Brutal

Ageing is brutal. I am determined to age gracefully, I look at the effects of cosmetic procedures later down the line and I know I don’t want that aesthetically, even if I could consider stuffing all those poisons into my body, which I can’t. 

But these middle-ground years, before all those procedures take their hideous effects, my social peers are looking decidedly smoother and perter and younger than me. 

Twinned with the bloom of my soon to be teen daughter, flawless, lithe and utterly divine, I am super conscious of my need for good lighting and flattering angles to find a picture that resembles who I remember myself to be.  

Because I was pretty, not head turning beautiful, but enough to walk confidently through a bar and feel appreciated. I also used it, it was a tool, a manipulation, sometimes even a weapon. Before I discovered my greater passions of motherhood, health and truth, my looks were my validity in the world. 

And so ageing is brutal. 

Even though I don’t value my beauty through the same lens, it was still part of my history and my arsenal and to see it shift and change with Father Time, to catch that glance in the mirror and double take, because in my head I’m still twenty something, it’s hard. 

I’m not going to lie. I struggle with it. Especially in the context of our society with the anti-ageing terrifying cosmetics that are marketed so intensely. I don’t subscribe to the philosophy of them, but it’s hard to hold the faith and trust when all around are justifying the distortion of our features as empowering. 

I know this is false, in fact it makes me cringe and laugh to hear these ‘feminists’ claim they are spending their money, time and body because they’re the ultimate version of empowerment. It’s all backwards and messed up. I know this. 

And I used to be pretty, young and fresh. Even without this insane pressure, I think I would struggle to lose what was once my superpower. Superficial? Yes. But part of my trauma survival, part of the fabric that got me to today, yes. I can’t deny it, remove it, change it. 

I can only keep learning to love each wrinkle, each saggy bit, each pigment change. I want my children to know that ageing is so much more than visual, that is brings experience and wisdom and compassion too. And I want to represent all of that in the lines on my face, the sadness, the laughter, the life well lived and loved. Because, honestly, when I see an elderly person with all of that, they are nothing short of beautiful. 

In the meantime I have to ride out the transition. And I’m finding it a little brutal.  

First published on social media on 3rd June 2022

The Beginning of Everything…

When I was twenty my right leg would start to sporadically swell. If I stood too long or sometimes just because, my calf would get tight and uncomfortable. I went to a lot of doctors, overnighted in hospital, and got no where. I was told I wasn’t dying, so…..

Two years later, I ended up going to a doctor in Dublin, where I was living at the time, for pain and discomfort in my lower abdomen. He palpated and told me I had a cyst. They took an ultrasound. This is your womb, they pointed, and that is your cyst…. they were the same size. I needed an operation because there was risk of it bursting or twisting and then I could die. Unlikely to be cancerous, but who knows until we’re in.

I came back to the UK, found a private gynaecologist (because the NHS said I would have to wait six months for surgery) who told me the cyst had been the cause of my leg swelling. A common occurrence, he said.

Key hole surgery, out later that afternoon and feeling good again in 24hrs. That was the plan.

Except the plan went wrong.

I bled out. Keyhole turned to emergency incision and four blood transfusions later, I survived.

And that became the beginning of everything….

I began to wake up to myself, my body, my health, my potential. Was it someone’s else DNA flowing through my blood? Was is the shock of trauma? Was is the closeness of death?

What I have come to understand for myself is that my health crisis was my awakening and I believe it holds that potential for many. My womb was infested with trauma from childhood abuse, it took a few years, but it has been cleansed and healed to become a bastion of rich womanly health and creative energy.

This moment in my life inspired me to understand health on levels far beyond the current model of mainstream medicine, restricted to symptoms and short term solutions.

What if we can allow all of our health crises to become the beginning of everything instead of the catastrophes of fear? What if we re frame disease as a call to reclaiming health and empowerment? What if each of these ailments is a gift of discovery?

Can you imagine the permission to be solely in charge of your own healing?

…. it’s the beginning of everything.

State of Health

Our current climate is a state unprecedented in our living history. This is a first for us all. The concept of ourselves as global neighbours never more highlighted by the spread of sickness between hundreds and thousands of miles and yet nearly instantaneously.

Personally, it is telling me something about our state of health. The fear of this virus is beyond reason not because it is not having an unfathomable impact, which it is, not because there are sadly many deaths, but because the majority do not understand, are not empowered in their own health.

When my daughter was one, she had her first taste of refined sugar. I was impressed with myself that I had kept her away from it until then and felt pride that her first year had been untarnished by it, but she had to live in the real world after all, so what is a slice of cake for a one year old?

Except that her nose started running within twenty minutes. Of course, I didn’t notice that association immediately but after only a few more occasions like that I began to see the pattern.

At that time, I already had a relatively good concept of health and balanced nutrition but the immediate attempt for her little robustly healthy body to detox was a sign to dive in further.

And I am still learning, ten years later, I have more to discover and practice. I am currently reading Weston A Price’s book ‘Nutrition and Physical Degeneration’ which is the most extraordinary global study of health in the indigenous cultures that had (in the 1930’s) met little or no influence from the modern food culture. The markers of incredible health in these communities and how they deteriorate within one generation when introduced to processed flour, refined sugar and tinned produce is inescapable.

But this is my research, this is how I hold my family in good health, why my children have never required antibiotics, and my husband and I have not touched them for more than a decade. Likewise any other pharmaceutical products. No pain killers, no cold or flu medications, nothing. I am not opposed to them, I just have had no need of them. Life or Death, I would welcome the acute care; day to day I look after my family with nutrition, ancient wisdom and supportive, rather than suppressive, remedies.

I am empowered in my health and that of my children. I know that they can get sick, especially in winter time with the lack of sunshine, too much time indoors, pollution and imperfect diets (outside of my remit). And I know how to support their systems to help them heal back into good health again.

So the appearance of a new virus, no matter how virulent or hard does not scare me. I am not avoiding the possibility that we may contract it but I am prepared for it if we do.

I do see how scared other people are and I know so much of it is because they are disempowered in understanding their own health and well being. So whilst it may be wise to slow down a little, take a bit more space, remember good hygiene, most of all it’s important to learn to understand our own bodies. To discover what works for our systems and what doesn’t, what nourishes, what poisons. That fear itself represses our vitality.

Our bodies have an incredible drive for survival and can create the most extraordinary healing under the worst of circumstances; so just imagine what they could be like under the best of circumstances. Imagine how vital you could be.

But it is up to each individual to author their own life, by relying on authority to tell us how to be well, we have lost all notion of our own strength. Take the wisdom that resonates for you, listen with an open mind and heart to those whose lives are an expression of joyous health.

Learn, grow, empower yourself back to the possibility of facing times like this with assurance, trust and knowledge.

There are huge gifts waiting to be claimed from this time of dis-ease. Will you take yours?

Radiant Glory

I am struggling with the continued dialogue around the toxic masculine predator.  Whilst I agree that consent needs to be clear (though hopefully without killing every last vestige of romance and spontaneity), I believe there is a place for female accountability too. 

I have stood as a disempowered woman who has said ‘No’, provided the body language of discomfort and rigidity and not been heard or respected. I have had a man’s hand at my throat for not fulfilling his needs; I have said ‘no more’ to the boyfriend I was leaving but he still took more; I have walked away from too many situations feeling unclean, unhappy and abused. And I have had a part to play in that dynamic occurring. 

Yes there are the rare but horrifying psychopaths whose terror we would have no control over, but so many of the ‘me too’ stories are women asking for men to define the scenario, to be respectful, healthy, wholesome no matter what they are confronted with. We are again giving away our power by asking them to be solely responsible for holding women safely. 

We are asking for men to be brought up to respect women, to do things differently, but why aren’t we asking for women to make this change too? In every relationship dynamic, we can never expect our opposite to make the change, we have to create the change for ourselves and perhaps they might follow our shining example! 

Why have we been meeting film directors in their hotel rooms, instead of insisting on a space we are comfortable with? Why do we choose to drink away our inhibitions at frat parties? Why did I stay in the room when I ended a relationship, after I had said ‘no’ to one more time? Why did I not get up at leave, why did I not set my boundaries clearly, why did I not honour and respect myself enough to do what I needed to keep me safe? 

We are asking men to respect us, but do we respect ourselves? When do we say ‘No’ with clarity, strength and follow through. I’m not talking about the ‘life in danger’ scenarios, I’m talking about the every day abuses that I hear women happy to rage about but refuse to take accountability for. Yes men have their work to do, but so do women.  Should a man take advantage of a inebriated woman, absolutely not. Should a women be inebriated in a circle of people she is not safe with? Are we treating ourselves with respect as we stumble and slur? Are we treating ourselves with respect when we stay with a misogynist boss for the sake of our career?  I can hear the thousands of excuses being hurled at me as I write this, the shunning of blame straight back to the men, the justifications for staying when your body was screaming to leave, the fears. I hear them all, I acknowledge them all, I honour them all AND still there is space to take back our power for ourselves, not from men but from the ether where we left it. We don’t need to lord over the masculine, we simply need to claim back the feminine in all its powerful and radiant glory. 

Robert Moore lectured to the effect that the uninitiated man becomes an unwise aggressor and the uninitiated woman a victim. 

Initiation (the supported process of shifting the psyche from child to adult) helped me find my strength, my clarity, my respect and my ‘No’. Not since my initiation have I encountered these myriad dynamics of abuse that I previously encountered daily, because my energy and perspective has shifted so significantly. It is in my power to deign to let myself become victim or instead to hold compassion for those who act out their wounds and place my boundaries firmly between us. 

I will endeavour to raise my son to be a man of self respect and my daughter to be a woman of self respect. I know that if I achieve these aims, they will mirror that respect out into the world through their actions, words and deeds. That is also the choice I make for myself. 

I stand in my power and say and act ‘No’ when I need. That is enough.