People’s Hearts Matter

No, I don’t have a chip on my shoulder about the LGBTIQ community. Just saying.

I read novels every once in a blue moon. At such times I go into a vortex and will finish it in 1-2 days. I wonder if it’s, overall, more enjoyable to take longer to read a novel? Making it a lengthier enjoyment?

In the latest novel I read, I was super angered at one point though. One of the main characters, a woman, ends up pregnant to a guy she has a casual attachment to. But in the process also discovers a new love interest – another woman. (Of course! Cos nothing is considered “juicy” without these sorts of sordid tales,right. It’s why I barely read novels, they are pathetic).

When she finally tells the guy that she is having his baby, he’s angry at first – thinking that she has been with another man. But when she drops (what should be) a bombshell and says that she’s now actually with a WOMAN, he calms down.

Wow…. Isn’t that so amazing. Like, his heart crumpling to bits didn’t just happen.

And he says, “It’s okay, you play for the other team so what hope did I ever have anyway.”

And they become best friends and model co-parents, and they live happily ever after.

NO. His heart has just been shattered to bits and it doesn’t matter if it’s a male or female who has taken his place – SOMEBODY has taken his place – and now his entire life has become SUPER complicated with that third party in the picture.

Why do we all LIE to ourselves and, now that homosexuality has become completely societally accepted, we tell ourselves that heartbreaks just don’t matter anymore?

“It’s all good! You couldn’t help it!”

(I hurt many people in my youth because, as it turns out, I didn’t know how to care for them, and I COULD help it. But if I was gay, what, could I suddenly NOT have helped it?).

“Well, you know… He’s gay… So he can get away with telling a woman she’s drop dead gorgeous and grabbing a boob cos it doesn’t mean a thing.”

(I’ve WITNESSED that. And besides that, when I was young, a friend’s gay brother was trying ALL NIGHT to kiss me. It STILL felt uncomfortable. Everyone was just laughing, thinking it was so funny. It was not funny, it ruined a perfectly good night out as I was trying to find inventive ways to get away from him).

“Oh, you’re a lesbian, so you can hit on me all the times that you want. I totally forgive you, it’s not harrassing at all !!”

(I was hanging out with my mates at a club one night, dancing away with my boys – I was often the only girl in a big group of boys – and a woman joined the group. When I wouldn’t dirty-dance with her, she kept on trying to gyrate herself against me. I eventually had to do the “talk to the hand” sign cos she wouldn’t GET that I was not interested. She flipped the bird and stormed off. … TO WHICH THE BOYS CRACKED UP LAUGHING and started to tease me, saying that I’d jut lost an OPPORTUNITY and that it should be a MASSIVE compliment that another woman was interested in me in that way. I said, “Why? Even if it was another GUY, I wouldn’t have lost an opportunity because I’M NOT INTERESTED!!!” MY feelings didn’t seem to matter).

I AM NOT a homophobic by the way. I have had PLENTY of close friendships in my hayday with MANY different people, and I also have family on the other team and love them dearly.

I just don’t see why we should all be blinded by the media on the essence of our humanity. Just because someone is “that way inclined”, it is not a disability – it does not make them incapable of understanding human behaviour, or as this novel so eloquently depicted, breaking someone’s heart.

I once had a lesbian bestie. She ended up developing feelings for me and when they were not returned, IT BROKE HER HEART. She didn’t just say, “Oh that’s right, you play for the other team. It’s all good! Moving on now! Let’s have another coffee date! I totally still love you as a friend – cos you’re HET and you’re MARRIED ! It’s okay!”
No, the friendship crumbled and came to a solid end.

That’s because people’s hearts have feelings and people’s hearts MATTER.

All Eyes On Me


I don’t want all eyes on me

I don’t want all eyes on me

A golden tear

I don’t want all eyes on me..

What happened?

WHAT HAPPENED to her ?!?!?!

She was a child

….who sang and recited poetry

But now she’s a blubbering mess…

What happened to her?

She was crumbled to bits

Two golden tears

Three golden tears

Rolling freely

She carries this deep inside her

It is high time it flows….


She was SO LONELY…

She was SO LONELY….

All she wanted was her FRIENDSHIP

But she treated her terribly



Teenage Girl Victim Of Bullying By Text Messaging

I don’t want all eyes on me

It makes me SO LONELY

All she wanted was TO LIKE HER

All she wanted was HER FRIENDSHIP

She became fierce and ugly

rejected her

isolated her

again and again and again

I didn’t want all eyes on me

I just wanted her to like me

Four golden tears

Five golden tears

Six golden tears

The pain

The excruciating pain

At the memory

She carries a deep cut

Underneath it all

The pain was incredibly unbearable at the time

She prayed so many times that she would just see her

See her for the sweet and innocent person that she ACTUALLY was…

who meant NO HARM to anybody

… and who just needed friends

But she never did.

She snickered

and laughed

and rejected

and disdained

and confronted

and humiliated her.


and again

and again

and again.



Nobody would EVER think she would be so cruel.

To Her ?!??!! No. EVERYBODY loves Her.

She often cried herself to sleep.

But she would face the music the next week all over again.

Surreptitious giggles…

Snide remarks…

whenever she could.

She would pray that she would not wake up the next morning.

Thankfully God never listened to my prayer.



Flowering of The Mind

I fiflowering-mindnd lately that there are many things that need to bubble and surface out of my mind.

Including a certain kind of awakening.

A revealing.

A flowering of the mind.

More like a discovery that somewhere deep down in there… I am still there.

I am still here…

Every time I write it needs to be felt in a brand new kind of way.

That feeling alone helps to unwind many things.

Life! Goals

1723328_10203602512811918_7835645076826301835_nsplash the walls with art

and my lyrics

surround myself with music

all sorts of music

music by day

variety is key

in all aspects


wildly, freely, sensually, gorgeously, happily…        goddesses-dancing

the goddesses dance

strum my guitar

write new songs

collect my favourite writings and expressions

share my favourite quotes and inspirations…

watch my favourite movies


be inspired

explore brand new little places and cafes                   OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA

make a note, tick them off

push my toes into the soft wet sand

my face whipped by the fresh salty sea

soak up the sunshine, soak it through my skin

love freely and openly



honour my body

eat healthy, nutritiously

eat for the love of, for pleasure

sleep when sleep is needed

appreciate my natural beauty                                      Never-seen-before Marilyn Monroe pictures up for auction

splash the walls with art

including my lyrics

surround myself with music

all sorts of music

music by day

variety is key

in all aspects


wildly, freely, sensually, gorgeously, happily…

the goddesses dance

strum my guitar

write new songs

collect my favourite writings and expressions

share my favourite quotes and inspirations…

watch my favourite movies


be inspired

explore brand new little places and cafes

make a note, tick them off

push my toes into the soft wet sand

my face whipped by the fresh salty sea

soak up the sunshine, soak it through my skin

love freely and openly                                                       3-to-love-is-nothing-to-be-loved-is-something-to-love-and-be-loved-is-everything



honour my body

eat healthy, nutritiously

eat for the love of, for pleasure

sleep when sleep is needed

appreciate my natural beauty

share my womanliness with little goddess…

be true to Me

pursue fields that accommodate for Me…

indulge in oils

in colours and textures

in freedom


Written March 2010





crumpled_bed_sheets_by_dexdorkIt is adulthood and maturity that brings realisations and awakenings about past loves. Loves that you realise much too late and out of character, that they were, perhaps, after all, a little bit real.

The love I had for him when I was young was potentially an eternal one and yet my wings were cut short because our youth was the great guillotine.

That led to a great depth of frustration, anger and resentment from me towards him for so many years… for so long….

And his unending silence in return exacerbated those feelings more and more….

I had to learn to stop waiting, expecting, asking the universe for an apology. I had to learn to do it on my own. I had to learn to let go… and free myself… be freed and in turn, free him…

I could be crazy and playful but also wildly introspective. I was passionate and fiery and uncomfortably deep. He needed light, not dark and mysterious – which is what I was back then when I was with him.

We have always had this mutual unspoken poetic understanding of each other. Whether that’s all in my head or not, I won’t ever know. But it has always felt that way to me. At times, it has felt like we are the same person. There are many times when we don’t need to speak.

Centuries can fly by and still our friendship will remain – a friendship that runs deep despite the many years that go by between our interactions. A friendship that is sustained through a mutual love that, I know, is held deep in both our hearts…

Pop My Head Out of My Sand

Today my husband and I had a day out. We went and did our Christmas Shopping. We wanted to watch a movie after all was done but no movies were showing at the time that we were available. We were both frustrated. It seemed to me as though he just wanted to go home.

And I thought to myself, ‘Am I really that boring? Do you really not want to just grab a coffee with me, just because there’s no movie on?’ I was really hurt by his lack of enthusiasm without a movie, and I felt incredibly unwanted. I withdrew into myself.

In the end we decided to grab dinner at a cafe. I was quiet. He kept searching my eyes. Finally he broke me out of my shell by asking about my plans for the upcoming week.

After I talked about that and every other concern and worry on my mind, he shared about his upcoming week and stories from work. It amazes me just how interested he is in all things mechanical, and just how his mind works. I watched him tonight as though I was noticing him for the first time… in a very long time. I loved his animated facial expressions as he described this piece of machinery and that other piece of machinery. I looked at him, remembering the young boy that I met. And I realised just how far he has come, and just how much of a different person he is today compared to that young boy. I mused at the fact that, ultimately, I AM the most perfect partner for him. Who else would listen to this conversation with genuine interest? I can’t imagine any other woman being too interested. Yet I am. I was brought up with a father who was much the same, and shared much the same types of conversation. It’s in my blood.

I relished in the fact that my young boy has grown, and is grown up.

With a little pain in my heart, I realised in the middle of it all, that for all of my feelings loneliness of late, I am the one that needs to see him for who he is.

I have such giant expectations of who he should be, but I don’t stop to see him for who he is. I wish so much that he were a handyman to fix all there is to fix around the house, and that he would help out with the housework a lot more than he does, and that he would pay closer attention to me. But all the while, I completely miss the things he DOES do. He has an amazing brain that I have always admired, and that brain works best AT WORK. Not doing handyman jobs around the house.

He asked if I would mind him putting a ready-made shelf inside our wardrobe, as “that will save me having to build the shelves into it.” Deep down I was once again disappointed. It wasn’t what I WANTED. I don’t want second-choice, I don’t want second-rate, why couldn’t he give me first-choice and first-rate if only for the pure sake of pleasing the one he loves? Why ?! But I suddenly thought, ‘It’s okay…. So he’s not a handyman…. Who cares? He is doing what he can muster to do. He still wants to do it for you , when he could EASILY tell you to turn to your dad.’ And I smiled inwardly realising that we ALL have our limitations. Even this most perfect man that I am in love with.

I guess I have always seen him as extremely clever, and extremely able. And yes he is. But he is also human.

And you know what, the ready-made shelf inside the wardrobe will work just as fine.

I never stop to truly look at him. All I see is a lazy man watching TV into the late hours of the night, and it disgusts me. It boils my blood to see that scenario night in and night out. But you know what, he works HARD during the day! He has a demanding job, more than ever! And all he wants and needs is to CHILL and relax… And watching TV is simply his most favourite way of relaxing! Why can’t I accept that ?!? Why do I need to mould him into ME? He’s not Me! No, TV is not relaxing for me. I hate TV. If I can avoid it, I will. But why do I punish him because he doesn’t do or think or feel as I do?

Somewhere along the line I’ve stopped allowing him to BE WHO HE IS.

That is what I realised this afternoon.

I love him so much, and I love him very deeply. I don’t want him to be anything other than who he is. I never wanted him to be!



He’s not the one lacking.

It is me.

And I do thank God for showing me this over the last few days. I really do.

I am ready to love him for who he is, all over again. And he IS a different person to who he was just a few years ago. And I need to pop my head out of my sand, and see him! And love him.

Written December 15, 2014

What I Had Known, I Had Never Really Known

I respect me

It’s actually really difficult for me to think about the successes I’ve had in Life. It is a difficult thing for most people, I imagine. We tend to think of our lives as being the most normal and plain life anybody could live – we never think of our own life as being successful or glamorous. It’s always other peoples’ lives that seem fantastic.

We see photos of people having a night out with friends and as we scroll through photos and more photos, it seems like people are going out with friends and indulging in cocktails all the time. What we don’t realise is that scrolling takes but a few minutes. Perhaps if we were to stop and look at the dates and times of these photos, we would realise that there were weeks, if not months, between the photos. What we do not realise is that most people really do live normal and so-called ‘plain’ lives.

So when someone asks me to recall just one successful event in my life, I find it really difficult. I have never thought of my life as successful or glamorous in any way, shape or form. I am but Plain Jane. That is how I feel.

Could I stop and think about a moment in my life when I felt extremely proud or accomplished?  I might have a few small moments.

I remember that when I was Age 4 I performed in front of the congregation at church and I was always complimented on my vocals afterwards. I remember that when I was Age 11, I performed in a violin ensemble with other violin players. I had only just begun lessons that year and being able to perform in a group at the annual school concert made me feel very important. I remember when I was 13 and I graduated from primary school, my mother gifted me a beautiful watch with diamantes in its clockface instead of numbers. We were very poor and this gift was something I treasured from the bottom of my heart because I knew in my soul what Mum would have had to do in order to be able to purchase such a gift for me.

I remember that when I finally graduated from my university degree my eyes filled up with tears and I knew that it wasn’t pride at having completed my studies, rather tears at all the private pain it took for me to get there. I had moved away from my loved ones; I had endured many broken hearts, loneliness and a loss of identity – not knowing who I was or what I stood for. I remember feeling the same way many years later when I graduated from my postgraduate degree. I felt proud but I also felt sad; a feeling of bittersweet. This time it had taken the near-end of my marriage and still I did not have the degree I had initially applied for – I had had to graduate with a lesser degree because we had had a baby (and I needed to leave this foolishness of further study for the desire to be Mother).

I try to think harder. And I realise that it’s nothing tangible that makes me feel proud. It’s not one particular event in my life. Rather, what makes me feel prouder than anything in my life (next to the privilege of Motherhood) is my own self-discovery, self-development and building inner strength.

About two years ago I had a turning point in my life. I came to the realisation that the level of giving that I ever gave was beyond what anybody ever expected or wanted. I came to the realisation that what I had grown up believing to be my duty, my role and my right to protect and guide and carry others – was false.

I am the oldest child in my family and I had been taught all my life that I was the eldest, that I had to be responsible, that I had to look after my younger siblings at all times. And this is something that many first-offsprings will relate to – it is our legacy and one we carry with pride well into our adulthood. And it’s not something we limit to our siblings but it is something we happily take into our friendships with others, into our workplaces as we assume roles of leadership, and into our wider sphere of contribution to the world.

But I had to realise that this view was not held by many around me; and that, if anything, my giving or my own self-expectation to give, was just downright annoying and a downright nuisance to everyone around me. It was not appreciated in the depth and width that I felt in my heart. I realised that I simply gave too much… And in that sense, threw the pearls to the dogs.

Around that time I also came into the knowledge that I was not as loved as I thought I had been. I realised that I had hurt someone I loved nearly a decade earlier but she had never said a word to me about it. By the time she did, she made it clear that she had no softness or respect for me anymore. Her confrontation was meant to clear the air, but instead it pushed me away from her altogether.

To be honest, these realisations broke me. I wondered whether everything I had ever believed about life and about myself was ever true. I wondered what my role in life should be. I felt lost and angry. I felt cheated and defeated. And it hardened me. I grew a shell around my heart because I was not going to give my heart to others anymore.

But effectively, Life was just showing me that I really needed to grow up.

Although this process of healing initially began with a hardening of the heart towards everyone and everything around me, this was but the initial catalyst for change. I had to learn to be there for me, first and foremost, because I understood for the first time in my life that nobody else was there for me the way I had thought them to be. By being there for me, emotionally and spiritually, I had to learn to say No to others. I had to learn what it felt like to say No to others. It felt awful, it felt cold, it felt cruel. But over time I simply learned that saying No to others didn’t actually hurt others. They simply respected it. And I learned to respect it myself.

That’s not to say I am not any more a giver. I still have a lot of love to give. But I have simply learned to wait to see if the person I wish to love shows that they want or need it from me in the first place? I assess whether someone reaches out to me, makes contact with me, addresses their conversation to me. I assess whether they are inviting me into their lives. I also assess if the person is experiencing REAL need – because if they are, then that is where my focus on giving should be and will be. I will not give above and beyond to those who don’t ask for it, nor need it. And this has been my lesson. To take a balanced approach to life, to loved ones, to friendships.

I feel fairly proud about that achievement in my life. It took a lot of me – more than I can describe right now. It took time, it took my heart, it took my soul, it took my mind. A lot processing. A lot of healing tears. A lot of the sense of isolation. It has been a long, arduous and ongoing process since then and I am still amazed when I do have to pull back from something and choose not to get emotionally involved in something that does not belong to me, nor is my due.

Recently this inner strength led me to be able to go through the most awful thing that anyone should ever have to go through. I will not divulge details here but let’s just say that it involved children and it involved authorities and it involved a friend. I was put in a very vulnerable position and I was described in such a way as to come across as the one choosing to abandon my friend and her children, when this was utterly not the case because this would be far, far removed from the type of person that I am, or that I could ever be. This event really shook me to my core and had me in bouts of tears and emotional breakdowns for weeks, and even months. My friend chose to believe the lies that others told her despite the fact she had known me for many many years, and as a result, I lost her friendship completely. She cut herself out of my life and I had to deal with the consequences of a horrible situation that was completely out of my hands, as well as the loss of what I had thought had been a strong and longstanding friendship.

I had to see that what I had ever known, I had never really known.

But despite Life’s hard lessons, I am happy and proud that I’m no longer in a position to have my time or my kindness, taken advantage of. And I am no longer in a position where I have to wonder where I stand with someone. I can spend my time with people who truly value what I have to give.




What Makes Me Angry


Warning: This entry contains some graphic descriptions.

I know of people who get really angry at the fact that their coffee isn’t made under fair trade regulations or that their clothes were made in a sweatshop in the heart of China or that somebody used the word “gay” in a derrogative manner towards someone else (who wasn’t even gay). I know of other people that get angry because the world isn’t a clean and safe place – pollution is at an all-time high; animals are being mistreated and killed for their skins, horns or flesh for food; people with guns are rampaging into schools and shooting everybody to their untimely death. I know of other people who get angry at anybody who receives money from the government because they should supposedly “just get a job”.

These are discussions that I never participate in.

It’s not because I don’t care or that I am not interested. I do admit I am not politically inclined in any way, shape or form. I had a boyfriend once get mad at me for not being interested in the current matters of the world. It’s just that I honestly see these topics as being completely irrelevant to discuss in the first place. I will not participate because I can often see other points of view that, when shared, are simply met with obnoxiousness – that’s what happens when the people discussing all-important topics are angry. There’s no room for intelligent exchanging of ideas.

But more than that, I’m the kind of person who thinks, ‘If you’re so mad – then GO and DO SOMETHING about it. Don’t sit here lashing out and spoiling my dinner.’ It’s volunteers and activists that really inspire me. But if you can’t be a volunteer or an activist, I figure that there’s no point in getting angry about it. Just accept that this world is what it is and move on.

But this is easier said than done, for many people.

Somebody asked me, but doesn’t anything make you angry? Oh yeah. I have a very quick temper that my husband sees more regularly than I’d like to admit – probably because he knows how to push my buttons. And he enjoys pushing them, believe me, because he is just as stubborn and defiant as I am. We are like dynamites together.

But to get angry at the world for the way it is? I just don’t see the point.

So I’m further asked, okay what makes you angry about the world? I don’t know the reason for why this opportunity has presented itself to me. I’m really uncomfortable about sharing something that I should be angry about. I’ve never been asked this question and I have never really cared to share because like I said, I just do not partake in politically inclined conversations. I feel that these things are personal and very individual, to an extent. We are all passionate about different causes in the world because we all have unique personalities from each other.

But I’ll tell you how I do feel: Sad and helpless.

When I think about people suffering out there in the rest of the world where wars are rampant, bombings are becoming commonplace, and rapings are dished out like free candy – this definitely makes me feel incredibly and very deeply sad… and utterly helpless. I have a very vivid mind so it is easy for me to actually see the bloodshed in my mind’s eye, and to imagine in great detail the excruciating physical pain caused to a woman by an angry soldier cowardly using his penis as his weapon of choice. This very vivid mind of mine is precisely what causes me to turn away from the news and to keep myself relatively uninformed. (In this day and age, you are never truly out of touch with the world). I don’t need to be bombarded with the images because my mind already does it for me.

So when my mind shows me the horrors of the world, I end up in exasperated tears….

At these times, I do pray. I talk to God and plead and implore Him to show me ways in which I could help, ways in which I could contribute. Unfortunately, I am not one of those brave human beings out there who can pack their bags, get on a plane and land in the middle of where it’s all happening. I can’t just go and help build huts in South America for the poor, or go and help out with injured animals in the U.S, or go and care for children in an orphanage (which is my big dream). We all have different callings in our lives and although I’d love to be able to do that – it’s not MY calling. I have to patiently understand and accept that.  It’s taken me a long time to get to this point.

There are many injustices of this world that bring me to tears and that bring me to my knees.  But I will tell you that my heart lays with the children of the world. More than anything I would love to help children in third world countries who have been abandoned and live in orphanages, as mentioned earlier; and I would particularly love to assist children to heal in half-way houses after being saved from child-trafficking. Child-trafficking is one thing that really pains my heart.

Any kind of sexual abuse towards children in any country really pains my heart. I look at my dear little child and can’t help but wonder how many children out there are so similar to her in absolute joy and innocence expressed freely on a daily basis – a child’s joy is just simply never ending and it’s a fountain of refreshment to those around her. But children out there have their trust and confidence in this world, not to mention the trust and confidence in themselves, eroded by somebody usually close to them, promising them that ‘this is special – don’t tell anybody – this is just between you and me’.

There is a large spectrum of sexual abuse. There is violent rape of a child in wartimes to the point where they can no longer walk – on one end of the spectrum; and on the other end, there is the paradigm in the beginning of its inception, being created by the media and fashion lines that like to have their model children pose sensually, with lips and legs parted. (If those kinds of poses aren’t sexual, then I definitely don’t know what kind of world we’re living in).

This entire spectrum really bothers me, frustrates me and saddens me. In my own personal life, I go to great lengths to ensure my daughter lives in a world that is as natural and child-friendly as possible. If that means I no longer choose to watch music videos on a weekend so that she is not exposed to overly sexual dancing and breasts and legs exposed like it means nothing, then so be it. That might be seen as a little bit extreme by other parents, but I never cared too much what other people thought of me and I’m not about to start now.

I will say however, that this blog entry was really difficult for me to write. I was asked what makes me angry about the world and I really felt that, unlike being angry at the use of leather in luxury cars or the fact that Muslim women cover themselves from head to toe (by the way, that totally does not bother me – let them be already, what do you care, is my stance on that)… I felt that my particular topic was too deep, too wide, too all-encompassing. It would tread on many toes, it would offend many people who really are passionate about all the other things I have mentioned, it would offend other parents.  I deleted my first few attempts and, in frustration, I went to bed without a second thought. I just couldn’t do it. I would write about the next thing that bothers me about the world.

But I woke up today and felt that there was a reason why I had to share what I had to share. My mind defied me: So you tread on a few metaphorical toes and somehow those toes are worth saving from offence over bringing awareness to somebody out there about children suffering sexual abuse all over the world?


And it’s been awhile…

Me pulling silly face - March 2016 - cropped slightly edited 50 per cent

I have been challenged to tell my story. But the amount of times I have been prompted to share a little about myself on different sites and stopping short because I am completely frozen, I could not even tell you. Even on my Facebook profile, you will not see statistics such as the high school I attended or the places I have worked at.

I have a tendency to overwhelm myself very easily and this often leads me to not sharing unless I absolutely have to, and I write this with a laugh at myself. I suppose I am not the only one in this world that feels overwhelmed by having to share “a little about yourself”. After all, how could we possibly ever share ‘just a little’? And won’t ‘just a little’ undervalue the entirety of life that has been lived? And won’t ‘just a little’ very quickly define you in the reader’s mind?

I am a rebel at heart and have always refused to be defined by…. anything. I do not wish to meet your standards. I strive to either exceed them, or if I deem it’s best, I keep walking and not bother at all. So most times when I am met with the “share a little about yourself” concept, I tend to deem it best to just keep walking and not bother at all!

But I have been challenged to jump out of my shell and simply share no bars held. This is something I have slowly learned the confidence to do in recent years but I still need a little push. Well, I do not tend to refuse a challenge so here I am:

I was born on the other side of the world and whisked up into a plane at the age of 8 months to live life in Australia. I am of South-American heritage, which means that many aspects of my personality, knowledge and expectations are heavily shaped by South-American values that were taught me by my South-American parents. But on the whole, I feel very Australian. This can be very confusing to my own husband, let alone other people *giggle*.

I was brought up in a strictly religious home, which also shapes a lot of my values. Whether it means I have shed some of what I learned in childhood or kept some of the principles taught to me, it certainly means that once again I can be a little ‘different’ to the general crowd.

For example, I find there are certain topics of conversation that I am simply not interested in – not because I am cold or aloof or antisocial, as might be the impression given – but because I find a lot of conversations to be extremely trivial and it just makes me want to fall asleep. I don’t care about your latest shopping expedition, I want to know about your latest personal or spiritual discovery. And when you tell me about a travel experience, I don’t care about the great hotels you stayed at, I want to know about the sunsets you’ve experienced and the delectable food you held in your mouth and the sounds you heard whilst walking down the sandy or cobblestone streets.

Not many people share so intimately however, so it is often that I am left thirsting in social settings. Often I end up retreating to a corner, if not into myself. I am sorry if this is offensive to some people who have witnessed this about me. It’s not that I am uninterested – I am just too deeply interested.

Join me for a one on one coffee date though and you will see my eyes light up and hear me squeal and gasp and laugh at whatever it is you wish to share – tell me more, tell me more!

I was brought up in poverty. This makes me deeply appreciate everything that I have. I am not a stranger to holes in the soles of my school shoes; frozen bulk-cooked porridge in the freezer for the week; endlessly borrowing stationery and self-care products from friends at school and pretending that ‘I keep forgetting to buy new pens’ or ‘I ran out of my Impulse yesterday’. (I will never forget Camilla’s endless love & generosity). I am no stranger to hand-me-downs from family friends; ripping into a large rubbish bag full of clothes given to us was extremely exciting, and that was our version of ‘going shopping’. Living in poverty meant that as a teenager I had to create my own fashion style (from the eclectic collection of clothes in that rubbish bag) and I learned very quickly to stride into a room like I didn’t care that the preppy girls were wearing their newest and latest trends.

(I really did care).

This experience of poverty created a deep sense of uniqueness and individuality in me and I am forever thankful that Life gave me the lessons that it did. I once had an old friend from high school bump into me 10 years after we graduated and she gushed at me, telling me that I had been her role model and her inspiration in our high school years – that all she had ever wanted to do was emulate the utmost confidence I portrayed. This warmed my heart incredibly because I had equally admired her – her quiet and steadfast being, her elegant and immaculate self-presentation, and her strong, ambitious life goals. I shared with her that I had been just as much a bundle of nerves underneath it all, as the next teenager had been. And that I dealt with the nerves with the great facade she saw me expose to the world.

But they say practice makes perfect and I do like to think that that sense of confidence in my own unique individuality led me to survive the world outside of school, well into university, career, marriage and general adulthood responsibility.

At times this confidence has been a little over-confident and I have made many mistakes in my life – some of them have been really huge. I am continually humbled by looking back at my life and seeing that I never really knew it all – if at all – and that people are softer and more forgiving than we think that they might be. I personally believe that mistakes can be the crown jewels of life because it is these that help you to grow and to change and to move onwards and upwards to live a more enriching life.

I became Mother 6 years ago and my little girl is, hands-down, the light of my life. She is my driving force for everything that I do now, and her existence gives me joy and hope and courage in a way that I’d never had these before. My husband and I were infinitely blessed with her arrival because she proved to bring us together during a time that we had been living tumultuous seperate lives. We are a gorgeous little family that are really close-knit and we somehow just ‘need’ each other and this nucleus vibration is precious to me.

That is a little bit of my story. And perhaps reading the above might give you an insight as to why I just tend to keep myself contained most of the time. (Those who know me well will say that I couldn’t possibly ever be ‘contained’!) When I am prompted to share… I really do share! It’s the South-American in me 😉

Other than my journey described above, I am the oldest of 7 children in my family and I am a creative mind. I enjoy reading and writing. I enjoy singing. I have God in my life and He helps me to see the bigger , wider and the deeper. I am a deeply loving person and if you’ve chosen to be in my life, I hope that you know how much you are loved and appreciated by me. There’s not much you have to do – you just have to be kind towards me, and know that I am not as horrible as I might seem sometimes 🙂 But above all, you just have to be YOU. Even if you don’t like me, I will eventually love you for even that, your truth!

I am passionate about people, and our right to be unique individuals who are loved and learning to love. I am passionate about everyone’s life being their own journey and I love hearing about it, and getting to know what makes you tick (if you so wish to share).

At the point that I feel I have shared too much, I will love you and leave you.






Her Creamy Skin

Her creamy skin
Her curves in perfect places
Her eyes sharing a million stories
Her mind creating worlds of possibilities…
Her lips enticing
Her lips loving
Her beauty unjudging
Her soul immersing…
Her porcelain face
Her intelligence sufficed
Her eyes seeing the love that surrounds her
Her lips speaking truths
Her heart authentic…
Her choice
Her empowerment
Her love as a friend
Her love as a companion
Her being of equal standing
Her joy…