Steps of Kindness

I wish you an abundance of energy, tranquility, love and real kindness. I truly hope you can live your life the way you want to. With achievement and stability and inner compassion.

Thanks for teaching me more about myself. The triggers were worth it. Right now I can’t give you what you need. I do support your search for your joy.

Miss Mess

xoxo

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First on SoundCloud

I was listening to my new guys music on soundcloud, whilst me ex was texting me, and another ex-from 10 years ago asked me what I’m doing tonight.

Life has a way of consistently bringing everything I cared about to one place, as if to remind me, keep going, keep swimming, keep being kind, stop judging your past.

Remember, everyone always leaves and always comes back. There is more to this life than any one of them.

Miss Mess

xoxo

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While he was in London

He whatsapped me a picture.

I clicked and stared at it for a few seconds. It was a picture of him with a vitamin drip in his right arm, half his face cut off by the frame. It hurt, looking at him hurt, conversations without him, hurt.

So I just reminded myself to notice it. This time, rather than writing a sentimental and long message about my feelings, and wishes, and brokenness. I just noticed it. It was in the middle of my chest, center left, forced, and choking. Constant and reverberating. I kept breathing, it kept coming back up. Like our entire relationship, it felt disproportionate. His full detox to my repeated aches.

He said he was checking in to see how I was doing. To me this was 60 days since the last time we spoke (I counted them), to him this was just his morning catch up text.

Miss Mess

xoxo

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Learning to say I Love You

I may have said I love you, once, maybe twice, in our entire three years together.

Near the end, because he started to feel like family, I would say “love you, bye!” You know, like when you hang up the phone, or leave their place, with that familiar bounce in your step.

Sometimes he would say matter of fact, “It’s cuz you love me” or he would ask gently “You love me?” My response was always, “Always”.

I would always love him, I knew that. But at the time, responding with I love you, or starting with it, was so big, so real, it was really vulnerable. If I were to ever say it, I had to pause at every word, I, Love, You. Heavy. Fear. Much. Maybe weak. Couldn’t say it.

I did love him. I’ll always love him. We both felt it.

And now, after all this time, I can tell him I love you, and mean it as a friend. I am so thankful for this version of peace and love that I feel today.

Miss Mess

xoxo

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Until you grow big enough to handle anything

I can handle anything. Truly, complicated negotiations, mortgage application, car lease, purchase of a home, name the task. I can step out the house and take on the world.

Until I like you.

Until I’m chatting to you and I feel the potential. The tiniest spark of like. Then I’m at a loss. For words. For the right words. It’s like my heart is cursed. I shame and second guess and go back wanting to correct everything and anything I just said, I come out frazzled, upside down, lost in my mind, everything but my real self.

And sometimes I am a lot and sometimes I am nothing. And I don’t know if you are a lot or nothing. But I know right now it’s too much for me to handle on my own.

Miss Mess

xoxo

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Feel Something

On the 4th Sunday, in my empty bed, I hurt myself. I lay there, feeling drained and overpowered by a beating in my head. I was flooded by an urgent need to make myself see things, things that my eyes and ears couldn’t unsee, things that I knew would cut deep. I had been here before, and here I was again. Like a sado-masochist, stabbing myself, over, and over. Not with a blade, but with messages, and pictures, and writings. I scrolled through my phone, through Instagram, looked at videos and pictures of him and his ex, videos that had always been there but I hadn’t wanted to watch. And for some reason, in what seemed like a permanent anguish, I really needed to find them. Needed to open up his profile, scroll to exactly what I was looking for, find it and burn. I think I needed to feel pain, and tears, something, anything, to remind me that what we had was real. That my feelings were real. That you had feelings for me, that you meant something. Mean something. That maybe if I still care, you’ll still come back, or something.

Miss Mess

xoxo

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Protect Your Heart

For my Sunday workouts, when I lived down in LA, I used to hike this popular path going up a steep canyon. The hike itself was a joy and the views up were beautiful. Walking towards the park entrance, there was always some form of graffiti that would catch my eye. One in particular was the “Protect Your Heart” sidewalk stencil. I’ve taken numerous photos with it, angling my phone directly above it, in order to get the right shot of it flat and painted so boldly by my feet. The image has formed a memory of my time there. And the words really resonated with me, it was like a calling to my soul, yes, you too? you agree with me? I’ve been trying to protect my heart, from pain and people, and disappointment, and heartbreak. Ah so, all of us.

A few years after this, after my ex and I broke up, I thought about how bad it felt that I couldn’t be with him for reasons beyond my control. But I also felt terrible, once again, that he didn’t want to be with me for life.

A lot of what I felt with him was based on fears. Future fears. Real fears. I was scared of not knowing what was going to happen. Scared of the responsibility of finding someone again. Scared of feeling alone again and feeling lonely again. Scared of missing him severely, of no longer having him take care of me, having him think about me. Scared of losing him.

My reactions were always attempting to protect my heart out of fear. I wanted to hold it, put it in a box, love him from inside four walls. Tell him this isn’t working. Explain that I couldn’t make this work. Tell him to walk away. But that wasn’t what happened. I gave him my heart, handed him the box, and never took it back.

Recently, I read that the artist was trying to remind us to love ourselves, to connect spiritually, and to choose love. There shouldn’t be walls, or a box, or distance. Instead there will be love, and we will always choose love, for ourselves and to others.

Miss Mess

xoxo

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