The Fool

How does one recognise themselves in a mirror? Is it by joy or is it by fear?

What do we think when we look into our eyes? Who governs the behaviour, Dr. Jekyll or Mr. Hyde?

Do we percieve ourselves as other people do? Or do we find a Saint where others see a Fool?

A Fool I'd rather be, beacuse I cannot pretend... I find it odd this life, I'd rather not have to continually defend.

The Miraculous Tuesday

I sit and reflect in utter awe. Absolute, miracle-affirming, awe 💖🐇🙏

I'm reminded, significantly, that my conncection to the Universe is via my gut and sense of direction. Simply guided by an impression of safety, an unexplainable pull, sans objective data... just a knowing. The 'feels' that lead us when and if we allow... when and if we can hear them. Perhaps I shouldn't be surprised after all this time and the miraculously fateful experiences I've had consistently for the last few years since I started this weird and wonderful adventure. Also, I did intentionally set aside this period of time to play and communicate with that whimsical peice of energy within myself, what did I expect to happen? When we ask for something with true and pure intent, the Universe will deliver... perhaps not in the timeframe we want* or the way we expect, but delivery all the same; that is, once we pause long enough to realise where we are and how we got here... like me, like today.

[* See note below on timing 🕰🐇]

I had to travel quite a distance for an appointment, so true to my nature I looked for a nearby park in which to walk about and journal prior... only when I got to said park it didn't feel right, unsafe somehow, so I set out for another park only to reach the same outcome. I decided to pivot and simply sit in my car at the destination until it was time for my appointment and wait it out. On my way there I suddenly found myself turn into a car park, completely unsure why... it just felt right. I sat in my car and had lunch, then decided to go and have a nosy around where I'd ended up. Two steps past the gate I couldn't see beyond from the car park, I beheld the most beautiful little park and lagoon. Though I felt 'pulled' to an area to my immediate left I decided to first have a wee walk around the lagoon. It was absolutely lovely, though a tad windy and I could feel the sun scorching me. Nevertheless, I caught myself thinking... 'How is it that I had no clue where I was, yet ended up exactly where I needed to be?'...

After my jaunt around the lagoon I followed my initial pull to the spot where I had entered, looking for a place to sit and write these very words. The first spot I eyed was a bit too sunny, so I crept around an unseen corner and happened upon a shady and windless rose garden. This is not the first time I've 'miraculously' found myself amongst a plethora of my very favourite flowers, anytime I travel abroad and let my feet guide me instead of my head it is where I inevitably end up 🌹

People think I'm weird, and in a conventional sense they are not only correct, but they don't know the bloody half of it! A happenstance so seemingly small and insignificant, but it restores me, heals me, gives lift to my wings so that I can fly; thrive. 🕊

Commentary of 'Timing'

Humans, with our miniscule timelines, often become impatient. We f*#%ing hate waiting... for anything. Perhaps we're waiting to hear about a job interview, a tiktok video to play, a friend to finish their workout, to meet our 'someone,' for an online order to arrive... waiting of any kind is agony for nearly all of us. Even those with a strong spiritual sense of fate (whether or not that involves a religion is inconsequential) knows things happen precisely when they're meant to happen. We can fall into the false belief that the Universe is somehow testing us, being downright cruel in making us wait for our longings, hopes and aspirations; but this is a fallacy indeed. The Universe will bring us what we need, authentically want and genuinely deserve, but in such a way and at such a time that serves a higher purpose, instead of simply serving our tiny human egos and/or selfish agendas. It's important to comprehend that we're not likely to see these as 'selfish' but they will be, in part or in whole, and that's OK... we're human after all. We don't have visibility to this grand plan, nor will we ever. Our only solace is TRUST, faith... deference to the wisdom and discernment of whatever higher entity we believe in, as uncomfortable and powerless as that can seem, it's also utterly liberating. If we attempt to rush it, we'd be short-changing ourselves. I don't know about others, but the creativity of the Universe far exceeds my own, and I do love a surprise. 🎉

I attempt to keep this in my head, heart and spirit while I wait... it [sometimes 😅] prevents me from being a control freak. 😝

But in all seriousness... practicing this, leaning into it, will bring us the micracles we don't normally see while distracted by haste 💖

Original Publication Date 12 February 2023, Revised TBD

Detrimental Doubt

Something happened yesterday that really struck me, though admittedly it's an old trigger... doubt and mistrust borne of illogic, and it really helped me remember just how stuck I get when I'm faced with making a decision about what [or whom] to believe when it’s between Heart and Head… knowing something intuitivly versus believing something intellectually, a subtle difference. F*%# it actually feels quite painful if I’m honest. My husband does shit that is in no way logical, may even defy the very laws of logic in fact! Haha. But then I get it in my head... doubt... thinking he’s lied in some way or is doing something shady based on the gap between my objective observations and the most logical conclusion… and thus the battle begins; the fear palpable. 🐇🐇🐇

Interestingly, I realised that I honestly don’t know what terrifies me more;

1. He’s lying and won’t tell me the truth no matter what I do, or how I ask (promising amnesty, etc.)… I have NO CONTROL over whether or not he’s lying, and I've tethered myself to yet another person who doesn't think I deserve the truth... which is all I've ever asked for
2. I’m being duped by someone I love, but also someone who may well turn out to be some kind of duplicitous mastermind that never really loved me (though he said himself he’s not smart enough for that, haha)

When I was young I was lied to by those around me enough to understand it could threaten my survival. Lies perceived largely because I’m an empath, their words did not align with either their own inner emotions nor their actions. My family was entropy so I over-corrected by clinging to orderliness and linear logic to counteract the chaos around me. Now I’m an adult with severe trust issues because I must have subconciously come to believe that everyone I love lies to me... and this sat deeper than I could have ever realised really. As I heal, these deeper more engrained issues become exposed, giving me the opportunity to process them. If I can’t learn to trust, if I keep doubting and mistrusting my husband because his brain doesn’t operate the same way that mine does… then my marriage could be in big trouble over time; a different form of the same threat to my survival. Who wants to be berated with questions all the time like that? I can understand why it hurts him, but f*$@, I’m not having a joy ride in myself either!

Hmmm, ok, maybe I'm not the only wife with this issues 😅

If I trust him I feel like I’m placing my very survival in his hands, someone who I know to make well meaning yet logically flawed decisions. My sense of self preservation, to say nothing of my need for optimisation, fights against that heart-felt inclination to trust him tooth and nail based on those grounds. It is so very bleak to admit to myself, but there’s an extremely toxic false, or at least semi-false, belief there… “If I believe him, I’m a f*%#ing fool who deserves what’s coming”… and ‘what’s coming’ is the inevitable end of not only my relationship, but also life as I know currently know it. It puts everything I have in jeopardy (like half of the shit I own), so it’s increasingly less surprising how terrified I feel with those niggly little brain spiders traipsing about, performing their eight-legged tap dance on my neurons and conducting an analysis where I THINK one way but FEEL another... the outcome is an experience akin to being ripped in two.

It’s not nice to feel this way, nor is it nice to think my husband is stupid, or to blame my family for these entrenched trust issues… These are indeed unhealthy thoughts, but I won’t deny them their right to be there because ignoring them will only serve to perpetuate the torture I experience. As I reflect, pause, and become more aware of them, I can work with them and heal them. At the very least I’m being honest with myself, and daring to hope these things inside me will shift… If that is the best I can do then I’ll do it, even if the mistrust never goes away at least I know the basis of these doubts, then believing them becomes a choice… just like the choice I made to marry a man so very unlike myself intellectually, whose logic is wired completely backwards from my own, but who I know would never intentionally hurt or deceive me. That knowing serves as the foundation for the future trust to which I aspire.

Original Publication Date 12 June 2022, Revised TBD

Healing For Humanity

I'm conscious that I've mentioned healing multiple times but have failed to elaborate on what exactly is meant. Nor have I provided any context around the term; allow me to do so now, if I may be so bold 🐇🙏😉. 

"What are we healing from?" one might ask... HUMAN LIFE! I'm willing to go out on a limb and guess that the readers who stumble upon The Rabbit Hole aren't the type of people who've had an overly cruisy existence or are happy with status quo; we are seekers, ready to uncover what lay hidden inside ourselves and others, keen to understand the Universe on the deepest level. I'm also willing to bet we've all experienced trauma in some form or fashion, either through blatant victimisation, a horrifying ordeal, a denial of who we truly are, or simply worn down by the day-to-day rat race of life; this trauma can be direct, misperceived and/or self-inflicted.

For me healing is healthy development of our inner awareness so that we can own our BULLSHIT and avoid spreading that shit onto others, because trust me, that's not the type of fertiliser our World needs 💩🙅. It's ending our own contribution to the collective human pain cycle, laying aside prejudice because that's how we were conditioned to think about a different race, boring others by constantly repeating the same pain stories from our past, preventing ourselves from hating or mistrusting everyone because one person screwed us over or our parents failed to provide for us as children, liberating ourselves from suppressed emotions that drive unhealthy behaviours, smiling at a stranger instead of telling them to f*%@ off, learning to take a compliment and/or accepting love because we no longer see ourselves as a worthless piece of shit. Perhaps most critical, it's avoiding shooting random strangers (or ourselves) because of some deeply held fear, or need for power, that we couldn't recognise as dangerous until it was too late... F&*#-ing BLEAK! 😅

As I attempt to explain what, in my humble experience, does and does not constitute the healing of which I speak, please bear in mind that I DO NOT have any prescriptive answers. The lists below are what I've gleaned through my own twisted healing adventure, are decidedly biased towards my own experiences, and are in no way exhaustive. Hell, I'll discover many more weird and wonderful ways to heal I reckon. The steps along the healing path can and will look different for each of us; but I dare to assert they will not be linear for anyone brave enough to forge ahead.

What Healing Is:

• The processing and release of subconscious and/or suppressed emotions
• Confronting our inner fears and shadow-selves, embracing them and learning what they have to teach us
• Activating our most useful tool, the light of our awareness, and shining it into our subconscious to gain deeper understanding our ourselves and what drives our thoughts, emotions and actions
• Withholding Judgementof ourselves and others
• Accepting the fact that we cannot control anything outside of ourselves
• Becoming grateful for all the ass-kicking gut-wrenching life lessons that hurt us, yet shaped us into who we are
• Tears, snot, boxes of tissues and/or rolls of toilet paper... sometimes while laughing at these inane emotional outbursts
• Beating pillows, yelling in our cars or closets, throwing rocks into a river... sometimes while laughing at these inane emotional outbursts
• Tough conversations with OTHERS who we've held resentments against, or with whom we need to ask forgiveness (accepting they may not give it)
• Tough conversations with OURSELVES, also to confess long-held resentments and to ask for forgiveness
• Re-wiring habitual unhealthy thinking patterns by learning to recognise self-sabotage and limiting beliefs
• Taking accountability for the part we play in perpetuating negative cycles by making the same shitty choices time and again, or failing to opt for change over status quo
• Consistent and deliberate reflection; journaling sessions, meditation and long walks spent sorting through all the rubbish going around in our minds

What Healing Is NOT:

• Superficial spiritual Facebook memes that state WHAT to be without any indication of HOW to be it
• Constant teddy bears and warm fuzzies
• Inauthentic self-love and acceptance (i.e., it's a forced concept or flecked with residual judgments)
• Soft leather couches and therapists who focus on explaining how great they are at healing others, or only serve to repeat back things we've said (talking to a mirror will do the same thing and cost a hell of a lot less)
• Pharmaceutical band-aids that don't address the underlying issue(s)
• Seeking sympathy
• A clean, clear, straight-forward or finite process
• Remaining unwilling to take-on honest feedback (from ourselves or others)
• Feel-good hippy-dippy bullshit, toxic positivity or perpetual happiness
• A sense that we're in control

Yes, sounds great... how the f*$@ do I do that or know WHO my 'Divine Self' even is?! 💩😠

The Universe operates in IRONY, so the more lost, confused and hopeless we feel, the closer we are to gaining some traction on the healing path.

Healing requires courage and my own sordid adventure lay entrenched in the many rabbit holes linked throughout this article, but here are some discrete examples, if for nothing other than their entertainment value. 🐇💖

1. My first break-up left me with a deep sense that something in my wiring wasn't quite right, and fearing I'd be left unable to cultivate healthy romantic relationships I became determined to start rooting through the baggage of my psyche by practicing mindfulness and remaining in the present... Thus Analytical Ramblings of a Scientific Mind was born, my first attempt at articulating mucking through not one, but three colourful mental illnesses (because I'm an over-achieving perfectionist in all that I do! 😝).
2. Thinking I'd learned it all and 'fixed' myself as a result of the above, I was devastated to find that after a psychotic episode I was left amongst the ruin of yet another relationship and had landed yet another diagnosis! OCD, yes, given my history with obsessive and compulsive thoughts stuck on a song entitled 'self-judgment and punishment,' I could understand that one. But then a fateful session with my unconventional counsellor (whom I will be forever indebted to), hilariously set off my inner light bulb by frankly stating, while laughing, that "I didn't have OCD, I just didn't f*%#ing trust anyone or anything." In that moment I could've been knocked over with a feather, realising the obvious and confronting fact that my utter lack of trust left me dependent on an addiction to control; nothing in my mind could heal until I constructed a foundation of trust... and thus the Rabbit Hole was founded along with a deeper sense of what it meant to truly heal.
3. Smaller, but no-less significant, realisations came which allowed me to tweak and refine along the way;

• Opting for Inner Peace Over Happiness: For one, chasing perpetual happiness is utterly exhausting and rather fruitless... hear me out 🐇. Happiness is at one end of an emotional continuum, seeking it constantly doesn't allow for the natural spectrum of other emotions to occur and will eventually knock us off-balance. I'll even go so far as to say it can be unhealthy, particularly if we start 'blaming ourselves' for failing to achieve happiness; thinking it's the healthiest way to be. We need the clouds to fully appreciate the sunshine, and so to do the gloomier emotions enable us to enjoy life's simple happy moments. Additionally, when/if shit turns pear-shaped (because this is life and it eventually will to some degree), we're left without a sense of resilience or capability, missing the opportunity to let tough and painful situations cultivate healthy coping strategies. I opt for peace because it is dynamic and calming; it's congruent with self-acceptance. I find peace can exist anywhere along the depressed to elated spectrum. Perceiving inner peace through our own tears is an odd yet rewarding experience.
• Forgiveness is for Good People: An interesting activity in one of the many mind-altering books I read provoked quite a powerful shift in a deeply engrained detrimental mindset, though when I reflect on this I see one part miracle, one part f*%@ing insanity, and three parts hilarity 😝. I have always been a perfectionist, driving a tendency towards perpetual self-punishment, observing misperceived failures, and leaving behind sentiments of 'Not Good Enough.'  This activity had me ask, out loud, while in a meditative state, 'What had I done wrong to deserve to be treated that way?' Good-golly-miss-Molly did that jar some shit loose! Before I knew it I was literally screaming and crying at myself in a closet. The obvious had finally dawned on me... Nothing. I had done absolutely-nothing-f*$@ing-wrong to deserve the constant punishment I loved to heap onto myself. My intentions were always good, and having faith in that moral compass finally allowed me to be more accepting of my otherwise inexcusable flaws; most importantly, I found the compassion needed to forgive myself for the years of inner torture.
• Confronting the Ticking Clock: One fateful day a long-held subconscious fear bubbled up to the surface. A sensation like popping a huge infectious pustule that had been building under the surface from my mid-20's to mid-30's. The stimulus for this infection was a common little bug known as the fear of running out of time (full story described in this link, it's riveting!😅). I was getting on, all my friends were married with babies or buns in the oven... yet I was still single-Summer with only a couple of failed relationships on my bleak-as track record. Still worse, the dating pool was looking more and more desperate, and soon I'd be a tried and true spinster. It was only after bursting this infection however, that I could heal it; challenge this limiting belief that did not and would not serve me well. I say that because rushing against this clock has driven many a rash decision when it comes to choosing a life partner, and it usually doesn't turn out to be an overwhelming success... the term 'settling' comes to mind. Once I was aware of this fear, I set to treating it with kindness, understanding and patience. Miraculously, completely in line with how the Universe operates, as soon as I learned to appreciate this fear and love it, heal it, instead of running away and/or suppressing it, I met my husband. 💕💫

This one is a bit more helpful... It takes practice, and lots of it, but I know this is possible because I've done it and so have others. 🙏💖

I love a list, so here's another 😝... The benefits that healing has to offer;

• Gradual shifts in our mindsets, from survival fear-based thinking to dynamic growth-based thinking
• Grounded and balanced decision making
• Ever-increasing sense of self-worth and capability
• Genuine and humane empathy, heightened Emotional Intelligence
• Greater sense of security, which I'd argue is far more profound than confidence
• Physical connection between our heads, hearts and spirits, and overall sense of Whole-ness; realising that each piece is on the same team instead of pushing individual agendas

Be brave, dig deep, keep asking why, probe those thoughts, emotions and behaviours, laugh, remain kind and non-judgmental. Trust it can be done... 💖🙏🐇

Original Publication Date 06 June 2022, Revised TBD

📢🎤Audio Version🎤📢

Shape-Shifter [Part 1]

Trigger Warning: This article includes my typical level of personal vulnerability and shocking inner honesty, but also goes into the gnarly details of my life using pictures of my Body (sans nudity, sorry-not-sorry 😉). Anyone not willing to read with an open heart and mind need read no further, and a sincere warning to those who might be triggered by body images both large and small, or the topic of sexual abuse.

Reminder: What do the Bold Blue Words Mean? (Click Me!)

Shape Shifter Table of Contents:

• Prologue [Part 1]
• Never Enough [Part 1]
• Rapid Descent [Part 2]
• Fearful Desolation [Part 2]
• Excess Baggage [Part 2]
• Perfect Fit [Part 3]
• Conclusion, or Just A Renewed Beginning? [Part 3]

How does one begin the story of their life in all its garbled glory? 

How can I capture just one aspect of what I've experienced, how it 'shaped me' both mentally and physically, in hope of raising the same awareness-expanding insights in others? I'm not sure to be honest, but I'll give it a hell of a go.... 🐇🔥

I've always wanted to write a book about my weight-loss journey; a sardonic cautionary tale I planned to title 'The Slippery Slope' capturing my transition from morbid obesity, to a brief pause at a healthy weight before plunging into an irrational void later diagnosed as an 'eating disorder not otherwise specified.' It was there I stayed for so long that I became too embarrassed to write about the amazing transformation I'd accomplished. I wasn't proud of what I'd done, I was regretful and ashamed. I honestly never thought I'd heal the mental demons I'd created as a consequence of mixing an addiction-prone personality with both a fear of re-gaining the weight and deep mistrust in my Body's ability to maintain it's new shape without rather severe oversight. Tragically, there was no ending to my book, so I couldn't write it...until now. 🙏💖

I became inspired one day as I contemplated a text I'd written to my Sister, suddenly all the entangled conscious and subconscious pieces began to fall into place. Nearly overcome with emotion, I realised there was finally a closing chapter to my damned book, one I could have never anticipated in my wildest dreams; one with a peaceful ending, if not a happy one 🌈. The slope that was once hopelessly lost to the abyss had miraculously ascended without my notice. With stunning clarity, an epiphany that only the light bulb of profound self-awareness can offer after exhaustive self-reflection, I marveled... I have always learned by shaping and moving my Body; somehow coming to terms with the mental, emotional and physical scars created by a turbulent childhood. This eluded me because from an early age my Body has mostly been a stranger to me. I couldn't understand how it communicated and refused to listen even when urges became increasingly demanding and could no longer be ignored. I lived life entirely from my head where it felt safe because logic ruled and emotions were suppressed. My brain, where I had control and power. I couldn't have known then, but that disconnectedness between Brain and Body was at least one of the driving forces behind the generalised anxiety, panic and compulsive thoughts that plagued me until my mid-thirties. It seems both obvious and ironic now, but how could a life lived solely from the neck-up have been otherwise? My brain was a like a run-away train thinking itself into a frenzy with no brakes, no sense of groundedness to the rest of my Being to slow it down.

Despite this proclivity for 'headiness' and perception of control, my Body's agenda remained underneath, subtle and mysterious, yet extremely influential. Throughout my entire life, I rarely felt like I fit inside my skin but could never understand why. Was that normal? It wasn't until I set out to willfully improve the connection and communication between my Brain and my Body in my early-30s that a true transformation began, supported by the book mBraining. Small wonder now that one of my most prominent blog themes evolved into Body Lessons, strokes of inspiration gleaned during exercise. For whatever reason, as I move my Body and put it in control rather than my Brain, phenomenal ideas and creative thoughts flood my Being. IRONY. 😂🐇.

Goodness, typical me, but I'm getting ahead of myself! Let's start from the beginning shall we?

Body State: Never Enough

Meet little Summie...

'What the f*%# happened?!' one might ask... To be completely honest, it wasn't until gathering pictures to write this tantalising tale that I even noticed this drastic difference in my childhood form with so little time between them. I summarised it well in my Journal the next morning, flecked with foreshadows...

"I got rather a fright when I realised my 'skinny' kid picture and my 'chubby' kid picture couldn't be more than 2 years apart. It seems so obvious now that my body had a reaction to Mom leaving...no doubt because my brain couldn't cope so I literally 'swallowed' the trauma... To say nothing of what happened afterward, which perpetuated that cycle."

For years and years I pondered the explanation for my childhood obesity on and off. The only attributable cause that stood out was the memory of never feeling full, my hunger felt insatiable. Unwilling to confront the details of my childhood and that unappeasable sensation however, I opted to pin it on some natural tendency towards being overweight. Wonky hormones, simple as that; yet after many tests nothing abnormal appeared in my body chemistry. Anyway, 'baby fat' is cute, right? Though not so cute when it stayed with me through young adulthood, and left me feeling more than a bit hopeless with regard to romantic prospects. 

Once I became brave enough to confront and reflect on myself as a child and the circumstances of my environment, I identified a few things that might account for my inability to feel sated, and the resulting chubbiness. First, let me be crystal clear, I DO NOT BLAME ANYONE for what I'm about to write. Blame belongs within the victim-mindset realm, a bleak landscape I've fought to flee all my life. Blame, a fickle mistress that leaves us both disempowered and optionless. No thanks! Life is not kind to anyone, everyone does the best they can with what they have, sees situations through the filter of their lifes' experiences. Parents, grandparents, gaurdians are fallible. Instead of blame I focus on gratitude, because as pitiful as the following points may seem, each and every one led me to becoming the f&$%ing magical Gypsy that I am, who I was always meant to be. 

That said, the facts were these (from the lofty vantage of 20/20 hindsight), any of which likely contributed to my Body seeking its 'well-padded' state.

• My parents split up when I was 4-years old, my Mother left home and my Sisters and I stayed with our Father until middle school age. Though not wholly unhappy with the arrangement, I remember counting the days of the week in accordance with when I'd be able to see my Mom. My emotional appetite for her attention was as insatiable as my physical hunger, and through no fault of hers, I could never get enough. Being the giving Mother that she was, she saw that food made me happy so she always gave me what I wanted and never once shamed me for eating to excess or questioned my food choices; she loved me no matter how big I grew. Despite the struggles that would come later upon losing the weight I remain thankful that I didn't have those types of demons to contend with, as many other young adults do unfortunately.
• To my young mind, who couldn't understand the emotional complexities of the situation, I misinterpreted my Mother leaving as rejection; I took it personally. I logically concluded that it must have somehow been my fault, which began a vicious cycle of subconscious self-rejection. Many years later when I asked my Sister what she thought about how I felt, she hilariously humbled me by saying, 'Summer, I hate to tell you, but you're not that f%#@ing important!' 😅
• Ok, here we go... no joke, I've been avoiding writing this bullet point for about an hour now... Not long after my Mom left my Father hired a babysitter to watch us after school, and sometimes her husband and son would be there as well. All my life I held a half-memory involving her husband, one that would shut down as mysteriously as it appeared from time to time... I wasn't ready to know the truth. What I did clearly remember was that my Sisters told an explicit lie about said babysitter to bait my Father into firing her, and it worked. I also knew that my physical sexual senses were somehow inhibited, but always assumed it was based on some biological malfunction. The enigma of this phenomena remained until one day decades later, seemingly out of the blue whilst running, this half memory filled itself in; though upon reflection it was more that my body was finally ready to release its' trauma to my brain so I could process and finally let it go. I'm sorry, I still can't explicitly say what happened, I'll leave it open for obvious interpretation. But how might this relate to my budding obesity as a child all those years ago? Well, I grew up convinced (very wrongly so, I might add), that if I were fat then I'd never [again] be a victim of sexual abuse... because fat people aren't attractive and/or their girth makes them more difficult targets. Trust me, I know how horrific that sounds, it's abhorrent, but it's truly what I believed and it also explains one aspect of my persistent expansion.
• Once I was old enough to decide where to live for myself, I excitedly went to live with my Mom; finally! Unfortunately, for reasons I now assume had to do with her own trauma driven by the profound pain of having to leave her 3 little girls for the sake of self-protection, she had taken to drinking the way I'd taken to eating. Two-sides of the same coin, really. More misperceived rejection for my part reinforced the subconscious beliefs I already held, I still wasn't good enough or worth being around, and so the cycle perpetuated.

• Now an adult body carrying childhood insecurities and trauma-driven attributes, chronic self-rejection and attention-seeking prime among them, I ate to fill an emotional void, to subconsciously manifest the external rejection I internally came to expect, or to gain some sense of deranged self-protection; each of which are decidedly f&*#-ing BLEAK. Well into my twenties these energies inside me sopped up every morsel and still wanted more, I felt starved though I was obviously not physically lacking for calories. 

Surrounded by this quite literal defensive barrier, I couldn't accurately feel myself in a physical sense, couldn't HEAR or KNOW myself. Of course I left all this shit hidden away in my subconscious, my brain was pitifully attempting to protect me. So long as they remained underneath however, I couldn't heal and break the unhealthy and self-defeating cycles they influenced. Only becoming aware 🐇 of the truth could do that, but being honest with ourselves on that level takes courage. ✊💪

F$#%... let's move on shall we? I promise there is light at the end of the tunnel. It's going to get a bit more dire before the Sun finally shines through the other side, but hey, that's life. 🌩🐇🌅

[Stay tuned for Part 2]

Original Publication Date 21 May 2022, Revised TBD

Taranaki

No extraordinary day, simply driving up to the Waikato for a leadership workshop in one of the company's many reliable hybrids. 

A twist in the road takes me up to a viewpoint that brings tears to my eyes; the powerful sea to the left and brilliantly green sheep-strewn hilly farmland to the right fills my heart with gratitude. 

Since moving to Taranaki I’m no stranger to these emotional eruptions of thankfulness. Its vast beauty and formidable mountain invokes a mysterious sense of belonging and protection which befuddles me. 

This magical place that has begun to heal the one hundred years of hurt I’ve crammed into thirty-three years of life. 

As I continue into the Waitomo district signs remind me that the Naki will miss me and looks forward to welcoming me back. 

As my tears deepen I hear myself say “How did I get so f&$#ing lucky.” 💖🐇🏔

Our gorgeous Maunga Taranaki as viewed from Lake Dive to the South. Fantham's Peak in the foreground, Mt. Taranaki's summit behind and to the North.

20MRH: One Part Blame Shifting, Two Parts Food Guilt

 

Talking Points:

• Catching myself blame shifting via a yummy gift
• What of Emotional Intelligence?
• Stopping to ask: Whose issue is it really?
• Anger from boundary treading versus hearing an ugly truth
• Blaming is easier then confronting a trait we'd rather not have
• Controlling too much or too little? It's all about perception!
• Healthy control vs addiction, facing an ugly truth
• It comes down to balance and establishing healthy boundaries
• Guilt, yet another clue
• Balance is simple! Let the body show us how... It's so simple... And glaringly ironic
• Going down the Rabbit Hole isn't easy, but it's worth it!

Against the Wind

Ever since I could remember I've disliked the wind blowing on me, and that dislike escalates to near rage while I'm running. In fact the wind is basically the only excuse I use to head inside, opting to use a treadmill; even then the strong fans in the gym can irk me and I switch them off. 💨👎🐇

Fully aware of how ridiculous this aversion is, I went down the cautionary rabbit hole underneath 'The Why.' I found that the constant sensation of fighting to move forward, being held back and pushed around, while my hair flies about my face and into my mouth does my f*^$ing head in. On certain days when it feels like it slows my already tortoise-like pace to a mere crawl, it's enough to inspire a full-on pity party and the only propellants that power me through are blind rage and pure stubbornness. It's bad enough that I actually fear sounds of wind on mornings when I do my long marathon training runs, a knot tightens in my stomach; dread. I head out anyway of course, but I typically need to mentally prepare myself for 'the blow.' (Pun!) 😅

Despite hating the wind I've lived in the notoriously windy state of Kansas, New Zealand's gusty Palmerston North, and endured the hurricane-force gales of South Taranaki where the term 'breezy' basically means 'will turn an umbrella inside out, but won't strip someone of their clothing.' Makes me wonder if I haven't fatefully chosen windy environments to challenge myself... Yeah, that sounds like a bit of me... 😂😇🐇

Anyway, in one instance an easy 8km recovery run resulted in a self-discovery epiphany I could have never anticipated. When I left the gym the wind was eerily calm. Knowing that Hawera can get windy astonishingly fast, and with my planned route in mind, I wanted to ensure that the two longer legs would be with and not against the wind should it kick up. I did the 'intelligent' thing and looked up the direction of the wind on my phone, 6 kmph NNE, barely a whisper. After a quick assessment in my head I decided which way to start my loop and set out. 

Guess what? My intelligent assessment turned out to be completely f*&$ing backwards; NNE doesn't mean it's blowing TO the north, it means it's blowing FROM the north. Ironically, I would've realised this if I had bothered to step outside and actually feel which way the wind was heading instead of making my super smart decision whilst sitting in my car. When I turned to head north along my longest stretch, there it was... feeling more like a roar than a whisper; my foretold aggravation gaining momentum. This time I paused my reaction however and thought, 'Well, I'm not going to stop so I might as ruminate on the bright side of the situation.' Ever the optimist that I am... 🌞🙄

Here's the synopsis:

• My 'duh!' moment made me laugh; I frequently over-analyse situations only to find I've landed on the wrong conclusion. For a smart person, I often do phenomenally stupid shit.
• The direction I took may have put me face-first into the wind, but it also kept the sun out of my eyes so I could see the path in front of me without burning my retinas.
• The face-on wind helped keep me cool on a very warm day.
• I envisioned the wind and I clashing together and combining to form a tornado as we moved in opposite directions. Creating something powerful with the energy I put into moving forward raised my spirits. 💪
• Though it felt strong, the wind was hardly blowing at all. This lead to a humbling esoteric acknowledgement that I tend to 'blow' things out of proportion (Boom! I'm on a roll!). I hate being hindered in my efforts in general, though slowing down typically prevents me from making a fool of myself in the 'long run' (Oh the puns just keep a-coming). 
• Despite the weather conditions, length of the run, or how skeptical I feel about my body's ability to finish, I remember that so long as I take one step at a time I'll reach my goal. I'm grateful that I have the inner determination and drive to keep going. Sometimes it comes from self-empowerment and other times rage directed at an invisible nemesis I can't control, either way I keep moving forward, inspiring pride and reaffirming motivation.
• I spent so much time in my head creating this inane essay that before I knew it I had run the length of the road, turning in a different direction and out of the wind. I even missed it a bit... 👋

Oh, I do love puns!

But wait, thanks to marathon training, there's more! As I faced a fairly gnarly headwind during a 32km run on a different morning, a couple more points came to me:

• I heard the wind as soon as I awoke and the idea of attempting my longest training run, EVER, did not excite me in the least. I began to worry about my ability to complete the run, but I was determined to set a new personal record and knew I had to give it a go anyway wind or no wind. This served to reinforce my sense of resilience and helped me to realise that fear necessitates bravery, and in a similar way, mistakes necessitate adventure. What would be the fun in an easy life without challenges? 🌊💩😅
• The wind reminds me to slow down and keep a sustainable pace. Instead of seeing it as impeding me, I shift my perspective and see how its serving me in its own annoying way.
• Take each gust as it comes; staying pissed at a gust that held me back or worrying about future gusts that may never come is pointless, I can't control it and does no good to fight it (though this is MUCH easier said than done!).
• Despite the wind, despite ANY obstacle, thanks to goal-setting, effective planning, and brute-force resolution, I smashed it and achieved my personal best for distance (until I later completed the marathon). 😎🏆🏃 

All that just to come to this point: By traversing the rabbit hole I found that the wind was a physical manifestation of my own emotional issues. My reaction to the wind largely depends on my inner emotional state; some days I resign myself to it and submit, other days I fight it. I fight like hell to control the uncontrollable. I may run with it in beautiful harmony one day, but it'll break me the next. Though this is a true account of what I experienced running against the wind, upon reflection I see how the wind also functions as a significant metaphor in an emotional sense. As humans we often feel like we're pushing shit uphill, running against the wind; the struggle is real. We all have triggers that push our buttons, and we may or may not understand 'The Whys.' A simple situation, a whisper of wind in the form of an utterance, can cause a torrent of emotions to erupt. 

It seems so silly that I would be so easily enraged by an act of nature that I can't control, but that's also precisely why it bugs the hell out of me. The wind pushes me around and slows me down, it controls me. Historically I've fought against being controlled with every fibre of my being, opting to vehemently fight for control instead of surrendering and reserving my energy for a worthier ambition. It took me years of self-development work to discover that my obsession with control was a coping mechanism for feeling insecure. Deep shit, wounds from previous forms that hadn't fully healed. So some days my emotions are stable, the wounds have scabbed over and are partially concealed... I can cope. Other days those scabs have been ripped off for any number of reasons, they're raw, exposed and delicate; turning a wisp into a gale that knocks me for a six, turning me into a Grade-A Asshole.

These observations and reflections allow me to prove to myself that I can CHANGE my old habit of resisting control and fighting the wind. However foreign it may feel, I can consciously choose to challenge myself, to find gratitude in a situation where I would typically feel angry or victimised by a lack of control. Life is full of such opportunities. It takes courage, but we can all run into the wind.

Original Publication Date 13 January 2021, 30 October 2023

20MRH: News Flash!

Talking Points:

• News Flash!... A piece of the conditioning that informs the Stories that we tell ourselves
• How often do are we fed media that portrays positivity?
• Our addiction to drama and adversity, and how this impacts our own stories/what we tell ourselves
• Why I 'assume the worst' and the true source of my inner stress
• Feeding ourselves positivity requires us to seek it out, there is power in choosing what we feed our fragile psyches
• The viscous cycle... to be news worthy, we need to create our own drama
• Break the cycle... practice compassion
• Expecting others to be perfect, through our own eyes and not theirs, is unjust

The Strength to Start

Reminder: Italicised words are 'From the Journal'

"Ah, the same fear I always feel before a big Sunday run... and especially after I 'failed' the previous Sunday by not hitting my target kilometres. Will I make it? Will I quit again? 'Fall over' from lack of adequate nutrition? I don't know... I never do. As intuitive as I am, I can't see the future. But I do know I've done by best to prepare, I know that my legs are strong and I'm physically capable of completing the training run. No question there... Strength, it all comes down to strength, and there's so so many forms of strength to consider... 🐇🐇🐇

• The strength to push myself both mentally and physically 
• The strength to support and encourage myself instead of thinking I might fail... like last time
• The strength to let this run be this run and not compare it to any others, to practice agility and resilience
• The strength to accept that last time; no, I didn't hit the k's but I did what I felt I needed to do to take care of myself, and I can be proud of that dammit
• The strength to get started; to take the first step, despite the fear, because that's the hardest part!

I used to tell my personal training clients 'the hardest thing you have to do is get here, walk through the door, everything else is easy!' Wise words I've so often forgotten to apply to myself in many different facets of my own life.

... Yes, the strength to get started... to overcome hesitancy, and fear of either failure or success; to grapple with thoughts of all the other things we'd like to do or think we should be doing instead. All those other 'things' piled up like a huge heap of shit placed in front of our start line... but who put it there?🐰 At times it seems like life put this shit in our way. When we dig deeper however, we may find that it is composed of a lot of little choices we've made along the way without realising the consequences. What matters most is that we recognise that only we have the power to move past the stinking stack regardless of what it consists of or how it appeared. 

Ironically, whether we do or don't is of little matter... what matters is that we perceive it as a choice and practice the power of making that decision with awareness. Own that shit! 💩

For me, and my high-kilometre runs, it helps to simply choose to take that first step; nothing else matters. I tried, I practiced finding the strength to start. A different sort of muscle perhaps but one well worth flexing! I find it's also true for my work and writing on my blog. I spend time and precious energy thinking myself into paralysis, so much to do... where do I start?! But often just checking one email, looking up one set of data, writing down one word... Two hours later I find I've been working away contentedly if not passionately, my previous apprehensions or hesitations quite forgotten!

It occurs to me that this resistance to making a start is not only completely natural but abides to the very laws of Physics. There are two common forms of friction, static and kinetic. The force required to overcome static friction (moving something from a resting state to a mobile state) is always greater than kinetic friction (the force required to keep a moving object in motion). This is common sense to anyone who's pushed like hell against a couch to move it, using all their strength to heave it out of it's inert starting position; then we fall flat on our faces once the f*ing thing starts going! Physically, this is because the static friction is greater than the kinetic friction. Further to that, different objects and materials have different frictional values, making them easier to move and get into motion... A ball vs. a block, or sand paper vs. silk... The less 'rough' the easier it is to move... 

If I apply this logic to my training run, or God forbid my personal development adventure, there's a big benefit to smoothing the edges... easing the transition from stillness to motion... what would that entail? Perhaps one drafted email left intentionally behind in my work account to get me ticking along in the morning... A cruisy 7k before hitting a 16k more challenging route... A meme for a blog post I haven't written yet or an intriguing topic left floating at the top of a jounal page begging to be esoterically explored... 

And F* it, if none of that works take a deep breath and forge ahead; take a conscious view of the inner fear, hesitancy, 'should-dos' and any other source of internal friction and proclaim: 'Move over bitches, here I come!'"

Months later, the day before the Auckland Marathon, I was basically shitting myself. Due to some extremely persistant and worrisome chest congestion I hadn't been able to take a full breath in a couple of weeks. I was slowly convincing myself that I wasn't going to be able to finish the race. Conscious of these words I had written, I went to a pharmacy and got some eucalyptus oil to help my lungs and told my husband that I needed him to get my ass to the start line; these were my chosen mechanisms for easing the frictional forces in my brain telling me that I'd fail. I knew, however, if I could just make a start, take that first stride, my body would naturally do what I'd been training it to do for the past 4 months... I'd cross the finish line no matter what it took... and 42.2km later, I did. 

Time to play 'Where's Summer' 😂

Update

Two years later and I'll be honest, not only did I completely forget what I had written about in this article, but I also haven't run more than 20km since that marathon! This is obviously an anology using running, because that's kinda my thing, but getting ourselves to start something, anything, is bloody hard. This is especially true when we know a change is needed but deep, shifting the World or our identity as we know them, so we resist it until life annoyingly puts it in front of us so many times we can't ignore it anymore. Anyway, I caught myself writing something in my journal the other day I felt worth adding here, and it fits quite well especially considering that when I ran that marathon what made it easier to start was simply following the people in front of me, led by the energy of the crowd, all people who I trusted to have trained for the event... 🏃

Life is never easy for long, and sometimes the tasks ahead... or the choices to be made... feel so daunting, so overwhelming, so consuming, I don't want to face them... It feels easier to either run away or stick my head in the ground and pretend it'll go away (both methaphorically, of course)... I FOOL myself into thinking it's not what I want to do, that it feels wrong somehow, that maybe I need to take a different path... confounded by hesitancy and discomfort... when really I only need to choose A path, not necessarily THE path. There is no right or wrong decision, but the confusion stalls me while the sensation of stagnation, of 'being in a rut,' grates like sandpaper against every cell in my body. These feelings have taught me an important lesson... When I don't feel I have the Strength the Start, to lead myself through, it's ok to follow someone else who I can trust to get me moving. 🙏💖

Original Publication Date 28 December 2020, Revised 13 November 2022