Published December 21, 2015 by 51percentawesome

/the relentless march of time

when something is lost, no more

one part of you stays, still, in that moment

while the rest is dragged into the future.

each time you cry, you call back to that loss self

and hand over hand pull pieces back into the present

with incrementally smaller returns each time.

some will stay there for always

while you heal over the wound

of what is missing/

 

http://lauragraceweldon.com/2012/06/12/mother-child-are-linked-at-the-cellular-level/

 

 

HSP. Sensitive. Empath.

Published October 10, 2015 by 51percentawesome

While you muddle your way along, I am watching. Quietly observing. Deeply absorbing.

My responses to you are tentative. Gentle. Feathered. I am playful.

Inside I am calibrating. Culmulating.

Time moves on, events unfold. Immediate, but gentle responses. Careful.

Inside I am feeling deeply.

I voice my concerns, low volume. I attempt to guide you, to guide us.¬†Yet frustration is building, in all the places you can’t see.

Conclusions start to come. Calculating. You let me down here, and here, and here. You hurt me here. And here. and here.

I don’t want to play anymore.

crysalisis

Published August 3, 2015 by 51percentawesome

Completion. Like the emptiness after an orgasm.

The heartache of separation bothers me the most because I can no longer express and communicate, perhaps.

426 days. And most of them spent in ambivalence.

‘The biggest mistake I have made is letting people stay in my life longer than they deserved’.

Or maybe, the biggest mistake I have made is closing my heart and pushing away people because it hurt too much.

Being told, you are closing your heart because you think it will protect you, but only if you leave it open will you have wisdom and clarity.

Time comes to a standstill and leaves me gasping for air.

A shared history, a shared understanding, hopes and dreams and secrets, abandoned. To the void, to dust.

Someone said to me today they can see I’m willing to let go, even if I don’t like it. Is that what this is? To me it feels like an unfolding.

Feelings are scary. I need a best friend and a tub of ice-cream.

It’s all well and good to talk of growth, change, evolution as a cicada shedding her shell… but to pull your life apart to rebuild again and again?

This is love, apparently.

yearnings

Published February 4, 2015 by 51percentawesome

Encounters with another soul that leave me aching.

Feeling ‘I will do anything, anything you ask, just tell me what to do’.

Realising with relief, this is not the ache of troubled jerk lust, some rambling toward my own destruction. Nor is it some lack of self-respect, self-control, matyr like sacrifice…

It is surrender to the divine, in a form I can recognise. Not surrender to this sweet, awe-inspiring, untouchable man- but surrender to the yearnings of my own heart. Not to have him, but to be like him. The sacrifice I am willing to make to become who I want to be. The feeling that I can patiently wait my whole life for just one moment with this person who resonates all I wish to embody; this is the feeling of wanting to know myself, to spend a lifetime growing in order to spend just a few precious moments with myself, as the woman I yearn to be.

I want to be free. Free to travel, to speak my mind, to open my heart.

I want to be free to withdraw in solitude by the sea and write.

I want to be brave. Brave enough to speak my truth to the masses, to face my demons, and to walk a lonely and cold path, if necessary.

I want to be strong and fierce; in communion with my body daily, as it grows from self-love, and provides me sure footing and the ability to flip upside down.

I want to fill my own well. I want to be clever enough to succeed in supporting myself. I want to shrug off the cloud of pain, doubt and fear and sit in clarity about who I am. I want to create from the  heart, with hope for the future of humanity.

I want to be independant. I want to find my own way, pay my own bills, not needing to rely on anyone else to house, clothe or feed me, or my dreams.

I want to march to the beat of my own drum without apology; I want to speak beautifully and have that connection uplift, heal and inspire others.

I want connection to the divine, I want it to guide my life, to steer me. I want to be strong and brave enough to give in and let go.

headcold

Published June 5, 2014 by 51percentawesome

Tonight I called my mother and told her I have a headcold, after pushing too hard with a few work all-nighters recently. She replied ‘I think it’s time for you to wean yourself off this obsession’. This is the same women who last year said to me ‘what’s taking so long? It’s just a cookbook’. Her comments underscore and emphasise the increasing disjoint between myself and the people around me, as well as my incredible frustration.

I met a woman who works in publishing a few weeks ago. She held my self-published, full colour book and said in an astounded voice, you did this all yourself? In two years? Woah.

I didn’t realise what I was getting myself into. And once begun, with investment capital and customers waiting, everything else has gone on hold.

Where I find myself in life at the moment- my things in storage at my parents, living between places, neglecting relationships, eating erratically and forgoing rest- all make perfect sense in the context of this article.

Said article recommends that I search for balance and seemingly, as my mother suggested, wean myself off the obsession. But I can’t help but feel that’s like telling a lion to be a dolphin. It may be unhealthy in the short time, but as far as I can tell, what defines and sets apart successful entrepreneurs is a passion, a single minded devotion, that allows them to succeed come hell or high-water. I’d surmise that the life of someone like Albert Einstein wasn’t incredibly balanced- how else would he have achieved what he did? And how would the sane folks around him have perceived him?

More than a healthy dose of perfection.