Tag Archives: Personal Development

I dream a little dream of you…

They say dreams speak their own language and while I believe dream lexicons and set ideas about symbolism are pretty far fetched, I do believe dreams contain messages about what’s on our mind, or in our subconscious. It may also be we are more receptive to other people’s thoughts, or messages from mysterious sources (if such exist), when we dream. The dreamer in me is still hoping that I’ll discover all the mysteries of life and divinity in my sleep…

Alas, the other night I wasn’t receiving intruiging messages from God, or the Universe, in the form of direct contact explaining all the mysteries of life, but dreamed about someone I haven’t seen for twenty years. I woke up confused about dreaming about this person, because while we went to school together, they were never someone close to me. So what on Earth prompted me to dream about them?

In this particular dream, a scenario that’s very familiar to me played out: I felt inferior as the other person got what I wanted. This sensation of feeling inferior begun at a time in my life when the person I dreamed of was part of my life and part of the click of people who were “cool” while I was as uncool as could be. It was a time when I accepted that I would never have what I wanted because of who I am — the uncool chick.

The interesting part was that as I contemplated this dream during the day I realized that how I feel is unrelated to who I interact with — sooner or later I will feel inferior and unlovable no matter who I am around. Usually due to some perceived imperfection. I feel judged, but the truth is that I’m the one judging myself, which creates a sense of inferiority, followed by a sense of unworthiness, rejection, or the idea that I can’t be loved/am unlovable. And then I act with that feeling inside of me, which, of course, causes rejection.

As you can imagine, all of this happens subconsciously. All I really feel is a nagging sensation something is off. I don’t feel like my confident self. I don’t feel on top of the world. I shy away instead of “sparkle.” I start to feel uncomfortable instead of free. Sometimes I go aloof and push people away. I feel ashamed of myself, so I don’t want to be seen.

Dreaming about a person that’s so far removed from my life I can’t even piece together why ever on Earth I’d dream about her, allowed me to see that my states of mind often have nothing to do with reality. I will create situations where I feel like I felt in the dream, irrespective of who I am with, or what I’m doing. I mean I dreamed of someone who has absolutely nothing to do with my life, yet the feeling I had in the dream is the same feeling I have around pretty much everyone I meet, at one point or another. It’s almost like the dream allowed me to look at myself from the outside and see how my mind is still reacting to something that happened twenty years ago.

Of course, then my best friend went and ruined it all by telling me she Googled this particular person the same night I dreamed of them…so maybe this dream had nothing to do with my subconscious and everything to do with my best friend’s curiosity about the people that she used to know…

Tonight I’d prefer a naked man in my dreams. Please. Oh no, wait, that’d be better in reality…

Dizzy blonde, over and out.

P.S. Want to read some of my poetry? Head to my business Magique’s Instagram: www.instagram.com/CarnavalDuDesir

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Love and life and inside-out knickers…

Do you ever screw up your vibration? No, not vibrator. Don’t screw the vibrator. Or do. The point, in this case, is your personal vibration. Or the vibration you use when dealing with others.

I was chatting to my coach yesterday and told him I could see myself reacting to something. Like, say, your neighbor did something and you see yourself running into their house screaming that’s totally unacceptable. Or you get scared of a situation looming on the horizon and feel like removing yourself from it entirely. Or someone annoys you and you feel like telling them to fuck off, even though you quite like them. You are in some form of reaction or another, most likely one you’ve been in before.

Ever found yourself reacting the same way in personal relationships? Or work relationships? Yeah.

So I saw myself wanting to react the way I normally do in a particular situation. I didn’t want to react that way, because I know it doesn’t serve me, so I asked my coach what to do? His reply? Shift your focus to love. You’re coming from a place of love.

Suddenly life became very simple.

Life is simple. It’s just we complicate it all the time because our ego gets in the way. We feel hurt, so we hurt. We feel humiliated so we run and hide, or get furious. Half of the time these emotions come from interpreting situations in idiotic ways. Using our ego to look at something, basically and then acting on that. Or using our past to cross reference a situation, when, in fact, in our past we’ve used our ego to navigate the world and it didn’t end up too great, did it?

Sometimes, when I know my ego is in operation, I do the polar opposite of what I want to do. I want to run and hide, I step bravely forward. I want to go aloof, I chat till tomorrow. I want to lash out in anger, I retract with humility. But just doing the polar opposite doesn’t change the underlying ego hick-up that’s making me want to react in the first place. Shifting to a perspective where you’re coming from love does.

I know I’m in a pretty good mood these days, because my sense of humor has returned. I started laughing about screwing with vibrators vibrations yesterday, after posting the following on Facebook: “All three kids in bed by 8:30pm (and no one got seriously traumatized in the process), the dishes done, breakfast prepped…the age of miracles has arrived! (That’s not to say that I didn’t put my knickers on inside out this morning as I was so stressed getting the kids to school BUT they arrived on time AND I managed to shower which is miraculous. Seriously. Never mind the knickers.)”

My sense of humor is still as dirty as it ever was, but at least I’m picking up clean laundry from the laundrette today, so there’s hope…but then again I’m not sure I ever want an entirely clean mind. Everyone who says I’m a bad person because I have a blog with sexy headlines (but who not-so-secretly read Fifty Shades)  would suddenly lose their angle. I mean that would be so sad. My ego would be like totally upset there wasn’t anyone who imaginarily hated me anymore. Shame.

Dizzy blonde, over and out.

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It’s time to pull the zipper down…

There are moments in life that undress you. One moment you stand there fully clothed and the next you’re stark naked.

I always liked when people got naked. Usually it’s when they run into trouble, face their demons and crack open. Their carefully crafted coping mechanisms fail. The ego driven patterns they’re hiding their flaws behind crack. And suddenly they find themselves naked. Usually uncomfortable for them, but nice for the onlookers, who suddenly see their heart.

Maybe they need to wash off some of the crap they’ve landed themselves in, but their heart is right there. And it’s beautiful.

I had one of those moments the other day. Someone asked me something along the lines of: “Wouldn’t your gran like to have had one more experience? Like if you’d asked her before she died, wasn’t there something she wished she’d done?” And my reply was: “No, she’d just have wanted to spend more time with her family.”

When I said it I didn’t think too much about it, but when I came home it made me teary-eyed. One, because that side of the family is gone save from my sister and I. Two, because I’ve been driven by so many other things than my gran was — she was driven by family and she was happy and content, save from when people started passing over. That was her downfall — she couldn’t deal with that and let new people enter her life.

I, on the other hand, have had many incredible experiences all over the world, but it wasn’t until the past five odd years I started feeling remotely happy being me. And it wasn’t until last year I started taking my social life seriously. Because even though I knew more people than most could dream of, I was so scared of rejection I never focused on actually stitching it all together. And while this blog can attest to my many epiphanies surrounding dating over the years, I never truly thought myself capable of finding a man who loved me that I loved. Until possibly earlier this year.

I know I’m a bit of an adrenaline and experience junkie. And I get high on breaking convention. I also get a sense of fulfillment from film and Magique, as well as Little Angels, that I don’t think my gran got from her work. But I also know that as a child I filled my life with stories because I felt lonely — I was bullied and unhappy around my step-mom so I hid in books.

Yesterday I went to the doctor as I’ve caught the latest Cape Town epidemic: a stomach bug. Nothing serious, just an upset tummy, but you know after a week you start feeling a tad drained. The kind doctor put me on a fast — rehydration drinks for 24 hrs followed by bread and potatoes only for 24 hrs.

Now, I’ve done a lot of juice fasts in my day and they’re fascinating, because food is one of those feel good things. Makes you happy when you taste yummy things. Also gives you energy. When you don’t have energy you get cranky and start facing your demons. Same thing if you’re bored and alone without distraction.

Today, I realized, while tired and grumpy, just how addicted I am to food. And get me right: I’m pro a certain level of food addiction. Life should be tasty, if you ask me. But I can also see how a good book and a glass of wine, or a treat and my favorite Netflix, is a substitute for going out there and meeting people. I think good books, food and Netflix are wonderful,  it’s just using one good thing to replace another isn’t a great strategy.

Co-incidentally (if there is such a thing) I’m reading Brand’s Recovery at the moment as I always wanted an excuse to attend an AA meeting so I could learn the darn steps. Now there’s a book for that. Not that I think it can substitute what you get from the group meetings, in fact I believe if you suffer from any kind of addiction AA should be your next stop (take it from one who has known and dated enough former addicts to break the rules of probability), but for us who don’t want to turn into addicts to join AA it’s a great book. At least if you’ve lived in London and are used to foul language.

Anyway, my point, dear readers, is that I realized I have my little addictions. I already knew I had patterns. Run from loneliness by creating loneliness is one of them (sounds counter-intuitive, but hey, constantly moving round the world and being a workaholic you’re too busy to get a stabile social life so you never need feel rejected). Using food and stories to combat loneliness is an addiction though. I always said that books were my drug as a kid. If it hadn’t been for stories I thought I’d ended up committing suicide or taking drugs. I never wanted to do either, but I figured that’s because I had something that gave me hope. People always look at me with incredulity when I say those things these days, because I’m no longer the shy kid hiding in my room, petrified of my step-sisters cool friends, but I still carry that child inside me. The child that couldn’t for the life of her understand why she didn’t have friends. Couldn’t figure out what was wrong with her, but figured she was seriously flawed somehow.

The truth is, I never fully opened up. I tried. Just as I tried liking myself. And it gets better all the time. I no longer want to run into walls because I hate myself so much and the experience in hospice was the latest thing that made me feel like I cracked open. And that comment about gran’s greatest desire brought it home even more — because there are few things more important than the people in our lives. I need to open myself up to those people. Unlike gran it isn’t just about family for me. I think everyone we love is family. And there are a whole bunchload of people I really love. I’d like to be fully present with them. And spend as much time with them as physically possible.

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Love is a beautiful battle…

A few weeks ago I was having a phone conversation with my best friend. I had flown to Athens to see her and was really looking forward to seeing her, so I was trying to arrange a meeting. She launched into a monologue about what her schedule looked like, that she never came into central Athens during the weekend, or evenings, when I was free, she was so busy and blah, blah, blah.

I had had a shit week, I had PMS and the one thing that kept me going was the idea of alone time, on a beach, or anywhere in nature, with my best friend. As I did have PMS I was struggling with an insane amount of thinking I was unlovable, so by the time I hung up the phone, ready to cry because somehow I had now triggered my best friend into treating me unlovingly as well, I felt like shit.

I knew I had to do two things: I had to tell my best friend she was behaving like a twat and I had to excuse myself for, most likely, trying to provoke her into behaving like a twat. Because if you feel unlovable, you provoke people into doing things to prove you right. And you have to understand, when I have PMS you can tell me I have coffee on my nose and I will think you hate me, or that you are the biggest idiot alive, the world has come to an end and we can all just prepare for doomsday.

So I wrote my best friend a funny message about PMS where I pointed out the above. As it turned out, she had turned around and just yelled at her boyfriend a few hours later and he had calmly picked up the calendar and told her she had PMS.

She had had social demands on her, for a week, so when I told her to come into Athens she lost it, because she had PMS.

I didn’t enjoy messaging my friend to sort out whatever weird “actions” (drama school language for mental as well as physical actions we have towards people) and purposes (drama school language for what our psychological gain is for doing something) we had during that conversation, but my relationship with her is a lot more valuable to me than my discomfort is discomforting.

Which brings me to the next point.

Last night I came home after a long day. I had been rockclimbing the day before (amazing!) and spent all of yesterday out with friends. You see, last week, I decided that it was time for me to do what I love in order to build my spirit and regain my strenght, so as to have strenght to work and get back to the kids after visa hick-up number four. I had an incredbile weekend, but I was physically spent. That’s when I received a message from my baby girl in Cape Town.

As some of you know I help raise a pair of ten-year-old twins and their now one-year-old baby brother in the township and I’ve fought visas and adoption rules for about four years; having known them for five. This journey is the hardest journey I’ve ever had and I’ve been on the brink of emotional collapse more than once.

Last night I got all these messages saying she loves me, the baby has taken his first steps, and then she sent me this crying emoji and I asked her why. She’s like “it’s just the baby ❤ ❤ ❤ ” and I said I wish I was there to hold him and she sent the below picture. Cue me bursting into tears. She even found an image with the right skin tones. I don’t know why that made me more emotional, but it did.

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I had just been thinking of how tired I am. I have spent you don’t want to know how much money setting up a business and going round the world on a visa mission to be with these kids and I’ve messed up my career, my social life and my life in general and I’m beyond exhausted. Sometimes I don’t know how to keep going.

At that moment, all I wanted was a hug. Not from a friend, but from a man. It’s all I’ve wanted since I started helping the kids, because I’ve wanted someone to be there for me. Support me. Not do my job for me, just be there. Just hug me. And it’s the kind of intimacy you’ll never get from a friend, because it feels different. Friends help, but a relationship is intimate on a whole other level.

Yet, a few weeks ago when I was talking to my coach and he was giving me “love goals” I was telling him I didn’t understand how to achieve them, because let’s face it: I might know a gazillion things about relationships, and I might get 800 men swiping right on Tinder in a few weeks (true story, ego hallelujah), but falling in love makes me feel so terribly uncomfortable (unlovable and not good enough) that I spend most of my time trying to become perfect (impossible) and end up giving up on the whole thing because it’s too uncomfortable feeling like I’m not perfect.

This is when my coach told me that he’s seen me with the kids for five years and no matter what life threw me, I didn’t stop. Nothing stopped me.

I remember thinking when gran got senile and I was helping her in the bathroom, that love isn’t pretty, but it is beautiful. Love isn’t easy, but it is worth it. And my childhood didn’t make it easy for me to accept love, instead I strove to be perfect feeling I wasn’t good enough. I’ve often felt my adult life has been a long fight of not giving into the demons of my childhood; a long fight of opening myself up to love and joy and letting go of depression and self-hatred.

The question maybe I should ask myself is this: if my kids and best friend are worth me overcoming my demons, my fears and my discomfort, maybe my own happiness (a.k.a being loved by a man I truly have a connection with) would be worth the same? It’s a question of will.

I’m not perfect. My best friend isn’t perfect. My gran wasn’t perfect. My kids aren’t perfect. But we are all perfectly lovable. And it is perfectly possible to create great relationships. You just wade through the discomfort, is all. Because it is worth it.

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The milk and cookies rebound…

We’ve all had one right? A rebound. The restoration shag, or date, or…just about anything goes so long as it’s not Him or Her. It’s like milk and cookies when having a bad day: it restores your mind and heart by giving you a rush. You’re no longer down in the dumps, you’re functioning again. You might even see the rainbow after the rain.

For that reason, I am all pro rebounds. You went from being down in the dumps to functional. Realized there were more people to date than your ex. Marvelous. Or if you were onto the milk and cookies rebound, you found some energy and realized the world wasn’t half as bad as you thought half an hour ago. Again: marvelous.

Restoration shags/dates/cookies, if you so like, are one way of getting out of the dumps and back into the world of the living. The problem (you knew that was coming, didn’t you?)? The problem is that if you’re constantly living your life in reaction to events, you are no longer the captain of your ship (mind and body).

You had a bad day, so you call your friend to go for drinks, to take your mind off the day. That means you aren’t going there to enjoy the company of your friend and the bar; you’re going there to get away from your thoughts about the day. Which means you aren’t likely solving whatever problem is bugging you either.

In other words, what’s your end result for the evening? Moping about your problems, running away from them, or having fun with your friend?

That’s not to say that venting, getting love and encouragement from a friend, or taking your mind off things, isn’t a good idea. It can be a great idea. If that’s what you want to create. If that’s what your heart desires.

The thing is, we do all sorts of shit just because of how we are feeling in the moment. We try to release whatever tension we’re holding around something by doing something else. If what you truly want is to create a relationship with your soulmate, going to a bar to find someone to shag is not going to get you any closer, unless intuitively you know that going to that bar that night will take you closer to your goal.

Rebound techniques are similar to simply unleashing our frustration. Like, you know, wanting to create an amazing relationship with someone, only to yell at them when they say, or do something that hurts you. Do you really think you’ll create what you’d love (an amazing relationship), by trying to hurt them because you feel hurt?

Whether you’re feeling frazzled, or happy, stop. Ask yourself what you’d love to create right now. What would you truly love to create? Then take obvious action.

If you’re feeling lonely one night, then curling up on the couch with a movie and a bucket of ice cream might make you feel better, but what becomes obvious is that you should find something to do where you meet people. Possibly not that night, but for the future. Open Google and do some work on that, then you can have the ice cream and the movie.

Quick fixes are sometimes brilliant solutions as they get you in the right frame of mind for creating what you’d love, but remember that if you want to create long term highs, you need to ask yourself what you’d truly love to create, not just resolve the psychological tension around whatever’s bugging you at the moment.

Aniston and Butler in a photo shoot for W Magazine. Unfortunately there are no cookies in there, but see, I found at least one sexy picture with milk… 

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Life’s a bitch and then you have an orgasm…

Do you ever complain about life? I do. Life can be a bitch sometimes. Seriously. And there are times when you despair. You’ve banged your head against the same wall for what seems like an eternity. Every door that opened got slammed in your face, or led to a dead end. Your thoughts start circling in a negative downspiral and life starts feeling like it sucks.

This year I decided to pull my head out of the gutter. However, there have been a few slamming doors this year too and after walking head first into a door rather recently I started despairing. I thought I’d be stuck in the same situation forever. And as one thing was tied to another, that was tied to another, that was tied to another, I felt trapped. Like I’d never find a way out. The kids I help raise are in Cape Town, so I need to get back. For that reason I can’t change jobs, can’t do this, can’t do that, am financially strapped…and I have felt very stuck for a very long time.

Have I felt like a victim and pitied myself? Oh you have no idea. Have I gotten angry and wanted to punch a number of government officials? Hell to the yes. Have I panicked and felt like the lousiest extra parent in the world and hated myself for it? Gosh, you have no idea what a terrible person I am and how much I can possibly hate myself. Have I awoken in a state of panic from dreams of the kids, screaming, hyper ventilating, or crying? Way too many times to count. Sometimes I’m scared of sleeping.

Have I wanted to give up? Yes. I’ve felt like there is no strenght left in me. Like I’ll never win this fight. Like there’s no joy left in life. Like there is no way out of this blooming visa-adoption-career nightmare.

This year I decided to choose art. Choose poetry. Choose magical moments. Choose to believe that what I can do for the kids is a blessing, not that what I can’t do is a curse. In general, do what I can to enjoy what I can. When a door closes a window opens. It is all about that window. About the moment. About what you can do.

Some times are harder than others. It’s inevitable…and sometimes we invite it by doing something utterly stupid. We need to forgive ourselves. Give ourselves the gift of allowing ourselves to enjoy the moment. Give that joy to others. And slowly change our life and that of those around us simply by growing flowers in the mud. As the story goes, I prefer satin and Egyptian cotton sheets, but there’s nothing saying you can’t have an orgasm on whatever you picked up at Ikea. And I’m talking about the sheets you pick up there, not the men. Should Ikea come up with an invention for “easy-to-put-together-Scandinavian-men” that included the perfect user manual maybe I’d consider it, but Scandinavian men are generally not my type. I prefer the more exotic version…

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Poem No. 69: Desire of Life. Writing poetry for Magique is one of the things that’s resurrected my spirits this year. Poetry, to me, is like growing flowers in the mud when you focus on the beauty of life. This poem was written today. More poetry can be found here

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Brave heart…

this is my heart

It’s easy to be wise – it’s harder to convince your emotions just how wise you are. It takes years of practice not to run with every ridiculous impulse you have and yet years to learn to run with the true impulses, those that come from your spirit, your heart. It take year of practice to learn to listen to your thoughts; to really hear what’s going on within and be able to disregard the thoughts that count not and listen to the ones that do. To make a decision to act from the place you truly want to act from, rather than acting from a place of fear, of over the top excitement, of disappointment, or grief. It takes pratice to be true to you.

It takes bravery to follow your passions – to dare to lose that which you desire the most. To dare to give up what you do not desire at all and some things you really like, so as to reach what you truly love. We can’t have it all, but we can have this moment. It is within it we need to live and choose, choose every step of our journey now. It is in the now we practice to be whom we must to reach to where we want and at the same time be here, be now. Live. Breathe. Fully explore our hearts. Listen. Feel. Really be present to who we are; what we need. Fully enjoy the miracle of life in all its pain and pleasure.

And may I ask you this: if you had no fear, what would you do now? If you relaxed and instead of trying to do something, just did it, how would life feel? If you followed your heart, where would you end up? Those are the questions I ask myself and patiently await an answer…

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