I have Faith not Fear-The Gift of Gratitude Part 2

 

Excerpt from the novel, I AM this Woman

I pray, to myself, everyday actually. This isn’t a new thing, I have being doing this since I was a little girl. Not really knowing who or what I was praying to, but just talking to someone who didn’t judge me or ask anything of me…just putting my thoughts out there into the ether. As I got older and the world around me got a little crazier, to say the least, I started inquiring about faith, beliefs, others religions and what that meant to people. The majority would say it was their place of peace, of comfort and community.

When I was finishing my arts degree I met a young lady who was proudly Greek. I was on my own at the time over Easter and she had asked if I would like to partake in their midnight mass. Curious and excited to dress up I walked up the path to her and her communities Greek Orthodox Church. There were hundreds of people, beautifully turned out and tables laden with food. Glowing candles were held in our hands as we walked the streets for the Easter Passover. Children giggling and glowing that they were up way past their bedtime. But there was something else, there was a feeling of oneness that is very hard to find and connect with.

Needless to say I didn’t become Greek Orthodox, but that beauitful spirit of that night never left. The prayers were done, the mutual greeting and shaking of hands and then we were back off into the world of competition, daily grind and lonliness. If there was ever a time to convert I suppose it would have been then.

I have been to many churches since that time, in fact all of my children have been baptised and have received the Holy Sacraments within the Catholic church. They were given a faith, something I wanted very much for myself. A place in the time of a storm that will open it’s doors and not question why you are there.

My strength comes from my core belief in my faith, the one that has always been in my little pocket. I take it out when times are hard and because I have been doing this for so many years it is like breathing, you know your doing it but you don’t question it.

My family never baptised me, it never dawned on me that they hadn’t, it was only when my first sibling arrived and he was baptised that I questioned it.

When I asked about it the response was, ‘We thought we would let you decide when you grew up?’ Being a child of the late 60’s, maybe this was her breaking free from society and along with it, burning bras. Whatever the reason it left me feeling not as grounded or connected as those that had been, those being my siblings. It was like their own private secret society and I hadn’t been a thought into that process.

Years later on I fell in love with a man of great faith, he watched as I attended church with my children, as I happily agreed to go to Easter Mass. He showed me the sacraments and the reconciliation as well as taught me that the church is dark, and clouded within it’s own dramas. This we all know, I for one have questioned many times why those men need to wear fuchsia hats and more diamonds and gold than Elizabeth Taylor, God rest her soul.

As I travelled and lived abroad I watched all different faiths, and their customs. When living in Dubai the Mosque call to prayer would sing out five times a day, it was a slight hum and actually became very comforting that they would take the time to just reflect. In Scotland, Sunday Mass was always a huge turnout and the Priests were knowledgeable, aware of the world’s strife, and openly aware with the dysfunction of it’s institution. It was refreshing to say the least and it made me remember when I was little and it was simpler, to just be at one with your thoughts, worries, concerns and hopes.

Living in Canada there was a strong Indian community, the elders would dance and chant and smudge (burning sage), I loved it, I love all of it. We need grounding, a community and a moment when all is right with the world and our world within. To observe so many faiths from within I have been very blessed. Currently I live in a Buddhist country, and on my wedding we lived in a monastery for a week. That was a week of getting back to my own base, no words were spoken, no eye contact was made, and the eating area was separated into male and female areas. By the 3^rd day the monkey chatter in my mind had stopped and I could see.

One day I would like to visit the Vatican. Why not, it’s all of our history. I am married to a man who sees no borders of any religious type. It is refreshing, he is Catholic and loves his faith, but in truth he loves them all. He has studied the Quran, and he once tried to become a priest at the age of 14. He stands for his faith yet sees it’s faults, but they all have them. Like people, faiths can falter.

My own baptism eventually happened for me. I wanted to be apart of my children’s community, of my husbands love, and what had clearly been a search for me for many years. Years before when I was in counseling with my high school, the councilor when hearing of what I had been thru asked, “How do you get up every morning and be able to smile?” I looked at him, straight into his eyes, “Because everyday is a new day, you just have to believe that, you just have to have faith”. I too was 16 when I announced that out loud. At 47, that thought process has not changed.

I have had a great deal of love and support sent to me after writing, ‘I am just waiting on a train’. I thank you. I am grateful for this, and grateful to the people that have been my strength. There is one though that has been here, thru all of this. Thru my nightmares, my losses and when I just couldn’t get out of bed. When all I had was getting lesser by the day, he still stood there, on guard, fighting off the wolves.

After our coffee date that day, he gave me a limited edition of his first book, ‘Fighting Your Demons’. He then told he was going to head out for that day and just left me with that book. His concerns were that I wouldn’t want to see him after reading it, as in there was a whole lot of truth within those pages. And so that is exactly what he did.

I read it, twice. Inside was a life, a big one. I am not sure that any one person I have met before or since has met with one if not all of these experiences. Later that afternoon, there was a knock at my door. He had a fresh haircut, a packed bag and said so, “Your coming with me, because I am on a journey and I am moving this way quick, can you handle it?”

‘Yeah’, I prayed to myself, I got this.

I AM this woman, who are you?

https://www.amazon.com/FIGHTING-YOUR-DEMONS-Mastering-Courage-ebook/dp/B01HLYVF0Q/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1467256246&sr=8-1&keywords=fighting+your+demons#nav-subnav

Have Faith not Fear

LXo

I AM just waiting on a train

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

 

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.

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 that Woman with the Flu

Woman-Flu vs. Man-Flu. Which one is you?

Woman flu is a dreadful disease, which causes seriously ill women to pretend to be well and relentlessly come to work.

The opposite of man flu

Man 1: Gosh, her nose is streaming dreadfully… why doesn’t she take a day off?

Man 2: Must be a case of woman flu

I googled Woman-Flu and to be honest felt the Urban dictionary hit the nail on the head, and I didn’t realize how much of that above statement was true, until I proceeded to do the following:

After said Husband finally realized I was quite ill and demanded complete bed rest, I proceeded to clean the house as I can’t possibly do sick well if surrounded in clutter. WTF

Clear cut and dry case of Woman-Flu symptoms

Urban Dictionary goes on to say this about Man-Flu

 A rare strain of flu so powerful and so deadly it can only be matched by the Bubonic Plague and Aids.

An incurable virus which has adapted to only effect the “XY” gene found in men.

The virus attacks the immune system 10,000 times harder than the average flu virus, causing excruciating pain for the victim. Man Flu has no cure and prayers can save the forsaken life of the infected. The often deadly virus is mostly laughed at by women who sadly cannot contract “Man Flu”

Woman: Is he ok?

Doctor: I’m afraid not, I’m sad to say he has Man Flu

I took a leaflet out of the Man-Flu pamphlet today and in my exhaustion copy pasted all of these rhetoric’s word for word.

This Man-Flu thing could really catch on.

Woman:

Did she just copy the Urban Dictionary.

Other Woman:

Yes, I’m afraid she has Man-Flu.

I am that Woman with the Flu and I have decided to be a man about it. I would like to thank Urban Dictionary for clearing the debate up for me and allowing me to justify why I am sleeping under my Doona all day…Guilt free(after all the house is now clutter free)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I am Back

I am back

It’s been four months since I started my blog. And 2 months since I have written anything. I kind of lost my mojo, or rather found it. Let me explain, we are back in Thailand. Surrounded by amazing, inspiring, creatives, who I love so much. And what happens in environments like this is that you are continually creative in so many other areas that finding time to take it all in, stop the merry go round and write about it proves to be harder than one would expect.

This is just one of my days…Training in our MC with brave and fit warriors who only improve everyday. Dinner at our best mates 5 star restaurant and wine bar, The Gallery, where we are spoiled rotten with the best Thai food on this planet. An evening of listening to Simon Wright and Andy V from Australia, mesmerise us with their talents on Loop, Guitar and Sax while the ocean laps gently across the shore. An invite to the amazing Cape Shark, a 7 star villa sanctuary that has been designed fit enough for the Princess of Thailand.

And to top it all off, an evening cruise home with the love of my life on the back our bike, while the full moon lights are way home to our Jungle Fever Dollhouse.

So I apologise for not writing for awhile, actually I want to say sorry not sorry. My posts have always been filled with sadness, loss and complete tragedy and as much as I needed to express that pain, I no longer feel that. I thank you for all of your support and strength, believe me when I say, your love has been felt and without you in it I could not be here in this mindset.

I would like to share with you instead how from all of that, I have found myself again. How I don’t wake up anymore feeling lost, sad or confused… How I don’t feel like a victim…anymore.

In the past two months I have accepted my losses, picked myself and had an epiphany. I have lost 6 kilo’s, I train everday if not twice a day (except Sundays). I have grown, and from that lost one mojo in return for the other. I want you to know that you can do this too.

You don’t have to be on a tropical island, (although that does help) to adjust your glitch. Actually my glitch was on the matts one day, while my husband/coach was teaching me how to spar. Part of learning how to box is not only to know how to hit, but also how to be hit. How to, ‘roll with the punches’, and it really is a roll. We had started our 3 minute round, and in that time frame I was hit(gently but effectively) on the head or in the ribs or in the face….with each punch I found I couldn’t get out of the way. No matter how hard I tried to duck and weave, the punches kept landing. Tears started to roll down my face, memories started flooding back, I could feel the waves of regression sinking in on me as I struggled with my breathing. And this is where the epiphany came…this is what I had been doing all along. Ducking, weaving, resisting the cause but taking the pain.. I needed to grow and the only way was to take a deep breathe and walk into that punch, eyes wide open and ready to accept that I could get hurt.

That’s life for me, right there. In those 3 minutes I had the opportunity to either ride the crest of the past or walk into the ring with a plan, without fear or intimidation. I put my hands to my cheekbones, I opened my eyes and took a deep breathe. The tears stopped, the past melted and in front of me was me. My hardest opponent, and I won.

I am back.

I am that Wife

I am that Wife…

 

2012 Thailand

The jungle trek was proving to be a bit frustrating for Sam.

Sam being the elephant who was taking them deep into the jungle’s of Chaing Mai. His master had already told them that Sam was upset with them. As he went onto explain why, Sam’s trunk again extended over his head in desperate search for the banana treats that most rides provide. Fleur and Saul’s hands were unfortunately empty.

They had forgotten or rather hadn’t realised they should have bought those 40bht bananas as they mounted their safari cage. Fleur’s mind was racing, this was their wedding day, here in the jungle, on an elephant dressed in a white embroidered cotton caftan and matching white fisherman’s pants, Saul was in matching gear, minus the embroidery. How did they get here?

2010 Australia

‘If I was to ask you to marry me what would you say?” said Saul over his shoulder as he was packing the final bags into their new home. Fleur looked at him, wriggled her nose, this was the 6^th time he had spoken like this, and she knew better than to fall for his set-ups. The first time he asked Fleur was outside a Domino’s pizza joint waiting for their Tuesday cheap date deals. ‘So, what would you say if I asked you to marry me’? She recalled her reaction, wide opened eyes, a light blush; she was in no way ready for that. Before she could answer he laughed it off, ‘Just kidding, wow you should have seen your face! By the 6^th time, she wasn’t falling for it.

2012 Thailand

And yet here they were, in Thailand, on an elephant, 1000’s of miles away from Australia, family and friends. As the trek continued along and Sam’s trunk eagerly awaited the possibility of a miracle from their cage Fleur looked out to the mountains. Something bright was shining and then it disappeared. ‘No way’, she whispered under her breath…she glanced again. ‘Saul, do you see that’, she touched his wedding whites and pointed to the hills. There thru the trees was a cross. Saul tapped the Masters shoulder and asked for their ride to steady them closer to that mark.

The trek thru was easy; a tribe was set at the foot of the cross-called the Aka’s tribe, the long necks. The tribe lived in huts with dirt floors and hammocks, bare in it’s form but with all the needed necessities. As they walked thru they saw a church at the end of the town. Saint Nicholas was the chapel and Fleur and Saul were still a bit in shock as they entered the Catholic Church.

A pastor was passed out at the base of the altar, ‘Perfect’, said Saul, ‘We have our witness.’

They were both so bewildered by the day’s events; this was not at all what they had been expecting. They set about setting up the camera to take self-shots, when a German family walked in. A young son with his parents, the boy looked to Fleur and Saul and asked if his family was interrupting a wedding. Fleur and Saul just looked at each other and said, ‘Well yes and no, a wedding yes but you are not interrupting. The young boy offered to take the photos and with that in agreeance the couple went about composing them selves for their hand written vows.

2010 Australia

She had just finished her morning shift of clients and was packing for their first weekend away as a couple. Both sets of children were with their respective ex’s and Saul had organized for a weekend away. He wasn’t giving anything away, all he said to Fleur was ‘just pack for anything’.

He had also handed her his book, the very book he had started writing 2 years ago and was now on the market. ‘I need you to read this, it’s about me and maybe if you think I am too much for you hopefully by after this weekend we should know where we stand with each other.

That was last night and after her packing she had a few hours before he was to come pick her up. Fleur opened the first page and set about getting to know the man behind the writer.

2012 Australia

Excuse me miss can I get you to stand to the side. It was midnight; Fleur, Saul and Cupid were standing at the border patrol waiting to go thru. Saul had gone first and they had spoken of this the night before. Once he goes thru passport he can’t come back thru. As frightening as that possibility was Fleur knew there was no other way around it.

The past week had been a blur. From the moment she had seen the Fb message from her sister to the nightmare that had unfolded in front of her. She couldn’t get a hold of any of her children, she was being accused of murder and drug smuggling. The arrival into Brisbane had been with much fear, She had been threatened with jail upon her arrival back into the country. Threatened with her children never having contact with her and all this on top of a horrible suicide. In the days leading up to finding Cupid she had only been able to see him under watch at his school. The whole school she was to find out later had been put on lockdown just at the sheer mention of Fleur and Saul arriving into the country.

From there she was able to organise a visit with Cupid her youngest. And from there everything just went faster. Cupid was in shock, he had just lost his Dad and was now telling his Mother that he was sent to the police station to write a statement to not have anything to do with her.

‘Enough, enough!, Fleur closed her eyes and started to breathe slowly and calm herself. Action was required. Fear was not an option. How this all happened was irrelevant what was needed was reasoning and distance.

So she did what every Mother would do to protect her young, she kept her son. He agreed. The days that followed were nothing short of a nightmare, screams of threats from family, cries from her daughter pleading with her not to break the children up. Heart wrenching, as that was Fleur knew her In-laws were wrong. And they had intimidated her long enough.

She called Saul, told her her plan and he quietly said, ‘I got your back baby.’ Thank you she whispered as she put down the phone and looked at Cupid, ‘Are you sure about this’…Yes Mom, I want to do this.

2010 Australia

She could hear him pull up in the driveway. ‘You ready baby’

Fleur looked up over his book and smiled. ‘Well’, she said, this could be a very interesting weekend’. She had just finished the last page of his first book, Fighting Your Demons, Denny Denholm.

2012 Australia

As the situation was unfolding to Fleur and police officers were now heading towards her and Cupid, she started to crumble. Cupid was crying in her shoulder and tears were running down her face. Saul had already gone thru, she was on her own.

As another police officer was walking towards her and Cupid, he stopped suddenly and headed to the direction that Saul had just been thru. Actually now she realized all the officers were leaving her side as a seen was starting to unfold. All she could see was a man’s arm with a passport coming back thru, it was Saul.

‘I won’t leave you Fleur, I am your family’.

I am married to a hero, I am that wife, I am that rebel who took action, I am that survivor who said no to fear, I am that Pirate who used the broken rules in her favour, I am that victim who stood up and said NO. I am that Mother who would do anything for her kids…. even letting them go. I am Fighting my Demons…and I have been given the strength to do so.

I am that Raw

I am that Raw

They had arrived on the island from Dubai, all fresh and worldly, corporate and clean shaven. The island that they were to make their home was world’s away from that, it was in fact the exact opposite, motorbikes and bikinis, sun downers every afternoon, earthly and free of all societal traps.

It took awhile for Fleur to settle in, she had been a white picket wife for years and this new freedom was intimidating. As an artist she could see potential, but how to incorporate art onto an island of hardened divers and DJ followers. Saul needed to write, he needed his space, as did she. Both were trying to decompress from the whirlwind of the oil business, Middle Eastern politics and of course family they had left behind.

Fleur was having trouble fitting in, her guilt and loss of her past were getting in the way of her relaxing and trying to understand the freedom of the islands minds and their blatant lack of wanting to know anything from the other world.

Saul asked her to go back to her roots, her art, and find some peace in that. He was agreeing with anything her mind would race to, to fill the empty spaces of her turmoil and so the day she told him of this great space she had found for her art studio, he gladly welcomed the distraction for their peace.

The space was above an already established bar, well known for it’s individuality and DJ presence, however it was a misfit for the island, in the fact it was an effort to get to. But for Fleur it was perfect, quiet, out of the way and perhaps peace of mind was waiting for her there. Her project firmly made on a handshake she set about trying to figure out how to build an art studio. Once the space had been cleared, a thought of setting a bar within the studio seemed like a good idea, and with the help of the local Burmese community, bottles were recycled, bamboo cut and cement was churned. A bar/ art studio was forming before their eyes.

But the other world was hurling towards them and their bliss of a new marriage, a start to a home and a new project was about to change course.

They had taken a month sabbatical to just get to know each other without the dramas of the past. A month travelling South East Asia, a marriage in the jungle and a Buddhist silent retreat meant their bubble had been preserved. Halfway during their retreat Fleur was feeling uneasy; she was instinctually feeling she needed to be back to base. They had been offline and not communicating with the world, for now what would be nearly one month. Saul felt the same unease and with that they packed their belongings and headed to the dock. The boat ride home was 45 minutes but to them both, it felt like an eternity. They arrived home to the island and their villa with trepid steps, each one with the feeling things are getting quite surreal.

Fleur was on the computer first, a message from overseas said it all…her sister wrote, “We don’t know if this is a joke or not, but your daughter has just written rest in peace Dad….”

 

Fleur looked to Saul, “Don’t unpack we need to get the children.

Within two days they were back in it, that world that they were so desperately not wanting to be apart of.

A month ensued and on the final day of court the judge layed down his gavel . He removed his glasses and rubbed his eyes thoughtfully…he addressed Fleur ‘And what will you call this place you have created’, Fleur responded…Raw your honor, it is called The Raw…..

I am the creator of Raw

 

 

 

 

Cupid

Cupid…

an excerpt from..I am this Woman by LXO

I had Cupid in aisle nine at the grocery store. It was Valentines day, and he wasn’t due for another month. In full pregnant style, I dressed in a red and white striped jersey dress to show off my growing bump and headed to the local shop to appease my cravings with Valentine goody’s. As I headed down aisle 9 with my cake and ice cream, a weird and warm bloop dropped. Contractions happened almost immediately but now in shock I walked to the checkout to pay for my ice cream, I was worried it would melt!!

The cashier kept asking me to step outside; I found out later that was so they could help and not be sued. A phone was handed to me, people came from out of nowhere, and I was hemorrhaging so much now my red and white dress was now vibrant red from the waist down. By the time, I was at the hospital the blood was swishing on the floor, and I was ebbing out. I was in surgery for 2 hours to stop the blood and a clot the size of an orange was removed. So was my ability to have any more children. They had tied my tubes, a decision not without its weight but one that meant I would be around for my three kids rather than they are without a mother.

Right here one would declare, Ironic, life is full of them.

Cupid’s orginal name was SheKnows. I awoke to the tune of morphine and said husband informing me that he had already named our son. For the record we had never discussed SheKnows and it was on my first night home with my newborn that he had a terrible night, and all thru it I couldn’t bring myself to call his newly acquired name. The next day I walked into the registrar and changed his name to Cupid, the original name that we had decided on.

During the separation and the lead to my childrens father’s death, Cupid was taken from me three times. School holidays, a disappearance and search for him after his Dad’s death and then the final one from Thailand.

I am that Mother, who is watching her youngest son be taken as well. I am that Rebel, who refuses to be treated terribly by her children in the wake of all this madness. I am that Mother, who was told by her son that his Aunt was now more his mother.

A new word for empty is required because the battle has been so long that I need to protect myself, for I can’t afford to fall again. I am picking my battles, the war is just to big, to fierce and to long.

I am this woman saying enough is enough.

Hard choices and sad scenarios with each one interwoven with the other, overlapping like a scrapbook with too much glue. The lines on the pages have been blurred to the point I don’t even know where this one will end or if more glue will salvage it.

Cupid has been the glue for so long; I am not even sure how he has managed without now finally breaking. He lives with his brother and sister, the 3 of them stood in for each other, neither one able to face me or this pain. And because of this he is now tired, has lost who he is. Self-confidence shattered and the faith in his Mom gone.

At the ripe old age of 15, his words are in my head..This is so fucking sad Mom!

I am that Mother who now has stood down, who has been not asked, not needed and not wanted. Yet to look in from the outside, It can only be me who fixes them.

I am that Mother.

Sometimes that is not enough.