Sunday, February 28, 2016
I have been OD-ing on everything that cannot possibly be good for me. Which of course includes work.
There is a sudden shift in the dynamics of my universe, having another satellite joining my orbit. I underestimated how the gravity of another spinning rock can totally shift my own balance. In equal, no - more dramatically, is news of the imminent loss of my north star.
Admittedly I didn't realise how little it would need to take me back to periods of self doubt, longing and despair. And it still astounds me the cruelty people can inflict on each other.
Does truth really set you free? Only if there was an absence of it in the first place.
But one good thing is that with new people coming into my life, I am able to let some go. It was liberating but on the other hand, it only seems like musical chairs. Am I manifesting this drama? Do I need to send another person to therapy? Do I give up and start collecting cat names?
Still, are these experiences and persons, mirrors ? Am I suppose to clear more experiences? I thought I had a grip of all this shit. Especially after Janda Baik. And yet I can see Christie grinning going - "it's not over".
I know. There are always challenges and I need to meditate and go back to at least attempting to live clean. I am a bit miffed that I let myself lose that momentum. But I hope all is not lost.
Saturday, January 02, 2016
Yet change did happen- eventually.
I have been dragged to a good place - kicking and screaming at first.
While my parents have been the bedrock that stops me from free falling, it is The Sibling that is the crank that yanks me up with tough love and not so gentle urging in the realms of "get a fucking grip, you are not dead".
And he started me off on a path of spirituality where I have been passed from hand to hand of spiritual guides, teachers and new friends. Its like the universe sighing, "FINALLY, she listens!".
It all started with Flow in April 2015, and Life was critical in pulling me out of despair. I draw replenishment from meditation and prayer.
That I have spoken to Neil Gaiman at his book signing in NYC, finally listened to Amanda Palmer's Grammy nominated Art of Asking and attended Chris Cornell LIVE at the Sydney Opera House - all within 2 years, is proof that I omg, I must not have totally screwed up my life. It was so fucking amazing. ( I hope I don't get penalised for language)
Then there is that trip to Sydney and Melbourne which enriched the soul. The Ocean seemed to say, welcome back.
The education continues as I cross paths with people and works of art that impart lessons in one way or another. From Davis Wong's brutal 6 harsh truths to Shaun who does not dice his words when it comes to my monogrammed baggage.
So 2016 will be a year of self love, courage and discovery. It will be a year of making things and breaking things (my inhibitions mainly), and the pursuit of happiness to make up for lost time.
From the mouths of babes - YOLO!!!!
Wednesday, November 04, 2015
The universe sent me a message yesterday. I came in the form of a forwarded message containing a youtube link which under normal circumstances, I would ignore. It was like God telling me to be my authentic self. And today, I tried to be. It is liberating if not somewhat foreign. I feel like I have a decision and commitment to make.
Oh authentic self. I guess I am going to get my hair coloured red again. And get that tat I have been thinking about. Somehow or a rather, through the randomness that accompanies idle chatter with Sharon, we begun talking about soul mates.
Once upon a time, I used to believe in soul mates. These days I would put my money on finding a unicorn instead. Advice that was given is to go slow and try finding mates first. Meeting people is hard. especially people I don't want to stab. At this rate being a crazy cat lady is starting to make a lot of sense.
Sometimes it still hurts. For Will to say that tis better to have love and lost, the bard knows nothing of rejection - when the knife enters, piercing flesh and marking bone, and the final twist of the blade which maims the heart, not to kill but cripple it forever. I would have preferred to not have loved at all.
Sunday, October 25, 2015
Sunday, September 27, 2015
And seriously nobody counts ciggy sticks unless they are quitting. Or have quit and trying to just justify the occasional fall from grace.
They say that stopping cigarettes makes you fat. That's for sure. The stress cooking has started. Spent the whole day smoking up the kitchen. Just like in university when I used to cook up a dinner party right before exams. Some kids smoke up, I go all Masterchef.
Ugh. (To be fair, my iced lemon poppy seed cupcakes are mind-blowing).
Its been 3 months since the move. I have been busy potting around, keeping dark thoughts at bay.
Thursday, September 03, 2015
Its September and I have written nothing for 2015. Has the wordsmith been replaced by the analyst? But surely even the analyst would have something dry to say.
I had toyed with the idea of starting a new blog - the phoenix birthed from the ashes so to speak. But that is a cop out. There is no sweeping anything under the carpet. The scorched marks are on the damned carpet.
Trying to hide (from) the past - that is no phoenix. That's a fucking ostrich.
I am back.
Monday, December 08, 2014
Monday, October 06, 2014
I don't know why I have not got myself to a psychiatrist for medication. Its a misguided attempt at maintaining my autonomy (says the dustspeck to the universe). I have hardly gotten over my depression, panic attacks and anxiety attacks. And I cry my eyes out as often as it rains, with equal severity. Is there any surprise that I am treated like a doormat when even I myself don't see the value in paying for my own healing.
Again and again, people disappoint me. This however is my fault because I have chosen to be vulnerable and depend on the wrong people. YES, some are heartless. YES, some are ungrateful. YES, some are assholes. Even absolute strangers.
So I put whats left of the broken pieces of my soul into a cast iron box and toss it into the abyss. Maybe this is how the Miss Havishams of the world are made. When bitterness, cobwebs and the cold fill the space of a long dead heart.
Wednesday, October 01, 2014
I hear my own heartbeat. Its beats on. Loyal and true. Until it too will one day tire and rest.
The silence is thick and nights like this i think about the futility of existence.
I crave touch. Of warmth and familiarity. And it's now the very thing denied to me.
How meaningless is the dreary cycle.
When Robin Williams left us, my first thought was - oh how brave. Then came envy.
Unless you have been clinically depressed, you will never understand how gargantuan a feat it is to be happy. And like an erotic thought, the seductive allures of suicide flits in and around the concious and unconscious mind. Its tendrils lovingly caress and wipe away tears. Easy way out? Not by a longshot. It takes a lot of courage to take the cowardly way out.
Williams didnt want for anything but escape. As a lesser person, I have much to want but within the abyss of our souls, we seek the same death of personal demons, even if it means We lose ourselves in the process.
"Dude, get help". Said one person. I feel less confident.