Another whirl. Again

I have a new MacBook Pro. It makes typing so much more sexy. I feel like a undercover agent every time to open it up and log in. This, combined with an added interest from friends wanting to here more ramblings, I've decided to write more. Not very anonymous anymore. Haha, but I've decided I will continue to write as though I kinda am. Maybe I can trick myself into being a little honest about things that way. Indulge me. : )

Life has been interesting over the last year. By interesting I mean fucken hard. I am working through the heartaches of my life with fresh vision. Trying to strip away the "illusion" to get to "the reality." I am in the process of finding a therapist to do this with. Recently I was assessed by a psychiatrist who thankfully concluded that the problems I face are not mental but rather emotional. No anti-depressents or other meds needed but recommended a "Schema focussed or DBT orientated psychological programme" in a letter he sent to my GP. Here's a link I just found for a brief definition: http://www.schematherapy.com/id30.htm

So, you are welcome to follow me in this journey if you want. I will try to be honest without being depressing. : ) Actually, I am not depressed anyway. The main emotions I struggle with these days are anger and fear. But there is "a way" and I'm going to walk it.

I won't just blog about this aspect of my life. I have so much joy and laughter which will hopefully also peep through the chaos. xx

I opened a box toady and found a whole lot of old letters, poems, school books and the like. In one, there was a page of comments that my class mates had written about me after we had been at camp. We were 14 years old. My teacher at the time had also written his thoughts on me,
"Bubbly blonde - scared of cuddles though! Fun + cheerful - Excellent sense of humour - Keen + playful." WTF?? "Keen and playful"??? ....All the more reason to be a cold, harsh bitch.

Thinking back

I have to write an essay. About how Maltese Pagans compare to Pagans globally. It's a compulsory subject that I have been given. I don't often think about Pagans to be honest. Such a small minority and hardly visible within my culture. But this assignment did get me thinking back to a time when I did actually used to know a few Pagans personally.

They were an interesting group of women. (And one brother.) Not all lesbians but perhaps bisexual at least. My best friend at the time introduced me to this lovely, ragtag bunch of outcasts. She was their "alpha female". (if there is such a thing.) I was the "odd" one in this bunch because I was straight and even more oddly a Christian. Despite this they accepted me (somewhat cautiously) into their "family". I never did involve myself in their rituals or even inquire what their beliefs were. (Youthful foolishness and fear of the unknown.) But we'd go out (mainly to the gay bars) and we'd share our laughter and terrible dancing. And in the quiet of long road trips and lying under the stars, we'd find peace and comfort in a shared humanity.

I wonder why life can't be this easy sometimes? Love and Grace walk hand in hand.

Religion

It's become very evident to me that for most, religion is like a wooden leg. It helps them to stumble through life but in essence, it has no life blood running through it at all. No flexibility, no warmth, limited strength, it's just an inanimate object that can be removed and then strapped back on when the need arises.

I want no part of this. Culture is no excuse for a belief in a false god. It is said that "by their fruit you shall know them." But perception and "reality" are subjective. What might look like apples may infact be pears......Just a thought for the day.

Saying it with flowers again

My lovely 6 year old son knows how to brighten my day. Just like he often does, he came in from outside with his hand behind his back. "Mummy, I have something for you and Daddy to share." Thinking I knew what to expect, I turned away from the computer and smiled, ready to receive the usual small, crumpled daisy snatched from our overgrown lawns.

Instead he whipped out these! (mercilessly torn from our flowering bush at the back, but it's the thought that counts.)

It's week 2 of the school holidays. It's a wet school holidays. The boys have cabin fever. I have cabin fever. Tomorrow, more rain is due. My 7 year old's friend is due too. What to do, what to do?....Seriously, what to do? I've no creative energy left. Actually, no energy left. I digress....

I been thinking about my love of birds. Not just their precious nature or beauty, but also how their birdsong can soothe my soul. It's a simple remedy but hard to acquire in times of chaos and incessant rain. I've taken to listening to them online. Desperate measures for desperate times. Let me see if I can link them here:

http://www.kiwi-wildlife.co.nz/Sounds/kokako.mp3

http://www.kiwi-wildlife.co.nz/Sounds/morepork.mp3

http://www.kiwi-wildlife.co.nz/Sounds/bellbird.mp3

Just a few small sounds. I'm gonna look for a CD of them. The Morepork will help me sleep at night...........I feel a little better already.

Hair care

Here's a question: Do you think the way you look on the outside is a true reflection of your personality on the inside? Does the shape of your body, your hairstyle/colour, the way you dress really communicate to others who you really are? For me the answer's no and from what I can remember, it's always been no. I was "blessed" with white blond hair. Starting from my early childhood this got me A LOT of unwanted attention from everyone. Pats on the head and the like from the elderly and well meaning complementors, through to the vulgar advances from foolish boys and jealous taunts from bitchy girls. Mostly, I just felt like a freak. My mother would laugh that she could spot me easily when picking me up from school. I was the glowing light bobbing amongst the mainly dark faces.

There is so much to say on this subject it overwhelms me. Just thinking of what to write here stirs up the waters. Since my teen years I have shaved my hair off, dyed it bright red, orange and other variations, made it stripey like raspberry ripple ice-cream, cut it all off again, made it spike out, grown it back, had dramatic fringes, had blond dreadlocks, dyed my dreadlocks red, cut them off, short hair again, dyed patches black....The list goes on...

Often, I have felt like a redhead trapped in a blonde's body.

This has lead to self sabotage.

I am now on the journey to (re)empowering the real ME.

Blogging this shit maybe part of it.

Always say it with flowers

My son had this behind his back for me...

"She's NOT a lady..."

My 5 year son old pulled a "mental health" day from school last Thurs. He told me he had a sore tummy just as we were about to leave for school...Perfect timing as I was already behind time, anxious that my 7 year old son would miss the bus to his swimming class. "Really?" I asked. Rumours of tummy bugs had been circling. "Mmhmm", he nodded.
"Truly?", knowing he had me, I caved and told him he could stay home...Within 10 mins of returning from the drop off he was miraculously better.

I took him with me to the supermarket. He rode standing, on the front of the trolley, facing me so we could joke and chat as we went around the aisles. The usual weekday shoppers were there...Mum's with toddlers and the elderly. As we slowly negotiated our way past the toothbrushes we had to momentarily pause to wait for a little girl to step back out of our way. "Watch out for the lady." Her grandmother beckoned. As we turned the corner into the next aisle my son cracked up, "She just called you a lady." He was incredulous. He went on, "I was just about to tell her, 'She's NOT a lady!'"
"You don't think I'm a lady?" For one fanciful moment I thought my 5 year old son was about to engage me in modern feminist dialogue. Thinking he was coming to my defence I asked him, "Well if you don't think I'm a lady, what or who do you think I am?"
He looked at me as if that was a crazy question, "You are a MOTHER."

Least I forget.