockwaves or hard landing. My new home is two bedrooms, quite spacious, and has a cute little courtyard with luscious garden. Most importantly my housemate instantly felt like home. Two weeks felt like two months, two months like two decades. A kindred spirit, we spent my first night in the house laughing until it hurt. She is one more family member I never expected, particularly in such a short amount of time.

She has provided such solid friendship, love, support and laughter in such a short amount of time, and it is hard to believe I haven’t known her forever. In my anxieties about assignments, she has encouraged me without pressure. In my moments of self-doubt, she has pointed out my awesome without being condescending. My chemical imbalances and overall temperament have been more balanced in the four months I’ve lived here, and the calm has been almost surreal.

I may still be terrified of the path I have chosen for myself and may often feel like I’m too old to be single and childless, but I feel like I’m truly home for the first time in years. Whatever happens from here I can handle it from a safe and secure space.




The Dark Moon

In the shadow of the grief of others, I know not how to speak.

Yes, I’ve been in those same holds before, medieval stocks,

But I recall the pains of an event long ago.

No matter how dark the night, or indeed the day,

My final thought upon enactment is always of my loves.

I could never allow them to feel that undying ache again.


So how does one come to that final point of relief?

To know that feeling of leaning forward and looking deep into the abyss,

to have actually jumped into it I…

well, I cannot even fathom the concept of a shade that black.


Has she never experienced that unyielding pain from those who left only questions?

I can only presume not, as for someone so genuinely thoughtful to have left those she cares for so undone…

The family left to mourn will never be the same.


If peace was what she was searching for in the dark,

then I hope that is what she found,

on her solo travels late on a cold winter night.


When all is said and done, where do I stand without you? Am I one entity myself? Or am I still intertwined with you somehow?

Where do the shadows take you? Where does the ash blow? If not for the wind and the passing of seasons would you still be here now?

Do these colours still reach you? Do they swirl and sway around you? Does the sky still burn brightly in your eyes or is all just dull and grey?

Can you hear the music playing? Can you hear me sing and dance? Does the melody call you and the tempo still pulse in your bones?

Do my whispers reach you? Do you hear me when I cry? Can you see that I need you to hold my hand and to make me smile?

Why can’t I rewrite history? Why can’t I challenge fate? Can I just go back and warn us all, make better use of time?

Still, here I sit without you. I’d stand but I’m too tired. I don’t think I’ll ever get it, I hope I never lose what’s left of you

But I’ll continue on, I promise. I’ll keep walking, step by step. I just wish I believed in an afterlife, so I didn’t feel it was all for nothing.

Choose (your) life

People can change, they just need to want to…

As these are meant to be about change in some way or other, I would like to first speak of making a choice. As I have mentioned in a past post, some changes can come about organically. Yet I understand this is still a choice; one must be open to that change, whether it is of an emotional, mental, physical or spiritual nature. I am grateful every day to now be in a place that, though I’m still human and in no way perfect, I am living in a state of fluidity. I allow myself those moments of stubborn resistance when they spring up, but I am self-aware and push myself to resist the urge to dwell in those moments. After all, familiarity is comfortable and easy, no matter how negative it may be. But I choose to live my life now, and no longer to make others happy, or keep the peace, or because it’s what I ‘should’ be doing. That means that the fluid nature of the way I feel now opens up a lot more options to change and for me to embrace them with open arms.

I was a carefully chosen recipient of an email this morning. Continue reading “Choose (your) life”

It takes a village

Today was Mother’s Day. I guess at 9:40 pm I should say that today IS Mother’s Day. Either way, it is an event I have not really had to deal with for 14 years now, yet it always deals with me. Surely by now, I would be OK; it’s not her birthday, or anniversary, or even Christmas. I guess in ways I am, but it seems to always creep up and catch me by surprise. It’s so regular though, I wonder why the surprise still occurs. Still, I have spent the day trying to read for assignments, trawling social media and walking around my new favourite suburb, all the while wondering why I was so restless. Until a dear friend relayed the love, thoughts and encouragement of her parents, who I hold so dear. It’s then that it really hit me, and the lid slid on the big gaping hole in my life. But I want to make it clear that it is not the grief or the feeling of loss that defines me, it is more about the ability to acknowledge that loss and still exist.  Continue reading “It takes a village”

Return to Wonderland

It has taken a lot of overthinking and conquering of fear in order for me to return to studies as a mature(ish) aged student. True, I had returned in 2012 to begin my process, and if I hadn’t done that I would never have learned the important things that I did about myself. The fact I didn’t complete everything required does not speak of my character, I attended every class, I made friends and had great feedback and response from teachers. It rather speaks of the fact it was not the right time in my life and I needed to face some things and learn a lot about how I work as a human being in order to continue on that path. Continue reading “Return to Wonderland”