Life

When Life Hits The Fan: Eat Chocolate

I may or may not be sitting here on my couch, eating chocolate. And when I say I may or may not be…what I actually mean to say is: I am.

I will warn you right now: this is one of those random posts about nothing that I sometimes sprinkle the pages of this blog with, the ones where you guys sit there and go, ‘Well how about that. She is just about one of the most random human beings that ever there was.’

I can understand your confusion. You never do know which version of me you’re going to get on here— the poet, the writer, the philosopher, the Soft Girl, the complete and utter dork. I’d probably file this one under the complete and utter dork category. I don’t see this one going literary on you, and I don’t see the words that lie upon this page changing the world in any sort of grand way.

I can promise you one thing, though. The words on this page are me, and I think that’s the beautiful thing about blogging. The sharing of one’s soul with a world of strangers who are, just by virtue of us deciding it, actual friends. And lovely, loyal friends at that.

I’m tired— exhausted actually, from a huge day of organising the newness of my life as a single Mum. No one goes into a marriage thinking they are going to end up divorced, do they? And so when it happens to…well, happen…it’s all the emotional, exhausting things. I have a stress rash on each cheek (on my face, omg, guys. Srsly. 😛 ) I have two eyes that are close to closing for the night (it’s 9:00pm). And I have three parts of a broken heart. A heart that I will rebuild with a new joy, a new life, a new way— but one that’s still a bit squished flat, right at the minute.

But I will get through this like an absolute trooper, I can guarantee you that. Sure, I will cry all the millions of ugly tears in between now and when the good stuff begins again, but the end goal will be a beautiful world that I build with my precious muffins. That is such an exciting prospect.

As an empath (and ‘bit of a sensitive muffin) I’ve always needed time alone to recharge and create. It’s safe to say, I’ll have plenty of that now that I’ll be alone again. I was only just thinking of it earlier, after a conversation I had with my Dad on the weekend: I’ve always sought to hide away from the real world. Even as a young child, I would play alone in my room for hours on end, talking to the mirror, playing with dolls, singing into toilet rolls. It is the natural state of me, and as much as I have loved the gift of my husband and best friend of all these years…I will very much appreciate the gift of returning home.

Well. She couldn’t resist going deep in the end, could she, hey guys. Lol. You all knew it would happen, don’t pretend you didn’t. Okay, well. It’s sleepy byes time. I hope wherever you are in the world, you are safe and happy inside of your shell.

Lots of love, Brooke. xx

black ceramic mug on round white and beige coaster on white textile beside book
Photo by Isabelle Taylor on Pexels.com
Advertisements
Life

Return Of The Soft Girl

The Soft Girl returned for a few moments, yesterday.

My soul. My essence. My flow.

She found me in the car as I drove home from a busy day of moving from one house to another.

She wasn’t with me when I turned on the ignition.

She wasn’t with me when I turned the corner from one street to the next.

But she found me.

She found me through the music that waved in the air around us.

The Soft Girl.

How she drifted in and out of me.

How I long for her soft touch in all of my days.

photo of a woman at sunset
Photo by bruce mars on Pexels.com
Life

Healing Through Dreams

The universe is such a clever muffin. I really shouldn’t downplay its genius by using words that soften my stance such as ‘clever’ and ‘muffin’, should I? I should be using solid words. Power words. Words like: ‘The universe is such a brute force,’ or something like that anyway.

It’s 2:21 am. You may need to forgive me a clunky sentence or two, but I’ve just been woken by the internal ramblings of a girl in crisis (cough: me) and that seems to be the perfect entry point for me to begin my blogging journey once again.

I say I’m in crisis because it really does feel to me like my life is a little like a china shop that’s been trampled by a team of angry bulls, but don’t let that worry you too much. Broken china scattered all about the place is about a million times more beautiful in my eyes, and so it is that the girl half-full enters the china shop to put you all at ease. I am not entirely okay. But I will be more than okay one day in the not too distant future. So there is that lovely thing to think about, isn’t there.

Having my china scattered all about the place has allowed me to see it in parts, and my goodness—what a shock it has been to find some of these parts. What a shock it has been to have realised that this entire time…I have had a choice. A choice to look out for my own needs above others. A choice to avoid overthinking and worrying. A choice to be okay with not being okay. A choice to say, ‘actually, I’m not okay with that. Perhaps we might consider doing it my way, instead.’

This post has been triggered by a dream. I’m well aware that there are many people out there who believe that dreams are just random, but my dreams have transformed my life in too many ways now for me to dismiss them as nonsense. Yes, some do seem to be random. But others, such as the one I’ve just woken from, are, without any doubt in my mind, meant to be seen, felt and healed.

Looking back over the years at some of the more traumatic dreams I’ve woken from, I can see exactly the lessons I should have received from them, had I actually paid attention and respected the power of the human psyche for what it is. Miraculous intelligence. We are fascinating creatures, guys. I mean, really, we are. We’re so brilliantly complex and amazing—isn’t it time we started to respect the power we all hold within ourselves?

The universe is a brute force. It will not stop until its messages have been received and processed, and so it is that I sit upon my bed in the early hours writing these words for you all to read. Now. Time to sleep. My goodness, I’ll be a little bit sleepy tomorrow then, won’t I?

photo of a woman sitting backwards on a metal chair leaning on her arm sleeping
Photo by Nicole Berro on Pexels.com

 

 

Life

A Little Time Away

My dear bloggy friends,

I’ve been thinking on a more practical level (which, let me tell you, is highly unusual in the world of this cloud bouncing dreamer) and my thoughts have led me to a little bloggy holiday.

I’m questioning the sanity of this decision, given the lovely distraction this place gives me from all the yucky things of life, but I do think that even just a few days away might be nice. I’ve been blogging almost every day, for quite some time now. A little bloggy holiday might be quite a lovely thing, now that I really think about it.

Obviously, a lot of emotional processing is happening for me at the moment and, although I don’t necessarily feel I need to take a break from blogging…I figured it certainly wouldn’t hurt to take some days off from this little bloggy land of mine.

Things need to move in my world, and over the next few months, I’ll be slowly making some decisions in order to move them. The practical reality of a newly separated Mum of two little muffins hangs over me like a giant hand reaching from the sky, ready to squash me flat. In other words: I need to earn some money soon, or things are going to go from bad, to worse, to really terribly horrible. I’d like to avoid any sort of bug-on-windscreen action, If I can get away with it.

As much as I adore this beautiful bloggy land (and certainly don’t plan on saying goodbye to it anytime soon) my focus needs to shift to more practical matters, and the first of those is…how to turn the skills I have into the job of my dreams. I’m a writer. Right? I could write. But then what will I write about, and who will pay me for what I write, especially if I’ve given no thought to the words I have to share. There are many avenues I could begin to peer down, career-wise, and after I’ve wrapped my head around the emotional upheaval my beautiful little family is facing at this time— it’ll be time for this love-hearty dreamer to get busy.

A bit of time away from here won’t get me a job, or an instantly love-hearty life, but it will free up a little bit of energetic space, which I can then use to get a bit clearer on things. I’m so excited about the possibilities!

So! I’ll see you guys in…I’m not really sure how long actually, guys! It could be a few days, it could be a week that turns into two, I’m just not sure. But what I do know is that the time away will not be wasted. Life is too precious to be wasted on less than wonderful.

It’s time, now, for me to get clear on exactly what my kind of wonderful looks like.

And then make it happen.

apple magic mouse and white ceramic mug
Photo by Burak K on Pexels.com

 

 

 

Life

Words

Words roll in and out of me like breath.

I can’t imagine not reading and writing, just as I can’t imagine what it might be like never to breathe again.

Sometimes the words I write make no sense to me, or to anyone else that reads them. I don’t think that matters, now that I really think about it—no one understands the meaning of each individual breath they take. Well, at least, I don’t think they do…but I’m a big believer that anything is possible, and so I’m happy to keep an open mind on that one.

Words are the mirror that helps me see my life, and as I send my words into the world I offer that mirror to you so that you might see your life in relation to my own. I think that’s one of the gifts of books and reading the words of others: the opportunity to understand aspects of our lives, through the lives of others.

Through my own words, I see and feel my world.

Through the words of others…I see and feel my world from a different angle.

As simple as it is, I believe that humans and our words are the real magic of life.

I choose never to take that shared loveliness for granted.

woman reading a book
Photo by Thiago Schlemper on Pexels.com

 

 

Life

Compassion

My eyes see differently.

I’m going into this deep (possibly triggering and controversial) space, because last night I read an article about narcissistic disorder and how completely awful and horrible and unacceptable narcissists are. As I wound up the article it occurred to me that the whole thing was shaming the narcissist in question because how dare they, why would they, can’t they just behave?

Something fell in my heart as I read that article. It was only at the very end that the writer dared to mention the possibility that we might feel sorry for the narcissist, and it saddened me, guys. I have to admit, it really did.

It took me back to a time in my early twenties. I was a gymnastics coach and I also worked for the holiday programs the gym ran each school holidays (which were hectic let me tell you, but satisfying all the same.) I have an affinity with kids, and I still credit that work as my most fulfilling to date. But one day there was a stand-off: a little boy, behaving badly. Very, very badly—probably hitting the other children, I really can’t remember the details.

The other coaches were bothered. I could understand that, but I could also feel that little boy, and I could feel that his bad behaviour wasn’t coming from a place of I don’t care about any of you! destruction. It was coming from a place of pain and need. So I sat with him and I gave him my heart. Within the hour we were up and playing with the rest of the children as though nothing had happened to destroy the peace in the first place.

The thing about my way of seeing the world is this. A narcissist is born off a painful past and my goodness I ache for the child that was. I ache for the adult that child went on to become, too…and so I suppose what I’m asking is: can’t we be a little more caring? To everyone, not just the people that ‘belong’ because they tick all the good behaviour boxes absolutely.

I wish our society lived more with their hearts, I honestly do. Because if we did, we’d not see the narcissist as some kind of monster that must be banished to the black hole of misbehaviour, where they cannot hurt the ‘good’ people of the world any longer. I used to be one of the people who said: how dare they. I used to be that girl.

I’m not her anymore. My heart loves everyone, even the narcissists, and it’s the narcissists of the world who need the most help to get their sinking ships back above the water. No ship ever, floated back to the surface of life whilst continually being pushed back down.

I don’t know, guys. I don’t want to upset anyone with this, I truly don’t, so if this has triggered any of you who have been seriously affected by the behaviour of a narcissist—I’m so sorry. Please know that your voice and feelings matter to me very much. It’s not my intention to belittle your pain.

It is my intention however to shed some light. We all belong, none of us any more, none of us any less. And because of this…I truly think we should help each other to rise above our demons, rather than cast stones at each other for having them. Compassion to all people just seems right to me, that’s all. How about we give each other the support and encouragement we need to heal?

person putting bandages on another person s knee
Photo by rawpixel.com on Pexels.com

 

Life

The Cottage House

I suspect this weekend will be beautiful.

I’m not sure how much you’ll see me here, if at all, my lovely bloggy friends. I’ll be all snuggled up under a blankie with a steaming cup of tea and a book, alone in a lovely little cottage house on a hill, among a thousand trees.

I couldn’t think of a more beautiful way to gain my strength back.

I’m house-sitting for one of my oldest friends: my wonderful bestie from high school. No matter how long we’ve gone without seeing each other, she has remained a constant support to me over the years. Whenever I’ve needed her, she’s been there, never once complaining about my tendency to disappear for vast stretches of this introverted life of mine.

She and her twin sister (another dear friend of mine) were the ones who taught me how to make a real cake at the ripe old age of fourteen. When I realised that all cakes did not actually begin in a packet…my eyes must have widened a mile. I will never forget how we laughed. 

Anyhow, that’s where I’ll be this weekend. Looking after two cats, a bunny rabbit, and four teeny tiny newborn bunnies. What bliss.

All the Friday love hearts, my merry bloggy friends. May this day bring you ALL the awesome things.

wooden house
Photo by Isabella Mendes on Pexels.com
Life

Shining Humans

‘Hello, Moon,’ said Sun, as he watched her rise above the sea to meet him in the orange sky.

‘Hello, dear Sun. Must we always meet like this? I’d rather hoped we might run, today.’

Sun looked at Moon and smiled.

‘Running is a human thing,’ said Sun, laughing at his fanciful friend. ‘If we were to run like the busy humans do…how would we shine as beautifully as we do?’

Moon thought of this and nodded. ‘Shining is quite lovely, isn’t it. Do humans shine like us, do you think?’

‘Some do. When they stop running,’ Sun replied. ‘And when one shines, usually the one beside them shines, too. So does the next, and the next, and the next until they’ve made a whole chain of humans as bright and shining as we are, sweet Moon.’

Oh, how lovely!’ said Moon, as she shone silver over the sea, wondering what a chain of bright, shining humans might look like.

adventure backlit dawn dusk
Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com