motherly advice
she told me
they should always love you more
she raised me
to love above and beyond that
she showed me
strength where surrender was best
she deceived me
with perseverance over peace
she taught me
how to rationalise hurt
she consoled me
and reminded me of what she had said
In my first relationship, my mother passed me this one piece of advice. It stuck - and it’s a concept I’ve grappled with for a decade now, with every crush, boyfriend, potential, hypothetical. This piece is my reflection on growing up - of a relationship shift between mother and daughter, unlearning unhealthy lessons and understanding child behaviours that no longer serve me as an adult - all whilst respecting and loving the woman that brought me to life. It broke my heart when I penned this poem, when I made these realisations in therapy - and a deep gut-feeling still stirs every time I read this. coin jar
Spare moments
are spent on you
wondering if you’re spending
the same spare moments on me.
As if they’re coins slotting through the money jar
one tentatively from me
then hoping
one decisively slots in from you.
I don’t mind banking them
if we’re evenly matched
and we smash the jar open
to share our savings.
But if we count the coins
and I’ve invested more
I want them back
because I’ve over-invested
one too many times before.
Musings on relationships both friendly and romantic - moving from a growth to conservative investor. Are they thinking of me as much as I am thinking about them? Are we investing equal amounts? Battling the natural instinct to feel and fall in love, to care - with the burn of being hurt and left with a loss of love and energy.no gain
I have spent
so much time
and energy
and love
keeping us afloat
pulling you along
holding strong
but I can’t do it anymore
my heart is bleeding
energy waning
with the pain and strain
of your weight
wasting me away
Reflecting on the idea of 'working on a relationship'. Understanding the delicate yet disordered difference between what is worth working on and what needs to be let go. Then deciding on what to do next.in between
We walked from market to station
two beers between us
minus one degrees.
Sharing three kisses
distance closing between us
unabashedly crushing after these.
hear my voice
Show me how to stand up for myself
because I’ve grown up being silenced
to make it easier to survive
The world is too big for me to feel small
yet I have lived as if it was -
as a minority living in a majority
My voice is lost against those
who feel like theirs has the right of way
leaving me with so much and nothing to say
A fog is slowly lifting from me
but only because the world is starting to see what I see
and trying to feel what I wished I never had to feel
Like I didn’t belong - wasn’t welcome,
like I was living on borrowed land and borrowed time
paying rent and only dreaming of ownership
Don’t call it character building or life experience
or resilience or a point of difference that
I have felt what you have not
It is not my privilege - or advantage
to walk down the street and be told to go back home
knowing full well they don’t mean around the corner that I came from
Stop telling me things will be ok and things will be better
because after twenty-seven years I have realised
how tired I am of battling
So here is my voice in your ears
listen to it - and if you don’t
you will hear it anyway
Originally written in my journal, on the 4th March 2021 following a therapy session where I truly realised how deeply racism affected my upbringing, my sense of self, my voice, my day-to-day. I felt true anger - followed by distress and disappointment. This was written as a commitment to myself, and the world, that I will no longer let others silence, underestimate, dismiss, disadvantage me - or glorify adversity as an advantage.summer’s day
he clouded my vision
in the best way
painted it with rose-tinted wisps
as clear as day
against the bluest of skies
I began my foray
into the hardest love
and a dream that would betray
For all the ones who loved but never thought they would also lose. A tribute to wearing rose-tinted glasses, love-drunk in the honeymoon stage, falling head-first into what you thought would be a sandy-soft ever-after. Assured that rose-tinted was crystal-clear. But instead, you wander through a rocky beach, before landing face-flat into a hard end.whole
And as the moonlight
comes through my window
and I settle down to sleep
I acknowledge the love
I had lost
was the one for myself.
And I realise
that my current state of happiness
my glow, my fire
means my love for myself
is there again.
Originally written as a note on my phone, at 12:08pm on the 3rd October 2020. Context: I had gone through a challenging breakup, I was a couple months into therapy, I was trying to understand my anxiety, I was working through a time and energy intensive job.Scene: I was lying on my bed, looking out the window, struggling to sleep but deciding not to force it. As cheesy, and as perfect as it sounds - I made eye contact with the bright moon, and clarity struck. I cried. For once, it wasn’t because I was stressed, anxious, lost, confused or heartbroken. It was the moment I realised I was whole, grounded, confident, strong, growing. The moment I finally realised I loved myself again.feeling feelings
better in than out
better some than none
better feel your feelings
darling girl
let the tears roll
let your skin crawl
let the sounds escape
strong girl
remember this moment
remember the release
remember the growth
same girl
A piece about learning to feel my feelings - all of them. From celebrating birthdays or milestones, to the everyday and mundane, to unearthing everything I was trying to rationalise, everything I was trying to forget. It was my second lesson learned in therapy but by far the biggest action I have taken that has changed my life. Darling girl - she didn't know better and thought her feelings were a weakness. Strong girl - she proved she was better for feeling. Same girl - she had it in her all along.