Trusting the Flow

I’ve attended every yoga class this term. That’s a minor miracle for me. Usually, by now, I would have become sick.

Not this term.

I’ve meditated almost every night. As a result, my deep sleep percentage is rising. I also have more energy every day.

This week, after Sunday’s minor implosion with massive purging, my perspectives have shifted. It’s like I shook off everything that has been holding me back. Sunday was hard, but needed to happen.

I woke on Monday, liberated. An easiness in my steps with a singing heart. I’ve had an amazing week.

I’ve stopped worrying about money. I have minimal stress. I feel fantastic. And the energies are flowing. I’ve loved working and feel so blessed to be creating the life I want to be living.

My business is thriving; my waiting list is surging. My intuition is at full strength and I’m trusting the signs. Ooh, and embracing opportunities.

Because I removed my self-imposed shackles, I am embracing and loving life. I no longer want to be small. I’m ready to shine. I am shining.

I am not controlled by my past or by distorted self- perception. My writing is flowing and my book is writing itself as a result. I’m learning, growing, becoming wholly me in every instant.

I’m not looking back. Eyes are pointing forward whilst my soul is very much present in the moment.

Gratitude.

Battling On

Well, not really battling. I think it’s important to follow up Sunday’s post.

IVF really changed parts of me for a long time, as it is wont to do. I do not regret the journey and I am ultimately grateful for the outcome. Without all of that, I wouldn’t be here. And, here is pretty darn good.

Shedding the emotion on Sunday has empowered and enabled huge steps forwards. I have deleted unnecessary pages I was adminning on Facebook and found an admin for one of my groups that has over three and a half thousand members.

One of my inner circle is continually reminding me that I need to send clear messages to the universe regarding the life I want. Deleting pages and removing myself as admin is sending that energy out there as well as creating space for new things.

I think this is important. It is not enough to just want change. We acting very need to create the space for new things in our often cluttered lives and then we need to actively pursue the new things. Clear messages; clear direction; clear action.

I am also revamping my healing page and my writing page. I have created new promotional material for Akashi Healing. I feel empowered. Inspired. Happy. Peaceful.

Time to Say Goodbye

This is the final weekend of eclipses and marks a new phase for all of us. The last eight months or so have been very unsettled and resolutions will now be seen to manifest. The past is the past, and our presents belong to clean slates.

Wow. I’m struggling even to write this. I’ve been absent from here. I have left teaching and have been establishing new routines and new ways of being. I am happy and significantly less stressed. And, I have started writing the book that my soul has been called to write for at least the last couple of years, if not longer, subconsciously.

Today, though, I needed to say goodbye to my grief about not becoming a birth mother during this incarnation. I will be eternally grateful that those people closest to me have not given up on me. I am still invited to the baby showers of my extended family. Difficult, but I am truly grateful.

I am also grateful that they all fell pregnant after most of my healing had been done, when there is some residual around Baby Showers, but nothing else.

Today, I had to resolve the last part. I didn’t know it before today, even though I had a feeling I wasn’t entirely good, but today I knew for sure.

I have been good with people falling pregnant, being pregnant, having babies. I haven’t been okay with Baby Showers and couldn’t understand why. I figured the actual baby would be more difficult to handle, but no. Not for me.

About three days ago, symptoms of anxiety started to surface. I wasn’t sure I would make it to the Baby Shower today. I kept breathing and talking sense to myself, and I knew in my heart that I needed to make sure I went. People can’t be sympathetic forever, and there comes a time when you stop being invited to events. There also comes a time when you need to move on within yourself.

I worked this morning (not that I necessarily call Sunday’s client, work at all). I came home for a shower, put the dress on I had been wanting to wear, felt overdone, and changed, resulting in feeling boganesque. I wasn’t going to win by changing outfits continually, so I stayed dressed this way, resisting the urge to wear yoga pants, cons and an oversized cardigan.

The anxiety became stronger. I started to experience heart palpitations and nausea. I questioned why I committed. At this point, I stopped, took some deep breaths, and acknowledged that I loved these people. That’s why I committed. Because I’m grateful I was invited and because I want to be part of these children’s lives because I want to be part of their parents’ lives.

These are my people, and I’ve been very absent for a very long time. IVF altered me and made me not me for a long time and I lost a lot. I didn’t know how to come back and I don’t want to lose these people.

I cried on the drive in. Thirty minutes of increasingly feeling worse. I willed myself to stop crying and to stop shaking. I tapped whilst I drove.

Even though I’m feeling exceptionally vulnerable, I completely love and accept myself.

Then, I forced myself to fake smile and visualised talking to people and feeling safe, confident, unimpacted. I debated calling ahead, asking to be met outside, asking to not go in and giving the gifts and apologies and running away. I debated turning around and going home. I debated pulling my head in and just going.

I arrived, took some deep breaths, grabbed the gifts, and walked to the door. I hugged the Mum to be and thanked her for the invitation. I spoke to my mum to be sister and burdened her for a while, then went outside to relieve her of my angsty self. I started to breathe evenly and calm myself. I spoke to people. I interacted. I think I did okay.

I left to see members of the birth family.

I drove home. I cried most of the way. I felt ridiculous. Then I spoke to myself and loved myself like I would others in this position, and I owned my grief.

It is okay to still feel this way. It is okay to hurt. There is no time limit. There is no pressure. This was the time. This was the place. This is the beginning of a new phase. I had to grieve and cry out this residual from my old phase.

It is okay. I am okay.

Whilst I had been in the shower, I had had an epiphany or realisation for why Baby Showers are such a struggle. I share this in case one day you, or a friend, or family member, go through something similar.

Baby Showers are a celebration of motherhood. And it is important to celebrate this journey.

As a middle aged woman who has failed in this society to bear children, for me, this celebration is hard. For me, it highlights my inability to conceive and carry, and it highlights that I don’t live a normal life, have never been normal, and probably won’t ever be normal.

As a middle aged woman without children, you don’t tend to fit so easily into this world. You can carve out your spot, but you don’t belong to the motherhood tribe. You can’t talk about your kids or share wisdom about raising children, with others. Often, the first question you are asked is if you have kids. Or you aren’t asked, and people assume. After all, you look old enough now to be a mother, so you must be.

I don’t think we realise how much the expectation of women is to mother. Until you can’t. And then it becomes very clear. And I think the expectation marginalises those of us that cannot fulfill the expectation. Especially those of us who try and fail.

I dunno. I’m writing about childhood trauma. If I hadn’t miscarried in 2013, my baby would be turning four next week. Maybe that’s why Baby Showers are hard. Maybe, but not likely. Meh.

A Crisis In Identity

Who am I? It was destined to happen. You leave a job you have been doing for over twenty five years; a job where you encounter so many people that it obviously becomes a major stakeholder in your identity, that when you leave it, the question needs to be asked. Who am I? I’m not sure. I’m in transition. Well, I do know what makes me happy, I know what my values are, I know who my family and extended family is, I just don’t know what I will end up doing. So, I do know who I am. I just don’t know where I am going. My life is open. I am a small business owner. I am a healer, holding space and empowering others. I am a mentor. I am a private tutor. I am a witch. I am an alien. I am a soul who has incarnated many, many times. I am left wing, mostly. I am an animal lover. I am a hard worker, not necessarily smart worker. I am compassionate, empathetic, happy, satisfied, loyal. I am many things. But, I don’t know what else I will be. I’ve talked sense to myself now. I’m trusting this process of transition. I know I want to make a huge difference in this world. I know that I need to be cognisant of the signs as they come. I know I will be fine. My identity is not what I do; it is who I am in what I do and outside what I do. I stand firm. I know who I am.

A Crisis In Identity

Who am I? It was destined to happen. You leave a job you have been doing for over twenty five years; a job where you encounter so many people that it obviously becomes a major stakeholder in your identity, that when you leave it, the question needs to be asked. Who am I? I’m not sure. I’m in transition. Well, I do know what makes me happy, I know what my values are, I know who my family and extended family is, I just don’t know what I will end up doing. So, I do know who I am. I just don’t know where I am going. My life is open. I am a small business owner. I am a healer, holding space and empowering others. I am a mentor. I am a private tutor. I am a witch. I am an alien. I am a soul who has incarnated many, many times. I am left wing, mostly. I am an animal lover. I am a hard worker, not necessarily smart worker. I am compassionate, empathetic, happy, satisfied, loyal. I am many things. But, I don’t know what else I will be. I’ve talked sense to myself now. I’m trusting this process of transition. I know I want to make a huge difference in this world. I know that I need to be cognisant of the signs as they come. I know I will be fine. My identity is not what I do; it is who I am in what I do and outside what I do. I stand firm. I know who I am.

Settling Dust

I am exhausted. Yesterday, I struggled to move. I had been telling myself, with very full days, that I just had to get to Wednesday. Hehe. I needed to give myself more days I think. I’ve woken up today, still feeling like I’ve been hit repeatedly by a bus. So, I dyed my hair – long overdue and the dark roots always look oily against blonde once you hit a certain point. A point I probably hit three weeks ago. I feel refreshed. And peacefully happy. I knew my lump was benign. I have been referred to a breast specialist for further confirmation. I’m not sure I’ll be making that appointment. I have believed that the fibroadenoma emerged because I had lessons to learn. I tend to put my needs last most of the time. I need to stop doing that and put my needs first. I am becoming more mindful of and to this. If I can’t do something, I express it. First steps, but big steps towards changing life long patterns that directly correlate to my perception of my own worth. I have been reading a book that looks at the emotional causes of illness. Similar to Louise Hay, but more in depth and significantly more confronting. It’s called The Secret Language of your Body and is written by Inna Segal. Breast lumps suggest that I have been holding on to past hurts and regrets, and am feeling unfulfilled, difficulty asking for help, not saying no, and a lack of nurturing and comfort. Hehehe. An uncomfortable read. Looking at other aspects of my dis-ease, like my weight, doesn’t get any easier. It has empowered me to start knowing what to heal specifically. Time to rid my body of outdated attitudes and beliefs. Time to own my beauty and amazingness.

The Morning After

I thought the hardest part of yesterday would be giving my keys back. Not so much. I stood with Matt and Jane in the car park, just not wanting to leave, after sitting with them in the staff room, not wanting to leave. What a day. And, I think almost every aspect of my teaching career happened yesterday (no referrals, thank god). So much love. So overwhelmed. Still. I had work after work. I cried on the way home. During 2016, every morning on the drive to work, I cried and belted out Defying Gravity from Wicked. It got me through by reminding me to stand in my power. I decided to listen to it, on repeat, in the car yesterday morning. So much more power now, in those lyrics, and I realised that I had been setting intentions for my life; I am now starting to realise those intentions. I am excited for new pathways. I know my time in school education as a full time permanent teacher is at an end; I need to continue to grow. Today though, I am a little sad. A little scared. A little deer in the headlights lol. Not really the last one. I was being a little funny. When I returned to Reddall this year, and all year, I didn’t really feel like I was making much of an impact. I felt a lot like I had disappeared into the ether. Yesterday reminded me how significant even the seemingly non existent things can be to other people. Just the energy we have as individuals can impact other people. The most humbling parts of yesterday were the genuine moments of honest love. One of my colleagues knitted me an incredibly beautiful and warm shawl, and gave me a beautiful brooch to close it with. I had seen this type of a brooch as a child and I had always longed to have one. She didn’t know that, but I did. I still haven’t been able to finish reading her card. One line in and I was a mess. Such gratitude. Thank you, Kathryn. The kids. Notes from unexpected places. Hugs. Tears. Genuine love. Readings from Lucy Cavendish’s new deck – the irony – thank you, Margarita. Beautiful words shared from my the people who see me every day in the staffroom – who laugh at my jokes, listen to my whinging and whom I share my dysfunction with. I still get that choke in my throat. Some of the students made these wonderful cardboard posters and got kids to write a message – I haven’t read all of the messages yet, but I’m excited to. I only taught one class yesterday, for a double, and we watched Remember the Titans. Timeless classic. At the end of the lesson, one of the kids stayed, and cried with me. He said, “I love you. I’m going to miss you. Why do you have to leave?” I cry again now. He’s a beautiful boy. Hard to explain it to the kids – it’s time to move on, I’ve been doing this for so long now, I need a change – none soothe their feelings of loss. I’ll be honest though, it surprised me how many kids, without drama, expressed this, yesterday and in the lead up. Very humbling. And, again, I’m very grateful. My sister, AP at the primary school I taught a few casual days at during last year, left me a message to let me know that one of the Year 6 students was sad I wouldn’t be at Reddall next year. I can’t say the exact words because it dissolves me into tears. I think I thought I was past the ability to make kids feel. I don’t think I quite believe who I am. Isn’t it funny – all this growth and I still don’t truly get my impact on other people, especially kids. I think because I’ve always looked at what I get and how I feel – I have mostly always felt so blessed to be a teacher. Man, I’ve got some healing to do lol. The best parts of teaching are the relationships and the light bulb moments when you can see that the kids get something for the first time. I have been so blessed in my career to have many of both. I’ve made mistakes, and I’ve grown up through being a teacher and teaching. I am grateful for all of it. And, I am so grateful to every single person who has walked the journey to this point with me, including the kids and experiences and staff that have taught me through the pain. One very lucky woman here.

The End of an Era

Today is my last day of teaching in a school on a permanent basis, I hope. On March 31 last year, Lucy Cavendish used a metaphor of a bridge with me. She said that I had one foot on a bridge to a new life, whilst my other foot was still teetering in my old life.Today, I am crossing the bridge. Tomorrow, I land on the other side. I am excited about the potential for my life. I am also, a little bit, sad about moving on from Reddall. It has been my home, inextricably linked to my identity, for twenty years. Wow. That’s a long time. I love my kids. Always will. It’s not about them, it’s not really about the system either. It’s about claiming my life as my own to fulfil my real purpose: inspiring and empowering the masses to live a happy and fulfilled life. That’s my teaching mission. There will be tears today for me, inside or outside, who knows. Yesterday, I packed my desk up. Today, I put the things I’m taking from my classroom into a bag. I’m not taking much. Yesterday, speaking to Jane, the tears threatened and a little bit of loss was felt. Change is hard, regardless of the excitement. Letting go of all you know to move into uncertainty is scary …But, it’s also liberating. Onwards and upwards.

Because Iā€™m human … sometimes šŸ˜œ

Yesterday was an interesting day. It ended in frustration at what I perceive to be the inefficiency of the health system.

This morning was also interesting. After going to bed very late (happens because I finish work so late), I woke this morning with a strong message from the universe.

The lump in my breast (more than likely a benign fibroamenoid), the smashed thumb and the smashed car – all on the left side – are signs to let go of needing to control and be in control.

A shock, I know lol. I’m usually so trusting šŸ˜³

And, that message is right. Life has a fluidity that, when trusted, leads us to exactly where we are meant to be, in peace. I guess it’s similar to having faith in God. But, different too.

I arrived for my appointment on time. I was quizzed about cancelling the mammogram. It was accepted. I was relieved.

I had the ultrasound. Nothing unexpected. A big lump on my left breast, near the surface, very obvious. The routine questions:

When did you discover it? How long do you think it has been there? Do you have a family history of breast cancer? Any cancer? When was your last mammogram? Do you have the slides?

My last mammogram was in my twenties when I had been hit by a student throwing something and it resulted in a lump. So, no, I do not have the slides. In fact, never received the slides.

No history of any cancer.

I found it two and a half weeks ago. I hadn’t noticed it during my last self-exam. No, I don’t remember exactly when that was, the last three months or so.

Why didn’t you come earlier?

I booked in with the doctor and it took me a week to get an appointment. Then, I immediately booked in here and today was your first free appointment. I called eight days ago to book in.

Oh. And giggles, God love her.

Then the doctor came in. Felt the lump. Looked at the scans. Asked the questions. Explained that whilst he is fairly certain it’s a fibroamenoid, he is concerned that it grew suddenly when usually they are with you since menstruation starts. I mentioned the IVF for five years. Faces changed and ohs were emitted.

Yep. IVF – the gift that keeps giving.

Again, for me, a lesson in trust over control. One I think I’ll still be learning on my death bed lol.

Then, half naked, that gross gel over my chest, Why did you opt out of the mammogram?

I gave my reasons.

I don’t want to pressure you. It’s your choice, it’s your body. But …

I got so frustrated. I know enough to know I didn’t want it, but I can’t argue with a doctor. Ended up with the mammogram too.

Frustrated with my lack of balls here. And, that frustration lasted until this morning’s message.

I’m at peace now. Wish I’d been dressed and standing for that argument. There’s a vulnerability that is disarming on a table half dressed. But, it is what it is.

I am a work in progress. Constantly evolving and learning.

I’ll be fine though – I know that for sure.

Pic 1 – visual metaphor – Tina yesterday between scans lol

Pic 2 – nice view behind the visual metaphor

Pic 3 – the sunrise of illumination and trust this morning

šŸ˜‰ yep, I’m crazy lol

Nurturing

Two weeks ago, I found a massive lump in my left boob. Once, finding a lump would have sent me into a massive tail spin. This didn’t.

I felt a stillness from within, a trust that this is meant to be, for whatever reason. Whatever it is, I will deal with it, I’ll manage it, I’ll do what needs to be done. And, if it is worst case scenario, then I’ll make sure I make the most of each new day and live, doing things I love, being with people I love. And, the stillness and peace continues.

A couple of days after finding the lump, I made an appointment with a doctor. The appointment was last Wednesday, the earliest I could get.

My appointment was for 11.20. I had clients from 12.30. I thought I could make it. However, ended up cancelling first two clients due to the doctor running late.

Getting in to the car to go to the appointment, I smashed my left thumb in the door jam as the door closed unexpectedly. I have no idea how it happened. It hurt. My language was very unladylike lol. I held an ice pack around my thumb on my drive to the doctors.

Congested car park. One spot next to a brick wall. Figured I could make it. Figured incorrectly. Metal from the door jam to the back wheel on the left side pulled back. Yep. What the.

Pulled out. Drove to another spot, further away. Looked at the damage. Shook my head. Went in to surgery to wait for two hours. Still relatively calm.

I suffer high blood pressure (is it any wonder lol), but came off my medication last December because I didn’t like the side effects. I started meditating more to compensate. Also, watching diet and monitoring stress and self care strategies. I know I’m not a doctor, but I know my body best and me. Drugs weren’t helping; they were making it worse. No point managing one thing only to create others, and realistically, the drugs were managing the high blood pressure, not correcting it.

The doctor, whom I haven’t seen before, but I prefer a female for female things, looked at me, then to her screen, then back to me, and exclaimed, You look amazing for your age! I laughed.

Confirmed I have a tumour, not a cyst, and gave me the referrals for a mammogram and ultrasound.

Blood pressure 150 over 100. I was ecstatic. Yes, that’s high. But, that was my blood pressure medicated, occasionally it went lower, but not by much. More often, it was higher.

For me, on a day I had smashed my thumb in the door and smashed the back of my car, then had to wait for a doctor and cancel clients, whilst having a lump that after googling, I knew was a tumour, this blood pressure reading shows that I’m managing it! Ecstatic.

No family history of breast cancer. Older than 40. Approaching menopause. Doctor thinks it is more likely it is benign too.

I’m not worried. I trust that whatever is going on, is ultimately for my benefit.

One thing I know for sure, every time I’ve perceived I’ve gone through hell, I have discovered exquisite beauty and greater happiness on the other side. Every negative situation has created greater positivity in my life.

The universe is always in balance. Where there is pain, there is also joy. Where there is hardship, there is also ease. I trust that I will be okay. I am okay now.

Three things – left side – nurturing the feminine. I have lived so much of my life in masculine energy, it makes sense I need to balance my energy.

At school, I’m called on for masculine energy. In my business and life, I’m more feminine in my energy. Affirmation that my time in organised education is up. Time to nurture me, just like I’ve nurtured so many others.

I had a healing client yesterday. Seeing her face open and light come back into her soul, I knew that I had made the right decision.

Everything happens for a reason.

We all need to trust that.

Oh, and after extensive research, I will have the ultrasound but not the mammogram. It’s my right to say no.