I took this photo after my shower yesterday, to capture the mood I was in.

I noticed the “I’m” and I began to write …

I’m still feeling kinda dreamy after the last New Moon cycle. This dark moon wasn’t as dark as it has been in the previous months. The descent into the Underworld of shadows didn’t feel as heavy. My period was flowing, but I had very little discomfort. My Moon flow was lighter and I felt lighter within myself too. So, I pondered over the changes.

I’ve had 2 challenging nightshifts, but I’m in a different mindset. I don’t feel stuck or trapped somewhere I don’t want to be anymore. So I’m flowing with a little less resistance. Challenges and concerns can and still DO overwhelm me, but I appreciate these experiences as valuable opportunities to learn from.

My heart’s back IN the work again ❤

While tending to the cares of a palliative client, I heard his wife sobbing behind the curtain. I didn’t walk away or ask my collegue to check on her. I knew she needed to know she wasn’t alone, so I sat down beside her bed and held her hand. She told me how much she loved her husband, and that she didn’t know what to do. I could feel the pain in her heart, but seen the love and light shining from her eyes. So I shared the words that came from my heart.

“Just keep loving him” ❤

She smiled and her tears fell, as did mine

I cried for her, for the loss she was feeling
I cried for him, for the life he was loosing
I cried for me, for the deaths I have faced
I cried for us, for the loves we have lost

This New Moon brought my BIGGER dreams to the surface, which is why I’ve been feeling kinda dreamy. Over the last few days I’ve been journalling about what experiences I want to manifest. Focusing on all areas of my life, but intimate relationship was significant.

Over the last few weeks I’ve been struggling with my “friendships” with men. So, I’ve been reflecting over my choices in love. Thinking about the challenges we had in relationship, and how those challenges now determine the quality of our friendship. And I’ve been thinking about how I feel about being single again.

Solitude doesn’t feel like a punishment anymore, so I’m feeling more at ease in my own company. Maybe that’s why I’m able to see things a little clearer? Perhaps I needed to go through the struggle to realize the conflict? Maybe this Dark Moon wasn’t so dark because my shadow wasn’t suppressed? Perhaps I’m feeling more empowered because I’m making better choices? Maybe I’m breaking cycles and changing patterns? Perhaps I’m peeling away the bullshit of illusion, so I can live the dream?

Afew days ago, I realized how often I haven”t choosen myself. And this morning I woke with a clearer understanding of why. I acknowledge how the Damzel wants to be chosen, and the Princess wants to find her Prince Charming. Although I reject these parts of myself, I’m a fool to deny their existance. It doesn’t matter how much I want to BE the mighty Warrior, my BEing is the sum of many parts.

Even though I’ve been the one who initiated the conversations, that ultimately ended my relationships. Knowing we wanted and needed different things. If I’m honest, my inner Damzel in distress wanted them to hold on and fight for us. My inner Princess wanted them to rescue me from my distress. And deep down I had hoped that wanting me would be enough. And when they didn’t fight and they let go, I thought

“I’m not enough”

And there it is, the limited belief !!!

Even though I’ve been loved by many, in truth, only parts of me have been wanted by men. If I’m honest, my inner Wild Woman isn’t always welcomed. Sometimes she’s suppressed or limited in her full expression. Yup, another limiting belief is … “I’m TOO much”

I realize that this is why I’ve felt abandoned and rejected in and out of relationship. Therefore, a lack of love isn’t why we can’t be friends with ex lovers. It’s our own woundings and therefore our own healings, that impact upon the quality of our “friendships”

Hmmmmm 🤔

If I’m the one who’s chosen to reject parts of myself. If I’m the one who’s chosen to abandon myself, then I’m the ONE to choose myself.

But HOW do I choose myself ? ? ?

Choosing to disconnect from “complicated” connections and drama, that no longer serves my spiritual growth, is how I choose ME.

Choosing to release myself from any limiting beliefs, that no longer serves my growth and the Greater Good, is how I choose ME.

Choosing to focus my time and energy on creating the NEW, not fighting the old, or reliving past mistakes, is how I choose ME.

Choosing to believe in my dreams and trusting the visions I have, is how I choose ME.

As women, we often need reminded that it’s OK to choose ourselves. We’ve been raised in a culture that expects us to put others first, and we’re shamed or guilted when we don’t. We’ve been led to believe that being a single woman, is a tragedy best avoided. We’re still being told to sit down and shut up, but it’s in less obvious, subtler ways these days. And we’ve been conditioned to surpress our uglier truths.

Authenticity isn’t easy because it’s hard to look beyond the darkness. To confront our shadow, to own our fuckups, to love our flaws, to learn from our failures and to admit our faults.

Sometimes we choose to live in the ignorance of our bliss … and that’s OK ❤

As women, we fear owning our personal power because strong women are misunderstood. Our strength doesn’t lie within our ability to conquer and overcome obstacles alone. It’s not even in the raging roars of I AM WOMAN !!!

Our strength comes from our willingness to BE vulnerable. To drop the masks and in letting the walls of our defences fall to the ground. It’s in our willingness to BE seen as we truly are.

Not pretending to BE someone you want us to be. Not faking it till we make it. Not diluting our truths to make you feel more comfortable. Not trying to be something we’re not, to please you.

Our strength is BEing the mighty hot fucking mess we are, and not apologizing for it.

Our strength is seeing and loving the beautiful imperfect BEing of humanness YOU are ❤

Our strength is saying this is ME and I LOVE her, ALL of her and if you can’t, then Fuck Off !!!

Our strength is in our ability to believe in love, after having lost what we feared loosing.

Our strength is saying YES to ourselves.

Until I can fully choose myself, then how the fuck can I expect anyone else to? Does this mean the next man to walk into my life will be the “one” ? Hmm, although forever the hopeful heart, I’m also a realist. Besides, who is the ONE anyways? Aren’t I the BEloved of my own life? I do wonder though, will I ever grow in love with the same man for the rest of my life?

Perhaps not ? Maybe that isn’t my path in this lifetime ? Perhaps relationship with a variety of different men provides the growth I need in this lifetime ? Maybe my destiny isn’t to love one ?

What if I AM THE ONE ?

Who the fuck knows ? All I can do is improve the quality of the relationship I have with myself. Break free from co-dependency. Stay true to myself and BE open to learn from love.

I’m heeding the Wanderluster call and looking forward to the NEW adventures that await me in 2020, as a much stronger single woman.

And I’m at peace with that 😌

I choose ME and I choose to be FREE 💪😍

Memories automatically take us back in time. We recall, recollect and reflect to learn the lessons from our experiences.

Today, I’ve been taken back to a conversation I had with my Dad, afew weeks after loosing Mam. Although he believed in spirit, his faith was shaken. No matter how much he wanted to believe, he couldn’t feel her spirit and it upset him, but it also triggered his fear.

I was reassuring him of her presence. Reminding him that his grief was deep, so his heart was hurting. Then I noticed something on his chest. A tiny white feather was resting on his heart. When I pointed it out to Dad, it gave him hope.

It gave me hope too and it strengthened my faith. Since Mam’s death these kinda conversations with spirit happen often. On my own journey, there are times when I feel hopeless and my faith is shaken too.

When I descend into the underworld of shadows, the darkness can and does consume me. Sometimes I wonder if I’m strong enough to fight my way out. But I notice, that during those times the presence of spirit feels stronger.

Our loved ones are the light in the dark

Grief isn’t just about the loss of a loved one. It triggers any lingering fears, wounds, blockages and limitations we may have. It challenges us to confront a different reality. Invites us to take a long hard look at our own lives. And it takes us on a wild journey of transformation.

Dragging us through the past of our yesterdays. Forcing us to look at the future of our tomorrows. To help us BEcome more fully present in the precious moments of our today.

I recall the conversation with my Dad, recollect my inner thoughts and reflect.

Dad’s heart didn’t just break open when his beloved died. He lost the other part of himself, so his heart felt like it had broken in two. His heart was no longer whole, so his healing was complex. He was also confronting his own battle with cancer and his own fate, which only complicated his healing further 💔

I wonder …

How do you balance something that’s missing?
How do you heal something that’s gone?
How do you feel whole if you’re a half?
How do you heal someone who can’t be cured?
How the fuck do you find peace in that kind of suffering?

Words can’t explain how difficult it was to witness Dad’s pain. Like Mam, he often stayed strong for us. Like Mam, he always tried to focus on the positives. Like Mam, he often suffered in silence because he didn’t want to worry us. But like Mam, sometimes his pain broke through, and we witnessed the brutality of his truth and the beauty of his vulnerability.

Those were the moments that were the most difficult to bare. For me, its easier to feel my own pain, than to watch someone I love struggling to feel their own. But those were the moments that also triggered my own fear, anxiety, wounds and incompletions.

Truth is, it’s not easy to bare witness and allow the pain to be seen. Whether it’s physical, mental emotional or spiritual, it’s hard to feel our own pain.

It’s a natural response to comfort and reassure others and ourselves. It’s an automatic reaction to want the pain to stop. But what if we just allowed the pain to be expressed? What if we asked fear and anxiety more questions? What if we went straight to the source of our woundings? What if our conversations are opportunities to become whole?

Maybe it explains my own challenges in love?
Perhaps my relationship with pain is changing?
Maybe its why I need to be whole?
Perhaps I want to love differently?

The past no longer haunts me, but it continues to teach me. I appreciate that the experiences I’ve had, are the lessons I’m learning. The challenges are the obstacles I’m overcoming. So, what if, the struggles I’m having are the sufferings I’m healing?

They say that resistance leads to suffering and acceptance brings peace. So to find peace, we must be willing to let go and release what was. And to accept what is, we must surrender to change and transformation. Only then, will we become all that we can BE

Hmmmmmmmm 🤔 she ponders

Maybe that’s why the past keeps knocking?
Perhaps that’s why the past haunts us?
Maybe I just needed to see it differently?
Perhaps some bridges do need to burn?
Maybe we can’t take everyone with us?
Perhaps that’s my greatest struggle?

Sometimes, our minds need to catch up to what our hearts already know. But our hearts only know LOVE and I always follow mine, which is probably why I’ve been hurt so many times before.

My love life is one great big tragedy

But if my heart only knows love, then it’s my own thinking that hurts me. Now, there’s an empowering thought to digest. A thought that has the ability to change everything. A thought that shifts us from Damzel in distress to the Heroine, from lost to found, from wounded to healing and from incomplete to whole.

Hmmmmmmm 🤔 she ponders

What if to transcend fear into love, we must first feel the pain of loosing what we fear to loose? What if our healings are the pain we’re transcending? What if we are the Alchemist?

PS … I LOVE this pic of my parents ❤

But I still cry whenever I look at photos

The last few days I’ve glanced at clocks when numbers are repeating (1.11, 2.22, 3.33). And yesterday I unknowingly posted the frog photo at 4.44. Some say these are angel numbers.

I’m not really sure what it
eans, but I believe in spirit. And the past seems to be loosening its grip on me. Over the last few weeks some things are beginning to fall away from my life.

And I notice there’s less resistance.

Usually, whenever I feel something or someone leaving, I fight to hold on. If I’m honest with myself, I often hold on longer than I should, and fight for things no longer meant for me. I don’t let go easily. Usually, it takes time and alot of mental anguish and emotional upset, for me to release something or someone from my life.

Maybe its the stubborn goat in me ?
Perhaps its my hopeful heart ?
Maybe its a lack of boundaries ?
Perhaps its a need for faith ?

I realize that I resist letting go because I fear the void I’ll feel when it or they have gone. I usually don’t welcome that empty feeling. It’s why I fill the void with food, by comfort eating.

But what if the empty feeling is the creating of space ? What if it’s clearing old energies, so new energy can flow ? What if the void is like a blank canvas for the artist to paint, and an empty page for the writer to write ? As a creative BEing shouldn’t I welcome the void ?

Last night at work, a Praying Mantis flew at me. I was mesmerized by her presence. She looked like a fairy with her pinkish wings. The RN said it looked like Tinkerbell, which made me smile.

Some say when this creature crosses your path it brings a message. Symbolic of stillness, patience and intuition. Reminding us to slow down and connect to the gift of our everyday moments. To strengthen our connection to Source with spiritual practice.

On my walk back to the van from work I treated myself to breakfast at the Shack. I noticed I sat on the chair infront of “Don’t worry, be happy” and it made me think about my Mam. When I shared the photo, a family friend commented that I had sat at the same table she had sat with her Mum, on her last birthday. Her Mum is now in spirit and our Mum’s were friends.

After a bite to eat, I stopped at the beach for a dip in the ocean and I napped on the sand for awhile. I love how FB tagged my friend Christie, who is now in spirit. The same thing happens with Mam now and then. FB never recognized either of them in my face when they were living. So I believe its a message from spirit. A reminder of their presence and it comforts me.

After a rest to recharge my batteries, I carried on walking to the van. Popped in my earphones and listened to some of my favourite tunes. Songs I imagine being played to certain scenes in a movie. Of a story yet to be written.

Miley Cirus “The Climb”
Tina Turner & Angelique Kidjo “Easy as Life”
Christina Perri “A thousand years”
Disturbed ” The sound of silence”
James Blunt “Bonfire heart”
Bon Jovi “Its my life”
Def Leppard “Love bites”
Missy Higgins “Temporary love”
Sam Smith “Stay with me”
James Morrison “All around the world”

As I walked, memories, reflections and insights flowed through my mind. As I watched the cars as they drove by, I thought about their rush and their busy. Instead of envying their wheels, I felt blessed to have the freedom to take my time.

A green parrot flew straight towards me, as if he was playing a game of chicken. He gained height at the last minute, and I couldn’t help but laugh out loud at his boldness, or blindness. A currawong and I captured each others gaze, so I bowed my head and greeted him a good day.

I laughed out loud when a lizard ran across my path, with his head outstretched like he was the road runner being chased by Kayote.

The little critters and creatures were comical and full of character, which amused me.

When I got back to the van, I showered and had a lay down on the sofa under the gazebo. A cool breeze was blowing and dappled sunlight created pretty shadows on my legs. I drifted off to sleep thinking “What a wonderful world”

I remind myself, that I can either choose to feel the heaviness of my grief, or I can choose to stay open to the loving presence of spirit ❤

I woke feeling a little out of sorts this morning. Melancholy has decended upon me. Perhaps the storm blew it in from the west? My heart feels like a tight ball in my chest. I came Yam yesterday, with intentions to clean. But the storm left me feeling a little uneasy, so I settled into bed early last night. Sleep was restless and my dreams were busy, because Yam doesn’t feel like it once did. I kinda feel like a swatter in a place I once knew.

Conflicting feelings.

A sense of comfort, yet a deep sadness keeps sweeping over me. I feel safe and secure within these walls, yet I’ve never felt more alone and unsure of the world, as I do now.

Maybe I shouldn’t have returned?
Perhaps I shouldn’t stay overnight?
Maybe I shouldn’t be here alone?

But here I am.

With truths that need to be known.
Thoughts that need to be observed.
Feelings that need to be felt.
And tears that need to be cried.

I stand at the window, and feel like a ghost. Trapped between realities.
Looking out onto the world, but not ready to fully engage in it. Part of me desires to disconnect and fall away from society and it’s expectations. To reject the systems I struggle with and live a simpler life.

I can understand how functioning members of society, can suddenly find themselves living on the streets. I can understand how the choice to be homeless, can be stronger than the need to belong. I can understand how the desire for freedom, can lead us to places we never imagined going.

I’ve been drifting through life,
but for what purpose?

I was there, but I wasn’t.
I’m here, but I’m not.

Like me,
Yam isn’t the home it once was.
Now it’s just a house,
full of empty rooms and bare walls.
A house of memories,
that haunt me.

In my minds eye,

I see Dad coming home from work.
I see Mam pottering in the garden.
I see Dad doing his crosswords.
I see Mam on the computer.
I see Dad drinking his cuppa coffee.
I see Mam making dinner.
I see them cuddling on the sofa.
I see them smiling at me.

I can see them both clearly,
but they’re not here.
Not in the way I want them to be.
The only comfort I have,
is they’re together in spirit.

But what was, is no more.

My heart breaks,
the tears flow,
and I cry.

For everything I once had.
For everything I have lost.
For everything that’ll never be.

I cry until the tightness in my chest eventually softens. I cry until I have no more thoughts to think, no more feelings to feel and no more tears to cry.

But I’m surfing because thoughts and feelings, they come in waves.

I’m grateful for the release and the energy that’s now reflowing through my heart chakra, but I feel a little weary. So excuse me, as I rest awhile.

Van life …

It’s no secret that I don’t always enjoy my solitude. Sometimes I struggle to be in my own company and seek escape. But for years I’ve fantasized about living the gypsy life in a van.

To explore new work and life possibilities. To write and create my kinda magic. Like other desires of my heart, it manifested into reality. Perhaps not in the way I had hoped. In truth, it rarely does, but its a reality none the less.

There’s hope in knowing that ❤

I ride waves, which is why I need solitide the most when I don’t want it at all. I flow with natural cycles and seasons, because my destiny is written in the stars. But my fate is guided by my own heart and the lessons my soul seeks. I believe more than ever that Universe guides my choices, because when I overcame my fear of death, I had to then learn how to trust life. In my grief I’m learning how to transcend my fears and BE the love I seek.

The heaviness of my flaws, faults, failings and fuck ups have lifted. And I’ve been feeling very poetic the last few days. Perhaps I’ve been inspired by the recent book I read? “Me, myself and Lord Byron.” Maybe after my descent into shadow last New Moon, creative juices are flowing this Full Moon? Perhaps I released? Maybe I did the work and now reap the reward of my creative expression?

Whatever the reason, I’m grateful ❤

She’s not to be found in the words she writes,
because she lives within a story
that expands far beyond those pages.

You’ll find parts of her
somewhere between the lines,
where the truth is yet to be written.

She’s the kinda poetry in motion
to be tasted and experienced.

A contradiction of complexities
that stimulates the appetite.

Pure of heart with devilish tendancies.

A sinful delight for those
who fancy dipping their toes
into the depths of themselves.

Once tasted, the experience will linger
long after she’s gone.

Her soul igniting the flames
of your own passions and purpose.

You’ll discover aspects of her within yourself,
and search for her in others.

She’ll either satisfy your hunger,
or leave you feeling starved of her affections,
whilst giving you an appetite for more.

Because her love expands
far beyond the carnal pleasures of flesh,
and the romantic attachments of your heart.

She’s a soulful lover,
who has caressesed every part of you
with her loving intentions.

Unafraid of the darkness
and accepting of your imperfections.
Knowing, that she too is magnificently flawed.

With a deep desire to grow in love,
she hopes you’ll read between the lines
and find her beyond the pages.

We can’t control everything and the hair on my head often reminds me of that. I’m fighting a loosing battle with my straightners. Unable to tame the frizz because of the Queensland humidity. I see it as a reminder, that my inner Wild Woman doesn’t want to be tamed. So, I’ve been doing a little less grooming.

Embracing my inner Troll Goddess

I wake up and do very little with my hair these days, and I actually love the wildness of my unruly mop. Salty ocean air loves it too, transforming my frizz into defined curly locks, that matter together. Giving me a kinda surfy, hippy bo-ho look that I love so much.

It’s been 10 days since I shaved the hair from my legs and underarms. At first it was to stop myself from feeling sexy, so I wouldn’t flirt with the idea of casual sex. I know myself well and don’t want to weaken under the heat of the sun. I neither want to fall for the false promises of pleasure, nor the hope for romance this Spring. I’m feeling somewhat disheartened when it comes to love. I need to refind my hope in men and my faith in relationship.

So, I figured in a moment of weakeness, then my hairy legs would become my salvation. Men wouldn’t be aroused by my furry leg warmers, and sex and love would both remain just a fantasy in my own head and heart.

But it’s expanded beyond that. The hairier I become, the more empowered I feel. I suppose it’s reflects my readiness to embrace the woman I am in her entirity, without seeking validation or approval from others?

Over the last few weeks, I’ve been confronting my shadow that surfaced. The parts of myself that needed to be seen, that were difficult to see. My faults, flaws, failings and fuck ups.

In truth, I’m both a sinner and a saint, neither perfect, nor evil. Just a beautiful complex contradiction and an extraordinary BEing of the human kind. A woman of love and light, who dances in the dark of shadow lands. A woman with faults and flaws, who has fucked up and failed, and she is all the more beautiful because of them. But I haven’t always seen or appreciated my own worth or value.

Maybe that’s what’s changing?

I’ve been contemplating getting highlights instead of recolouring my hair. Keen to embrace the natural beauty of my curls, fading colour and the sparkles of silver that’s becoming more and more plentiful upon my crown.

The more time I spend in the sun, the more I notice the appearance of natural copper and bronze highlights upon my crown. Maybe it’s Nature’s way of letting me know I’m far more precious than I realize? Perhaps we don’t need a lavishly expensive jewelled crown to be a Queen? Maybe the treasure and power is flowing from my very own crown chakra?

After the dark night of my soul during New Moon, I’m ready to embrace the new energy of Full Moon. And this Spring I thank Universe for the blessings I have and am yet to receive.

Blessed BE ❤

We all have regrets in life and we all struggle sometimes, which is why I’m sharing this with you. In my solitude I was spending more and more time on my mobile phone, scrolling through Facebook, but it wasn’t inspiring me. As we counted down to Mam’s 2nd year anniversary, memories popping up were difficult to relive and I was becoming more and more irritated by Facebook.

Aggravated by those who were happy. Envious of those who were succeeding in life. Annoyed with those who were hiding behind walls of bullshit. Bothered by the lack of authentic truths. Desperate for something honest, real and raw because no one was sharing anything close to how I was thinking and feeling, which only made me feel even more agitated.

Facebook, like most other social media platforms is full of people sharing the highlights of their lives, or how to get there. Not many people openly share the lows and even fewer are sharing the uglier truths as they flow. So, knowing that things were only gonna get rougher for me, I decided to log off Facebook for a while. To focus a little more attention on my own life, and a little less on what every fucker else was or wasn’t doing. Yup, I had a bad attitude and I knew it, so I wasn’t in any mood to be told “be positive” or “stay fucking strong.”

Being a woman of extremes, a few days before Halloween I was detoxing from the substance abuse of sugar highs and comforting carbs. I suppose part of me had decided she was ready to sit with her trauma. But I was already starting to struggle with the memories surfacing. So, I hydrated and made sure there wasn’t any booze in the van, because I needed a clear mind to deal with what was coming. Having acknowledged I’m riding waves of Post Traumatic Stress, I’ve been confronting each experience as they flow. Consciously choosing to relive the difficult moments, to determine what I’m still holding onto. So I can release myself from the past and move more confidently into the future, with more love and less fear. But I was anxious about Halloween because last year I focused on spirit, and this year I’m feeling the heaviness of multiple losses and regrets.

October 31st 2017 I wrote …

Caring for Mam at Yam, during her final stage of life, is challenging us all, as we each confront our own individual fears and anxieties. I’m so proud of how well my Dad and sisters are handling this, but I’ve been disappointed in myself. Since bringing Mam home from the hospice, I’ve been struggling with inner conflicts and anxiety. I’ll be honest, ever since Mam expressed her wish to die at home, the anxiety in my heart has been constant. As visions of every confronting and challenging death I’ve experienced have flashed into my mind. So, I asked myself …

What are you most afraid of ?

I’m afraid that Mams lungs will fill up with fluid and she will feel like she’s drowning
I’m afraid we wont have what we need to maintain her comfort at Yam
I’m afraid that Mam will fight death right to the end
I’m afraid that Mam will become agitated and anxious
I’m afraid that Mam will suffer instead of passing away peacefully

The truth is, the nurse in me is seeing things the daughter doesn’t want to see. The nurse knows things the daughter doesn’t want to know. The daughter is somewhere she doesn’t really want to be, doing something she doesn’t want to do. Although I want to fulfill Mam’s dying wishes, she was supposed to be much older. Although I’ve assisted with many deaths, I’m struggling to care for my Mam because this is the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do. For weeks I’ve been battling with myself, then a few days ago a familiar aroma tickled my senses, bringing my intuition to full attention. A knowing that death is near was a prompt from Universe to be fully present with what IS. To get out of my head and BE in the moments, however difficult they are. Tonight I sense deaths presence as my parents sleep. It dances around our beloved Mother and taunts our beloved Father. But instead of fearing it, I invite it to come sit with me awhile, as if it were an old friend. I imagine death taking form and giving me its full attention. 

I have a few things to say to you, so listen carefully …

Truth is, I don’t fear you as I once did because sometimes life scares me more than you do. I’ve become more grateful for life and less afraid of you, but I’m troubled about you coming to take my parents away so soon. Although I believe in spirit, I’m not ready to let them go. Ironic, how I’m sitting here with you today of all days. On All Hallows Eve. The day when the veil between life and death is at its thinnest. When the boundary between this world and Other Worldly dimensions can be crossed. A time when we’re more able to connect with our ancestors and the energy of spirit. A time when the air is full of death, rebirth and magic, but its a familiar feeling I’ve felt on other days too. Every time a life comes to an end in the nursing home, the veil thins so their spirit can cross over. Something that isn’t seen but its an energy I can feel. But I also sense your presence when ever loss has touched my life in some way. Abortion, miscarriage, divorce, heart breaks and shattered dreams. I know you are’t the frightening Grim Reaper that people fear. I now know you as an energy that’s always present and you take various forms. I know you as the Dark Goddess who comes to burn away what no longer serves me. And I know you as the guide who supports my spiritual growth on my souls journey. So, instead of focusing on my beloved Mothers death, perhaps it will be easier for me to focus on her transition? So, I’ll confront the unknown, trusting that we are supported by spirit, as we prepare our beloved Mother for her journey. Death, I’m not angry with you because I know your presence is spirit. And in the deepest core of my being, I believe her journey isn’t over, so I ask you to please carry her gently and help us to support the transition of her spirit. 

I didn’t share these words because within moments my experience suddenly changed, and those words were no longer my truth. Death had double crossed me and my faith was once again shaken.

I recall the details of that night vividly, as if it was only yesterday …

My sisters and I were taking it in turns to sit at Mam’s bedside throughout the night. We were monitoring her pain to ensure comfort. Dad never left Mam’s side, he slept on a single bed that was pushed up against the hospital bed, so he could hold her hand as she slept. Such moments were bitter sweet to witness, because it was both beautiful and painful to see. We had brought Mam home from the hospice because it was her wish to die at Yam, surrounded by family. She was sleeping most of the time, becoming a little more agitated during her wakeful moments, but we held off on sedation because Mam wanted to hang onto as many wakeful moments as she could, as did we. Those moments were so very precious and we wanted as much time with her as we could, no matter how difficult it was to watch her fading away before our very eyes.

It was Halloween night 2017 and I was sitting in the chair beside Mam’s bed. I had lit a candle for our ancestors who were in spirit, and I wrote about how I was thinking and feeling. I took a photo of my parents as they slept because as morbid as it may sound to some, it was an image I wanted to remember and a moment I needed to capture. Perhaps it was for these words and for this blog?

My thoughts and writing were interrupted when Dad woke up. He made a cuppa and we sat on his bed eating mince pies, talking about what was happening. Like many others, it was a difficult conversation to be having because we didn’t want this to be our reality, but it was. Mam began to stir and woke up, but her eyes were glazed and she looked tired. I felt the need to tell her it was OK to let go, so I did. Dad and I told her that none of us wanted her to go, but we would be OK because we would look after each other. I told her how much she was loved and thanked her for being such a wonderful Mam. It was a conversation that distressed us all because Mam became agitated. She was unable to communicate with us and no matter what we did we couldn’t comfort her. I often wonder what she was trying to say. I wonder if she was angry with me because she didn’t want us to let go, or if she was upset because she couldn’t tell us something important.

I recall the details of that night vividly because it was one of those moments of impact. The kind of experience that lingers long after its gone. It was 2am and I was in a state of panic, so I woke my sister so she could support our parents, while I tried to hold it together and call the nurse on call, to discuss the best course of action. But I didn’t want to be the nurse, I wanted to be the daughter sitting beside my Mam, but the daughter had fucked up. I didn’t want the responsibility of medications, I wanted a medical team to take over because I knew we were nearing the end, and I didn’t want this to be the end. Not like this, but truth is, I didn’t want any of this. And I couldn‘t help but think, we were going to be doing it all again for Dad, and I wasn‘t sure if I could do it.

I was having the conversation on the phone, while standing in the garden. I could hear my Dad sobbing in the bedroom, as he offered words of comfort to Mam. I heard my sister doing her best to reassure them both, but I felt the ache in her heart. I tried to focus on what the nurse was saying, who was telling me it was time to give the sedation. But I didn’t want to sedate my Mam because she didn’t need it until I opened my big mouth. I felt responsible and guilty for having upset her. It was all my fault and I had failed everyone again. I felt my knees weaken and I wanted to fall down. I wanted to scream and shout and cry. I wanted to feel the unbearable pain in my heart, but instead I wrapped it all up in regret and suppressed it. Telling myself, that what I was feeling wasn’t important. Reminding myself, that Mam and Dad were the ones who mattered most right now, but my thoughts tormented me.

“What were you thinking you fucking fool?”
“Why the fuck did you have to say that?”
“She wants you to fight for her, not let her go”
“Why aren’t you fighting for her life?”
“Why are you accepting her death?”

Unfortunately, we had to sedate Mam that night and it was the last time she was awake, which is why that night still haunts me. If only I hadn’t said anything. If only I had just kept my big mouth shut. If only I hadn’t caused so much upset by saying what I thought needed to be said. I know I did what I thought was right, but it wasn’t the right time. I know I was doing the best I could, but my best wasn’t good enough. I know I can’t change anything, but oh my god I want to. I can only accept what was and learn from the experience, which I did. When confronting Dads final months, weeks and days, we couldn’t avoid the elephant in the room, so we talked more openly about death. We focused on his reunion with Mam, which offered us all comfort. We talked more honestly about how to best manage his symptoms, to ensure his struggle didn’t become suffering. And I ensured conversations were had before death made its presence known.

Since Mams passing my own spiritual journey has intensified, but the inner conflicts persist. I‘m still learning how to live in a world where my parents are no longer living, which is a challenging adjustment. But my greatest challenge is the regrets I have, which is why I reflect and write. I’ve come to realize that a woman like me will always have regrets because I dare to say what others don’t want to say, I dare to do what others don’t like to do and I dare to express and expose the flawed human being that I am.

“Make the most of your regrets; never smother your sorrow, but tend and cherish it till it comes to have a separate and integral interest. To regret deeply is to live afresh.” (Henry David Thoreau)

I’ve been reflecting and writing about my regrets in life. Recently, most of my thoughts and feelings are linked to traumatic experiences from our parents end of life, like Halloween, but other past regrets and trauma began to flow into my mind too. Like a magnet I was attracting more and more regretful thoughts. I became so consumed by my own faults, flaws, failures and fuck ups that I got lost inside of my own mind. Stuck in distorted thinking that was dragging me deeper and deeper into despair. And as I looked at my life, it was easier to believe the negative self talk, which is probably why my thoughts began to turn suicidal. It was hard to sit with those darker thoughts and feel the emotions that flowed, especially when I was alone reliving some painful memories. But that’s where I was and obviously where I was meant to be.

I notice how suicide is a topic that keeps coming up in my life. First, I went to stay with a friend, who has lost mates to suicide. It’s November, which is the month when men’s mental health gets a platform. And in the midst of my own crisis, friends and family were disclosing their own battles with dark thoughts. I got off the phone after talking to someone who was worried about her son and my heart broke. I cried, as I thought about how many others are fighting battles no one sees. I cried, as I thought about my parents pain and suffering. I cried, for all of those people who are suffering from physical pain, mental illness, tormented thoughts, overwhelming emotions and/or anguish they just want to stop. It distresses me to think about how many people feel alone in their struggles. It upsets me to think about how many people don’t notice until its too late. It concerns me to think about how many people abuse substance to cope with pain. And it scares me to think about how many people believe the only way to end their suffering is to kill themselves, yet, I can’t help but think about these things.

Its time we all talk more openly and honestly about our inner dialogue. Because its not so easy to think positive thoughts when life is challenging us and our mental health isn’t OK. We don’t need people telling us to “stay positive” and “be strong.” We need people to listen without judgement nor opinion. For me, these people are my sisters because they know my struggles better than anyone. W’eve always been close and are even closer having gone through what we did together, but what about those who have no family or trusted friends? What about those who find it hard to reach out? Those are the people I think about.

Over the years, there’s been plenty of times when I’ve wanted the mental anguish and emotional pain to just stop. Lately, there’s been moments I’ve been scared and unsure if I could escape the grip of my own irrational thoughts. So, I keep doing what ever feels right for me, holding onto my faith and trusting myself. Focusing on keeping my stress levels low and being gentler with myself.

Truth is, I’m still riding waves because the past still haunts me, the present is challenging me and the future scares me. I neither want to deny nor ignore this truth because I know the regrets I have are the lessons I’m learning, the challenges I have are the changes I’m making and the future is full of possibility. So, I keep writing about my thoughts and feelings because it helps me to process the mess in my mind. And I keep reminding myself that I’m neither broken, nor a victim of my thoughts, but I am a woman of strength, who is becoming whole. Learning how to accept, embrace and love the parts of myself that others prefer not to see. Daring to have the conversations that matter, so others don’t feel so alone in their struggle. Offering hope to those who need it and trusting the process of my healing.

If you’re struggling with your thoughts, then please reach out to someone you trust. You’re not alone with your struggles because we all struggle sometimes. If you don’t have anyone to talk to then support is only a click away. Please don’t suffer in silence because whether you believe it or not, YOU matter. Someone you love needs YOU. Someone you haven’t even met yet is looking forward to meeting YOU one day. YOU make the world a better place just by being in it and YOU are loved and supported always ❤

Wishclocks are significant to me, so  I take notice when they blow into my life.

The 1st time it happened I was in the UK, sitting in the pub garden, writing a postcard to  Kerry. As I finished the sentence “Mam would want us to keep living and loving” a dandelion wishclock seed landed onto the postcard, right next to my pen. The first word that popped into my mind was “Mam”? Then I sat back in my chair and I thought “you’re just hoping it is” and   as that doubting thought left my mind, a small white feather floated down from the sky, right in front of my face and onto my lap.

The 2nd time it happened was last week (1st Nov) while I was editing a blog I wrote 2 years ago. A blog I wrote on Halloween night 2017 while sat at my Mam’s bedside. A blog about a conversation with death. A blog I never shared because within moments my truth changed. While I was re-reading the blog for the 10th time, a tiny something flew past my face and into my top. When I looked inside, there was a tiny wishclock seed on my bra next to my heart. The first word to pop into my mind was “Mam”? but this time there was no doubt, but another word “intentions”? So, I wrote in my journal, clarifying my intentions for writing and sharing the blog.

The 3rd time it happened was afew days later, today (Nov 4th), while I was writing in my journal about my suicidal thoughts. I picked up my phone to finish reading an article about suicide and noticed the time was 3.33, so I googled 333 to remind myself what it meant. Intuitively clicking on the link that felt right …

“A sign to speak your truth by expressing your authentic self. The Universe is guiding you to use your voice to express your emotions, or put your feelings into words that are in harmony with your soul. It is when you speak your truth that you support your soul and find inner peace.” I finished reading it and lifted my head, and a wishclock seed came flying into my face. It came at me with such force, I leaned back in surprise.

I refer to myself as being, the Wish Bone Sister, but in truth, I haven’t been feeling my usual magical self. I’m struggling with my thoughts and feel kinda lost inside of myself. Maybe that’s why Mam choose the wishclock ? Perhaps she’s reminding me to not loose sight of the magic ?

Since Mam’s passing she finds different ways to reach me when I need her most. I only need to stay open and notice when she does. Whenever spirit connects with me I get goosybump feel goods, but I notice how I weep whenever it’s Mam. I suppose it’s a natural bodily response to a child missing her Mother. But it brings me comfort knowing that in some way, she’s still with us. Reminding me that everything is as it should be, no matter how hard it is.

I love you Mam 💗

My Mam died 2 years ago yesterday

An anniversary of a significant death takes us right back to the day it happened. Its no longer just another day like any other day, because it’s now become the day that defines the beginning of the end. A day we want to avoid, but must live through anyways.

This year was different to last …

Last year I wasn’t really grieving the loss of my Mam in the same way as I am today. Although I acknowledged her death and felt the sadness, I was in a different mindset and living in a very different reality. My attention was focused on her transition, not her death. I was opening up to spirit, which is why I didn’t miss Mam in the same way as I do now. I suppose it didn’t really feel like she was gone, because I sensed her presence with me, and I still do.

My struggle was adjusting to the change

On the 1st anniversary of my Mam’s death, I stepped into a future with the man I was in relationship with, so I was a little more hopeful. In reflection, I was dancing around grief. It was too hard to admit to myself that Mam was gone from my life forever. At the time, it was easier to think of her as still being with me in spirit. But eventually, in time, we’re all forced to confront our uglier truths and live the harsher realities.

My world is a little darker without my Mam in it, which is why I like to think of her spirit as being a shining light in my life. I like to think she is guiding me through the darkness, when my own light has faded and I feel lost. It’s true what they say, when we have nothing left to hold onto, we hold onto our faith.

My struggle is with my own thoughts

Life goes on as they say, which is a total crock of shit because life doesn’t just go on. When someone significant is removed from our lives, the world as we knew it has been shattered into pieces. Life no longer makes sense to us, and we struggle to make sense of the world again.

To be honest it kinda feels like life has stood still because I feel stuck, unable to move forward. My sister’s and I can’t really move on until Yam is sorted. And I’m still conflicted with wanting to be with my family and needing to follow my own path, but the path is still unclear.

Grief is complex within itself because we don’t just mourn the loss of our loved ones, its the remaking of our own lives. This anniversary my grief is even more complex because since loosing Mam, my relationship ended, we lost our Dad, I lost my best friend, my job no longer feels like my work and I’m unsure what my work is, life is even more uncertain and I’m in the midst of a personal crisis.

My struggle is with life, not death

Yesterday I was alone with my grief and I didn’t sit well with it. I didn’t really want to be alone, but I was. I didn’t really want to be sober, but I was. With an impressive $3 in the bank until pay day, I couldn’t afford the booze anyway. I couldn’t comfort myself with food because there’s fuck all in the cupboards, nothing comforting anyways. I didn’t have loan of a car because I had already loaned my son’s, so I could get to work and earn the money I need. And I barely had enough energy to lift my head off the pillow, so I wasn’t gonna walk anywhere. So, in all honesty I kinda felt forced to sit with it.

In the morning I sent a message to afew people. But I wonder, who would have reached out to me if I hadn’t sent it ? I wonder, if anyone other than my sisters and Mam’s best mate would have known how hard that day was ? I often wonder who are the people who truly give a shit about how I am ? I wonder because on one of the hardest days of my life, I looked around and I was alone. No one popped in to check on me and no one dropped by to give me a hug, which was upsetting.

It scares me to think about how many people have taken their lives for less. It scares the hell out of me to think about how alone I feel right now. Yet alone I must be because I obviously need to learn how to BE with myself, even when I don’t want to be. At least, I hope that’s the reason why, because I don’t want to believe the voices telling me it’s because I haven’t done enough for others. Because I give as much of myself as I can.

Truth is, I’m once again at the rocky bottom. It doesn’t get any easier to start over in life, but I suppose we do get stronger. I don’t feel strong, but I figure I must have some strength because I’m still here. Having lived through another day I didn’t really want to live through.

I still want to get drunk, but today I don’t want to eat because I have no cravings or appetite. I’m still sitting with the same painful memories, distressing thoughts and uncomfortable emotions.

So, inbetween naps, I write, I process and I feel it ALL because I believe, the only way out is through. Sure, I could go around it, jump over it or avoid it all together, but I choose to live my truth, even when it’s hard to do. Because my parents taught me that life is precious. Worth fighting for even when life is hard to live. So, I keep pushing through my mountain of shit, turning it into the compost that will be nourishing my growth. Knowing that this too shall pass.