a work in progress

Category: Stuff About Your Body (Page 1 of 3)

It just is.

You can never tick all the boxes.


Before it’s too late

You lost the love.
You lost the love.
Somewhere between then and now.
You lost the love.

The tendrils upon her face.
The depth in your eyes.

You lost the love.

Now there is just the everyday.
There is no cherish.
I’m searching for the laughter and I can’t find it.

She doesn’t laugh.
Neither do you.

There is care.
There is concern.

But let me not be fooled.
There is no.

No adoration.

Your sign?
The bickering.

Decades from now?
It’ll be rage.
Or maybe it won’t even be decades away.
Just a year or two will do.


Trade it my friend.
Trade the bickering for love.
Before you let it poison her.

So long gone, you can’t identify the woman you were once so deeply in love with.

It’s on you.
Because she’s past halfway there my friend.




It’s our responsibility to ask the questions.

// I always felt I didn’t need to know about the investments, about the money, about the fine lines, about my own health and more. I put this ownice on Vivek. I’m learning now. Everything to do with me and Aru, is my responsibility. And I need to know, I need to be informed. 

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Is depression?

Perhaps not the act that cause you become / be / do. But the after math of all of that. 

The dawning. 


The Trained Introvert

I used to be quiet. I used to cry every day that I had to attend kindergarten, probably for months. My dad sent the driver with a big ruler in the boot to ensure I wasn’t to come back home in the car, but to get out of the car instead. 

I didn’t like parties or functions. 
Then at some point, it dawned on me. 

That perhaps, to be popular. 

You needed to smile and laugh and socialise. 

Perhaps to be loved among your peers and respected, 

You needed to turn on the charm and dial out the right details. 

And so I did. 

I got the popularity. 

I got the 500+ on Facebook. 

I got the “friends”. 
But I stopped being who I innately was. 

I lost all that for this falsehood. 
And truth is. 

I don’t really want the 500. I just want the 5. 

And the truth is. 

I don’t want to pretend anymore. 
I’d rather be me. 

Private. Quiet. 
But happy to be in the sun

With the right person. 
Instead of the 100 wrong ones. 


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Are You Tired? 

There could be 100 reasons why. 
But try turning off the wifi and the data for a day. 

And see if your brain feels better for it. 

For the chance to breathe. 

A chance to 



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Are you listening? 

Your body is telling you things. But are you listening to what it’s saying? 
It’s saying what your soul has been saying from long before. 

But your soul can’t seem to get through to you. 
So it’s using a physical sign you can’t deny exists. 

You can’t suppress it. 

Are you listening? 



The Stylist Experience

I don’t usually write about fashion / looks / trends here. So don’t worry – this isn’t that type of a post 🙂 

This year, one of my goals was to get my wardrobe sorted. I felt like I needed some realignment. Prior to Aru, all I wore was silk. I’m obsessed with silk. But after him, I needed to wear a lot more easy wash cotton and knits. 

But I put off this wardrobe change. In my eyes, it wasn’t important. It was vain. And to pay for vanity. Gosh! I’m a walking oxymoron. Hi 

So finally this clothing line I’m starting gave me the perfect excuse. 

“Get advise for the clothing.” 

Disguised as, “learn more about your own dressing style”. 

A friend of mine put me onto Meagan Harding. 

When I met her at a fashion event, her kind eyes were enough I needed to be able to trust her with all that vulnerability. 

So I booked her in under the thinking that it was more for the business than it was for my vanity. Man, I have serious issues… But I’ll save that for another day. 

One of the earliest questions Meagan asked me was:

How do you want to be perceived / how do you want to feel when you wear clothes. 

I had two responses. 

For business, I wanted people to want to emulate me. I wanted them to be inspired by my swag so much, that they wanted a piece of it. 

For personal, I wanted to be subdued. I didn’t want another woman to envy me. I didn’t want to be perceived as “showing off”. For fear that it might make a friend feel less. 

Whilst she got the first, she didn’t agree with the second. 

And deep down inside, I didn’t either. 

Why do we go playing ourselves down? 

In some way or form? 

Less smarter than we are at work. 

Less savvier than we are in our style. 

Less confident than we are in our relationships. 
When did making others feel better equate to making ourselves less? 


Passing time.

The things we do to pass the time.

I’m learning lately, what I do to pass time.
Actually, what I do to fill time.

Watch Netflix.
Scroll my Instagram feed.
Keep myself busy, I mean, hey, there is linseed waiting to be ground and the towels HAVE to be washed twice a week.

To just sit.
To just be.
I don’t know how to do that.

So instead.
I make up all these things that keep me “busy”.
Find myself exhausted.
And wondering why.

I’ve got nothing left to give.


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To show vulnerability

Is a terrifying feeling.

To give into a friendship, without really having charted the territory prior, is such risky business.

To under perform, or not live up to a husbands belief value set and fear his low opinion of you. His rejection of you.

To go to a party and stare at a wall, because you can’t really make yourself into that conversation. Feels so challenging.

To not show up for your child, to say, I love you, but I’m going to be late today. Or I love you, but I don’t have it in me to get out of bed today. To not be bothered feeding them, because you just can’t bear the drama. Feels so so so bad.

To listen to pop music and then dull it down, reject yourself in a joke, LIKE YOU CAN’T BELIEVE YOU LIKE IT, because you perceive it as uncool.

To tell a friend you care about, that you simply don’t like parties and don’t want to show up to hers. Feels like you are going to hurt them so much, but its either that or it’s lying about your child being sick on the night when she really expected you to show up.

To wear black in the morning, because you don’t want anyone to look at you. You don’t want anyone to notice you, because you feel your fat levels are too much or your skin isn’t radiant enough. If you attract too much attention, they’ll say, why is she trying so hard?

To not be okay with parts of you.

And push them into a corner.

Because your other bits shine better.

Is holding back all of you.

Because your darkness, your curves, your skinny-ness, your pimples, your unwillingness, your inabilities, your bluntness, your crudeness and your lack of perfection.

Your each and every imperfection.

Is what gives you perfect.

Makes you complete.

Owning every vulnerable part of you is so fucking hard.

I kid you not.

I’ve been asking myself for days.

What do I fear?

What am I scared of?

Why am I doing this when I WANT to do that?

Why am I being this when I WANT to be that?

It is so hard.

But owning it.

Is the best place to start.



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