October 3, 2015 Leave a comment


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October 1, 2015 Leave a comment

Hazel, The Fault in Our Stars

“I’m a grenade. I just want to stay away from people and read books and think…”

Hazel, The Fault in Our Stars by John Green. 

Some people I have known this past year and beyond have recognised that grenade in me. Some tried to be there for me without losing themselves, mired in the bog of no return. How gobsmackingly horrid would that be? To be so tied to a person you know may be taken from you without warning. And boy, would what Hazel said in the book and movie be so much easier to manage emotionally! When one even entertains the thought of being a recluse, it is a big indicator one needs to do some hard self evaluation.

I have found myself being either overly cautious or somewhat poker faced when meeting new people this past couple of months. I keep trying to be true to the me I know, to live authentically. Being shut down by ones closest to me in the near past taught me not all who want to be with you really want to be with you. To want to invest their time in you. To want to educate themselves about what you go through which means they want to understand you and to be all they can be to you as a means of support without thinking you are a burden or just “too much” to be bothered with. I have, thankfully, made a pretty good recovery from all things bad physically and seem to be in some form of remission that have my doctors stumped. I am still unable to do too much and do occasionally get winded. I am getting out and meeting new people, all the while being upfront and open about who I am. And I see eyes glaze over as I explain what I have, what it could mean long term so on and so forth. Months later, I have come to the conclusion that what I felt initially at the start of my separation has only evolved. I had felt disposable. Now I feel somewhat of a tradable commodity – something men think they can buy or trade using nice dinners, smooth words and channeling Casanova while having the power to choose to want the woman for whatever period of time or place her on hold as if she were all in some kind of human KMart. No respect, no decency. If you don’t put out, you’re out. How did that effing eff happen?! Why did that effing eff happen??!!

The short answer? I do not freaking know. And I have, for the sake of sanity and what smidgen of it is left in me, given up trying to know. Trying – key word. It is pretty darn difficult to not succumb into the spiral of echoing negatives and what your mind perceives as fact pointing towards failure. Equally hard to loose is the feeling of a large L, instead of the traditional S painted on your chest (or Fruit of the Loom crew neck tee, or Hanes or if you’re in that income bracket, a bloody Gucci tee, which retails at USD 2000 ….. uh huh, yup. Like whatever already one percenter), announcing to the world you are a big Looser. Or get to the point where you want to, as Mark Nepo says in one of his poems, ‘insist that friends don’t pamper you or look at you as sentenced or contagious. To slap the thought from their eyes with your heart.’

What is equally difficult to come to terms with is the task of accepting the lesson of the pain that lingers. Not just from the dissolving of a relationship I had accepted would withstand the worst of storms till I returned to the earth to be another biodegradable element, but also from friends who I accepted would be open and honest, to have the tenacity and authenticity to approach me with any issue. I lost two best friends in the span of two years. Something must be wrong with me, right? Someone I met over drinks in the past months in my quest to broaden my social life commented that women just seem to over-react to what he claimed to be honesty from men. I asked if his ideal would be a woman who had no response at all regardless of what was shared or confessed to? If that honesty included an admission of wrongdoing, yes, there will be a reaction. Depending on individual women, that reaction can take the form of visible and verbal outrage or the silent treatment till one day, it erupts. ‘Hell has no fury…..’ Or she could erupt for fifteen minutes and then calm down to have a discussion on how to approach healing together. To dismiss women as bitches, as dramatic or as high maintenance is so callous. If a woman does not care, she will not react. At the same time, I as a woman had to learn the lessons to remain openhearted although I felt utterly brokenhearted and wanted that door kept shut against further hurt and pain which together felt more like devastation. I have had so many relational hurt in my past that especially when I was – and sometimes, still am – physically ill, I could and can not, differentiate between what I idealised and a person’s true self which naturally included both the man’s wholeness and brokenness.

I have also learnt most men still struggle to disarm and to put their warrior armor away when they leave their work places. That they no longer need to hunt for prey. I do so appreciate the role of provider and protector that many men do play and play it well with empathy and pure affection. That a man can be silent and it is not about me. I have become accustomed to being blamed that I tend to have a knee jerk reaction to any hint of displeasure in my partner. I was never taught how to deal with being with a man who might himself be dealing with stress or was struggling with a difficult situation. It breaks my heart to see a loved one struggle even though I am certain it will be resolved. We as women are instinctively nurturers and caregivers. I do not have the gift of being a mother. Perhaps that influences my personal relationships where I seem to care way too much. There is so much I want to give another that sometimes I see myself as a public water fountain, left turned on, watering some who are thirsty but for most of the time, seem to just be a waste. Watering an initially parched earth, then becoming too much of a good thing. Plumbers have been retained, not to worry! I am still learning, still evolving. Some accept me, my passionate way of loving and caring open heartedly. Others just drift away or go MIA. And that too is okay. Not everyone who comes into my life has to stay. Another lesson was to learn the difference between someone who wants me and someone who would do his darnest to keep me. I am a woman. I need to be cherished. I want to feel cherished. What woman does not?!

Regaining self confidence is an on going process. Being someone who is creative, I have a pretty vivid imagination and memory. I remember each bit of the past far too clearly. In the past 5 years, my physical health has yoyo-ed all over the chart. I had gained so much weight, was on anti-depressants which effed me up mentally so it made processing everything that much harder. I went bald in some parts of my scalp. I became a diabetic for a short while when I am usually a hypoglycemic. I lost 2 best friends and another 2 close friends. What hurts the worst, what always reduces me into a pile of pathetic pooey sobs, is that they have never once reached out to even want to talk it out. Their pride affects my self judgment somehow and I need to stop that cycle of abuse. Because that’s what it is, bluntly put. It’s a form of emotional manipulation. I learnt that little nugget from my counselor. Being open and vulnerable has been the bane of people like me. We ignore, choose to ignore, the social edict to not wear our hearts on our sleeves. It has also been looked at as a weakness when in actuality, it’s truly a strength. It takes courage and innate honesty to bare your soul, flaws and all.
As per my modus operandi, I have been tested and given the diagnosis of being in the small group of extroverts who are highly sensitive.  So in the club that holds 15 to 20 percent of human beings, I fall into a subset of that. How so typical of me! I will not even attempt to do the math. Because. I just don’t do math. Deal with it. Le sigh. This quest to fulfill Gina 2.0 is taking me on a journey of learning more about myself. The real me. And as I learn, I grow. I am more understanding of others as I understand more of myself. I find my heart in actuality, softer than before the separation. That took me aback to be honest. Shouldn’t I be angry and stay angry for months, if not years? Am I weak for not feeling that? I know that I am not!

Now I live alone. I’ve not had the anxiety that eats inside my guts. I’m doing better physically but that too seems to be a curse. Others expect me to do so much just because I seem “normal”. I still double over in pain, willing myself to walk to the bed or couch and then not move for several hours. I still deal with heart palpitations. I still have non-functioning adrenals. I still have lipomas growing in new places. I still have dysautonomia. I still have to keep my inner ear opened and clear to hear what my body is saying. I still have to confront weird symptoms that make no sense or scare the living crap out of me. I still have to manage my medications because I realised I am my own best physician awhile ago and not be at the mercy of doctors who have not much knowledge of my rare illnesses; I may look quite normal in appearance but that is facade which hides the inner physical chaos. Hence the name: invisible disease.

And I still wish I could be loved as much as I love. There have been many a time I have questioned what is wrong with me, why am I not worthy of love, etc. I’ve come to think it’s foolish to care and love for others. If I’m to just get worse eventually, maybe I should not be with anyone seriously. So, logic asks, why bother? My past says, no -shows – that love runs out and I am replaceable. Or is it disposable? Aren’t they in essence the same thing? I have to learn to accept the temporal tone in my living manuscript. I have learnt from my various life lessons, that no one is all good and no one is all bad. We are all broken and journeying to become whole. It is the speed of that journey that distinguishes us. Do I long for someone to just lean on? Of course. Do I want someone with whom I can bring all those walls down? Yes. Do I need the intimacy of sharing inner thoughts and be able to have a debate without any fear of being judged? Indeed! Yet I have to accept the fact that I am a living grenade. We never know when or how that pin will be pulled. No one wants to commit to that willingly. Why knowingly ask for more work than you want to deal with, right? Then I wonder about those who met and married, or are in long term relationships when they were both healthy only to receive a diagnosis of cancer or something else. Do men mean stop to think what if they got such a diagnosis? Would they want no one to be with them through that part of their life journey? Rumi said,“We are pain and what cures pain, both. We are the sweet, cold water and the jar that pours.” Why can’t we as adults set aside the games, the moves across the chessboard of life to embrace each other as we are, realising we are each on a journey and the journey is made lighter with someone who loves us by our side?

May we always be bold enough to be vulnerable. May we always be courageous enough to want compromise and discard the need to always be right. May we always realise the gift we can have in each other to make each burden lighter by sharing. May we always be aware of the other as a whole person who may have some cracks or broken pieces, and to know as we connect, we are made to elevate each other into filling the cracks, making us better human beings to others. May we also realise even though the cracks exist, light still can shine through them. May we always see and remember each other with a heartwarming smile and not a frown or sigh. May we be strong enough to be naked in our relationships, baring our souls, as fractured and bruised as it may be, to each other. May we love without expectation.


I appreciate the value of not turning away from paths and people just because it becomes uncomfortable. We cannot only remain in situations when they feel good because we may have an essential lesson to learn in the heart of the discomfort. At the same time, there seems to be a tendency—in many I know and work with—to forego common sense and remain on unhealthy paths, as if there is some merit in difficulty alone. The idea that all paths and connections carry a seed of transformation feels unhealthy and untrue. There is a meaningful difference between difficult situations that are fodder for expansion, and those where the discomfort is a sign to walk away. This is as true for love relationships as friendships. Sometimes the shadow emerges because we have something to work through. Sometimes it emerges because we are simply not where we belong. Life is so precious. We are only here for a moment. May we meet it with delight…

~ an excerpt from Jeff Brown’s Spiritual Graffiti


October 1, 2015 Leave a comment

After so much pain,
I still want to be here,
the way a minnow tossed
in a puddle wakes and
flips itself silly.

Somehow we go on,
loss after loss, like seeds
drowning in their possibility
under all that snow.

From a distance, stars
are pins of light pushing
back the dark.

But inside, each
is a world of light.

And the Spirit we carry—
that carries us—flares like a
star, everywhere we go, push-
ing back the pain and loss.

Still, a star can’t be seen
without its covering of night,
nor a soul without its
human skin.

I don’t know why.

It has nothing to do with
optimism and pessimism
or with triumph and defeat.

More, the irrepressible reach
of a beam of light entering the
darkest place it can find, because
that is how it fulfills itself.

How we take turns, as the star
and the dark place, how we
complete each other.

– Mark Nepo

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He was to her a spider web.
She entangled herself in his silky trap
lost in the maze of fragility and strength
no way out yet she sought none
divine in its ability to be but not
the seen and the unseen
this web of complexity woven
through her marrow binding pulling
here today unsure tomorrow
ardently she yearned his touch
longingly she rolled in the intricacy
he expertly weaved with his masterful
strokes with wisps of tenderness
mindful of her position she surrenders
in totality in heartstopping joy
willingly offering her body

to be taken
to be consumed
to be broken down

into his life force.

July 30, 2015 1.46 a.m. Seattle

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I am not a puzzle to be solved

I am a being to be experienced

I am a soul to be savoured

Claim me and I will be your Venus

your goddess in love and war

Honour me with right intentions

Set me high on a pedestal of integrity

so we see each other eye to eye

Fill me and I will surround you








Joy incarnate





I Am Woman.

GB 11.06 a.m. July 28, 2015

Categories: Uncategorized

Missing Home


Do I dare utter

the words

even to myself

you who remain


you who are


how I yearn

for that touch

you who consume

me yet remain

wholly unattainable

you who came


and stayed, inked into

my skin

my being

you my truth

wrapped this broken body

gentle bandages of hope

sweet understanding as you

wrapped me with you

gentle, hard

soothingly rough

drinking the other in

deeper and deeper still

in a quest to reach the soul

I heal


I cannot utter


to say I miss you

to say I still long

for your arms

to carry me back into

that deep cavern

of peaceful bliss

the saltiness

of sweat on your skin

the cloying sweetness

of your tongue


all the while bandaging

holding together

tying up the brokenness

of my thumping blistering


the fragments of my soul

bliss found



I kiss the scars

of your soul still

reaching out

to let it be known

you are a beautiful tangle

scars, muscle, joy, pureness, laughter

courage, hopes unfulfilled, strength

I will heal your wounds

as you fill mine

with the balm of gentleness

your arms carried me

from the crossroads of confusion

to the palace of certainty


that palace was made

of illusions of smoky longing

far from reality


all our discoveries

treasures unearthed

all the joy of knowing

 as I stroked your head

peaceful in my lap

I should stop wishing

upon stars

because I had

the universe in my hands

you’ve gone

left me undone

fault lines in my


a broken compass

you left a haunting

poem inside of me

and every time I

breathe out

a line exhales into

the world


I am not allowed

to say this

you genuine purveyor

of my soul how I miss

the stolen kisses

from your lips

you made me

a fiery hurricane

breathed life

into hollow marrow

melting the ice

in my veins into puddles


I am not allowed

to say

I miss your hands

your lips, your being

to mine

I yearn to trace my

fingers on your salty skin

I am wrecked

by longing

I am broken

by wanting

I am unraveled

by needing

I am not allowed





Madison Park, July 20, 2015

Categories: Uncategorized

too much

there were moments

when dark, typhlotic

clouds threatened

to just deepen darker

when everything

seemed too much

too much pain

too much grief

too much hate

no light pierced


no, not a sliver

shoulders ached

from the burden

sorrow placed

i didn’t realise

underneath it all


I was too much

too much courage

too much joy

too much love







dublin sunrise by radicaljuice

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