I am amongst Warriors

‘To those Warrior Chicks out there, creating new lives and living their dreams. You’re beautiful; stay that way inside and out. You’re strong; always know you have that back up. You’re wise; let that be your center point when you doubt yourself. You’re brave as a fleet of men going into battle hardened by life, empowered by experience in being a woman. Stay that way forever.’ Lxo

I was inspired today to write this to a woman who is off on an adventure. For some it may be an adventure of a lifetime, for her it is her life. A leaflet from her book should be used in a guide on how to be a strong woman. But can I tell you she is not the only one. There is another woman I know who from a casual glance would seem that her life is easy, carefree and without worries. She has worked hard to maintain that façade but behind the scenes there has been destruction, loss and sadness.

I have the honor of having an international sisterhood, made up of woman from all walks of life, but with one common thread, they have turned their weakenss’s into strengths.

Here are some outstanding examples.

Maxine, a woman who lights up the stage each night as she plays to a crowd. Her strength and weakness are both entwined as she is playing to her lost love and that is her closest connection. Her strength to go on to leave a crowd wanting more is her power to fulfil her sadness in to love. I have learned from her.

Jules, who turned her corporate life in the cement jungle, to yogi extrodinaire. Travelling the world bringing her yin with her yang, but that is a life that requires strength in yourself to be alone and be at one with that. I have learned from her.

Shashanna, who went into battle with the biggest beast of them all, Cancer. All I can say is FUCK you Cancer…and she did too. Her daughters are her accompolishment, her drive and her reason. I have learned from her.

Om, the beautiful single Mom. She sets examples that are positive and sacrifices herself daily to be the Mom and the Dad. Strong in character but soft in heart, the base line of what being a single Mom is. I have learned from her.

There are opportunities everyday to meet these woman, take time to do it. Learn from them, but do not fear them. For they are different, you will feel it. Their strength can almost be overwhelming, they don’t mean it. I for one do not want to miss another moment. If I had I would have missed out on learning how to dive, how to be a skier, how to save a life, how to be a Mother, a sister, how to be a woman, how to love and how to heal.  Each of them has a strength that has been created by the weakness’s that they have had to overcome. Learn from them.

Today when I realized that a wonderful creature had taken flight to fulfill her destiny, I was so proud of her.

I am proud of all of you and maybe we don’t hear that from each other enough. So if anything comes from this, learn from me too. For there is another woman I know who from a casual glance would seem that her life is easy, carefree and without worries. She has worked hard to maintain that façade but behind the scenes there has been destruction, loss and sadness. Learn from me.

I am that woman. Warrior Chick

IMG_4025.jpg

Advertisements

I Am the Why

I Am the Why

A rock group, movie star, screen writer, comedian and famous musician walk onto my mats…but I don’t know this yet. A Mother, a cancer survivor, a bride to be and a divorcee all sit on the same matts.

A father who has lost his first child, a man who is about to make his first business deal, a boxer who is training for his first fight and an unknown artist share the same goals. From pole dancers, editors, lawyers, pilots and house wives, my mats have many stories.

The mats are met with many types of individuals that are there for one purpose and one purpose only, to find their why.

Why? Why train? Why work so hard? Why get up and sweat with a stranger to achieve a goal that is elusive at the time? Why do we do put ourselves thru this pain threshold or for that matter why do I?

Here is Why: Training isn’t just about the physical, no it is much more than that, it is about the mindset.

I do the training and I am the trainer. I have walked in all of these amazing humans footsteps with them. I have found that each of us are connected to our external goals as well as our internal struggles. Men and woman alike.

Everyone is the same when they walk onto my matts and there in lies the beauty of training. You are not your pain, your beauty, your loss, your achievements or your struggle. You are the why in what you are doing in that moment for yourself. All doubts leave, all worries are forgotten and you are there for just you.

The individual stories and hard work of my clients are Oscar-winning moments of their lives. I cherish every moment being apart of their growth and no matter what stage of life or goals they have been thru, I know that they have worked thru some amazing odds to shine as brightly as they can. What makes these individuals different from you?

Between their why and yours, they have found that the why is the love of themselves. They have realized somewhere along the way in one of those lightbulb moments that time is needed for themselves to rediscover new things, new goals, push boundaries and live without fear or judgement.

In that time and space all traps of society are forgotten, worries are replaced with endorphins and sweat is your friend.

To be there for yourself means you are better out there in your field of dreams. Your why becomes you and it shines from within.

My mats have a lifetime of stories from the ages of 5 yrs to 75 and thru all the years there has not been one moment that I haven’t felt blessed to be in the company of such awe-inspiring humans.   You are my why and I thank you all for allowing me to be apart of your journey.

And I leave you with this, that undiscovered artist, holds exhibitions all over the world. That rock group has hit the top ten in the Uk and Australia, that actress has just walked the red carpet and the screenwriter just got his first signing of a movie. The bride to be is now pregnant, the cancer survivor is a mom of 2 and kicking it everyday, the divorcee is in a new relationship, the pole dancer is about to get married, the pilot is now a solo and the Mom of three feels empowered sexy and strong.

I am the WHY.

 

#rubyrose #theveronicas #starfire #cancer #philnichols #barricuda #dennythetrainer #fightingyourdemons #sweatsmileswear #iamthiswoman #boxchick #trainer #marriage #fitness #mindset #thailand #boxcamp #boxculture #rawartwarriors #welcometothejungle

 

 

I am Fighting Your Demons

I am not sure if apologies are necessary, but I will do one just the same.

Writing has been taking up all of my time, which leads me to be a hermit and indulge in the artistic side of creating, which usually means becoming an isolated asshole actually!

So, my apology is to the fact that I haven’t had the space of mind to write to you from here, but please know I am writing.  If you have never undertaken the labour of love which is creating a book then let me tell you it is without a doubt, time consuming, all consuming and leaves you very bleary eyed and lacking any form of being able to articulate a normal conversation outside of the parameters of the pages you are staring at.

Every situation turns into a new setting and before you know it you are staring at strangers trying to capture the movements in words.  On that note, apologies to the poor lady in the ice blue dress with the wind gently caressing your hair as you order your Pina Colada from the bar, the sun gently setting behind your…oh shit there I go again.

It could be worse, I could not have the time to be able to create.  Ugh, just writing that gives me the heeby jeebies.  My creative hand has usually been attached to a paint brush, but with all of our travelling to create my husband’s books, carting around paints and canvas was not an option-thank you airlines all over the world for charging so much in baggage fees.

I started this blog with the understanding that I was venting, letting go of demons, expressing my pain and hoping that thru all of my words someone out there could rely on the fact that they are not alone in their daily struggles.  We all have our own battles to fight and we all have our own unique way of dealing with that.

I would like to thank you, each and every one of you for your support in this past year with I Am this Woman, as it has been the canvas for my novel to unfold upon.  Like layers of paint, I have been slowly building my own Mona Lisa.

The last time I put brush to hand was to do a self-portrait of my husband, he was in the process of completing his second book and based on my first paragraph, ‘Which means becoming an isolated asshole’, I had some time and space to turn his book into a piece of art.  I wasn’t able to complete it and it still rests in Scotland, one day I hope to return to it and put the final pieces of his words on it.  For now though it is a reminder to me that creating, of any form is a healthy expression and one that all should try.

 

And on that note, I Am Off, off to create, off to become that indulgent artistic brat that we all know and love (she says with a wink)….off to describe every nuance of a piece of sand.

I am that artist, I am that writer, I am that asshole, I am a creator, but most of all I am this Woman.

Title-Fighting Your Demons,

Self Portrait-Denny Denholm

Mixed Medium on Acrylic

Artist-LXO

 

IMG_3589.JPG

I am letting go

 

307348_10150298733713971_1700848426_n

I am letting go. I am not giving up.

Years ago I was invited to go cliff jumping in Thailand. There are 3 tiered levels on the Island of Koh Tao. A 3 metre, an 8 and the final one the 12. I had just started dating my now husband, for those that don’t know, he is a Royal Marine Commando, had served in Iraq for 5 years and was also head of the security for the Iraqui governement when they were changing their Prime Ministers over a 9 month period.

To say he is fearless is an understatement, in fact he wrote a book about it called Fighting Your Demons. In it he talks a lot about his fears and how he was scared everyday, but had to change his attitude to cope with his surroundings. He had witnessed my struggles and my very real fears and felt it was time to do something compelely out of my comfort zone.

A big part of coming here to this tropical paradise was an opportunity for me to let go of my past and fight thru my fears. He had told me about the jumps as he had done them on his previous trips. To say I was scared shitless is an understament, in fact I have been called shit girl on this Island, but I will leave that for another story.

So in my heart I knew I had to jump off the 12. It was a test of sorts and I was determined to passout. The day arrived and I was so focused on my fear of the 12 metre, that I didn’t take stock of the fact that I had just jumped off a 3 and an 8 metre cliff into the ocean below.

My fear had me so consumed with the 12 metre that I also hadn’t noticed that the party of 8 that I had started out with had barely managed to jump off the 3,metre and only half of the original party managed the 8 metre, it was only when I looked back to my group that I realized it was only me heading for the 12.

To say I jumped off right away would be a bold faced lie. In order to take the jump, you actually have to run at it and let yourself go, trust yourself that your body won’t scrape along the cliff edges to the bottom, trust yourself that you won’t belly flop or hit your back hard.

As I went to take the run I screeched to a full stop right at the cliffs edge. Probably one of the most life threatening things I could have done. And then, then I just stood there and stared, mesmerised by how high up I was, how small I was…how insignificant I was. My Royal saw me freeze and headed up to try to either talk me down or talk me into it. After what seemed like 20 minutes of me just staring down and him going over all the things I had accompolished, and how I had to do it for me. I got angry. I was consumed with fear, of death, of letting go. I

didn’t want him there, telling me all the horrible things I had had to endure to make this jump. Iwas embarassed for so many reasons. His mate, another officer, came up to help. He asked if I was ok, then he to went into all the things that I was to be proud of, and the fact I had jumped all those other ones, but that this was just a little barrier, a barrier that I needed to get thru. My husband, now clearly frustrated, ran and did a double backflip in the air and smiled as he went down. He was met by the remaining jumping crew who were by this time getting water logged to see if I would go. And then, it happened, all there talk, all their positive affirmations came together and I slightly jogged to the edge and leapt!!

Can I tell you I had enough air time to open my eyes and realize I still hadn’t touched the water yet, I also realized when I splashed in that everyone went under the water for what I thought was to make sure I was ok. Apparanteley it was to see if my top had come off!! Yes, it did…

So I am letting go, I am not giving up.

There is a difference between these two statements. The first would seem at first glance to be defeat. But that isn’t the case as the latter would be that I have finally accepted defeat, and that my friends is called growth.

For now I can move on with that knowledge and let room in for those positive things that sadness has taken up room in for so long.

To let go has got to be one of the hardest things I personally have ever had to do…for one it’s admitting failure. It’s my final acceptance that know matter what I did, it just wasn’t enough.

It is a choice in life that I wish for everyone that none of you have to make, but life’s not all roses and sunshine…or is it? At some point you may have to come to…that moment when you have to look at that steep mountain you have been climbing for years and stop, take stock and firmly plant your feet in the earth and calmly whisper to yourself…I am enough!

….and then jump.

And to be enough for yourself means that those things you were holding onto, those belief systems, family values, relationship dreams…sometimes to get those things you had valued so much…sometimes you have to let go of all of them.

Holding on hard to something that as the days, months and years go with the same repetitive thought,’Is this the day? ‘Is this the day when I am enough for all that I had wished would find it’s way to me?

But on reflection that is insanity and the very definition of insanity is repeating the same thing over and over again in the hope of a different outcome. So I wait no more, instead I let go. But I will never give up.

Am I enough? Is that knock at my door going to happen, will a long, lost, loved one, a little more aged and a little wiser, come knocking.…Will they finally say, ‘You are enough, you always have been’.

So, I had to take a big deep breathe and show myself some tough love and make that hard decision, that one where your eyes sting and your throat clinches tightly at the very thought that I had to get to this point in my life. I have had to make that final call. To let go of all of it, of them, of they, of who, and yes …you, even you.

But I have to be clear, I am not giving up on it, or them, they, or who and especially not you. I am however letting go for me.

My understanding in this journey so far for me has meant that to be strong I have had to accept the most horrible sides of my weaknesses.I have had to face my fears, head on. Yet it is has been my weaknesses and fears that have made me who I am. They have been my teachers, my university, my life doctorate, my MBE in the role of my life. Sometimes I have been at the head of my class and learned quickly, even skipped a grade, other times I have had to repeat that year, as the lesson wasn’t heard and maybe I just needed to be reassured that this was not what I wanted for my life. And here is where I have inevitably had to grow.

By letting go I learned this about myself…

I am enough for me and I am enough for you. I am strong, I am also weak, I carry fears but I conquer them more confidently. I am not giving up on me or you!

And just one more thing, I ran back up those cliffs and jumped, this time for me….I jumped for me xxx

 

I Am Grateful for him-Part 3

617029_10151079695963971_1576762568_o.jpg

I Am Grateful for him-Part 3

I would like to share with you a message my husband posted on his time line.

He has always been the most generous, giving man I have ever met.  He is world class to say the least, but has inspired me on so many levels to be who I AM today.  No one is built alone, we are built from our experiences with engaging in people.  And as I write you will notice all my experiences good and bad have shaped me into who I am based on those interactions with these individuals.

Yet, there is one person who rises to the occasion time and time again, and to be honest I don’t know why or how he is here.  How did I, a divorced mother of three with a history of hell have heaven enter my door?

I thank you Mr.Denny from every fibre of my being for being you, consistently and persistently.  It’s beautiful to read you feel the same, thank you again My King x

An excerpt from Denny Denholm: a Royal Marine, a War Veteran, a Father, a writer, a boxer, a Coach….My love

We all have pasts and we all have demons…that can never be denied.

Some of us have to fight our way through youth and adult life, and others sort of sail through, unaware of the pain and violence around them. We all suffer. I am witness to that, especially Veterans, like me. 

This is why we are doing 22 Push Ups for 22 days in support of Vets who still live and need to be inspired by community and FB does that well. 

BUT…REMEMBER…OR WAKE UP TO…DOMESTIC VIOLENCE KILLS!!

When I returned from war, it horrified me that I had been genuinely sacrificing my life for my country and the good of mankind. Willingly taking my body and mind into the end of times to become strong enough to withstand war as a Commando. Then living through a career of it, for my country, family and kin.

I was horrified because while I was gone there were rapists and child molesters running a muck in every community. The more I looked the more I was broken in my soul. Any fucker tells me war broke me I will punch them right on the nose. Finding out this shit after my career in war totally broke me. No fucking question.

While i was trying to sort out how the fuck I can change this shit I met my wife Lisa Denholm. We were both going through horrific divorces and child custody nonsense and decided to fight back to back together, preserving love at all costs. We fight on and my wife has the courage to tell these stories so bloody eloquently. Watch this space…this woman has talent.

Listen to Lisa Denholm‘s story in her blogs. She has lived through the most horrific of abuses and still remains strong, faithful and able to teach others how to be strong, confident and loyal. God knows, meeting a loyal person is a challenge in these days. When I met this woman I learned about loyalty, hope and compassion, everything she tries to teach everyone every day. 

A true warrior and a true Love Legend!

Strength to your courage and I pray you that you can touch millions of people’s hearts. Together, we unite to STOP DOMESTIC VIOLENCE!

STOP SUICIDE

Lxo

Who would want you?

41096_427989473970_4164167_n

Who would want you?

I had left my husband months before, tried to leave rather. I was back in 4 hours after the pleading and begging over the phone, the endless promises of, “ I will change!’ I knew, deep in my heart that wouldn’t happen, but the reality was I was a 40 something woman, a mother of three and had a responsibility to try for the sake of the family.

But how long is a piece of string? How long do you keep your life on hold in the hopes that one day all those promises will come true? And better yet, How do I set an example to my young daughter that abuse is never ok? or to my sons that treating woman badly is not OK? As they were getting older, they too were questioning my belief systems. For I wasn’t practicing what I preached, not even close.

‘Just get us out of here,’ my daughter pleaded one night. I had just turned 40, my 40th birthday party was in true form to the standards we had all grown accustomed to and let him get away with. He had gone from belittling the guests, to hitting on woman, to abusing his kids and finally to throwing out my presents and smashing the rented glassware.

As my daughter stood behind the door, slightly ajar, I could see her tears and her fear, “Why do you put up with this!”….Why indeed.

I was doing it for them I thought, I was trying to keep it together for the sake of the family, for the fear of being alone, broke, lost, lonely, used up. Then I realized I was already those things when I tried to look at myself in the mirror.

Yet I had tried bloody hard to keep it all together. I tried when the bottles of wine would come clanging up the driveway, I tried when he threatened the kids, I tried when his vicious words would keep pouring out nonstop abuse…I tried when he would pass out every night, I tried when he would spit tones of inadequacy…lord knows I tried. For 19 years I tried.

How long do you stay in an abusive marriage? What is the code of conduct? I tried thru marriage counseling, I tried to keep the kids on their best behavior, I tried to keep my house the cleanest it could be, I tried to be Suzy homemaker (even though my name is clearly Lisa), I tried passiveness, I tried loneliness, I tried giving up friends, and when I realized how hard I had been trying, I changed a few vowels around and came up with TIRED!

I was so tired. Tired of the eggshell floor, tired of the accusations, tired of not being allowed to grow because he couldn’t, tired of my children watching abuse and thinking it was the norm.

That’s the key thing with relationships; each of us will grow at different times. Not always at the same time, but if you are truly meant to be in that friendship/relationship then each one of you has to acknowledge that change is inevitable. Each day I change, a new wrinkle here, a new white hair there, nature tells you, you are changing.

I could have tried to hold back the changes, but Botox and boob jobs were never going to be for me. He insisted if I was to have the above, then he would love me more. Actually he would always love me more if I changed for him the way he wanted that change.

Who is anyone to tell you to change for them? Change is for you; you are not on anyone’s time frame of how you should change.

4 months later I was back in the same position. Sitting all business like with his sister, a 30 something, single woman with only her career and her endless degrees of paperback knowledge to contend with. After I had explained the circumstances, tried to make sense of this existence and how it had to stop. This modern day woman of the world had this pearl for me, ‘But, honestly Lisa, Who would want you? You have 3 kids, your over 40 and face it, you come with a lot of baggage! Not words of, as a woman you shouldn’t stand for this, or I am ashamed that you had to go thru this. No, there was no sisterhood support, actually she just shrugged and kept with her line of thinking…’Who would want you?

I thought about that for about 2 seconds, to be honest the cold had now set in and at the same time a burning rage. My eyes set straight ahead knowing my next steps. In my heart I was looking for me, I had been lost trying so hard to be everything for everyone else that I wasn’t interested in who would want me!!!

I was interested in if I would want me, if I could look at myself in the mirror and be proud of that woman who was changing. Changing from a young girl on her own, changing from a newly married woman to a mother of three. I wanted my changes to be appreciated not held onto like a bonsai tree. I was interested in my children seeing a woman stand up for what was right. If I wanted anyone to, ‘want me’, it would be them.

I left the next day, quietly packing my bags. He and I had spoken the night before in a long stand off. Reasoning was difficult, there were never going to be enough words, once a loyal person is pushed and the indifference sets in, there is no going back.

He had 5 key statements in desperation to make me stay, for this change to not take place.

1.If you leave me I will kill you

2.If you leave me I will kill the children

3.If you leave me I will kill you and the children

4.I will kill myself

5.Let me take you out for dinner and everything will be alright.

To answer her question, ‘Who would want me?

I’ll tell you who would want me… even though my losses have been high, I can finally look at myself in the mirror and know that change is inevitable, that being smothered, abused and disregarded is not what you are here in this life for.

I am here for me! Once that had been established, once I could honestly be me and sit in my skin, the who comes, the wants arrive, the love flows and you realize that piece of string is yours alone to measure.

I have changed again, a little older, a lot more under my belt, and I am with an amazing man who has watched from beside me those changes take place. In fact he encourages them, loves the fact we are changing, sometimes together other times encouraging from the sidelines.

I am this Woman.  Who would want me?  I would x

I AM just waiting on a train

An excerpt from the book I am this woman…..

 

Lisa Absai.jpg

Just a few weeks ago I discovered a hidden SMS message on FaceBook that had been sent to me over a year ago.

I can tell you now, looking back on the discovery(hindsight is golden) that it was one of those ‘movie moments’. You know, when the train doors slide open, and you have a choice, to get on or not. The choice of getting on from the audiences point of view is obvious, but instead we seem to choose to stay on the cold lonely platform. I am guilty of  choosing the latter too many times, this time I was getting on that train.

I was in the middle of checking emails and not being the most-savviest person on the planet with my iPhone skills, I had overlooked a whole section of SMS’s. There were about 15 in the bank, but only one caught my interest. The message was written with a shy tone, cautious, but yet direct.

It was from my first husbands, first girlfriend and fiancé.

They had been high school sweethearts over 25 years ago. I had never met her before in all of my time in Australia, nor being married for 19 years, and to be honest, never really heard much about her. Like all high school romances, I had thought it was left in the pages of their yearbook.

I don’t know why I didn’t see  her message before, maybe the timing wasn’t meant for me to see it then but a few things were at play that day. Let’s just say the stars were all aligning, but not in a glorious Milky Way moment, more like a catastrophic parade of meteorites heading for Planet Blonde.

I recognized her name from the past, and then realized that maybe she hadn’t known ‘our ex’ was no longer living. I felt obliged to contact her, and of course a little curious as this was literally a blast from his past, and from all accounts, nothing to do with me.

However, the second reason was because her words were chillingly close to the bone, as to how accurate her description of what had happened to me over 19 years of marriage, reflected in what she had claimed to be her experience.

Her name was A, she typed thru messenger. She hoped I was all right, that my daughter was ok, and that she had been concerned all these years for my safety. She had hoped he had turned into a good man; and the last line, ‘she had been plagued all her life worrying for me and what she hoped I had not gone thru’.

The surreal part is I received this in late 2015, yet he had died 3 years previous and secondly a lot of work has gone into my growth and moving on.So why now, why after all these years did it have to come back.  I had managed to put all of the past behind me. But here is the rub, the past can’t be put to rest until you deal with it…all of it.

So, with a heavy heart, I have to bring back the past in order for me to succeed in my present.

Please note, I AM not a victim, I AM a survivor, I AM that daughter, I AM that divorcee, I AM that widower, I AM this strong, I AM a body of those experiences.

If this is not spoken about and I AM not able to share my experiences,as dark as they may be then how can I help someone out there who is going thru the exact circumstances and is overwhelmed in their isolation and can’t see their way out?

Maybe that SMS was a sign to say hey, you have had plenty of time to let others know, to help those when others doubt them.  For I have been doubted, called a liar, blamed and yet still had to grovel for those peoples affections.  Yes, it is hurtful to read but not as painful as receiving it.  And without my truth, that this happened to me, then how are we going to stand up for ourselves and say, enough is enough?

I to have had all this pain and not to be able to show others that pain just equals more pain.  Hurt people hurt people, sad people share sadness all the time.  I am here to share knowledge, personal experience and how to grow from it without the guilt or societies branding.

So please, bare witness, but don’t bare sadness, or despair, read for hope, truth and knowing that we are not alone.

My Living Hell

I was groomed from an early age. Trust has never been my strong suit.

Groomed from an early age by my uncle Herbie, from what I can recall 8yrs old to finally having the strength to stop him at the age of 16.

My mother knew, I told her over many years; her response was to get drunk and chase me with an axe thru my bedroom door, beat me or burn me. I have all scars to prove it, outwardly and inwardly.

Thankfully my stepfather had put locks on my door only a few weeks before the big finale, or it could have gotten really ugly. I left that day and didn’t look back for nearly 25 years!

To say my childhood environment reflected what was going on behind the scenes was the sinister part, for the house was always clean, there was food and I was clothed. My mother’s attention to detail, her fantastic taste in design and her immaculate presentation of her many houses did not reflect the pain.

There was pain, a lot of it. From beatings after school, to burns on my body, my mother’s drunken ranting’s were always followed with beatings, pulling hair, being punched or kicked. Accusing me of sleeping with her second husband, let’s just say the list does get bigger but you get the general idea. And the end result was always the same; she couldn’t remember that she had done it. Here is where the ‘blame game’ starts. I felt responsible for every punch, every bruise and every grooming experience. I blamed myself for the treatment my ‘family’ gave me. After all it was me who made them do what they did, right?

I know, I don’t look like anything could have happened to me. But it did, they did it and then  I blamed myself for it happening…every single day. But I left that behind; I put it in my past and just walked away. Dusted myself off, and made way for my future, a bright one. I wanted my life to be so bright like a glowing ball of sunshine, that anyone who came near me would feel my radiant glow of love and not want to hurt me. I wanted that so much.

The problem was though; that my past was still there and my first hand knowledge of ‘love’ was that it came from either a fist or a fuck.

The lady at the other end of that SMS was not to know that she had opened my Pandora’s box. Please note, it wasn’t her fault, she has had her own battles all her life, and I hope she can be at ease now, and know that I am thankful for her strength in reaching out.

I was 21 when I married. Looking back a child bride. He was from the other side of the world, a world away from rejection, ignorance and plain hate. Or so I thought.

My next 19 years were to be a repeat performance of my childhood. Physical and emotional abuse. The thing is bruises heal but words; words stay forever in your mind. And he was great with his words.

But one day those words didn’t hurt anymore, the sting in them was still there, but the indifference to them had set in. I was realizing my self-worth in the phrases of a childhood nursery rhyme, ‘Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words can never hurt me’.

And so I left, again. I AM that mother who left her children with that hu-MAN, this will always be my guilt and sadness. At the time all I could think about was my survival and once that was established, then I was in a place that I could save us all. Sadly it hasn’t been that way.

Since this woman contacted me, I have had to regroup and look at all of my actions that led me into these situations.

I AM not accountable to those steps that were laid down for me by those who failed me in my past. I take great responsibility in creating new steps, with big giant leaps.

I chased those demons down and fought thru it, but not without help. Help came in strange ways and also in undeniable, downright spiritual ways too. As soon as I had decided that enough was enough, those train doors started to slide open and the boogeyman wasn’t there anymore.

I AM now well informed about what I will stand for in my life. Who I let be near me, and how I want to be treated. Simply. With Love

The night before I left my yet again abusive situation, I sat down outside on the steps and wrote down on a tiny piece of paper what I wanted out of my life. Not what I owe someone, not what I can do for them to make them happy but what I needed for me to fulfil my journey.  I realised that if you are truly loved, then the above doesn’t happen to you, if it is happening then get the hell out.  Find a way.  It’s all scary, but the scariest part is that you could still be there.

Dear Lxo

I AM in LOVE, I AM strong, I AM happy, I AM a rebel, I AM a traveller, I AM empowered, I AM a cougar, I AM raw, I AM an Artist,  I AM that Mother and my door is always open.

I AM this WOMAN, and the past is now just that…

My 11 Affirmations to Warrior Heaven – Forever Strong in Love †

 

**If you are a victim of #childabuse, #sexualassault, #parentalalienation, #domesticviolence #incest #mentalabuse #physicalabuse please reach out, to someone, anyone, me….

The more we  can bring awareness and stop the taboo of talking about these subjects the more the ‘System of Silence Stops.

LXO

 

I am wasting time

I am wasting time

I have been burning daylight a lot lately. And when I got down to the crux of why I had been dawdling the only precious commodity that one can never get back (time)I just hung my head in shame and thought, ‘I don’t know’ and the next response ‘What a waste of time’.

We could call it limbo for many reasons, or call this nothingness reorganizing myself, I know we are all guilty of it. Lollygagging on how we look, what people think, what we should say, as well as whiling away the time on people who you know deep down don’t care whether your around or not. You were given gut feelings, trust in them!

That’s the hard realization, when your life changes some people just can’t come with you and instead of them being happy for you, you become shunned like a bad member of the flock. But the very worst procrastinator of all for me has been self doubt on past destructive emotions like jealousy or frustration, not good enough. For the record these have absolutely no place in my life. And is not on my list of time dilly dallying anymore.

Somewhere I got it all backwards, talked myself into thinking that if I spent time on those that didn’t see me or wished they would give me their time,that maybe I would be enough. Maybe they could rise up and feel me, hell I even prayed for their kindness and love. That ended

I especially find myself losing a lot of time looking at the right hand screen on my Face Book page. You know the signal, where it shows who’s on line and who is not. The sad fact is, that that little green dot consumes a lot of my time, it represents someone I love dearly. I turn that Face crack on in the hope that the green dot is still glowing and my heart skips a beat to see that the light is still on. Like a ship lost at sea looking for the light house, when it flickers on I know they are there, waiting, watching and so for this, this is not a loss of time. This is a mother with her only contact to her blood by a dot on a screen.

So I made a promise a few weeks ago. I am choosing to spend my time on the following . Albeit I had to go thru some hoops to get to these realizations, and with any change comes some heated discussions, some goal posts moved and moments of reflection to make hard decisions. And as always there was the usual toss between being my usual pig headed strong self and the other being the humble eyes wide opened character. With all that emotion out of the way, I have no time to waste…here is where you will find me wasting light in 2016.IMG_0236.jpg

I am going to waste time on my husband and love him like it was my last day on earth…everyday. I am going to waste time with my friends and drink red wine and eat fabulous food while the sun goes down on our tropical island we all call home. I am going to waste time motivating people. I am especially going to waste time having a lingering kiss on the lips of my King. I am going to waste your time to, I will waste it by giving you a hug, or winking at you. I am going to be the biggest time waster by listening to you, and enjoying our time we waste together.

 

While I am at it I am going to waste time boxing, staying fit, having massages, loving my job, meeting people from all over the world. I am going to waste time learning two new languages-concurrently ( I didn’t say successfully), I am going to waste time learning how to dive. I am going to waste time having dinner parties and paddle boarding. I am going to waste time making art again and writing like I can recapture time again. I hope I have encouraged you to waste time also. Life is too damn short.

And If it so happens we get wasted together, then mission accompolished, because we didn’t while our time away , instead we embraced our moments in the presence of everything. Like good time wasters do xxxx

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I am writing fearlessly

10301223_10152126971721336_4074336687222880328_n.jpg

I am writing fearlessly

Actually,I am living fearlessly and then writing it down. A year ago I was at the Roosevelt Hotel in Hollywood while the Oscars were being held just a block down the street.
The whole street was cordoned off, and police and limousines were everywhere. It was such an eclectic mix of hobo’s and hairstyles, long gowns and beggars.
It was utterly surreal, at one point a tall gentleman stood beside us and started asking questions about where we were from. He was engaging, wanting to know why we were there, how we got here, what did we do.

We all swapped stories, and when we asked him if he was going to the Oscars (jokingly off hand), he replied,’ my song is up for the Oscar for best song in a film.’

Now this IS Hollywood, and anyone can be anyone. He was however dressed in a tux and looking smart. He was also incredibly humble and was genuinely interested in the couple in front of him of Scottish, Canadian and Australian descent.

At one point he looked up at the hotel movie screen which was showing the presentations live from the red carpet, he suddenly went,’Oh no, that’s me, I’ve got to go’. Graciously we swapped FB accounts (as you do) took a photo of the 3 of us together and then he was off headed towards the Chinese Theatre. His song won. His name is Rhymefest (El Che)
Oscar & Multiple-Grammy Award winning artist & songwriter. Co-Founder of Donda’s House, Inc., Kenneth Cole Courageous Class Model & Subject of In My Father’s House, currently showing on Showtime.
So what has this to do with writing fearlessly. Or the chance meeting with Che. Everything. Because if you have followed my story, you will know that I had to give everything up, to lose everything and to do this I had to live fearlessly first.
It also meant that I had to start showing up to my emotions and write them down. Being fearless showed me the world and the people in it who are making a genuine change, are touching people’s lives because they, as scared as they may be, had to become fearless people in their passion for teaching and showing the world the beauty within it.
If I can give any advice, any at all…live. Live it all. Be present to your moment whether it be amazing or gut-wrenching, be there. For the lessons, those hard ones that knock you around are the ones that make you fearless. They make you aware of what it means to be alive.
It’s been a week since I heard of the passing of my cousin. In that time, I have gotten sick. Here I suppose my opportunity to feel real this loss. To set the record straight we were not close cousins, but we were blood and family. And just because of that alone I feel this loss.
So fearlessly I write this down. Here is the rub, to live fearlessly I have met amazing people all over the world, it has been an absolute honor. But to live fearlessly, I have also lost. In the end, it all comes down to how you want to live and how you can live with all that comes with it…good or bad.

I am inspired by the hobos, the eclectic, the writers and their muse, the musicians, the artists, even the players in between. I am inspired by my husband, my children, my framily(family not of blood),these are my  heroes, We need these people in our lives. We need to see their fight; it makes us all one at that moment. I am inspired where passion is about. And you know when someone is passionate at what they do because they make it look easy, and they are humble in its creation.

I am writing fearlessly, watch this space x

I am Hotbod, I am that Trainer

IMG_0339.jpg

I am HotBod, I am that trainer

Like any great idea, THIS seemed like an amazing idea.

Ten years ago I became a trainer. I entered into a field that was deemed for younger, fitter, energizer bunnies of both the male and female type. I still remember at the time feeling like such an oldie as I entered into the classroom of what would be my future graduating class of 20 something’s.

Who did I think I was to be here? A Mom of three, past the age of lycra and not a top athlete. What could I offer?

….’just lil’ol me’…(echoed my insecurity)

When I was growing up, and things were all messed up, it was exercise that pulled me through. Not just any exercise, but real physical exercise. ‘The kind that you left all your problems at the door for’.

Where chin sweat was your ultimate goal!

In my background I am a skier, water skier, runner and what I found out about myself was that they were all solo sports. They were done on my own time, my own space and I always felt a sense of personal achievement when I conquered them.

When I discovered boxing, I had found my sport.

Boxing found me in my early thirties. Classes were being held at the local gym that had been around for over 30 years. The family that ran it knew everyone and everyone knew them. It was an old school gym, where weights had been collected over the years from garage sales and embroidered art of Rocky adorned the brick halls. Upstairs they had laid down fake green grass as matting. As long as you brought your towel you were sure not to catch anything. But hygiene aside, it had grit, and smelled like dirty socks that had been left in the corner, then sprayed with Dettol.

I loved it.

Boxing was a sport I could do on my own or in a group and yet still have my own space, create my own goals and work to get those throws right. But besides all that, I felt strong. Mentally strong. The bonus was that it worked everything about me, my shoulders, stomach, legs, ass, those jiggly bits…basically everything that every woman works towards.

How do I know….I am Hotbod, PT. That was the name of my studio. Sort of set myself up there, as once it was named, I had some big shoes to fill. Or rather Lorna Janes.

But the pressure just wasn’t on me, I applied it to anyone who walked thru those doors.

And they did come thru those doors. They came by word of mouth, curiosity and results.

Hotbod Studio was not a big, flashy space. It contained 6 kettle bells, a skipping rope, a fish named Balboa….and a Boxing bag. No scales and one mirror, oh and Art. Always art. In reality the ‘Studio’ was no bigger than a double bed. But it worked.

I was booked out from 5am til 9pm, 5 days a week. It turns out my age, my experience, my 3 children and my love of those clients who walked thru those studio doors was what they were looking for. But let’s face it, they came looking for results, and results they got!

Most had never experienced putting the gloves on, or having handwraps properly placed let alone given a couple of rounds. My clients had gone from never hitting a bag before to showing up with their own handwraps and their prized possessions, their very own gloves. They had pink, camouflage, silver, black, red, you name it….boxers were being built in white picket fence suburbia.

The stories, tears, swearing and absolute bursts of laughter were what kept us all going. As a trainer it became a self fulfilling prophecy, I was their to motivate and educate them. And little did they know they were helping me thru the darkest days of my life.

As a trainer, I met so many amazing people. Those times in that small space were some of the happiest days of my life. Weddings, births, engagements, divorce, death…it was all shared there.

Hotbod wasn’t just a good idea, it was an amazing idea. Lil’ol me created a space where people became empowered. And if you think it was easy, it wasn’t. For nothing that looks easy ever is.

Hotbod may have closed years ago, but the mission is still the same…if you aren’t sweating, smiling and swearing…you just aren’t doing it right.

Boxing never left me, in fact it saved me. I mean I loved the sport so much I went on to marry a Professional Boxer and open a boxing gym in Thaland.   To his credit, he has just launched his book, The Bible of Boxing.. http://dennydenholm.com

And yes I will shamelessly plug his book here, as it has all you need to learn about the sweet science that I absolutely adore and has been my fountain of youth for over ten years now.

Oh and I still wear lycra xo

I am that trainer, I am Hotbod and so are you