My Crazy Head

Some of you will read this and think I’ve gone cray cray. If I’m crazy now, I always have been.

When I was in Minnesota (one of my favourite places on Earth) last year, I received two very powerful healings, followed by an activation and healing. This week in the US, followed by my trip to the Grand Canyon, profoundly changed me.

I remembered things I have always known and started trusting this.

I have always known that ghosts walked among us. As I have aged, these ideas have developed into an understanding that time is not linear, and that many universes and existences/lives are played out at the same time. I understand the notion of lucid dreaming, but have found the human interpretation too restrictive and palatable, rather believing that lucid dreaming is astral travel and that many of us work in other realms healing the grid during our human sleeping hours. Recently, I have come to know and accept my alien self/existence, and have been blessed to meet others, all in human form. And, now, I talk to spirit and deliver messages frequently.

It’s been an interesting evolution. Realistically, remembering what I have always known and manifesting it without fear in this somewhat secular and unbelieving world.

I’m happier than I have ever been.

That’s important. And, I share what I know and share healing with others. So, if I am crazy, others benefit. Keep justifying, Tina lol.

Anyway, the reason I write this. A few weeks ago, a couple of friends were here, and I practiced the sound healing on them. One of my friends has strong electrical influences. My TV has always been sensitive to energy. Since her healing, it has switched itself on almost every night.

Last night, there was a different energy around this. I’m usually asleep or away when this happens. But, last night, my dogs were barking, which woke me, and then the TV came on. I had a strong feeling of not being alone. And, knew in my heart that it was switched on by someone/something.

I felt no fear. Got up. Turned it off. Checked the time: 12.38. Wide awake. I felt like I had been asleep for much longer. An hour and a half later, I fell back to sleep.

I have no concern. I am just interested in the why. I’ll smudge the rooms today. And, I’ll clear the energy. But, I’m quite sure someone wants me to deliver a message.

Yep. Cray, cray. But, happy.


When I was a young girl, I really struggled with any sort of injustice. Injustice really hurt my heart. I would cry, I would write emotional poetry, I would hurt for days. And, I would wax lyrical about how I was going to change the world.

When the nuns were found, murdered, in an African country in the eighties, I was going to become a non-Catholic missionary and go out to save the people. Yes, I now know what a missionary is in its fullest extent – romantic idealism does not take into account limitations. And, when I saw a documentary about sows chained in little pens, I cried and cried and wrote one of my favourite poems, and cried some more until I became vegetarian. Now, my soul cries for all animals.

I had a dream when I was very young, between 9 and 12 years old, where armies were converging upon one another on a dark night and I stood up between them, hands outstretched, dressed in white, instructing and inspiring them to stop, in a speech that Martin Luther King Jr and Barack Obama would have been proud of.

The systems were wrong, even then. There is something wrong with humans and the way we have organised our society.

When I first started teaching in the early nineties, I was interviewed by a local newspaper. They asked why I wanted to become a teacher. My answer, predictably, I want to change the world.

Typical Tina.

Over time, with maturity, or was it growing cynicism, I realised I could change the world only by changing the lives of individuals. They would then do their part, and in time, our world would become a better place. Instead of me being the saviour, I accepted that I was a part of a bigger process.

At 46, almost 47, I don’t know where I sit with all of this. The changes in education, the changes in the way people lead, the lack of change that is needed yet not delivered, bamboozles me.

Education has become so right wing, so totalitarian, that I just don’t get it. Everyone needs to do things the same way, everyone is a cog and no longer a human being, and playing the game gets you ahead. Being true, being authentic, being real, does not. The systems no longer fit the individual, if they ever did.

I don’t like it. But, I don’t care to fight it either. Well, not as a part of it.

Something fundamentally necessary has disappeared from education in NSW, probably worldwide, except Finland, and that is the passion of its educators and legislators for the welfare of children. It’s become so day to day that we have forgotten the why. We no longer strive to be better, even though we pretend we are with continual changes in syllabi that do nothing except alienate the underclass further. Changes that don’t further education or our kids or our world.

The system sucks. It’s broken.

So, how am I settling back into the machine after a year out of it?

Five days a fortnight is working for me. As a classroom teacher with no leadership stresses, my love for my classroom practice is thriving. I love my students. I manipulate what I want to teach to fit what I have to teach. I refuse to become entrenched by the education machine. And, I know my time is limited.

I love my kids. I love watching them navigate their own learning. It’s such a gift. I love playing with them in our classroom. I love seeing their smiles and I love seeing them engaged. I love the relationships that build and I love loving my kids.

On Tuesday, another teacher gave me some feedback from one of my new students. She said that the student had said I was inspiring. Beautiful. If I can help that child know their value and enjoy their learning, I’ve achieved what I set out to achieve.

I’ve changed the world.

5 cents

This morning I have 5 cents in my bank account. This time last year I had $30 000 in my bank account, with a steady stream of funds regularly coming in.

This morning I am happier than I was this time last year. Infinitely happier.

This week the bank accounts will start to be replenished, but during my six weeks of no steady income, I have learned some important things. I have learned:

* I have the means and ability to create and manifest work when I need it.

* I can live off the smell of an oily rag.

* money does not buy happiness, nor does possessing it in bucketloads bring or inspire happiness.

* stress from not having money can ruin a beautiful day, but if you practise, you can trust that the universe will always provide what you need, and it will.

* people don’t really believe you when you tell them that you are poor and can’t do stuff.

* when you are living your life in alignment with your values, every day is an amazing day.

* friends, real friends, are always willing to support you – they buy you a meal, offer you loans, give you work, and laugh with you.

* I can live/survive financially without being a school teacher.

* I never want to have just 5 cents in my bank account again.

Not because it causes stress because I trust the universe will provide, but because through my poverty, I have realised my ultimate goal.

I want to have millions in my bank account so that I am able to offer empowerment classes, workshops and personal support to women for free. I want to be able to help other women create their best lives by feeling empowered to be their best selves.

I want other women to feel as blessed and as grateful and as soul happy as I consistently do.

I want other women to feel free.

This is my dream.

The Bridge Is Falling

Something very sad happens to a child who grows up in a home with dysfunction and trauma. They develop creases and tears in their concept of self. They don’t see themselves as worthy or valuable.

And, as a result, they either act out and get angry and aggressive and don’t comply, or, they become very compliant and afraid to get into trouble and do everything they can to please others, subconsciously hoping that others see the value they don’t believe exists. Sometimes they act out as both at different times.

The thing that is common though, the thing they share, is that they don’t believe they are worth much and they don’t believe they matter. These people are the ones who say things like, I am always there for others and when I need someone, no one is there or Talk to such and such because they are really good listeners.

Most of my life I’ve been that person. The combination one, but mostly the compliant and scared one. The one that feels like she gives and gives and drops everything for others and is always alone. The one that others, intentionally or unintentionally, use and abuse.

I realised this about myself a few years ago, after the miscarriage. One of my friends said to me that if no one was ever there for me and I was always disappointed in the responses of other people, there was one common link I needed to focus on, and that link was me.

Now, at the time, this cut me very deeply. I was sure I could never and would never speak to that person again. I was adamant, within myself, that this was a problem for all of those other people to solve, this was their problem. They were all just selfish. After all, if always been there for everyone else.

If you are like me, you’ve probably used this narrative yourself. Or versions of it. At its core, the language reveals a resentment that we still don’t think we are valuable or worthy or good enough, and we do and do and do for others in the often desperate hope, that someone will see us and validate us, in the hope that by them seeing we are enough, we might start to believe it too.

A very sad cycle.

The result of that comment from my friend was that I did shut down from others for a while, in a tantrum, and I did go inside and focus on me. Petulantly at first I said, Fine. I won’t rely on anyone. I’ll show you all. And, I did. I didn’t reach out. I didn’t share, I just went about living and healing myself, from the miscarriage, not my piss weak sense of self.

After my tantrum passed, and this took a while because I was grieving my child too, I started to stand on my own two feet, and I found myself in situations that forced me to heal other, deeper parts of my soul hurt. I found the strength to really hear myself and to start to acknowledge that because I didn’t value myself, because I didn’t see my worth, I was expecting behaviours from others from the perspective that it was their responsibility to fill my lack, to prove to me how much I was worth.

No one can, or should have to, prove to someone else that they are valuable or worthy. It can’t be done. And when we look for it outside of ourselves, we ain’t gonna receive or find it. External validation does not fill the lack or the hole. In fact, I think it does the opposite, I think it makes the hole bigger or never ending because we become reliant on external validation rather than seeing our value for ourselves.

When we truly know we are valuable, the world changes.

Well, the way we perceive it and represent ourselves within it.

Don’t get me wrong, I am a perpetual work in progress. Whilst I know my worth at some very deep level, I still have many moments where my thoughts go through a process to remember it. However, this week, back at school, I am seeing my growth.

I have always appeared confident at work. I am now confident at work, through to my core, something has shifted. I don’t need my workplace to tell me I am worthy. I know I am worthy.

As a result, I stand in my shoes as an authentic human. I am me.

I can’t wear my professional clothes anymore – they are uncomfortable on my skin and I squirm all day. I can say no. I can ignore things that take me away from my core business of teaching. I really don’t care what other people at work think of me. I am me. I like me. I am worthy. I am valuable.

Matter of factly, without emotion, if you don’t see me or my worth, that’s not my problem, it’s your problem. I don’t care. I will still be me, still do me, you’ll just miss out.

This is liberating. It is empowering.

When Lucy read for me last year at the end of March, she said I still had one foot in my past and I wasn’t ready to completely lift my heel up and move into my new life. The image gave me courage to strive forwards.

When I went back to work at school this week, I was concerned that I was moving backwards. Three days done, today is my weekend and I’m going to yoga this morning, and I realise that I haven’t gone backwards at all.

I needed to measure my growth. I needed to come back so that I could realise and understand that I no longer need this life at all. I have outgrown it. With this realisation, taking my foot out of the past is much easier, still scary, but much easier. I don’t need what it offers.

I still love teaching because I love the classroom and the relationships that I build with my kids. I taught at one of our feeder primary schools last year. I taught some of the Year 6 students. Yesterday, when a fair few of them turned up in my Year 7 English class, we were all genuinely excited to be reunited. My soul smiled.

When my Year 12 class were so willing to engage with me and our unit on travel, my soul smiled.

When Year 11 trusted me, in and through their writing, in our first period, with the insecurities of their soul, and let me really see who they were, my soul smiled.

When Year 10, last period, sat and worked quietly, trying their guts out, my soul smiled.

My heart is full. I am truly blessed. My life is rich. I can walk over the bridge. I will be safe on the other side.

I have come home.