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The progressive parent.

 I don’t want to replicate the trauma passed onto me - so I unhealthily map out how not to be a bad mum. I think my biggest fear is being misunderstood. I try my absolute best to be better but that doesn’t often translate to reality.  Perhaps I mate with perfectionism and convince myself that I am doing the best I can, when I am actually not. All I’m doing is trying to be better than those who hurt me - rather than being the best I can be. My biggest area of improvement is in the arena of mental health. I’ve been privileged enough to experience financial stability as my parents are very hard working individuals. However I can see how this tenacious effort to provide for their children, family and strangers has infringed upon their right to put themselves first. I’m sure my parents have pure intentions but I can’t help but recognise how their self-neglect showed up in their ability to parent me. Now I sit here in a similar place to them, processing all the trauma and seeing it ...
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When the opposite-sex are branded as aliens.

Religious PR is overzealous to say the least. So effective that one can be conditioned to fear merely talking to the opposite sex. A few months ago, Josiah and I stopped off at a service station on the M4 on the way to London. I am grossly interested in self-expression and how it manifests in social settings. I noticed a group of four men with two of their sons, all clothed in the most pristinely cut blue shirt, grey suit trousers and the cleanest haircuts with fades. In my ignorance and simultaneous anxiety, I initiated an inquiry with these men. I said "You are all looking very sharp, have you got a wedding?". They continued to face the Mcdonalds counter and gave me brash responses. In my attempt to avoid further misogyny, I invited Josiah over to chat and in response to this questioning they told him they were apart of a very exclusive religious group (the name has slipped my mind but that is probably a good thing) and were on their way back from a bible conference. They a...
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Hyper-activity is how I cope.

 It's taken me a while to be content with solitude and rest. I used to pursue every whim that would give me distraction yet I would completely avoid the fact that I merely wanted to escape my misery.  I've done so much in my short amount of time living here on planet earth. My real CV would be full of pages describing the different jobs, volunteering and internships I have done. This is definitely hereditary. I come from a blood-line of extremely conscientious individuals and I was raised to cook, clean, babysit, work, study, exercise, sing and so much more. I learned to have it all and do it all.  It's always been a trait of mine being able to leverage chaos and grab every opportunity with promise. As much as a I recognise that its fundamentally been a coping mechanism I am very happy that it was one. I could have been stagnated by a crippling sense of apathy but instead I was raised to be a go-getter.  Now I am at a stage in my life where my criteria of the things ...
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Turn your Trauma into Art

 It's 2024 and I pray with all of my atheist mind that we LEAVE the cheap accusations of trauma-dumping in the past.  What is trauma-dumping ? Well, I am sure you've felt drained after speaking to a family member, friend, a drunk person or a stranger after they shared their heavy sob story at length without your permission. This is one form of trauma-dumping and in all honesty it's inevitable. It's a dog eat dog world out there and we are all fucking lonely. Our window of tolerance seems to grow smaller and smaller because the world is changing at such a rapid pace. It's hard to slow down. We all like to speak and it's a rarity to find someone who will truly listen. So I can understand those (including myself) who shoot all of their trauma diarrhoea at anyone who shows them attention.  I feel conflicted as I am writing this because I am a HUGE advocate for boundaries and enabling safe spaces by considering the other person's emotional state before sharing....
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For the sick and unemployed.

 I met this lady at the library and I asked her the question that we all dread to answer.  “What do you do for a living?” Her response to my query was absolutely heart-wrenching.  She said “I have a career in ill health”. Though sickness hasn’t plagued me much, the shame she exhibited reminded me of a person I knew who is also severely affected by their condition. It made me think that being able to have a career is really a privilege. One that can be grossly overlooked but also over-consumed. I mean there is a large emphasis on our ability to contribute to the world tangibly - notably through money or kindness to others. But what comes of you if your health is so diminished that you struggle to even love yourself. We don’t need more workers, we need more lovers. Make love your full-time job and be your own client.
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I wish I had more word hugs

  I wanna be held by your words,   Praised by adjectives, secured by your full stop. I want it to be just me and you dancing in definitive phrases and unconditional clauses. I hope that our love can be concrete like a noun, As seamless as a simile. If not I’ll continue to find refuge in my own words.
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I guess I’m kinda Marxist

 Things are so complex that it’s common to resort to brash and comfortable conclusions. I feel as though I have been programmed to find safety and sustenance in the material world.  ‘You must find a full-time job’ lest you become or stay broke. It is undeniable, that money is important and that it indeed can make you feel satisfied. For me though, committing to full time work in a place where my values and individuality aren’t appreciated is just a no-go. Though I find myself endlessly applying to jobs when I don’t feel emotionally safe.  I’ve been living in fight or flight for the past couple of years and it’s ironic that the socially branded saviour of a corporate job is just not good for my well-being. But hey it’s what we are taught right? Sabotage your well-being for the material….
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