TRUST, on your terms.
I’ve always wondered why people are so quick to blame others for a bump in the road. Misbehaviour some even might say.
In my eyes, if someone has mistreated you, disrespected you, whatever the situation may be… With the knowing that all I can control is my own actions, my first response is to look myself in the mirror and ask what boundary I might have miscommunicated, or potentially did not communicate at all.
I understand people can do some shit things in the realm of love, sex and all that sit in-between, yet blaming others and saying “fuck you, I’m innocent in all this” unfortunately won’t achieve anything.
They hurt you, okay. Move on. That’s pretty much it? If someone you love has hurt you, bank that knowledge, then apply it to the boundaries you put in place moving forward. It’s really that simple…
You can’t go back in time, you can’t block them out of your life (well you can but they’ll always be in your life as a lesson so what does blocking them achieve?), you can only look at yourself and ask what could ‘I’ have done better to potentially avoid this situation reoccurring in my future.
I’ve always said to my girlfriends,
‘wrapping someone up in bubble wrap and tying a ribbon on the top unfortunately doesn’t achieve anything’.
No matter how ‘perfect’ you may be, how long you’ve been together, married or unmarried…
The thought that another being is your territory is not only disrespectful and immature, it’s actually the polar opposite of trust, as holding trust IS respect, which equals unconditional love.
Consider this approach…
I trust the people I love to make the right decisions for them, for their own personal growth.
I choose that. I extend that trust to them.
If they break that arm I’ve extended out, that’s on them.
I choose to extend it accepting the unknown of how it’s received, the same way they choose whether to respect that I’ve extended it, or not…
The choice is their’s, as much as it is my own.
Trust in a relationship is crucial. You cannot move forward without it. So find where your line is and make sure you draw it in the sand for those around you.
The rest is up to them.
All you can control is yourself.
Your actions, your mentality, your values and your limits.
Learn them, then apply them… What people choose to do with them is completely out of your control.
And that’s why essentially, trust starts and ends with ourself. We have to learn what it means to us, define it on our own and know ourselves well enough to apply it to all the relationships we develop throughout our time on this planet.
Try it. Try holding yourself accountable for once.
Aussies, in Byron Bay.
Hard shells, gooey insides.
Yep, these Aussies are hard to crack. You need to be in the right place at the right time with the correct tool kit to crack these bad boys open. It’s like a game of chess, one minute you’re winning and the next you’re knocked back again, it’s extremely fun and challenging all at once.
Now look, I’m not going to chuck every Aussie into a bag and call it a ‘stereo-type’, trust me, I want to believe they’re all different yet as a general consensus, they ain’t gonna chuck you a life-line without you giving them a fucking damn good reason! Hey fair enough I’m not judging, but I will admit that I’m having to adapt, expand and even shape-shift to make genuine connections in the Kangaroo hood.
My Queen is out in the battlefield fighting off the tits and tats as my pawns learn how to create barriers of my own that I’ve never had to build before, just incase I cross a boundary I didn’t know about. Good to build my own wall of pawns protecting me from throwing it all out there like a desperate fisherman.
It’s as though they breathe in ‘cool’ and literally breathe back out the definition of it for the rest of us…
They don’t seem to make many mistakes, nor do they hold much lack of confidence or self-doubt. They’re all fucking tan with washboard abs and lifted asses and yes both male and female fit into this category. I can’t yet figure out whether it’s an unattractive or inspiring trait of their’s, yet regardless it has me going on runs and keeping my tan in check even though I’m quarter Spanish and that doesn’t seem to be an issue for me (phew, one get out jail free card)!
I’m loving the challenge though, slowly (very fucking slowly) adapting to their impeccable coolness, cliquey groups and learning ‘Aussie chiller’ as my second language. “How to be cool without seeming as though you’re trying to be cool”, I mean, it’s a great skill to learn to say the least!
Jesus I feel like I’m back in school trying to desperately get in with popular group, how incredibly HUMBLING.
Kiwi’s just don’t seem to keep up with the status quo and even if we do, it’s a more unique attempt (delicate choice of words) with it’s own kiwi spin on it. Possibly due to our conservative behaviour or simply our isolation from the rest of the world, who know’s but it’s more present to me now more than ever. Not a bad thing, just different.
Fingers crossed I can eventually crack the code using my kiwi charm and I’ll be off slinging brews and drinking coconut cold brew with the locals in no time ;) Good thing I’m an extrovert otherwise my King would be dead before the pawns even got out on that chess board!
I’ll either get chewed up and spat out, or I might be lucky enough to stick around awhile…
I’ll keep you posted team. On and up baby!
SEX
It’s physical,
it’s taboo, yet it’s human nature…
So why does it fuck everything up so much?
Sex has never been a taboo topic in my life. In fact, my mother raised me in an environment that was extremely open minded when it came to any taboo topic… Sex, drugs, money, love, rock n roll and pretty much anything that was ‘off limits’ was ON RECORD with my mother. This meant I was exposed to a lot, yet it was my norm and I never saw that as a bad thing, regardless of the many adults frowning down on my mothers parenting techniques. She always said “Tess they don’t like to talk about it because they’re scared, do you want to be scared of these things? Because you can’t be, they’re crucial stages of your individual development.” Also necessary to add the fact that I’m the youngest of 5 kids, 2 brothers, 2 sisters and all older. This equalled in me happily watching all their fuck up’s and making sure I noted what not to do and what to do. Lucky me!
Now looking back I laugh at my mothers sayings, yet she was in fact correct! Having SEX (let’s put it in caps for emphasis) be a completely normal thing made it a lot easier for me to navigate my way through these experiences and develop myself in that area of my authenticity. I will forever feel completely comfortable talking about sex, as if it’s another limb on my body that does what it wants, when it wants because to put it simply, I’m jam packed WITH HORMONES and they RAGE! They absolutely beg for dopamine and hey, that’s NORMAL!
There happens to be a multitude of segue’s I could take this conversation. One of them being, why are men known to have high sex drives yet woman be the more submissive within a sexual opportunity? No wonder woman always feel so under valued! From my perspective, we allow ourselves to be taken for granted by the simple act of accepting the male stereo type. Excuse me in advance, but NO. I choose what I want, when I want it and how I get it, I define that, not anyone else.
Where there is a problem, is the stereo types and expectations built by the porn industry, creating false illusions around the act of sex itself. Now I don’t personally have a vendetta against the porn industry, in fact I watch porn rather frequently and thoroughly enjoy myself every time! It’s so unrealistic and far fetched that I can tap out mentally, get myself off and have a lovely indulgent time regardless of my current state of play. Yet I’ll admit, sometimes I get a tad too distracted by my mind wondering if the woman are actually enjoying it or not. I’ve concluded that more often than not it’s got to be a no, like… how? There’s simply too much going on sometimes! RIGHT??!!?! I mean I’m a kinky lass but hell, some next fucking level shit exists on there.
I digress.
So why is sex so taboo? If it’s something incredibly primal and freeing, one of our many natural ways to build dopamine, why is it so offensive? Here is a list of potential candidates…
Many people have never experienced a healthy relationship with sex. It’s more often than not seen as an obligation, cage, favour or simple pleasure.
Insecurity followed by the burning need for validation
Because it was never talked about, people had to learn what it looked like on their own, in the dark, allowing other people and some maybe not so good people, teach them the rights and wrongs of a sexual relationship. Maybe those relationships were abusive, maybe they got taken for granted, maybe they hadn’t defined their own sexual boundaries and walked away feeling used… There is a disgusting amount of variables here, which makes me so incredibly sad. Why?
Sex should be about you and a lover, expressing, giving and evolving your connection. Even if you’re not in a relationship, you should be having sex with people you trust, people you want to explore your sexual being with, people who stimulate you and allow you the space to push your vulnerability as you let them physically inside of you, and or you let them take you.
It’s a shared experience, an incredible gift! And no, this doesn’t mean you have to be ‘in love’ in order to have sex, not in the slightest… but you do have to care enough to have a relationship with this person for the rest of your life. WILD, I know! I can imagine everyones faces right now thinking of all the disgusting memories from their one night stands, yea I know I’ve been there. We’ve all been there! Yet that memory will forever live on, so it’s important you feel safe and in control.
Speaking from my own experiences, I’ve learnt a few things and unfortunately it’s slightly difficult to put on the page, so give me time here, give me the chance to find the words, because let me tell you… Most are dumb, others have taught me a lesson about inner feelings that are EXTREMELY difficult to articulate.
I’ve managed to end up in some rather fascinating (delicate choice of words for a reason) scenarios throughout my time of sexual exploration. Once, I found myself lying on my back against a rug more expensive than my car, bra wrapped around my waist exposing my breasts, lace underwear still attached to only one foot and a beautiful man between my legs. As he ate me out I would stretch my head back in satisfaction and watch fire dance in the fireplace behind me. Covered in sweat, I’d tug on the collar of his top as he made me orgasm. The experience was simply spectacular, until he looked up at me with a cheeky grin and I was reminded that I was just another girl lying on her sugar daddy’s rug and entertaining him so I could walk home with an extra dollar in my pocket. As my morals hit me in the face ‘like a brick being hurled at me from a distance’ and the cocaine we’d had earlier had worn off, I pulled myself away and reached for my clothes. This was followed by a very horny and now aggressive man tugging at my body as he forced me into the corner of his bedroom. Don’t worry, I managed to get out in time but it wasn’t pretty. Honestly, my fault for putting myself in a situation I never realised I couldn’t follow through with! I understand some people would disagree with that sentence, yet if you’re willingly putting yourself in a situation with someone you don’t trust, that’s on you.
As I got into the uber that night, I was amazed at how dirty I felt considering I was in one of richest homes on the strip, wearing over $2000.00 on my body, drinking $800 champagne whilst doing the cleanest drugs I’d touched in a long time. I left that experience thankfully unharmed physically, yet very disturbed mentally. How far would I go for money? Or was it attention I was after? I’ll still never really know. Yet what I did manage to learn about myself, is no amount of money nor pent up hormones can make me end up in that situation again, regardless of how many times I bashed my head up against the wall considering it. Money and sex as a conjoint can make you do weird things…
Another time I managed to go from a singular glass of wine to finding myself diving into a strangers pool in my birthday suit. Best friend in tow and drunk to the point of zero fucks given, we decided to strip down the gentleman who’d politely paid for all our drinks that evening and push him into the pool so he could join our shenanigans. Many dives progressively turning into bombs we became slightly chilly, forcing us to step into the spa next to the pool. Both on each side of this gentleman, it didn’t take long before the heat rose and we were neck deep in raging hormones. I tugged at my best friends neck whilst pulling her in for a lip bite, she reached her hand down my backside and slid her fingers between my clit and my anus. After returning the favour, we both got cozy as this gentleman took turns sucking on our nipples and caressing our breasts. Before things could be taken any further, the homeowners came raging out (perfect timing in retrospect) and next minute we were two drowned rats frolicking topless down the main road of Milford. After waking up with headaches the size of China, we both stared at the ceiling whilst pulling up my duvet over our faces and giggling to the disgrace of our actions. This time blaming the combination of alcohol and sex…
Oh and did I need mention that the men in both these instances were married? Yea, I wish I was lying… It seems to be an unfortunate trait of mine which I certainly don’t wave around like another notch on my belt. In some very disturbed part of my brain, I’ve managed to convince myself that my own actions were only endorsed by the ones around me. Basically me attempting to pull a get out of jail free card because I was only endorsed by them approaching me in the first place? Such bullshit… At least I can count the married men on one hand, right? That’s a positive?! (Imagine me doing the ‘I’m sucking on a sour lemon’ face). As I said, I’m no saint. It also doesn’t help that I don’t believe in marriage and have learnt most married couples are incredibly unhappy. Yet I won’t use that as an excuse for my disturbed morals in that realm of sexual fantasy.
It’s far too easy for me to continue with these stories. I have everything from cheating on my boyfriend to sleep with one of the hottest girls I’ve ever seen in Zicatala, using the excuse that it’s not cheating if it’s a girl (I was 18, don’t blame me). To sleeping with my boss (long long time ago, don’t get ideas), nearly having a foursome with swingers and even a guy saying “I have to warn you, it’s really fucking big” followed by me obviously saying “pfft don’t even”… Let’s just say I was in pain for the 3 day’s following and so the list goes on. One thing I can admit though, which is the main conclusion in all this nonsense is that true love really does beat it all.
When I met the love of my life 6 years ago, my sexual exploration has never been the same. I’ve still done a fuck ton of dumb shit, but it was often as a reaction to his actions in times of independence. Sex with him is different, it’s not only the hottest fucking thing on the planet but it’s the intertwining of two people physically communicating the compounding love they have for one another. It’s completely incomparable and trust me we have tried very hard to compare it!!! Nothing wins. As cliche it may be, unconditional love has a power like no other.
Yet to us, sex is still not taboo, off the record or a competition. Our sexual relationship is built off of the foundations we’ve spent the last 6 years building. This allows our relationship to become compartmentalised from other sexual experiences. The freedom to roam as we please and continue to discover our own individual sexuality, allowing love for others to still stand strong, yet never in the way of nor decreasing the value of our own love. In my mind, being ‘IN LOVE’ with someone is very different to simply loving someone. For example, I still love my exes with all my heart, they’re incredible men who had a great impact on me, yet I continue to be in love with my current partner whilst simultaneously still loving my exes. Same goes for anyone I meet as I walk my own individual path… I might discover a love for someone else, yet it’s never an attachment (very important word) and it’s still compartmentalised in my brain from my partner and our built and trialled foundation, our forever growing love and capacity to do life together. No one can take that away from us and if they do then there’s an enlightening discovery we clearly needed to make anyway. The discovery that maybe our partnership is not invincible and there is in fact someone else better for us, and what a great discovery to make as we would’ve dodged a bullet!
Sex does not equal ownership. Sex does not have to exist in the same sentence as attachment. Sex is simply an animalistic expression and experience. It does not have to be as taboo or complicated, territorial or controversial as we allow it to be. As animals it’s our prerogative to pro-create. Love sits in another box. Partnership and being ‘in love’ has yet another box. They’re all within their own boxes, compartmentalised from one another, co-existing within my body and brain. They do not compete, they do not jump ship. Each box has it’s own rules, guidelines and purpose to my individual growth.
All those crazy stories I told you before, they sit in one part of my brain, still important yet potentially in the more dumb memory box. They experiences I’ve built with my partner are in it’s own box with his name written on it, that’s completely impenetrable because I’ve designed it that way. Does this make sense? As I mentioned earlier, “It is 100% an inner feeling that is EXTREMELY difficult to articulate” and the only word s that come close are:
Respect. Trust. Self Reliance.
I continue to discuss these controversial topics in my forever progressing book, which I hope will one day be published and available for the world to read and rumble over my seemingly ‘crazy’ concepts of sex, love and all the things in-between. Until then, maybe this gives you something to ponder over.
ESKETIT? (Aka, let’s get it!)
Tomorrow (Past tense, this was drafted a month ago eep!) I’m jet setting away from the humble abode in beautiful Golden Bay. I won’t be home for a minimum of 12 months, likely longer. More excited than nervous, with a half empty suitcase and what feels like far too little considering I’m gone so long. Yet every eager traveller knows that you pack the same amount for a two week trip as you do a 12 month one, pro tip.
That’s one of the epic things about travelling, you realise how little you need to survive. Whenever I come back from a trip like this I often find that I do a big cull out, it’s great for the introduction of your new-found self in a now outdated surrounding. Although in saying that, I haven’t left the nest for this duration in one hit for a long time… Not since I was 19 to be exact. I blame the ownership of my business, tying me down in my early 20’s to a rather gigantic responsibility. No regrets, as I learnt a lot about myself throughout that time and now I feel comfortable within myself to simply sit alone in a noisy space and watch the world go by. In fact, I already do it here at home. One of my favourite pass times is simply sitting at Cave, sipping on a deep red and people watching, writing, reading… I'm very comfortable alone, to say the least.
I don’t really have an itinerary, just some places I’d like to roam and people I can’t wait to squeeze. That’s my favourite way to travel, simply see where the wind blows me. If I like a certain place, I stay a little longer, if I hate a place, I leave. I’ve never enjoyed being a ‘tourist’. I have very little interest in ticking off the Instagram worthy list of things to see and places to eat. I enjoy embedding myself into a community, meeting locals and going to the places you’d never know about if you only passed through for a day or two. Being a coffee nerd makes it mandatory to spy on every local brew in every corner of everywhere I land. These coffee shops are often where I find sparks of inspiration to continue writing my forever expanding first book (a never ending and daunting quest). But seriously… how could I ever be bored?!
Nowhere I have to be. No responsibilities.
No obligations to anyone or anything.
Travelling alone is such a blessing in that way and let’s just say… I cannot fucking wait and I can happily say with zero guilt that I deserve this trip right now. In fact I’ve been waiting a solid 2+ years for this moment, wild. My life will likely get more serious in the future years. Nearing closer to my 30’s is the season I see children, a serious mum and dad era (lol, is what it is, always wanted kids eventually) and never-ending renovations on the new humble abode. Yet for now, I’m more than happy to have the home rented and forget about those future responsibilities.
This is a very finite window I have to go be a bit reckless, break hearts, smoke darts and create more stories. A window to determine whether my current home is in fact the place I want to be, or maybe I find somewhere else that calls to me. Maybe I discover a new career path or opportunity that pulls me away from where I thought I wanted to be. It’s an exciting conjunction and I’m so totally here for it! Don’t get me wrong, I love my home and my potential future, yet I also love a little challenge to test the water and be 100% sure before diving deeper. Not everyones cup of tea, but hey this is just me!
Anywho, adios GB! See you on the flip side!
IDK, DO YOU?
I’ve been pondering a little too excessively over the concept of ‘being a boss’. It’s a weird one, I think.
I see myself orchestrating other peoples life, by default I build the construct of my employees realities. It’s a very odd phenonium and one I constantly feel under qualified to do. Yet here I am, having done it for the last six plus years.
I don’t really have anything more to say on the matter other than, well, how odd…
A QUARTER-LIFE CRISIS, MAYBE?
When I lived in Mexico I vividly remember this one time I was so fucking high that my body was numb, right down to the tips of my fingers and toes and it was only 11am. So I found myself staring at the ceiling fan for a solid four-plus hours without even flinching. After awhile I decided to draw a smiley face onto a lined piece of paper from my journal and cellotape it to one of the fan arms for entertainment. It worked. I laid there giggling like a little girl as the smiley face spun round and round and slowly changed it’s expression due to the aggressive movement of the fan. At that moment I remember thinking to myself that I’m experiencing a memory that will push through any future ambiguity.
So here we are. Shit hit the fan and I’m just admiring that fucking smiley face spinning round and round over and over, and throughout this experience I’m numb. Is that a positive thing? I’m unsure, yet I do know that it’s not the end of the world because in that moment in Mexico I seriously thought I was dying, and hey, I didn’t die. Therefore, I’m certainly not dying this time round either.
Back to the current story
Around July last year I quickly realised I was in a really dangerous place. I was experiencing all levels of stress causing my body to malfunction on me. No exaggeration of the truth, I was even loosing my hair. I lost friends, family and myself in the process of assuming it’d miraculously get better without me making change.
Now I’ve talked about this a lot on here, I’m aware. Life can be full of joy as much it can be trivial and as of late the universe has really enjoyed kicking the soccer ball at my face and hey, that’s allgood I’m here for it, but damn I don’t always have the capacity to dodge that stupid fucking soccer ball!
So to get to the point… I quit my amazing job at the tech start-up. I went back into my business full-time because it was losing money at such a rapid rate that I didn’t really have another option other than to work myself and save on wages. I moved out of my beautiful house on millionaire mile and into the storage room of my sister’s place and the icing on the cake, I sold most of my cool shit and cut right back to living a way that truly reflected my current status quo… aka, the smell of an oily rag.
I know this doesn’t have to define my success, but it was a slap in the face. How could it not be? One minute you have everything (atleast you think you do), the next you’re almost royally fucked in the tight little space that is my asshole. Don’t worry, this story does get better, yet no story get’s better without a lightbulb moment. So here comes the switch.
Throughout this process I became extremely humbled. I had to start asking for help. I had to start saying no. I had to accept that by pulling back from all my friends and social endeavours meant loosing my name on the block, which for an extrovert like me really sucked (first world problems). I had to become much less to learn more and move past my roadblocks. Which I have done, thankfully. Not without the cost of compromise and challenge, a big cost at that!
My business slowly started making money again. My relationship with myself and my body started to heal and now I can say the fog has lifted just enough for me to have a slim amount of clarity. I now understand that all of this needed to happen so I could shift my focus toward what really mattered in my life, to enable the best version of me. I thought I knew who I was, but I didn’t. I was being everything but the person I wanted to be, telling myself it was okay because I was everything everyone else wanted me to be. Fuck I’m like a broken record, it’s exhausting. I thought I’d worked through my need to be liked by others, be a ‘somebody’, but I hadn’t and now I think I ACTUALLY… FINALLY… HAVE? Yet it doesn’t look anything like what I thought it would. So now I sit in the process of accepting that. Looking at what is, opposed to what ‘could’ve, should’ve’ been.
A Story
When I was younger,
My single mother worked extremely hard to get us into school, it was no easy feat.
We were very poor, living on the outskirts of Wanganui. My parents had spilt when I was just three, breaking up the five of us kids. Mum took Luke, Shahanan and I in tow, boot packed to the brim squeezing our whole life into the car… And off to Wanganui we went.
Why Wanganui? Good question… We can save that answer for later.
Moving came with a series of unfortunate events. I remember one day Luke and Shahanan were playing on the small tramp we had, on a very minuscule lawn outside the rental we first moved into. Luke had forgotten to shut the front gate and next minute a huge Pit Bull came running onto the lawn and attempts to bite Shahanan. Mum came screaming out just in time with a wooden spatula, the only thing she had on hand and managed to get the kids back inside and fend off the dog. Our neighbourhood was rough as guts and Pit Bulls were a symbol of power that the gangs used on the regular.
That winter we all got hooping cough from the mould growth on our ceiling, Luke was hospitalised on multiple occasions from threatening asthma attacks and mum became too sick to go to work for a whole week straight. Managing to scrape through on the rent, we lived off porridge and pb sandwiches and spent all day and night cooped up around the electric heater. Mum regularly reminds me that it was at that point, she realised she had made a mistake yet knew there was no turning back.
On the recovery, she managed to get into house painting, convincing a home owner down the road to let us take their beaten up villa on the terms and conditions that she slowly did it up. Mum was stoked, regardless of all the work it needed we at least had two bedrooms and a kitchen just big enough for her to make cookies on the cheap! She built us a make-shift tree house in the backyard and let us plant our very own sunflowers for our Christmas presents. We spent the next 6 months betting our glasses of milk on whose sunflower would grow the fastest, Shahanan’s won. Mum used to say it’s because she was the most patient, this was true. We never owned a tv, so mum entertained us with projects around the house. One of them being to create a mosaic pathway at the entrance of the villa, for that we did every weekend with our pebbles, shells and broken tiles. Mum adored it’s imperfection, considering how much of a perfectionist she was this came as a surprise. I remember thinking these were the sweetest times, although we were cold, hungry and very fkn poor, we were content with the little things.
I used to help mum with her house painting jobs, at just 4 years old, I wasn’t the worst little helper! Mum would sing to me from the top of ladders whilst she stretched to reach the corners of the veranda with her paintbrush. I had the very important job of holding her spare paint brushes. She was a very small woman, Spanish blood, long brunette hair and olive skin. Her dark brown eyes made almost every man in town fall at her feet. Although I’m yet to wonder if it was her looks that struck them like lightening, or her profound independence. She had courage and determination like no other, for an attractive woman her spirit certainly took people by surprise…
One day mum got a call from the school, Luke had got into an accident. He was a very smart kid, with the biggest smile that went ear to ear. He loved following the rules and quite frankly would get a very hard smack by mum if he didn’t! She was very strict as she couldn’t afford to have lazy, dependent or self entitled children, so we did indeed listen, learn and smile… constantly. Luke was irresistible! Although the local gangs didn’t seem to think so. This particular day he’d been the only kid in his class to actually do his homework, so at break his classmates thought it would be funny to steal it from him. He held his books tight to his chest and politely said “no”. To his dismay, this was followed by them beating him up, stealing his pants and pulling down his underwear in the middle of the park for everyone to see. So what did seven year old Luke do? He peed…
When mum arrived to collect him, she was in fury. Although she couldn’t decipher whether she was mad at Luke for not standing up for himself, or the school for letting it happen in the first place. Later she found out that the school was run by the gangs of Wanganui. Being the only public school, it made sense, really.
She became puzzled on what her next move would be, because the only other school in town was a catholic school and we were a far cry away from being religious. So what did she do? She lied. Somehow it worked and we were enrolled as Catholics, into St Anne’s. We went to church every morning as it was mandatory and mum played the part perfectly.
I remember my first day. The bright red uniform, skirt that draped down to my ankles and my backpack that was bigger than me head to toe, full with only a drink bottle, pb sandwich and a notebook. Luke and Shahanan walked off the bus with me hand in hand, they were very protective of me and it made mum feel at ease. Fuck we were cute. We managed to pull off this whole Catholic thing for a good year before mum got found out and we were expelled.
Onto the next town we went.
To be continued…
I QUIT MY JOB…
So… yea.
I quit my job.
I willingly stepped off the corporate ladder.
I gave it a try, I gave it half of my all, I learnt, I expanded my knowledge, I adapted and guess what I learnt?
I love my business too fucking much.
This likely won’t make sense to most people, especially the ones that have heard me bitch about the endless tail chasing I’ve done over the last 5+ years of business ownership. But I’m currently flying through a high in the realisation that actually, I love every little shitty part of my seriously imperfect business and I 150% intend to continue because I believe in the impact of my community and courage to chase passion over perfection.
So why did I ‘walk’ from it in the first place?
To put it simply, I never wanted to leave, but the reality is that hospitality doesn’t make you much money unless you go into it with money. I made it a limited company at 20 and opened the doors just after my 21st birthday, so I certainly DID NOT have money. I was also naive enough to start it in the first place and let’s just say if I knew what the journey would look like I’d probably have sprinted a million miles down the road in the OTHER direction. Luckily for all the HS fans, I didn’t. Fast track to post covid, pre-recession… I get offered a role in a technology start-up that had the wind in its sail and an opportunity I would’ve never in a million years thought I could do! Keep in mind I’ve never studied let alone even have a cv in the first place.
So after some hesitation, I said yes. I’d always wanted to work toward making Holy Shot self-sustainable, as the business was built off our names as the brand and that wasn’t sustainable or franchisable or fucking realistic for any future plans. So I thought, fuck, why don’t I go get some financial security for the first time in my goddamn life (note, the security I so desperately needed) and see if this corporate shit is something that can offer me a leg up!
Now here I sit, 9 months later and I feel like I’ve literally dreamt my way through every month of 2023. Not in the ‘I have no control’ kind of way, but more in the ‘I’m so fucking busy that I’m hardly looking up’ kind of way. Yea yea I know, I keep telling you guys how ‘busy’ I am and it’s getting old, so I’m not gonna go there! But this is different, this feels like driving through the dark of night, headlights on full beam, fog in the distance and you just gotta keep your eyeballs peeled on the road and get to the fucking destination. That’s what I mean. I’m completely identified with my goals to the point where all other components of my life are just happening around me like a fish in a tiny fucking fish bowl experiencing the repercussions of an acid-topped apricot bite! Slightly foggy, slightly squinted but still alive with a bigger picture in mind. Weeks upon days of feeling so empty as I watched the numbers in my business drop, the vibes become so damn dependable and people constantly asking me “What the fuck are you doing Tess?!” I finally gave in and holy fucking goddamn Christ (excuse the French) it honestly feels like the best thing next to an orgasm.
I started putting all the pieces of my puzzle back together again. I called my family who, may we note, have never supported me in my crazy business endeavours… “Tessa, money speaks, if you don’t have money, why the fuck are you doing it?” Yea I know, money is important and the reality is, if your numbers don’t add up then you are SERIOUSLY FUCKED and NO there isn’t a more delicate way I can say that. But hey let’s save that one for an upcoming podcast because it’s not worth my brainpower right now. Episode 3 - ‘The reality of business ownership’ - Coming to After Hours soon (watch this space).
Moving right along. One morning I woke up from this terrible dream and decided to resign and on the same day completely re-configured my purpose. In conclusion, I decided to go back into my business full-time, so I can… for the first time ever… work ON my business instead of IN my business. I’ll still be there every day. I’ll still do the 5am wake-ups, solo days and late closes, yet I’ll do it all with the pure intention of increasing my revenue and turning into the Holy Shot I’ve always envisioned.
In the whirlwind of emotions that have accompanied this decision, the most prevalent one I feel is this instinctive knowing that I’m doing the right thing. It’s as if all the noise in my mind has finally stopped as the universe recognises the courage it’s taken to make this little leap of faith. Yet it makes so much sense to me, as little it might look to others. I step away from what’s the opposite of ME, as I step toward my better self that believes in a better tomorrow. I’m making an active change toward the future I want for myself, I’m believing whole fucking heartedly in my passions and chasing those opposed to the next best this or that. Financially, this is dumb! There is no denying that elephant in the room, yet we all have different stories and hey this is mine and let’s see where the fuck it goes, hey?
DROPPING THE BALL .
I dropped it… Big time.
A constant mental battle in my brain of not excelling enough, not staying on top of everything, not keeping everyone happy, not being a good enough boss, not being a good enough partner, not being a good enough friend.
Not eating enough, eating too much, not running enough, running too much, insomnia, no down time, smoking too much, drinking too much, cold turkey, forgetting to pay bills, TOO MANY FKN BILLS, forgetting birthdays, what age am I again?
Not achieving to the highest of standards to the degree I need to, in order to feel satisfied, in order to say ‘I did it’… Did I?
MY MIND CURRENTLY =
I’ve dropped the ball. My ball.
AHHHHH !!!
AHHHHH !!!
Whether it be the fear of not being enough,
Insecurity of thinking I might never crack the code.
Thought of having to rely on others.
Not succeeding financially…
The pressure is there and it’s become more prevalent than ever.
DEFINE IT.
I’m completely out of character.
I sit in a social setting and dread the company. I sit in silence finding it more fascinating to observe my toes than engage in conversation. I’m having panic attacks and fainting episodes on the daily, as if they’re another limb on my body I have to learn how to utilise to my benefit. I’m kicking and screaming, quite literally.
In conclusion, as I move toward what I made my goal for this year, I move further away from the person I’ve always known, the me I’ve always enjoyed.
How can I make my vision of success come to life and keep myself intact all at the same time?
Facts… I’m not sure I can?
I’ve had many on too many conversations over a multitude of wines with my dearest and nearest hospitality business owners (friends, we’re like a gang). We have all discussed with as much resentment we possibly have that we simply cannot find balance between owning a business and maintaining a healthy, balanced mental and physical state. The two cannot exist together. But as the surrounding society always ponders… Why not?
I’ve always put pressure on myself to be or become more than just, me.
I’m exhausted of the feeling, so i’m going to stop feeling it.
How I do that, I’m yet to figure out… Watch this space, maybe?
RISE ABOVE IT
Often in life, we find ourselves at an intersection. We’re presented with the road we’ve always taken, to the right a new opportunity, to the left procrastination station.
It’s far easier to either stay on the same path wishing desperately on a new horizon or procrastinate in your self-pity. Now neither of these options are helpful, nor do they set us up for success.
So here’s my current state of play…
Recently I’ve found myself finally cracking at the limits I was attempting to succeed at. As mentioned in my last post, I was gunning it and to put it simply, I snapped. The events to follow were dark grey clouds looming in my mind telling me I’d failed, telling me I had no fresh oxygen to breathe and as I believed it, that tunnel only got deeper and before I could catch myself, I was stuck in the deep and dark corners of my cunning mind. That place is tricky to navigate and very easily underestimated.
Depression and anxiety are real. Let’s just clear the air on that fact, please.
So now I find myself exhausted from this negativity following me around like a bad smell. I’ve sat in my pity, I’ve screamed to the moon and smashed valuables in front of my loved ones to try and get them to understand how dark my mind was. I spoke VOLUME to plead for help, but nothing worked.
Now that was certainly not because people didn’t care, in fact, the opposite! It was because I wasn’t listening to them. Their advice and help came in hard truths and they knew it started and ended with me, yet I didn’t want to hear it. I didn’t want to pick up my fucking shit and put it away. I didn’t want to believe in myself and I certainly didn’t want to make myself feel more shit than I already did by having to admit the places I fucked up or the people I’d failed. No no no, I wanted to cry and scream and have a magic fairy come wave her wand over my head and miraculously, my problems were solved, the sun would shine and my mind would be a bright place once again.
But here’s the catch, that’s not life. No matter how hard we beg, how much we may pray, that’s not how this shit works and until I decided to take a good hard fucking look in the mirror at myself, was anything going to change. Only I could do it, only I could flick the switch in my mind to have the confidence to face reality and evoke change.
Depressing, I know.
I came across this incredible song the other day, called ‘I’d rather go blind’ by Etta James. Now it is indeed a love song, yet for whatever reason it spoke truth and forced me to consider the relationship I had with myself. The way she talks about this man is the way I feel about myself. I so desperately want to be loved, by me, yet I feel like my purity and confidence kept cheating on me and I spent all my time trying to be enough to get her back. You see, I really hated myself. In fact, worse, I despised myself. It’s as if the golden parts of my character had taken a holiday and I was left with all the broken pieces, pathetically trying to patch them up with band-aids. Temporary fixes.
I needed to change.
Why?
You cannot enjoy love if it doesn’t come from you first. Full stop.
It doesn’t matter how many roses you get sent, how often you get taken out and gawked at from across the table, or how many times you get slammed against a wall and fucked. You won’t have the ability to accept and enjoy love unless you give it to yourself first.
I had to find a way to get out of this heavy place and LOVE myself again! I had to be the one to believe in me. I had to be the one to touch myself. I had to fix myself.
But you see, I wasn’t broken. Not at all. All of those magnetic parts of myself still sat there, right where I’d left them. They had been patiently waiting for me to say hello again. I’d simply forgotten they existed, forgotten their magnitude. Hell… I’m still ME after all! No one else is me, only I am me and that’s pretty goddamn exhilarating don’t you think?
So how does this current state of play end?
Well, firstly I started being kinder to myself. Secondly, I took some time to self-reflect and admit the facts of my failings, with no emotion construing the information at hand. Thirdly, I started pouring my time into my dreams again, into the things I love, into the things that fill up my cup. What did this all equal in?
SELF LOVE
I know I know, it’s fucking cheesy, yes but it’s fucking TRUE! That’s how this shit works. It will always and forever start and end with you!
To bring it back to that Etta James song…
I’d far rather be blind than see myself walk away from myself.
And that my friends, is where this story ends.
Creative Block .
I’ve heard the term ‘writers block’ get thrown around a lot. I always thought it was specific to one’s agenda, perfectionism or maybe lack of determination. As it turns out, writers block is in fact a thing and my god does it suck…
I’m experiencing my first ever ‘block’ as we speak, although it’s not specific to my writing, it’s my overall creative expression. I have too much to say, so I’ll start typing and within moments I find myself pulling apart the insignificance of each piece. I’ll get a marketing idea for the business yet as I start unravelling it to existence I find it somehow irrelevant. Even at work, I’m noticing my brain decide that what’s in front of me is suddenly not important… I mean cmon!!
To give some context here, the usual me has a capability to pump out so much creative juice for multiple avenues all at once, that I need to run 10kms just to decompress… I’m talking a journal on me at all times to write down every little idea I get so I can flick back at it each evening and determine what’s realistic and what’s a future problem. I never usually struggle with my creativity, let alone my writing.
So we have a problem. Now let’s try establish why…
I’ve been working 60 plus hour weeks for the last 3 months
I’ve been sleeping maybe 5/6 hours max a night due to insomnia and anxiety
When I’m stressed I loose my appetite, so let’s just say black coffee has equalled fuel
I have seven employees with needs far more important than my own
I have a house to run, a seven day week business, a full time lead role for a start up company and honestly… These things alone are more than enough to drive someone crazy !
Long in the short, my wick is burnt at all ends and there is pretty much zero I can do to fix it. My current strategy = One foot in front of they other, focus on today not tomorrow and just. get. through. Is it working? Actually yes it is and I say that with a huge sense of fulfilment. I certainly do not undermine the strength and determination it takes to run a schedule like my own, yet would I change it? Certainly not. I’ve always been the type to work until 2am and enjoy every millisecond of it. When my creativity is flowing, I’m succeeding, that’s just me and hey, I like it that way. Yet how long is it truly sustainable for?
Currently, I’m experiencing a level of exhaustion that some might call ‘burn out’. Due to this exhaustion I’m failing to create the juice that needs squeezing to create my lemonade, and that’s a massive fucking problem. Its like taking a lollipop away from a child and we all know that’s never good, especially if the kid has already tasted how good the lollipop is!
Now some might protest and say, “Tess, you’re writing now, how can that be if you have zero capability of expression?” Well, if I’m brutally honest I will admit that tonight i’m having my first drink after a week long detox and let’s just say that my dopamine levels have risen and the alcohol is working it’s magic and I’m not mad about it! I’ve always known that a tipple of alcohol can help me achieve an extreme level of creativity, yet I’ve hated to admit it as with admittance comes acceptance which equals bad habits. Now would I classify myself as an alcoholic? NO! Certainly not! I’ve always said my Spanish genes are the reason I somewhat live off my red wines and that’s not stopping anytime soon. My attitude… if I’m achieving in the day, if I’m totally fucking slaying then why not have your guilty pleasures?! I mean who doesn’t?! It would truly be rude not to in my humble, personal opinion (she says after two glasses of chilled Montepulciano) … Yet I will admit, this is the problem with my ‘one foot in front of they other’ attitude, as it deals with the current whilst compartmentalising the negative impact of repetition.
It’s probably time to move onto the solution. Which yes, I’ll admit isn’t alcohol or any other substances that may enhance natural stimulation. The best way I can tackle this is a step by step breakdown of my next few moves.
Make a plan that aids stress levels and revitalises stable dopamine levels
Eat regularly
Lower caffeine, nicotine and alcohol intake (ahhh eeee ohhhhhhh hard!)
With a plan comes gaps = spare time to capitalise on creative flow
The imperfections of a creative block could be seen as authenticity, so find a way to accept it
Don’t work 60 plus hour weeks… this is kinda obvious but hey you gotta do what you gotta do sometimes to get through!
Solitude
Love myself enough to let go of the expectations and re-establish flow
Today on After Hours I uncovered a minority of thought processes. As follows:
“Taking a look through the personal telescope today, I notice patterns in my mental stability. As I walk an incredibly tight rope juggling multiple avenues in my life, I’ve come to realise that it’s been the most insignificant faculties that have managed to push my neatly ordered books off the bookshelf. As I ponder over ways to re stack my books in an efficient manner, the dominant trend is a step by step process accompanied with positive latitude - Hence this diagram. It’s a simple way to articulate our mind, reminding us that when healthy we have an equilibrium between positive and negative space. When life gets a bit much, we sway into the negative space as an organic reaction. It’s important to control our mind when this happens and step to the left, into the positive space in order to use our energy in an effective and achieving manner.”
It’s been terribly easy for me to step into a negative space the moment something unexpected has cropped up. When I do so, my whole mind tips and everything caves all at once. This is a very unsustainable way for me to move forward. I need to slow down enough to catch my breath and step into the positive space before I completely crumble.
Yet on a contrasting note, this is all just a temporary fix for a much bigger issue, like putting a plaster over a wound. The bigger issue is that I’ve been running at this pace for so damn long, I’m talking a good five years, that my body and mind is exhausted.
I know what I need to do to find my creative flow again but I always find myself resisting. Maybe because I’m scared to compromise on other desires, or I’m afraid to do it alone, who knows. What I do know is by releasing the tension ever so slightly and stepping toward the direction I’ve always dreamt of, naturally… my creativity will flourish and my mind and body will have the energy to work as one again. Bliss.
The more I keep pushing myself to achieve in this exhausted and over played status quo, the more I realise I don’t want what I’m currently running toward. Money, success, the city life and for what? So I can prove to myself that I did it? But what’s the point if by the time I reach it, I’m so exhausted and creatively challenged that I can’t do anything but admire it and walk away…
It’s time to slow down, in order to speed up in the right avenue.
VULNERABILITY IS POWER
VULNERABILITY IS POWER
Head up, shoulders back, speak clearly and tell them who you are.
People want to know.
Your capability to be vulnerable,
is the only root to genuine human connection.
Try it.
From Within
“I can feel this internal release of past pretentiousness,
almost a state of enlightened ego death”
My world is rapidly changing, as I find myself becoming something foreign once again. Yet this time it feels right, this time it feels internally sound. With the profound realisation that I’m coming into a version of myself that I’ve envisioned for a very long time. The most authentic version of me, I’ll ever know, to date.
I’ve always known that throughout our life, we evolve and change into different versions of ourself. That we are in fact not supposed to stay the same, as it’s not consistency that forces us to achieve higher frequencies of ourself, yet it’s the willingness to adapt to the forever changing horizons of our being as our soul navigates through the learnings it entered this life to achieve. If you think about it on a much deeper and more challenging level, we really are just the physical shell of a beautiful version of us lying within.
So WTF is going on ?! WHY DO I FEEL SO FUNKY ?!
We’re sitting smack bang in the middle of a universal evolution. Each and every one of us is being tested and trialled to rid our old ways of being and open ourselves up to the person we’ve always wanted to be. It makes sense, really. Everyone’s been feeling lost and confused, they’ve been saddened by the lack of satisfaction and excitement in their normal day in day out, craving something more with the subtle knowing it’s directly in front of them. We just have to open our eyes…
So, what are we supposed to do right now? “I DON’T KNOW WHAT I’M SUPPOSED TO DO TESSA!!!!” Yea I know, I get it and trust me I’m feeling all these feels with you. You’re not alone, as I mentioned earlier this is a universal evolution! What you need to do is find a perfect balance between surrendering and defining. This means digging your fucking heels so deep into the ground in order to get shit fucking done and make this new light shine bright on you! WHILST, still allowing yourself to feel, experience, do and accept whatever is coming your way. It’s fucking hard, I understand that, but it’s crucial to find that balance right now.
When things get really challenging it’s legitimately always because you’re sitting right on the edge of a life changing experience and or lesson. This means by surrendering yourself to whatever it is the universe is throwing at you, will inevitably allow you to walk toward internal peace. Now I’m aware it’s all very well and good for me to tell you to let go when it feels like your entire world is spiralling around you, but trust me here… Time is a healer and if you run away right now you will only cause more distress and un-fortune to come your way. These lessons are CRUCIAL to your journey on this planet right now, your soul NEEDS you to listen, learn, adapt and grow. You simply cannot keep doing things the way you were/have been for so long. It’s time and I know you’re aware of this…
What does this all look like for me right now?
I desire to abandon my whole wardrobe, because even looking at these items of modern hierarchy make my head spin. ‘How did I once think that was me?’ I wonder… I want cowboy boots, white lace dresses, huge pendant earrings and colourful patterned robes.
Noticing things I’ve never seen before, having realised they’ve been staring at me this whole time. Chasing rogue ways of expression as if I’m entering back into my child like nature. Thriving off creation and colours and going crazy over this boldness seeping out of my mind. It’s thrilling, it’s new, it’s a happening.
A wave coming over me, engulfing my entire body like a message from the universe to rid the past. As I come up for a breath of fresh air, I find a lightness overcome me, the lightness of new beginnings, of a beautiful doorway into the next stage of… me.
I want the sun, the moon, the higher hills and the deepest oceans.
Surrender. What is due to be yours will come, what is not will fall. Let go, let be.
It simply is.
Time, at last.
After everything, all the contemplation,
all the mental discussion,
all the internal whirl pools, I’m leaving.
Something I’ve always known about myself, yet only just started to truly grasp is how far my rubber band can stretch before it rebounds back and whacks me in the face. That stretch has really surprised me. I’ve pushed myself through mental barriers I never, ever, thought I could tackle. But now, I’ve finally broken. Now, I’ve 100% dragged myself through enough dirt, to finally let that rubber band break and whack me so damn hard, that there’s simply zero way of hiding the scar. Realising after all this time I’ve done a full circle to simply end up back where I started. With me, myself, and I. Has it all been a waste of time? Certainly not! Does it feel like it’s been a waste of time? Certainly YES!
Where does this story start? Well, love. You guessed it.
I’ve always been a giver (in my opinion). I’ve made the questionable decision to forever wear my heart on my sleeve and with that has come a lot, more than a lot actually, of hurt. Yet the part I’ve always carried with me is the lessons. Now that I’m a touch older, having really challenged myself to be better than I was yesterday in every loving relationship I’ve experienced, I’m now seeing the patterns. These patterns are somewhat… well, downfalls of mine. They’re the broken parts of me that decide to stay with people who hurt me, the parts that believe this is as good as it can possibly get, the parts that are too fearful to walk away out of the sheer insecurity that I could be running, not walking… You see, my mother taught me a few very valuable things when I was growing up, one of them being to always give 110% until you’re given a very fucking great reason not to. Now I’ll admit, I’ve most certainly followed this rule! But to what degree will I continue to put myself in the fire until I’m burnt to the point I have nothing left for myself? That’s why I’m here, tonight, writing this. To try uncover exactly what it is I’m ACTUALLY afraid of, to attempt to understand exactly where that line in the sand needs to be drawn for my future relationships.
So here we are. Let’s begin here, now, age twenty six, living in the heart of Takapuna in a seemingly normal yet wonderful life. What are the mishaps? What is not working here? Firstly, I’ve been in a very tumultuous relationship with myself for I’d say… well, good part (here and there) of a year. Where did this stem from? Easy… my self worth. You see I’ve spent a fuck ton of time trying to be someone for everyone. I’m talking meaningless encounters, to life long friendships, one night flings, my family and most importantly myself.
I thought by being the person everyone wanted me to be,
would make me the person I wanted to be
I thought by playing the part, having the fancy facade, owning the successful business, having so many friends I couldn’t even make time for, going to all the events… all of this ‘stuff’ would prove my worth. That THEN I would be proud of myself. That THEN I would be successful. That THEN I would be in a seamless loving relationship. I thought if I was who they wanted me to be that I’d finally be enough. Well guess what, I was shit the fuck outta luck. Because I’m now miserable and more lost than I ever have been, as all I did was let everyone walk… well, stomp! All over me. I basically got trampled, yet willingly and when you think about it… that’s pretty damn sad.
In eat pray love, Julia Roberts discovers that through all the madness, she was searching for herself. That all the crazy shit she had to go through was an awakening of her soul. Well yea, I think I’m playing a bit of a J.R. card here because I’m about to really fuck shit up, yet for the first time in a really long fucking time I’m actually doing it FOR MYSELF. And that, that right there is how I know that I’m not running, in fact it’s quite the opposite,
I’m seeking.
So what broke?
I wish I could sugar coat this story to make it somehow more thrilling yet I cannot lie and the simple truth is, as mentioned earlier, I broke because of love. As cliche it may be, it was in fact love. I gave and gave and gave, from every last little drop I had left. I did absolutely everything in my power to hold our shit together when all else around the both of us was falling like a land slide. I listened, I adapted, I unconditionally loved through some shit I now realise I really shouldn’t have put up with, until reaching the point of what feels like no return. If I didn’t create change, I was going to walk into my future knowing I’d forever be the broken one, knowing that no matter how hard I tried, I would never have the capability to patch up the hole in our trust that got so wildly broken. Now as innocent I may sound in all this, don’t be fooled as it always takes two to tango. I have been no saint. I have certainly added to the mishap and chaos to cause this rubber band to break, yet have I done anything wrong? No. It was simply the cause of action eating away at time we both thought we had left to step up to the challenge, until we collectively got pushed so far and hit with the heartbreaking realisation that we might not have the capability to bounce back, no matter how much we so desperately wanted to, because something had to change in order to move us forward again.
You know when you’re playing Jenga and you start with a tall and strong foundation? That’s where I started, naive enough to believe that a few Jenga blocks could be pulled out without un-stabilising the beautiful tower I had built. Naive because I didn’t understand how the game of Jenga (life) really worked. Coming to realise that people will tug at your building blocks if you let them, take what they need and run into the wind without even noticing that they’ve taken more than you had to give. Each seemingly insignificant experience is another block being removed from your safe and sound structure. Slowly, you crash to the ground with the thud of a reality check when you look at all your broken blocks, knowing how much time, patience, determination and delicacy it will take for you to re-build that foundation again.
“Why does it hurt so bad? I’m not sure I understand” they ask… Because I have to pick up those blocks, with every last tiny drop of hope I have left in my body and find a way to re-build this tower. No one is there to help me when I fall, only take from me when I’m strong. No one will help me re-build that tower, it’s on me, myself and I. Thats why it hurts so bad, because they don’t love me enough to realise that in the first place.
So, what the fuck am I gonna do about it?
I’m going to quietly walk away, remove myself from the danger zone and head in the direction I desire, I deserve and I whole heartedly want.
For the first time ever, I’m not going to let anyone hold me back, talk me out of it, tell me it won’t work, remind me what I’m leaving behind…
I’m going to eat pray love the shit out of my life, rebuild my Jenga tower and be more aware of my past cycles than ever before. I will work hard to not repeat patterns, call for help and cry out for love and praise. I’m going to figure out what I NEED to fall head over heels, in love, with myself. I’m going to walk not run, as what is due to stay in my life, will be there for me when I get back… the same way I was for those who left me. Because that’s unconditional love.
All the rest? Well… fuck it.
As time passes, we very abruptly conclude that it all meant so little,
with the most weighted illusion cast over it.
That all the crap they said makes you worthy, actually means nothing.
Until it comes from you, it will always mean nothing.
Your innate knowing of worth sit’s on a throne in your own mind and let me tell you, it’s easier to ignore it than it is to acknowledge it. Start there.
Play Time
Wishing upon what could’ve been, I ask my new age self, why so serious? A transit into my inner child there I will find the answer amongst all this chaos. I had it all along…
NEVER GROW UP!
They say when you grow up, reality hits and your vision will never be the same. I remember so vividly as a kid listening to this statement and refusing the outcome, as the ridiculously stubborn Tess I am, this never came to be an issue. I won. Adulting was simply a passing thought that not once weighed on my shoulders.
It has taken me twenty five years of existing to finally wrap my head around what they were all harping on about. You see, it’s not reality, nor is it expectation, money, relationships…. LOVE! Non of they above are applicable.
IT’S MINDSET.
In this day and age it takes every last drop of willpower to stay young. Social media shoving pills of perfectionism down our throats, forever changing government tax rates, the recession…. the list is engulfing. Yet why do I stand here as a lonesome soldier amidst the oncoming world war 3 attempting to claim that ‘playing’ is SO important?
YOUR CHILDLIKE NATURE IS YOUR DIRECT PATH TO EXPLORATION
In recent years I started to believe that being childish was embarrassing. As if it represented a lack of direction or a reaction to responsibility. I’ve always admired responsibility but somewhere along the line I got it mixed up with adulting. Yet I’m quickly learning that you can still have fun and play in the mud whilst balancing responsibilities that push your life forward. You don’t have to abandon all of the fun and thrilling parts of yourself that you love so dearly, just because you now have young ones to take care of or a mortgage to pay. You absolutely CAN do both! So why is there this pressure and misconception that at a certain age you have to ‘grow up’?
My partner once said to me “I’m procrastinating on committing to the things I want the most, simply because I’m afraid it means I’ll loose myself”. I told him that I understand, yet proceeded to remind him that his resistance to the life he’s afraid to step up to, only pushes him to rebel and do things that truly are ‘childish’ as a running away mechanism. At some point you have to step up, yes. At some point your responsibilities will grow and as scary it may be, no matter the age… It’s happening perfectly in order, the way our universe decided it should for you, so you have nothing to be afraid of because you are in fact ready. The key here is to remember that nobody is telling you to let go of fun, or become anyone different to who you once were at your most joyous and youthful pivots in life. In fact, your youthful nature will likely help you succeed further in your responsibilities. Why you ask? Think of it this way… When your children are trying to learn about the world, they see things very differently, so how do you expect yourself to relate to them and understand that what they’re learning right now, they are in fact learning for the VERY FIRST TIME? You were once there, but if you expect yourself to be such an adult how will you ever relate or relive those lessons with them? You simply won’t, instead you will get frustrated at their lack of knowledge and become impatient with the process of their individual growth. Another example could be in your life’s exploration… When we put a heavy load of responsibilities on our shoulders, we naturally get caught up in the mayhem of completing these tasks, forcing us to feel trapped in our routine and forgetting that we NEED to explore in order to feel fulfilment in our journey. Which leads me back to my original statement ‘YOUR CHILDLIKE NATURE IS YOUR DIRECT PATH TO EXPLORATION’, matter of fact.
When you were a kid, you didn’t think about the consequences nor were you phased about the assumptions people made about your character. It didn’t bother you! You were too naive and intoxicated by the simple beauty experienced through your wee eyeballs that it seemed impossible for any harm to come your way! We develop fear, boundaries, ego and foolishness with age… the same way we develop knowledge, identity, he-insight and wisdom. So my point here is actually super straight forward! Allow yourself the freedom to be a kid again, allow yourself the time to explore, allow yourself to try new things without worrying about being ‘bad’ at them. Because the construct of your behaviour is built off your fear of embarrassing yourself, yet why does that even matter? It’s only fuelling your ego and hey, who the hell wants to fuel that bad boy!? As Jordan Peterson once said “If you’re not willing to be a fool, how will you become a master?”
Remember that you have more to learn, it’s a forever journey that never ever stops. Therefore your ability to let go a little and be at one with your natural playfulness, will help you explore and succeed and thrive to higher hills than you could ever imagine. Never grow up… Adapt, yes. Learn, yes! But don’t loose your childlike nature, as it’s the very thing that will help you grow!
IN A NUTSHELL… GIVE A FEW LESS FUCKS!
Lonely.
It’s officially been a few days of lonesome and I can already tell you these three things…
The pussy is left to run rampant with zero expectation of any man needing to make his way down there anytime soon,
the washing pile is exploding out the basket as I have no ambition of leaving the house in anything other than baggy jeans and a rotation of my favourite tees
AND my fridge is packed to the brim of leftover takeaways with only spoonfuls taken out of each meal… I’m talking pizza box on top of thai on top of pizza box.
I think it’s officially safe to say I’ve hit the lowest of lows.
Yet, I have faith! Liiiiiiiiike 3% out of 100 but hey that’s still something and fuck me I am CLINGING TO IT!
Some days are good, others are bad, but so called life, you’ll always feel better in the end.
As I’m forever told
“chin up buttercup, you’re so loved”
The Money Man .
Our culture teaches us about shame - It dictates what is acceptable and what is not.
Shame comes from outside of us
From the messages and expectations of our culture.
What does come from inside of us is a very large human need to belong, to relate…
We weren’t born craving better bodies. We weren’t born afraid to tell our stories. We weren’t born with a fear of getting too old to be vulnerable. We weren’t born with a shopping catalog in one hand and heart-breaking debt in they other. No. Not even in the slightest.
We were born with an innate ability to grow, explore, expand and soon enough, die.
What happens in the middle seems to be the part everyone needs to control.
Our relationship with money is built off of our placement within the societal hierarchical system - Therefore it is predominately fed by our psychological behaviour.
We allow money to control our worth, our values, our boundaries, everything.
It is often the hold back on freedom, the weight on most decisions and the demon in our back pocket. We allow it to tell us what we can and can’t do for most of our life, never once stepping back and asking,
well… why?
Everyday, we have monumental companies tugging at our insecurities telling us what we ‘need’ so we can be accepted. Our influences are tied to contracts forcing them to ‘inspire’ us with material goods. We have the constructs of our environments putting us into a box of what is seen as acceptable for the premise we live in. People say it’s just due to social media, yet it’s not, not even in the slightest.
Money has always been a problem
It has built the rooms we feel trapped in from the moment it was understood by humans how to use. The fucking sad part is how much we allow it to dictate our worth and value on this planet.
C.R.E.A.M.
To be continued…
It just, is.
We spend so much time worrying and scheming about the next piece of our puzzle.
But why?
As time passes, we quickly realise time heals. When we just let go a little, everything always falls into place, as it’s supposed to.
So... let go.
So... let go.
Whatever is meant for you will truly, honestly (I knowww cliche shit talk) WILL come to you. If something isn’t working, it’s simply because it IS. NOT. WORKING!
Learn how to give yourself the courage to let go, let be and simply exist.
Have the confidence in yourself to know what you’re doing and what you’re providing is enough.
If for any reason you feel in your bones you can do better or be doing more, then do that too!
Whatever it is, acknowledge your strengths, your downfalls and ride with the wind into external bliss.
It doesn’t have to be so complicated
It just is, because life isn’t happening to you but for you.