womanhood

a work in progress

Category: Family (Page 2 of 23)

Running

I’ve been observing myself over the last year.
Trying to find a balance of self care and work.

When I ran a design agency, I never really cared enough about my health.
I was trying, but perhaps, also running.
Running to keep it going.
To get somewhere.

And I realise now.
I’ve done the same thing since having launched Kholo.

Running.
From the fear of not succeeding.

And now, I’m on an island.
Taking a break.
Away from my son.
Away from the every-day-grind.

Finally pausing.

And I can see what I’ve done to my body.
All over again.

With the running.

Aru got agitated. And maybe it was unrelated to my running.
But maybe it was related.

So I think this time around.
I’m going to take it slow.
More trust.
Less fear.

More time for meditation and walks and maybe some hip-hop.
More time to cook a meal.

And less panic time for Kholo.

X
K

Dearest Aru (Early November, 2017),

I’ve been away from you for two weeks now and it has been painful. Every time I hear your cherry voice, I’m surprised that your tone isn’t angry at me for being away. It’s simply happy to hear me.

I want to find a way to bring you with me. To be together more, apart less.
But your daddy and I are particular about whom we choose to care for you.

I love you Aru. I love you deeply.

So I’m coming home with elephants and tigers and a heart full of you.

X
K

In our darkest hours

We have nothing to give.
Burnt.
Crisp.
Hurting and hurt.

We just need each other to take from.
But what is there to take, when you are so empty.
So so empty.

And so we try.
To fill the cup again.

Slowly.
Surely.
Hopefully.

Through the darkness of the night.

Solace

There you were
Seeking all the right words
From all the wrong people

There is no solace.
In anyone.
Outside of you.

It is.
In you.

Grief.
And only for you to.
Heal.

Don’t Know

I don’t know where to from here.
But I do know.
I need to slow it down.
Way down.

I need to make time for my loves.
Make time for me.
Precious me.

X
K

My boys

Line up.
Line em up.

Girls all with their pretty peacock feathers.
How pretty can I look?
More than this?
Can I obliterate every fucking imperfection from myself?

So I’m good enough?

Bags under eyes.
Curves at hips.
Restless hair.
Thunder thighs that roar.

And not just that.

No seriously.
Not just that.

How can I ADEQUATELY meet your needs?
Want me to wear heels?
Don’t like my earrings?
Should I change?
For you?

Am I good enough.

We ask ourselves again and again and again.

In everything we do.

With every strand of hair kept in place.
Every diamond earring that says, “I’m So Appropriate For This”.
Every fake smile.
Every chunni pinned to perfection and every tummy sucked in with Spanx so we can breathe a little less and feel like the boys will love us now that they can’t see our tummies.

We think that is what it takes.
To meet the quota.

A room full of girls.
Who never made daddy proud.
Who never made mummy proud.
Who never made the bloody aunties proud.
Enough.

When are we going to change this?
When are you going to wake up?

This one is on us.

Wear what you want.

Walk how you want.

Love who you are.

And bloody hell, have that tequila if you want.

Be a bad girl.

Be a good girl.

Be a naughty girl.

Be a sassy one.

Be the one that makes too much money.

Or be the one who spends a lot of money.

Who cares.

Just be you sweetheart.

Just be you.

 

Xx

K

Cold

I caught up with a friend recently.
We are talking over lunch and coffees.

She was telling me about decades of love.
She told me of stretching out her arms.
Of seeking love from her man.
Of seeking touch in the night.

And she told me of the response.
Negative.
Nada.
Nill.

“It was like a slap in the face, Kish,” she told me.

Tears welled in my eyes.
And I realised.

I come from a community which shuns physical touch between men and women in public and maybe even doesn’t relish it in private either.
I’m extremely private, I don’t even feel comfortable holding hands with V in a street where no one knows us.
I’m wary of physical touch, especially if I’m stressed.
I don’t reach forward and hold his hand.
I don’t lean on him the way he does me.

I can’t explain it.

And when she said that.

I thought of Aru’s childhood.
How I lift him, cuddle him, love him, adore him.
I snuggle into him.
I can do this anywhere.
Nose to nose.
Cheek to cheek.
He knows.
It in his bones.
That his Maa adores him.
I tickle his toes and plant kisses on his forehead.
I rub his tummy.
I sneak under his t-shirt to rub his back.
I am a physical mum.
I get the most satisfaction from his touch.

And I realise.
Vivek probably had that kind of love from his mum.
This regardless abandon of physical love.
Skin to skin.

Touch.

And here I was.
Loving him.
Yet rejecting him.

And I cry now.

Because I’m trying.
But I will never make up for the million times I might have rejected him.
Made him feel unloved.

Because my finger tips failed him.
My cheeks failed his love.
My arms failed his warmth.
My language didn’t recognise his.

And I try now.
More than ever.

To undo a stigma of touch.
To undo lessons learnt.

To love.
With reckless abandon.

As a child, innocent to norms, rules and expectations.

X
K

Checked Out

I need you less.
Want you less.
With every step that I take further away from you.

With every check in, every boarding pass.
Every time I move an hour forward in time.
You are less to me.

As if a figment of time.
That perhaps never really happened.
Perhaps all those things I never really said.

So.
For now.
Home is where my boys are.

X
K

It just is.

You can never tick all the boxes.

Going around in circles

Life seems to me.

To be cyclical.

Learn what you need to learn, or it’ll go full circle, only to push you back to learn what you resisted the last time around.

So when you complain about something.

Ask yourself,

Have I complained about this before?

Make complaining twice a sin.

Make making change the solution.

X

K

Page 2 of 23

Powered by Life, Love and Everything In between.

Subscribe

Oh hi, please subscribe if you'd like posts to come auto-magically to your inbox.

I promise, no spam. xx K

Yay! Cannot wait to share more with you. xx K