It’s no secret that I can be slightly melo- dramatic, especially when it comes to the feels, or a topic I am ‘passionate’ about. I was born giving alotta fucks, and luckily, when I started uni six years ago, I found my people- with whom I continue to give ALOT of fucks about ALOT of things, ALOT of the time.
One of those care- givers is a mate who I share a rather hilarious vibe with- one that doesn’t really require much fertilising or watering at all. We can go months without a message or call- but when her name lights up the old apple, I know I’m about to be taken on a philosophical trip.
There was one particular evening where I initiated a melancholy moment back in the winter however, when our film majors, experiences and fears all kinda collided at once.
I’m not a major film cryer. I feel what I gotsta feel, and always reflect where it’s due. However 20 weeks ago (according to insta) I viewed something that hasn’t really left my conscience. So much so, that I cannot bring myself to watch again and nor can my mate.
On a miserable winters day I watched the Amy film.
In summary, Amy Winehouse was broken. Firstly by her dad (who abandoned her and her mother), then her own sabotaging behaviour that manifested out of a fight for control and approval. And finally by the media– who gave her attention that she was NOT interesting in whatsoever.
This is where my second area of study flows in- which has only heightened my realisation that broken is everywhere.
Broken has always existed and it serves a purpose– we need the dark to balance light and we need to break to transform, free, fight etc.
Broken is in songs, movies, books, voices, eyes, body language, yoga mats and wine glasses. It keeps the economoy alive as well as pubs and brothels.
More scarily- It’s in my generation- in the drug epidemic, in masked selfies and naked wardrobes.
This is where it becomes a chicken or egg debate- if we didn’t have platforms to express our shit, would it be there to begin with? are we triggering each others insecurities or making something that wasn’t as bad, amplified? I think it’s a bit of both.
What I do know is that our childhoods really do shape us. That our emotional self is always gonna be our inner child, who we spend our adult years expressing, saving or sabotaging in some way.
—#HEAVY I know!
But life is heavy… and light too, it comes down to what we do to balance it all out, how we use our stories and experiences as motivation.. to let go and to love ourselves, and therefore each other.
For Amy, even though she could recognise her #daddyissues, she forever fought for his approval and love, her daddy’s little girl tatt sums up the struggle. We all internalise and respond differently and there is no right or wrong way of doing so.
We can’t judge each other for our resistance or residence, and we can’t save or fix each other either.
I think this may be why the film hit my friend and I so much- the fact that no one could save Amy, including herself.
This kind of realisation is not an easy one to fathom, because we have seen loved ones spiral in the same way.
This however is the reality of life– it isn’t always fair and it can be horrible- shit does happen, all the time. All we can do is choose where we put our energy, focus and what we want to manifest.
Having an understanding of the fact that hurt people hurt others, and that our actions are a product of our life script (written by a combo of influences from day one), helps in acceptance too.
All we can control is our perception, which we can change at any time. Our actions are either determined by love or fear, and it takes courage to choose love.
This post kinda sums up the lesson I have gained this year. 2015 has been about letting go of shit that no longer serves me, whilst acknowledging it’s role in my journey. Letting go isn’t easy but it is so necessary. I only hope that erry one can do so in their own way and time, so that we can embrace the beauty of life.
MERRY XMAS & Happy Sunday!
“Because I do care. I’m not chill. I don’t want to “just see”. I don’t want to “hang out”. I don’t want maybe. I don’t want to “just be sleeping together”. None of that. I want balls-deep, head-over-heels, can’t-live-without-each-other love with my best friend and confidante…”
I suppose what I’m learning is that there’s no graduation ceremony for life. I’d sort of hoped that there was.
I had sex with a man twenty years my senior, is how this story starts. Ends.
It happened somewhere in the middle.
Days before, I’d said to a new friend – an incredibly charming Austrian – “No. I’m done dicking around. I’m looking for my husband. I’m serious about love.” And that felt like a brave thing to declare, because this guy, the Austrian, he was saying how girls just need to relax. Stop putting pressure on themselves. Enjoy sex without expectation, like “men” do. So it felt like a bold thing to do, to show my cards to the table that way, because it’s emphatically not #chill. And you know what? For a really fucking long time I played the Chill Girl card. I’m mortified to admit that…
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there is strength in emotional vulnerability!
1. They do not accept anybody else’s ideas of the ways in which they need to remain small.
If I had to pick one word to define the cultural narrative of “what women should be,” I’d pick “small.”
In stature, in opinion, in voice. The ideal is to be thin and unwaveringly kind and open, meaning to be so malleable they can fit into whatever space someone desires. It takes guts to be loud and strong and big and wide and certain of the validity of all those things. It won’t come without ridicule. It won’t be met with raised fists of solidarity — not initially, at least. But strong women get that way because they choose to resist the comfortable, passive current along which most of us silently drift. They don’t accept meagreness as an ideal. They don’t let themselves be made small and silent by those unwilling to take…
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After spending extensive time with man haters lately I felt this was fitting!!
I was not born politically correct. As hard as my parents, friends parents and teachers tried, I failed to accept the status quo, instead asking a shit-load of WHY questions (and swearing a lot). Rules are not my friend, nor are institutions or religions that demand we act and think in a particular way (particularly when used to justify disgusting behaviour).
Because we don’t really know how we will respond to a situation until we experience it first hand, I like to let the present moment determine what the hell I do.
I am quite a conflicted cookie in my views, and while I aspire to be a special petal whose views are NEVER racist, sexist or discriminatory, selfish or materialistic, I am a sinful sista who isn’t necessarily seeking forgiveness. Being a perfect person can be hard, defining ‘perfect’ is even harder.
On my days off spent down-ward dogging &…
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