Life is about to get Lighthearted!!

LIghthearted.png

I was reminded recently of the importance of living life to the beat of my own drum.

life has changed for me yet again, even the big-ticket items. But this time instead of burying my head in the sand or partying with resistance until my feet bled, I faced the change and difficulties, took a deep breath and asked it 'where to next?'.

I'm not going to make out like the recent events of my life and mini shit storms have been easy to deal with or in any way pleasant like tropical sunsets. But I will say that I am not only surprised by how well I have handled it all but proud of myself so greatly that I simply won't stop wearing my golden star for top effort!

Isn't it nice when we go through shit and realise 'oh wow, I dealt with that better than I expected' or 'amazing, where did I get the strength to respond in that way?'. It is a nice indicator of how far we have come. Sometimes when we are doing life we forget or don't even realise how much we have grown, matured and stepped up at this life game!

I am taking stock at the moment, debriefing and getting back into the flow. Last year, the relationship I was in met its end. It was tricky, and even though it ended months and months ago now we were still living together up until recently as we were both still supporting each other through stuff. 2018 was intense but productive, I underwent two major surgeries and supported my ex through major surgery also. Lucky for me my parents and extended family were there to help us through it all, as well as the fathers of my children and mates that showed up relentlessly with emotional support and finger licking grazing boards! I'm Grateful.

One of my best mates also had a hard year, she underwent chemotherapy for breast cancer. It was hard seeing her go through that, she is a strong woman that has overcome so much this lifetime, she always has it together and has been a pillar of strength since I've known her for more than a decade now, and last year I almost saw her become undone. My sister also ended up hospitalised with pneumonia and she hardly gets sick! 2018 was again a massive reminder to me that in life the only thing that is certain in change, and it is up to us to love hard and big in every single moment because guaranteed nothing ever stays the same! Last year I had to dig deep to be there for other people even when my own physical challenges were getting the better of me. On the plus, we are ALL well now, and fearlessly running into 2019.

The energy this year is already proving so different from that of last year, I am definitely feeling it and embracing the new feels and optimism in the air.

Ok, so what's up for 2019?

I am ramping up my offerings including readings and healings, as well as running some short group session and mini-workshops in collaboration with The Crystal Chalice out at Gold Creek in Canberra. You can check out my website for updates on my offerings, I also do Skype so if you are not in the ACT no worries!

2019 also sees me launching my new YouTube channel, Lighthearted and writing the accompanying book also, Lighthearted! I can't even begin to describe how excited I am to be launching this baby. It had been on the back burner for a while in various forms, up until now it had never been the right time and life had other plans got priority. NOW is the right time and so here we go!

Join me over on YouTube, I kick off this month.

Lighthearted Video by Chloe Horder Media

Lighthearted will be a platform for me to talk about all the life and love lessons I have been through, the great, the real and the raw. My focus will be around my journey and what all my experiences have meant for me emotionally, physically and spiritually. Everything will be based on love, of course, I couldn't have it any other way. Taking the blog to a vlog is finally happening for me this year and I am bursting at the seams with joy and enthusiasm! I will be doing interviews with other amazing wild-hearted humans that are lighting up the world too!

Join me over on YouTube to join the Lighthearted journey so that you get notified when the first episode is up!

Wishing all the other wild hearts out there a beautiful start to 2019 and sharing the love so big it's blinding!

You can book in with me for a healing or reading by emailing me at hello@cristinasanmartin.com.

Now its time to get this show on the road!!!

Only love Wild Hearts!

xxx

sign-off-small-v2 copy.png

Soul Undressed, Bare Skinned and Free!

Photo credit - Kayleigh McGlynn

Photo credit - Kayleigh McGlynn

There was a time in my life I would change myself and my appearance to conform and fit in with society's version of acceptable.  I grew up thinking that I had to look, act and feel a certain way to be ‘normal’ and accepted to fit in. A frustration only exacerbated by the fact that I knew, in my heart, I could never and would never be the idea ingrained in me of ‘normal.' 

Not only did I have a thicker than your average body shape, a booty more prominent than a dinosaur at a shopping mall, an untamable fro, a loud personality, even louder voice with an oversensitive nature that commanded crying at the drop of a hat (happy or sad).  I believed, all these things pushed me so far out there onto the island of 'not normal' it's a wonder I’m still not floating around on a dinghy lost at sea. 

As a young adult and all the way into my late twenties, I would slather my face in toxic chemical based makeup, wear extremely uncomfortable and ridiculously expensive shoes, in an attempt to appear taller, and even surgically changed my body once (which almost cost me my life), for the price of conformity. I used to want to fit in at any cost; it was this desire to be accepted by everyone around me that sent me into a self-loathing frenzy that would consume me, blur my lines of integrity and had me living entirely out of alignment with who I was. I became defined by my physicality and constricted by the idea I had to be someone other than myself to be 'accepted'. 

I have always been on the curvier side, and at times rocked more KGs than at others. It is safe to say I have NEVER lacked junk in my trunk. My weight has been a point of issue for me my whole life. A sore spot if you will and with that my booty has been the illusioned imperfection that got me both unwelcomed comments and ‘good times’ depending on the person. Body image issues, for me, have sat alongside the lines of my palms for as long as I can remember. 

Growing up, I can't remember a single day where I engaged in positive self-talk. It was always more like ‘I wish I had thinner legs’ or ‘I wish I had a less chunky ass’, ‘a flatter stomach’, ‘straighter hair’, ‘smaller thighs’, ‘be less emotional and ‘less weird’, the list was endless. I would strip myself down so harshly that I would no longer resemble the real me. I was no longer Cristina.

Sadly, I have been the recipient of cruel and nasty commentary all throughout life. But being the target of the insecure and wounded bully, ended up taking its toll. 

My internal critic and most of the outside world seemed to express to me that I needed to change. Reinforcing this message that I wasn’t ok the way I was.  This belief overtook my life; I adopted it as my own. I even took it one step further and applied it to my personality. I would change how I responded to situations and people, all in an attempt to be more palatable. To ensure I wouldn't offend anyone with the real, uncensored, loud and outspoken me that swears way too much and for the life of me can’t hold back my truths, even when not be appropriate to share. 

Once I hit my late teens, it became very apparent to me that I was going to have to make some serious changes if I wanted to enter the dating scene and be 'acceptable'. I believed the condemnation of outside influence that I was not acceptable the way I was and had no choice but to change. Resulting in relinquishing all my power by allowing the outside world to govern how I thought and felt about myself, this was the beginning of my long battle with self-acceptance.

This way of being flowed onto my relationships too, sure enough after every relationship breakdown I would be hit with a wave of urgency and not feeling 'enough'. I would suddenly realise I'm on the market again and 'oh crap' I need to reach that certain level of 'acceptableness' quick smart. Because shit, time is running out! And this relationship has taken its toll, I got too comfortable and now I’m tired and look it, and I’m a total hot mess, nowhere near fit for public consumption, let alone ripe to attract someone who is going to desire me, want me and love me the way I am! 

In the past I have found myself starving, exercising in ridiculous quantities, indulging in all the accessories, clothes and beautifying products on the market in an attempt to hide the real me.  And sure enough I would drop massive numbers in weight, and my poor body was always left damaged and hurting with this hectic level of extremism. And let me tell you my bank account certainly wasn’t impressed either. Thousands of dollars later, I was still unhappy, still me and left with a pile of new stuff on my bedroom floor that nor made me feel better about myself or be a better person. This pattern of reactionary rebirth was deeply rooted in this idea that I had to change to be acceptable and I lived it for most of my adult life. 

I want to be super clear here; I fully support wanting to look and feel good.  This is very different from forcing change with the intention to fit the mould or be more acceptable. Intention is everything. I now enjoy organic make-up and changing up my hair from curly to straight depending on my mood if I want to, not because I feel I have to! I also enjoy the simplicity of just being me and not needing to water down my awesome for anyone or anything.

I have weathered my fair share of shit storms in life. From divorce, depression, massive weight challenges, prolonged periods of extreme sadness, loss and intense suffering both physically and emotionally. Nothing quite compares to the torturous prison cell I had voluntarily held myself in by believing that I was not good enough, normal enough, worthy enough and nowhere near acceptable enough, the way I was.  Eventually, I came to the realisation that I didn't need to look or act a certain way for anyone else’s benefit. I deserved to feel happy and good about being me. 

Of all the pains I have experienced in this lifetime not accepting myself has been the greatest pain of all. Nothing comes close to that feeling you get when you look in the mirror wishing you were looking at someone else. Not being able to escape my very own private Alcatraz has been the most excruciating, heartbreaking and soul-destroying pain I have ever felt. It surpasses the worst romantic heartbreak I have ever been through with a knockout punch landing me flat on my back. 

20180615_104716.jpg

Photo credit - Kayleigh McGlynn

Acceptance has been a long journey for me. I had to dig deep, engage in some serious soul-searching with the intent to find darkness. Shine a massive spotlight on every inch of doubt, hate, and self-loathing I held for myself. A scary and confronting process! For me this involved, self-enquiry, energy work, a shit load of meditation and ‘feel to heal’ type stuff. I got neck deep in the muddy swamp and then lead an expedition to the dark depths of my heart to find my emotional equivalent of the megalodon. YIKES! There were times I wanted to give up and so I would purposefully seek out distraction or drama to keep me occupied. But eventually, I succumbed to the work that had to be done as I got tired of living in my own shadow. 

I challenged the beliefs I held about myself. I allowed my light to shine again. I came to realise I was not put on this planet to make others feel comfortable or lessen their suffering by allowing them to put me down or influence my beliefs about myself. I disconnected from the toxic messages coming from mainstream media and influencers with agendas to fatten up their bank accounts while slimming down yours in an attempt to do the same to your waistline. I gave myself permission to be seen and loved by the one person whose love I craved the most but had never received, my own. 

I accepted that I was a beautiful person, with so much to offer this world! That I am a great writer, a caring, loving soul, a talented spiritual being, a massive wild heart that shines so bright and loves so hard and owns that shit wholeheartedly! What a homecoming! There were tears; always. Tantrums too. The tug-o-war of releasing versus holding on to the old was intense. I kept dinning at the resistance table. I wanted to let go, but the old way of feeling and thinking would grab me by the throat so tight I would almost turn purple. I was eventually excused though and had to allow myself to surrender over and over again and keep letting go in the pursuit of freedom. 

Gaining self-acceptance and self-love has taken the better part of my thirty-odd years on this earth. I have finally set myself free from the prison cell I didn’t even know I was held captive.  I am whole and complete and if I never change another thing about myself ever again I am ok with that.

I now worship my body instead of ripping her to shreds. I am grateful to her; for birthing two gorgeous children, for bringing me the greatest pleasures of intimacy with lovers come and gone and for continuing to pump life through my heart on days when taking a breath felt harder than taking a submersible down to the Challenger Deep. She has endured physical pain far greater than anything I could have ever imagined, pushed past breaking point and risen from the ashes like a Pheonix time and time again. The scars and wounds are all part of her landscape, worn proudly as a reminder of all that has been overcome. I love her, respect her and worship her for the goddess she is. She is curvy and delicious just like the cherry tattooed on her back. 

Realising that self-acceptance was the only real demon sitting alongside me in that cell for all those years was liberating. I feel free, unleashed from the shackles of self-hate, unworthiness, and feelings of not being accepted. 

I no longer compromise on which Cristina people get. I no longer bother delivering a milder, more acceptable version of myself. You can take the wildly beautiful, the loud, the messy, the awesome Latino cray-cray along with the tears and laughter or you can leave it. No fake love. 

So here I am bearing myself to the world, this is me, the real me. I am proud of the woman I have become. No longer needing to hide, no longer needing to cover up, censor myself, or be more palatable. I love being me; I can't and wouldn’t want to be anyone else. Acceptance starts at home and home is within. It is not out there in someone else’s opinion of me, or in raspberry red matte lipstick or even in the hands of family and friends.  

I am unafraid to bare my soul and myself to the world because I am no longer afraid to bare it to the one person I have been hiding from my entire life, me. 

I am whole and complete; I love myself as I am right now today. 

Only love

sign-off-small-v2.png

Join me on Instagram and Facebook for more LOVE!

The Canberra Times and The Heart Shaped Con Artist

con.jpg

It’s been a while. Probably a little too long even for my liking. The blog took a back seat for a while. I have been living, mothering, soul-searching and loving.  Then all of a sudden out of the blue, an unexpected message, that left me excited as all hell and shaking in my winter boots all at the same time! 

A few weeks back; I featured in the Canberra Times as part of a story in the Canberra Life section, the story here if you want to check it out.  Firstly, let me say that I am incredibly grateful for the opportunity. I know that no one gets a free ride these days, so I humbly accepted the offer to be featured in exchange for an interview regarding the reasons for my ‘radical’ career change. Some might say swapping meetings for mediumship is no biggie, but for me, this change that has taken the better part of a decade proved harder than turning a sceptic into a ‘believer’. Following the article came an unexpected mix bag of emotions that was both exhilarating and shockingly confronting at the same time.

But first, let’s rewind a little. 

A few short months ago life was getting tricky. I have two kids, the youngest suffers chronic bronchitis and is always unwell, being sick had been his norm for as long as I can remember, and my norm had been the sleep-deprived mother who was continually rushing and trying her hardest to ‘win’ at single parenting, school drop-offs, childcare timeframes, all the while trying to make it work before nine am to avoid disappointing my employer and awkward conversations. Only to then have to repeat the rat race against the clock all over again at five pm while taking on city traffic, remaining sane, safe, emotionally balanced and at childcare before six pm in order to not owe late fees and get my kids home before ugly hour when shit really hits the fan. Monday to Friday ended up being a week-long episode of the amazing race, except there was nothing amazing about it, only incredible amounts of pressure, on top of the daily grind of surviving joyous dinner times, likely eaten straight off the floor by my almost threenager, having bath time turned into the set of a tsunami reenactment, followed by the sweet dulcet tones of children protesting bedtime to only finally have nine pm roll around and be sandwich by both kids in my bed and pass out due to sheer exhaustion and sleep deprivation. Let me also say here that parenting has never been my forte, I try fucking hard though and my kids are well looked after! 

Ok,  full-time office work wasn't working out for us. The stress was too high, and the payoff was not outweighing the mental breakdown that was coming my way if I persisted with trying to make myself fit the office nine to five mould.

I have always had a certain level of awareness around the public service likely not being for me forever. I also had a hell of a lot of resistance and issues around self-acceptance and being ok with who I am, a person of sight, psychic ability and someone that would most probably at some point in life be required to go the path less travelled and veer off what 75% of Canberra does - working for government.  

The response in the Canberra Times Facebook page to my story was not at all what I had expected. What was even more unexpected was the enormous amounts of people, reaching out following the story. Some emailed just to say hi and ‘good on you’ for following your hearts calling, some wanting to know more about how to work with me, others to just let me know they found the article inspiring and wished they could also leave their nine to five to give their life purpose a red hot go. Thank you to everyone who showed me support and good vibes, I appreciated it more than you know. It was at that moment my happy heart knew without question that my decision to commit to my dreams had been the right one. 

But awesomeness was not all that followed, on the Canberra Times social media site; I was slammed, shut down, called a con artist, an idiot, the insults came in thick and fast.  The judgment crushing and the cutting words laced with mega bad mojo enough to send the average person into the fetal position crying in a corner. But lucky for me, I am not the average person. Those of you that are familiar with my story know that I have weathered my fair share of shit storms and that it takes more than triggered angry trolls to knock me off my feet. 

Folks, why do we tear each other down? Surely the world is big enough for all of us to make our contribution in a way that feels right to us? No matter how big or small that may be.  

The Canberra Times article by Bree Winchester.

The Canberra Times article by Bree Winchester.

A thought that may not have crossed the minds of some of the peeps that unleashed their nasty in the comments section that day - I am a mother, daughter, sister, girlfriend and most importantly HUMAN! Back up folks. I get the whole free speech thing, but at what point does it become more about dumping your triggered emotional baggage on someone else and less about what you think of people that choose to take up an occupation you either don't believe in or understand? I very quickly realised I had hit a nerve, and as I made my way through the comments (even after being advised not to by a concerned family member), I laughed a bit, felt awkward a bit but mostly felt sad A LOT. I lost a bit of faith in my fellow brothers and sisters and our ability to do compassion and kindness. 

We don’t need to have the same beliefs, the same way of thinking, lifestyles or even agree on how we view or choose to do life. We are free to be individuals, and it is because of this that we are all able to contribute to the world in a way that is unique to us.  Hate is never acceptable though, and when we feel such a strong pull towards wanting to crush others, the spotlight needs to be directed within. As I always say our outer world is merely a reflection of what is happening within us. 

I want to be really clear here; I am grateful every day that I held my public service job for the time that I did. It helped me through the births of both my children. It allowed me to maintain a lifestyle I enjoyed for years, including travel, and indulgences I may not have afforded had it not been for the public service wage. I did, however, reach the point where it no longer felt of integrity to keep at something that brought me more dissatisfaction than fulfilment. The time came when I needed to make a decision, so I did. I put my children and myself first, took my heart's advice and decided that I had a choice to make and I was no longer going to continue leaking energy into something that was just no longer a good fit for my family or for me. 

I know I am not a fraud or a con artist. I don't need to prove this to anyone. But in case you want to find out for yourself, please feel free to attend one of my heart group sessions or see me for a one on one, I would love to have you.  

I am not here trying to tell people how to live, instead, be the reminder that we are ALL capable of compassion, kindness and love if we choose to be.

I am in my happy bubble. I am blessed and surrounded by people that love me and want to see me do well. I have #squadgoals of mates and family that not only want to see me rise but fiercely protect me with their shield of love. I wish the same for you, disgruntled Canberra Times reader. 

We have a choice every day, to be good people of integrity, we can choose to love or hate. We can decide to tolerate or annihilate. It is up to us. I choose to keep the faith in humanity.  I will continue to send enormous amounts of unconditional love indiscriminately. After all, we are ONE. 

I choose LOVE even when faced with hate. 

xxxx

Only Love

sign-off-small-v2 copy.png

Follow on Instagram and Facebook.

 

Shhhh - She's Got Her Period!!!

Photo Credit: Kayleigh McGlynn Photography

Photo Credit: Kayleigh McGlynn Photography

Yesterday I had an interesting experience. I use the word interesting because I have not yet labelled this situation and I am not sure where the hell to box it, to be honest.  What I do know with total conviction is my firm position and where I stand on the topic of our lady function/s and how we have been conditioned to not talk about, mention or even insinuate that it could be that time of the month for us and that we are bleeding from our VAGINA’S!!!!!!

Ok, so yesterday we had a birthday to attend, a pool party to be exact. My kiddies were major excited getting into their swimmers in the morning as the three of us are hectic creatures of the water. We love the pool, beach, lake, and pretty much consider any body of water an open invitation to get amongst it, we even got in a swamp once. No joke.

A family member had asked for a lift to the party, so we headed out to their place to pick them up. As we waited for them to get ready, said family member came out to the living room and asked me if I was going to get changed into my swimmers as it was getting close to paaaaaarty time. My little girl overheard the conversation and answered her before I even got the chance to open my mouth. 

‘She is not swimming; she has her period’.  I am pretty sure the family member that had asked me the question nearly had their eyes fall out of their head in shock with my girl's comments. She responded to my little one by saying something along the lines of ‘we don't say that, it's rude to say that, and that is personal, we should never talk about that’.

It was at this point I felt the need to enter the crimson conversation that was occurring in front of me and about me, even though I had not yet even spoken a word.

‘hold up!’ I said somewhat bluntly, unintentionally mind you, as it had hit a nerve without me even realising.  I made it very clear to them that my children and I speak openly about the ins and outs of our bodies and are entirely matter of fact about female and male body function and how things work and what this means for day to day living in the human form.

Suffice to say they didn't agree. 

12744571_1038949506175421_7438377132756366775_n.png

Now, I understand that there are going to be generational differences that dictate how we do life and how open, or closed, we are about things like menstruation and our sexual organs. But come on!!! We are not living in 1950 anymore, and I certainly don't feel the need to hide the fact that I am going through ‘that time of the month’ right now or wearing ‘the red badge of courage’. I’m also not going to lie about it either; I teach my kids the importance of honesty every day. I have nothing to be ashamed about, why wouldn't I be straight up about why I am not swimming? To be clear, I don't have beef with tampons either BTW I just don't feel like swimming and splashing around when it feels like I have to two porcupines for ovaries! 

The whole idea that we need to cover up, hide or camouflage the fact that we are menstruating is completely absurd and ridiculous to me.  Hell, I couldn't even hide it if I wanted to. When aunty Flo visits I turn into a completely different person. My breasts become oversized watermelons as painful as they are heavy, when I open the fridge door I act like I've been lost at sea rationing my food for months! Miss wild heart's stunt double kicks me out, steps in and takes over, she has her own agenda and is a total walking contradiction in that, she is horny as hell, but any male dare touch her they risk getting TKO'd. Also, depending on how bad my Adenomyosis and Endometriosis is going, I occasionally rock the ‘six months pregnant’ look, which can be sexy as fuck, but not when fertility is the last thing on my ‘to do’ list.  

We have been conditioned for so long to believe and act as though our NORMAL and NATURAL womanly body functions are not to be seen, heard or discussed, but why???? There is nothing ‘rude’ about menstruating!!!! For the love of god, is it rude to pee or take a shit? I also take no issue with folks that choose to be conservative about their functions either. Each to their own.  

When it comes to my kids though, I will not be left seeing red; they will both grow up knowing that menstruating and other body functions are as healthy as breathing. I want my girl to know that she need not feel ‘weird’ about the fact that she bleeds once a month and that it is a completely normal part of life. I equally want my son to know what we go through so that he can be understanding and knowledgeable on the matter of ‘lady business’ and support the women in his life.  Equally, if I am out with male friends for dinner and don't feel like a heavy meal, I don't tell stories, I simply drop the whole 'no thanks, I am feeling bloated and hormonal.' They get it, no questions asked.

Now, in case any of you are nervous that I might be inspired to run a marathon while on my period and not wear any pad with sweet cherry juice running down my legs (like that lady did at the London Marathon) fear not! I am not rooting for a cause here, merely doing my bit to break the stigma by teaching my kids all about life, our bodies and our right to live openly.

Ps: don't even get me started on farting! 

I am all woman and bleed proudly!

xxx

Only love

sign-off-small-v2.png

Come on over to Insta for all things love @cristina.sanmartin.heart and keep up to date on all new posts on facebook @cristina.sanmartin.heart

More Than Enough!!!! - The Tale of the Rainbow Serpent

Photo credit: Kayleigh McGlynn 

Photo credit: Kayleigh McGlynn 

A big part of untaming my wild heart has themed around my personal beliefs on ‘worthiness’ and ‘enoughness’ regarding myself. I used to hold on tightly to unforgiving narratives about not feeling enough or worthy of anything good in life. I not only believed this wholeheartedly but it was engraved so deeply in my subconscious that I ended up short changing myself for most of my adult life.  

As it turns out though, after years and years of battling the unworthy and not enough monsters I had living within, I would require some help to get across the finish line. That help just so happened to show up in the form of a highly attractive youngster (ten years my junior, almost to the day) with way too much confidence, that boasted a competitive nature topped only by the arrogant attitude he wears this lifetime.

When this fella waved at me, it took me by surprise. It had been a while since we had been peoples. I had moved on from the circle we had both been a part of. Because he was significantly younger than me, we were never really on the same page let alone reading from the same book. Our paths didn't often cross asides from the rare random catch up.  It was utterly surprising to me that I had made it into his headspace at all, let alone as a romantic prospect.

Admittedly, I did enjoy his company, and he would make me laugh with his funny and juvenile ways of viewing life and the world. I enjoyed his young energy, as I am an eternal ‘young at heart’ kind of girl. I remember back when we were in each other’s lives, I thought he was cute and over time ‘cuteness’ developed into a full-blown crush, short-lived but hectic all the same.  More than anything else, I think what attracted me to him was the fact that I got to know him for him first. The real him, not for the front he puts up to protect his heart or for the arrogance he uses as a shield to avoid real intimacy or even for his Calvin Klein model looks. He is a guy that values family, friends and community over anything else and with his inked pride he makes it known. He is generous and loving with those he holds close.  It is this trait in him I probably find the most attractive. He is also a very patient man in love and relationships, which I admire. Over time, I got to hear many stories about exes he gave way too many chances to by overcompensating for their shortcomings and going above and beyond for girls who probably didn't deserve it. But when pushed too far, the babyface cuts deep, sharp and permanently. The heart of gold that he hides underneath all his armour probably his most attractive feature, even if his soul piercing eyes are enough to set your panties on fire.

When he came knocking, he was the last person on the planet I expected to hear from, and the aftermath of our encounter left me with grazed knees needing to get up, dust myself off and get back to processing and healing the wounds I was so desperately shying away from. Which I had successfully been avoiding until this babe turned up unannounced.

Despite the massive age gap, he and I would appear to be more similar than I had initially realised. We both ended up seeking out superficial encounters as a means of protection, our hearts guarded, needing the reminder that it is ok to love, and it is ok to drop the walls sometimes as well as the proud. It is always the case that our internal state is reflected back to us in the outer world of life. The funny thing was even during the experience I knew we couldn't possibly be compatible, even for sexy love interactions regardless of how ‘into’ him I was. The youngster ended up putting a stop to any further interactions, which sent me into a full-scale Latina meltdown. You know the type, zero to ten cray in five seconds flat. My reaction to his shut down was an epic telling off via text. My ego got bruised but in all honesty, he didn't deserve my dressing down. It was all about me not him. I jumped to ten thousand conclusions probably none of which were accurate. What became clear to me is that we all have the right to change our mind, we are human and fluid. I know I exercise my right to change mine almost every day, even on the big stuff.

12744571_1038949506175421_7438377132756366775_n.png

Ok, so a couple of important things bubbled up to the surface for me through this experience. I realised I was seeking validation from someone else instead of myself….AGAIN! (shit! I thought I had dealt with that one). I soon realised the nature of our interaction left me feeling ‘not enough’.  Also, I found it triggering that as soon as I articulated what I wanted the youngin freaked out and threw a tantrum pulling the pin on the whole thing. His actions made me feel like I wasn't worthy of getting what I wanted. I always find it amusing how we energetically attract all the experiences we need to be taken right back to the place we need to sit and wade around in the shittiness to heal.  I was forced to feel into my wounds deeply, and begin the eternally awkward process of letting go and healing.

The wound clearing that followed was uncomfortable as hell, but when are lessons of love or life ever comfortable? As it turns out, our very brief, highly passionate and energetic encounter was just what I needed to help me wave goodbye to my deeply rooted worthiness and enoughness hang-ups. My ego would like me to say I wasn't too affected by this experience, but, a more realistic description of the course of events would be, he dangled a cherry right in front of my face, with eyes closed I took a bite, liked it (most surprising to me), realised I liked it, opened my eyes only to find that he had set fire to the entire cherry plantation burning all remaining trees to the ground, leaving me head to toe covered in dust and ash.

I am not ashamed to admit that the bearded beauty momentarily got me undone. And it was this point exactly that made me question why I cared so much? I had not given them a second thought until they contacted me, so why was I reacting so strongly? More so why was I reacting at all!!??? Simple, it is never about ‘them’ and always about ‘us’.

This experience gave me the opportunity to sort through the pile of emotional laundry I had stacked up sky high waiting to be folded away, you know, the one you just leave and leave and never quite get around to putting away. The win and then subsequent rejection this individual forced me to feel raised old beliefs that I was still holding onto about myself; it became obvious that the interaction was necessary for me to stare ‘not enoughness’ and 'unworthiness' dead in the face, drop it off in town, kiss it goodnight and wave goodbye. Nothing quite like the fresh new energy of a new year to light a fire in your ass as motivation to sort the old! I meditated, went within, felt, processed and healed. Emotionally it was a biggie for me!

Ok, so, no hearts were broken, but I must admit it stung a little, like the sharp bite of the angry rainbow serpent. The wild child got his fun, and I amped up my #lovelessons game!

Kudos kid, thank you for dumping me straight back into my wounded heart. Impressive! I never even saw it coming, and it was just what I needed! You did me a solid, a massive high five to you babe. I bow down to your 24-year-old self, surprised and grateful at the same time. Thanks for showing up right when I needed a tribute! Life is looking pretty damn good for me right now! 

I am, and have always been more than ENOUGH!

Only love xx

sign-off-small-v2 copy.png

 

 

Thanks 2017! KO'd And Crying In The Corner

20727396_10155133273913218_1003152641_o.jpg

The year of promise, rebirths and new beginnings. 

2017 carried fresh new energy that so many of us longed for after having only just survived the annihilation that was 2016.  On New Year's Eve right before welcoming 2017 with open arms, I took a deep breath, said a gratitude prayer and wrote my list of intentions for the promising year ahead.  I welcomed in the New Year from my slumber, as I didn't make it to midnight, given I was recovering from major surgery, post-surgery complications and then further corrective surgery, I was exhausted - fair! 

On the afternoon of new years day, while sitting on the beach enjoying family time I started to feel odd, panic set in and pain in my chest shortly followed.  I found myself at Batemans Bay emergency unit for the next three days, followed by more stints at a Canberra hospital. Not the best start to the year, but I had my mantra on repeat, and nothing was going to get me down. The 1st of the 1st 2017 had failed to launch, but my #lifegoals game was strong. I mean what else could go wrong? 2016 chewed me up and spat me out relentlessly, if I could survive that and live to tell the tale then 2017 was going be a stroll on the beach…..little did I know.

Ok, so, I’ve always considered myself spiritually aware, enlightened if you will. Growing up in a home where mediation was a daily non-negotiable and dinner conversations were usually wackier than the latest episode of The X Files, I was born into ‘awake’. Spirituality was just as natural as breathing in my household; it was second nature that was not learned, rather inherited. From a very young age, I knew I was different to other kids, I knew things I shouldn't or even couldn't have known. Having grown up this way had its benefits; it also had its challenges. Even though I knew I had ‘sight’ from a very young age and for the most part, I never found this a bad thing there were some things my young mind found hard to understand. It was at times, confronting. I was so young and inexperienced in the realms of spirituality. So I decided to get educated, I read a lot of books; I spoke at length with family and friends about my experiences and asked questions, lots of questions. It is fair to say I ended up knowing more about spirituality and the afterlife than I did about primary school English and math, my parents probably should have considered enrolling me in the spiritual equivalent of Hogwarts in the late 80’s. 

When I reached my 20’s the cray-cray really picked up speed, up until that point I was oblivious to the depths of my life journey this time around and had only ever scratched the surface. So, to be as fully prepared and open to embrace the realms of spirituality I enrolled in every course I could. I started meeting people like me, or that shared the same views about spirituality like me. I had heard the term spiritual awakening but never made much of it, as I firmly believed you couldn't possibly wake up to something you were born living? Right? 

I have always considered myself the sensitive/tough powerhouse that can survive anything; I used to think I was particularly triumphant for having gone through the hard shit. After all the crap I've gone through like divorce, depression, massive weight challenges, serious health issues, hectic love lessons and long bouts of extreme sadness, I solidly understood that no matter how hard life ever got I would weather the storm and be fine.  How wrong I was. Nothing could have prepared me for the shit storm a certain fierce goddess, that goes by the name of Kali, had in store for me this year.  'How bad could it be?', I exclaimed to myself laughing off the whole idea there could be any more ‘doing away’ with the old after 2016. Well as I would soon come to find out, with the epic culling that lay ahead, a whole lot worse! 

12744571_1038949506175421_7438377132756366775_n.png

As I was saying, January 2017 saw me dealing with major post-surgery complications, which left me sitting in darkness, pain and a total shit heap for way too long. This experience made me realise I was no more exempt from the clutches of spiritual awakening as I was from being a taxpayer. After having survived what was likely the most challenging period of my life, health-wise, I took a deep breath and decided that up was the only option. You see, at the end of 2016, I was pushed so far past the breaking point, as a result of the massive amounts of physical pain I was in, that my surrounds were no longer recognisable to me (probably due to the hectic amount of pain meds I was on). A scenario I regarded so foreign and inconceivable I could not have even dreamed it up in my worst nightmares. This year, however, I became undone, demolished if you will, forced to start over in almost every aspect of my life.

Ok, so the first six months of 2017 brought me one hit after another and although the second half of the year not quite as ruthless still scarring none the less. This year ended up being about, serious health issues that thank god were found in time as they could have ended me right then and there and almost did. The end of a long-term relationship and loads more heartbreak. News of the passing of an old mate who was only 33! The unfortunate victim of the reckless nightmare that was the Bourke Street tragedy in Melbourne in January. My best mate, at the time, deciding she had had enough, ending our friendship for no real significant reason throwing ten years of solid BFFness in the bin via text. Again another house move (fifth in a few years - painful!!!). My folks officially announcing their divorce and lastly having the realisation I no longer ‘fit’ my day job and jumping ship with no real plan B in place asides from a whole lot of hopefulness. To say it has been an awful year doesn't cut it, not only the health issues to heal from, but emotional wounds to process and a total logistical nightmare! There have been enormous amounts of untangling from drama and massive amounts of unfucking my life as it stood – thanks, Kali! Oh, and did I mention I found out recently my internal lady bits don't function proper, so I am lined up for a hysterectomy soon too! Fucking yay!  

I am almost at the finish line, and despite all the stuff that has happened this year, my heart is so grateful! Grateful for my family and friends that have carried me through this year in moments that I couldn’t stand for myself. Grateful to my kids that keep me grounded. Grateful to still be alive after my near miss brush with death. Grateful to all the new faces that have entered my life that I now consider close friends. Grateful for having known my mate, she was an incredibly beautiful soul who was taken too soon, RIP Bhav. Grateful to all the gorgeous ones (guys this shout-out is for you) that agreed to come in and help this wild heart out with all her love lessons, I appreciate you all! Grateful that I am still here and living!!!!

2017 was as close to a spiritual awakening as I am going to get. Having just survived the storm of darkness that was this year, I take a deep breath, set my intentions for 2018, fill my heart up again with hope, look up to the skies hopeful for that shooting star and hi-five the universe, I’m still here, no longer broken, wounded or defeated. Just full of love, hope and passion!

When it feels like the end, it’s only just the beginning, keep the faith!

xxx

sign-off-small-v2.png

The Tinder Diaries - Love Lessons Online

shutterstock_93529864.jpg

Recently, over a coffee catch up, the subject of online dating came up. A mate mentioned she had been on a few dates after signing up and she was having a good time. She then goes on to tell me I should set up a profile and give the online dating world a whirl. I looked at her and laughed in her face proclaiming that I would NEVER take my love lessons online. 

The conversation floated around in my head for a while, and each time I remembered, it would cause me hysterical fits of laughter.  A few weeks passed and much to my surprise the topic no longer sending me into a giggling frenzy.


Then one day right out of the blue, something came over me. It had NEVER come over me before. I felt pulled to explore the crae crae world of love online. 

I had vowed never to do it!

Being the spiritual and sensitive being I am, I held firm beliefs that the online ‘meat market’ was most probably not for me. I had never even felt the tiny bit interested in going online to explore friendships, relationships, hook-ups, or romantic experiences of any kind! I would soon come to find out that Miss Wild Heart had other plans.  

So without giving it a second thought, I signed myself up and let the swipe games begin.

At first, I was apprehensive; I didn't even use my real name. I gave a brief description along the lines of  ‘Latina, looking for friendship and fun’ and included a few photos. The whole thing making me feel vulnerable and self-conscious, triggering insecurities in me I thought had been put to bed. 

The initial stage of getting out there and seen in the online dating world was a bit scary. I lie, it was MEGA scary! I don’t date; I have been attached since the young age of 17! With plenty of back-to-back relationships since that time and fun in-between.    

Ok, so what unfolded next was a tornado of fun along with a sobering reality check about folks operating in the ‘real’ world. One hour in after signing up, I had about five conversations going at once, my brain was short-circuiting fast, overloaded with connections.  At that moment I knew that this extremely fast-paced world of swiping left and right was likely not for me.  

Curiosity kept me at it though.

Within the first 24 hours, I received over 30 messages from blokes reaching out wanting to connect. To be fair, my profile did say ‘fun’, and if I am truthful, I am not currently on the market. I was only interested in meeting new faces and sharing fun times with zero attachment to what it should look like. I spoke with all different types of guys ranging from city slicker professionals looking for a wifey to country dudes seeking a connection while in town and everything in-between. 

Some men were grounded, honest; level-headed decent guys with no qualms in letting me know what they wanted. A few made it clear they did not desire one-night stands or friends with benefits. Some, only interested in one-hour-stands and had no time for the ‘night’ part or the getting to you know part either for that matter. One, in particular, having no problem in articulating his need to face plant my booty, literally, on his lunch break, taking 'try before you buy' to a whole new level. Others were not either decent or indecent just looking at exploring and seeking out connections. 

My first encounter came in the form of a cute older man, a smooth sweet talker, experienced in the game of love; we caught up at the markets. We talked; we shared similar views on life considering the age difference. It ended up being fleeting fun, no beds were unmade. He was guarded, had big walls up, and he was in no way ready to start bringing them down, his heart fully covered in barbwire. In my short time around him, I realised I was placed in his way as a mirror of sorts, time with him was like glaring right into my soul, highlighting some of my walls that needed wrecking. It was short lived for this reason, as I soon realised I had no time to entertain connections that felt like hard work. This experience lit the fire for the following lessons that were set to unfold through these unsuspecting Tinder candidates. 

12744571_1038949506175421_7438377132756366775_n.png

I got good at weeding out the nice ones. A shark managed to get through the net though. This marine-prey hunter came in the shape of a highly attractive hipster with musical talent. It started out fine; we were both upfront about our expectations.  He was direct, I didn't mind, as I knew where I stood. The problem was, he thought it was ok to request benefits without even being friends first! ‘Where are your manners maaaaate?’ I thought to myself. He insisted on talking to me through messages, suggesting meetups but never actually committing. He was, however, very clear about what he would like to do with my booty. Again, manners, can we get to know each other first? Actually, can we at least meet once? I allowed the conversation to continue in the hopes the escape artist spunk would miraculously get a clue on how to behave. It never happened, eventually, I shut it down. Apparently, there were some serious intimacy issues there, but heck I ain’t no psychologist! Next!!!!!! 

Much to my surprise, I made an unexpected connection with this next fella. We chatted a few times and even though on the surface it appeared we didn't have much in common we enjoyed each other’s energy. We arranged a catch up over a drink. He waited for me by the bar, as I walked into the room my jaw dropped to the floor as I was greeted by none other than Thor himself. Our eyes met, and it was like coming home to an old friend. We clicked straight away. I felt warmth I hadn’t felt in a long time, and we were able to speak openly with ease. This beautiful, gentle giant had no agenda. We talked about spirituality, life and love. We ended up having so much more in common than we had realised, he was sweet, honest and open-hearted.  His gentle nature and manliness only amplified behind closed doors. That night hand in hand as I got lost and found in his ocean blue eyes I experienced a state of bliss that I will not be forgetting anytime soon. Thor and I are now enjoying platonic interactions with each other in the form a friendship. 

Now, this next one caught me off guard. One morning while out walking I nearly tripped over my own feet when a face showed up in my feed that I recognised. ‘Wait a minute, I know you’ I exclaimed to myself. Much to my surprise, a cute guy I went to school with had shown up as a possible match. After I got over the shock, I alerted him to the fact that Lola was actually Cristina from the old school days. It was great to reconnect after almost 25 years! He was happily surprised, and I was also happy to know he was doing good at life.  He briefly told me about his kids and that he was getting divorced. We chatted on and off that week and organised a catch-up, both of us curious about each other after all these years. Interestingly enough we also shared a love of writing, and I felt excited that I had possibly found someone to chat about my writing with, he was cool and appeared to have good energy. A day before the catch up I receive a blunt message, telling me he is unwell and has to cancel.  I was a tad disappointed but quickly filled up my Saturday evening. Something didn't feel right though, and if there is one thing this Latina can’t stand its dishonesty. I felt like there was more to the story, I sat with it for a minute, my intuition confirmed there was. I wrote back saying that if he had got a better offer than our mate date, I wouldn't take offence, and there was no need for stories. He responded saying that he had actually reconnected with a former flame but that he was indeed ‘unwell’. Ok, well my issue is this, we are almost 35, and there are still folks out there playing games. I can see now that the intentions were not legit in the first place, had they been, a simple rescheduling of catch ups would have sufficed. But no, evidently without even knowing it, I was a definite plan B. I have not heard from them since, so I am now left believing that there was more to our catch up than I was initially aware of.  Disappointing! I guess some of us never really grow up.

What I can say about this whole online dating experience is one thing, I am grateful! I am glad I did it, no regrets! I'm Thankful for the invitation to look deeper at why I was feeling uncomfortable in my skin with my fear of being 'seen'. I am grateful to my mirror for showing me I need to open up more. I am thankful for the night I spent floating around in Thor’s sea of blue. I am grateful for the sexy as hell hipster that offered to lead a diving expedition straight into my booty; he helped me become clear about not wanting meaningless physical encounters with people that lacking in connection.  I am also grateful to my school buddy for helping me mark up my boundaries and become solid about what kind of friendships and love interactions I want to attract, like reliable, honest people with integrity that are willing to explore friendships even if they don't get anything more out of it.  I also had cemented for me that I am a sucker for blue eyes! 

I am happy to report that the dating app has been uninstalled. It was fun and also stressful while it lasted. It was a timely reminder to get back to work and time to begin love from within again. I must admit it was a nice little break from all the heavy that has been 2017. So, for now, I have put myself into online dating time-out. I am regrouping, grounding, dating myself and loving it! 

I am open to discovering genuine connections with others while honouring myself in the process.

Only Love xx 

sign-off-small-v2.png

 

 

Nothing But a Big Booty Slut With Double Ds!

shutterstock_335462837.jpg

Ok, so I have debated long and hard about whether to write this post or not and my heart has told me we MUST go there! Admittedly I wanted to shy away from it; I tried to file it under ‘shit that happened, which shall never be spoken of again’ but couldn't. 

Some folks in my circle find some of my posts hard to deal with. They worry; they fear for me that I am sometimes too public with my personal stories and dance with the devil of overshare too often. I get it, they worry, and they want to protect me. They love me and don't want to see me hurt. Fair enough. I am ‘out there’, I am seen, what I say gets read (I would know as I regularly check the stats on my blog). Naturally, they don't want to see me get hurt, ridiculed, embarrassed, made fun of or judged. The concern comes from a good place. Thing is, I refuse to hide behind my stories as a no face, no name, nobody. I am a real person, and the stuff I write about is real and has happened to me IRL. No matter how cringe-worthy, embarrassing or soul-exposing the shit that I go through is I will continue to write about it because it is exactly that, real! And we all go through shit from time to time and can relate on some level.

Ok, now that’s out of the way, let me tell you about something that happened to me a few weeks ago.  

We planned Friyay night dinner followed by drinks at a popular bar in the city; I was child-free (the pluses of having two great baby daddies that cherish and love time with their kids). A bunch of us head out and enjoy a nice evening with good food. We then do drinks and meet up with the others who joined us later. A friend and I head over to the bar. By this stage the night is getting loud and busy the place is vibing with lots of ‘happy’ people shoulder to shoulder. Leaning against the bar I feel myself get pushed into my friend, I make nothing of it as it is getting crowded.  The barman preps our grey goose soda with a slice of lime, my favourite choice of indulgence! Then, the girl next to me almost knocks me off my heels, only this time I notice it wasn't an accident. Her blonde mane somehow lands in our drinks, and the barman is too busy flirting to notice. I let it slide; I am not in the mood for confrontation. I turn to my friend, we give each other the look, you know the one ‘tipsy annoying girls alert, let's get out of here’ look.

This girl continues though, and I am baffled as to why she insists on taking her hair for a dip in my grey goose with her fringe cooling off in my beverage yet again!  I politely ask her to stop washing her strands in my drink. Suffice to say it didn't go down well. 

What followed was a rather unpleasant verbal tap on the shoulder, and suddenly I find myself in a full-scale country and western style standoff backed by a choir, guitar, harmonica, percussion and flute. 

‘What did you say, you fat bitch?’ she yells ‘why have you got those out you slut?’ she screams in my face as she waves at my breasts with royal flair. ‘Bitch put those away, your nothing but a slut’ she continues. ‘Look at you, why do you eat so much you fat slut’. The insults keep coming, each one mightier than the next.

12744571_1038949506175421_7438377132756366775_n.png

Face to face at this point; I wait for my mouth to take over and start returning the favour. I stand there waiting for my arms to swing into action and finally put that MMA training I did all those years ago to good use. I have never been one to shy away from defending myself or serving up a good verbal bashing when required.  But nothing, I stood there in silence. My mind confused as to why my mouth and arms weren’t responding, my internal dialogue raged with frustration. 'Come on!' my mind screams at me, I am the queen of words for god's sake, swearing and offensive language is my speciality! All I could manage was to look at her; I had nothing to say, until the following words fly out of my mouth ‘are you ok girlfriend?’ I am just as puzzled by my response as her friend is shocked. ‘Are you ok?’ I repeat. ‘What’s wrong?’  I spoke to her like I would a good friend.  I got an overwhelming feeling of sadness for her. I don't know where it came from; I couldn't be rude or offensive back; I wanted to believe me. I soon realised my heart was calling the shots, she had the mic, and no one else had permission to use it. 

I felt a sense of calm, even in the face of this angry, triggered, screaming woman. Intuitively I knew she wasn't ok, her actions and words enough to show me she has been through pain. It didn't excuse how she behaved, but it gave me insight and instead of allowing her words to start a fire I responded with compassion and love. 

Although we have past hurts and pain that we may not be able to escape, we can choose who we want to be, and we can choose to come from a place of love. What she shouted at me was not kind; it was cruel, uneducated, hurtful and nasty. Did she think I hadn’t realised that I was still carrying around my baby weight two years on? Did she think I was unaware that my body is heavier than it needs to be? Did she think that by yelling vile, hateful abuse at me I would miraculously go up in smoke and reappear as her version of acceptable? Her outburst was not on. It was not ok. I am not my body, I am not my clothes, and I am not my skin or my job, and I was most certainly not deserving of her rageful attack either. I’m just me, Cristina, trying to enjoy a good night out with friends and giving life a red hot go. 

This incident made me realise that this type of body shaming and criticism happens way too often and it has to stop! I am well aware of my 'needs improvement' list; I think we all are on some level. I know what needs addressing physically and otherwise. I am on the same path to self-acceptance as most of us doing life; I’m showing up and doing my best every day. I am also healing my protection wounds (the weight) in the process. I won’t wake up tomorrow and suddenly be in a different body; it's a journey, my journey, not yours and not yours to criticise. 

If you look at someone and your immediate reaction is to find fault, criticise, shame or ridicule, you need to back up and look within.  You need to ask yourself why I am tearing that person down because they are/look/behave differently to what I know as normal? If you are guilty of this, I guarantee you that these are just triggers, an invitation to look deeper within yourself, an opportunity to examine what aspects of yourself you do not accept. We must remember it is NO ONE's job to be anyone else’s version of acceptable. It is no one's job to be anyone but themselves. 

So, to the girl at the bar that night, the one I so desperately wanted to yell 'fuck you' at but was gagged by my heart. I see you; you are loved. I feel you babe, life is hard sometimes. I know you are more than just a tipsy agro potty mouth; just like I am also more than just a big booty with double ds. 

I am the change I want to see in the world.


Only Love

sign-off-small-v2.png