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  • Torturous love

    Torturous love

    And so it is…love and torture have always been stablemates.

    Sometimes, without warning, someone enters your life and challenges every assumption that you ever made about what’s possible.

    What you thought you deserved was limited to what you were capable of achieving up to that point, and maybe just a quiet desire to acquire some peace beyond it.

    Until they see in you what you thought was your own delusions, and you see in them what you thought were only your dreams.

    Once you connect with that truth, nothing can convince you that anything less is what you must settle for.

    Settling becomes a vulgar thought, and fulfilment becomes incomplete without them.

    When that happens, the distance between love and torture grows, and you find yourself stretched between the two, with only shards of sanity to prevent you from being torn apart.

    Those shards will tear at your dreams and taunt your delusions until their embrace is secured.

    Until then, life becomes a dyslexic dance with insanity, and love remains elusive.

    (From the archives)

  • ‘Sorry’ isn’t the hardest part

    ‘Sorry’ isn’t the hardest part

    The only thing worse than an insincere apology is the apology that is offered with a demand that it be accepted.

    The most important part of an apology is not that it is made, but that it is authentic.

    Not just sincere. Authentic.

    If an apology is limited to a text message, or a few words uttered, but has no meaningful effort behind it to remedy the offence or harm that was caused, then it isn’t an apology. It’s manipulation.

    When we demand that our apology result in a change in attitude from the one that was offended because the apology is supposed to put the offence behind us, it’s not an apology, it’s manipulation.

    When we apologise but take offence or become defensive when the impact of our behaviour needs to be discussed by the one we offended, then we didn’t apologise, we were just ‘doing the right thing’. That’s manipulation.

    When we are sincere in regretting the harm or offence that we caused, an apology will be the smallest action that we take to make up for what we did.

    If we’re sincere, an apology will only mark the first step in our effort to regain the trust and confidence, or the good standing that we had with someone, because they are important to us, and not just because they didn’t deserve what we did, or we feel self-righteous in owning up to being wrong.

    On the flip-side, needing someone to admit fault and repeatedly apologise for something that they’ve already shown remorse for is not accepting their apology. Nor is it sincere reciprocation of their efforts to remedy the breach in the relationship.

    It’s revenge aimed at inflicting the same harm or offence that we felt from their behaviour.

    Whether justified or not, it reflects what we value more. The relationship that we have with them, and how much we value who they are, or being seen as the victim of their mistake.

    Be authentic. If not, you’re simply manipulating your way through life.

    It always starts with you.

  • That war within

    That war within

    Sometimes that village is a family, sometimes it’s a group, and sometimes it’s just one person who represents everything that the village stands for.

    That child grows into the raging adult who destroys every wholesome thing, because they feel like no one deserves peace if they were denied love and acceptance.

    When you treat the vulnerable, or the gentle one’s, with contempt, you create the same monsters that made you.

    That’s how the raging adult spawns more troubled souls that are driven towards burning down their village, with each generation growing more destructive, until someone chooses self-respect over self-loathing.

    The distraction of their rage prevents them, and us, from seeing their plea for love and acceptance.

    It’s a war within that rages without, because what they feel is at odds with what they need, and despite their best efforts, they don’t know how to achieve it.

    So, the shame that bubbles beneath the surface – the shame that they hide from the world about that internal war – drives them to behave in ways that appear to claim what they believe others will not care to give them.

    Thus, they project their rage on any innocent being that expects them to be better than that, because they’re no longer children…and only children throw tantrums.

    Adults don’t throw tantrums because they don’t need someone else to destroy for them.

    They destroy others to feel significant, not because they want the destruction, but because it at least gives them reason to believe that they’re not invisible.

    That they still have an impact.

    That they will be taken seriously…or else…

    Your anger at the world is yours to tame.

    You either rage at those who don’t have what you need, or you create it yourself through the alchemy of your soul.

    Because that’s what makes us human.

    Not that we hurt, or that we love, but that we can create love in the midst of hate, and calm in the midst of chaos, without any aides but the attributes of who we are beyond the rage.

    It always starts with you.



  • Silent screams

    Silent screams

    Crying, or a show of emotion, is still a sign of hope that things can be different.

    It’s a means to communicate our dissatisfaction because we believe that our dissatisfaction matters.

    Our emotional expression is exactly that. An expression.

    No one expresses unless there is an expectation of a response.

    That response may be from others, or even from within yourself.

    Expressing ourselves to others is driven by the belief that they may still care.

    Expressing ourselves to ourselves is driven by the hope that we will find relief in exhaling that pain.

    It’s when we lose hope of both, others caring about what vexes us, and finding relief through expression even in our private space, that silence seems like the only fitting tribute to the pain we have no hope of resolving.

    Silence is the absence of expectation, and the absence of hope.

    Don’t always look for signs of hopelessness, because the most intense form of hopelessness isn’t accompanied by a sign. It is accompanied by isolation and loneliness.

    It is silence.

  • Whose pedestal is it?

    Whose pedestal is it?

    When we see people for what we need them to be, rather than who they are, we elevate their position in our lives through no fault of their own.

    When they fail to meet the expectations that we created because of that unrealistic perspective that we had of them, we feel betrayed and then blame them for hurting us.

    This is yet another sign of a deficient self-worth.

    Our need to be associated with something or someone of a favourable standing often leads to us exaggerating the good or the virtue in them, or it.

    This is because when we believe that we’re not enough to earn the respect or social standing that we desire, then we find ways to appear more than who we are through associating with what others will respect or admire.

    The irony is that our efforts to place others on pedestals is because we want company for placing ourselves on those pedestals so that we don’t appear arrogant or vain in claiming such standing for ourselves.

    A healthy self-worth means that praise or support will be authentic, rather than opportunistic or insincere.

    Sometimes we justify the insincerity by convincing ourselves that we just want others to feel good.

    But when we shower praises on one who we believe isn’t truly praiseworthy, we’re doing it to feel good about being seen as generous and kind in spirit, and not because we want them to feel good.

    We also deny them the opportunity to be better by instilling a false sense of confidence about who they are or what they’ve achieved.

    Thus, the pedestals are built and destroyed the moment the lack of authenticity in our motives are exposed, or when they reveal, in an undeniable way, that they are not who we held them up to be.

    Sincerity on our part, in such moments, will be reflected in how we understand and support them to be who we believe they’re capable of being, rather than judging them for letting us down.

    It always starts with you.

  • That self-loathing demon

    That self-loathing demon

    Ingratitude for the self is reflected in how much time we spend self-loathing.

    But self-loathing is disguised in many creative ways.

    The above list of 10 common points is only the tip of the iceberg.

    Self-loathing is rarely, if ever, a result of our current circumstances, and almost always a result of how we felt about our place in our parent/s home.

    The less space they made for us in their lives, the less worthy we feel as humans.

    This is especially true for problematic relationships with our fathers, but often extends to criticism or insensitivity from our mothers as well.

    Because that shapes our sense of self early in life, it’s difficult to realise its impact because it just feels normal for us.

    That’s when we grow to believe that our partners are responsible for how we feel about ourselves, or that they’re responsible for our enthusiasm towards our dreams.

    That’s how we grow harsh and cruel, or rigid and abrasive towards them, not realising that we’re holding them accountable for how we feel about ourselves because we had one, or both, parents who were emotionally inaccessible when we needed to feel like we were worthy, or like we belonged.

    Self-loathing, beyond our early years when we didn’t know better, is a testament of ingratitude for who we are, and what good we have access to.

    Until we start owning how we feel about ourselves, we’ll always have reason to rage at the world, and at the innocent ones around us.

    Own Your Life.

    It always starts with you.

  • Raging for love

    Raging for love

    Nothing destroys more than ingratitude, and ingratitude for the self is expressed through self-loathing.

    But self-loathing is disguised in many ways, the most common of which is anger.

    Anger is a defence mechanism that distracts attention away from what we feel inadequate about.

    It demands that we be taken seriously when we have no reason to believe that who we are is worthy of being taken seriously.

    But more than this, anger is a profession that in that moment, we believe that we are not good enough for one whose validation we desperately need.

    Hence it being the most common confirmation of self-loathing when all our defence and coping mechanisms are claiming otherwise.

    It also happens when our internal conversation is focused on comparing ourselves to those we think are better than us, or those whose validation we need.

    And then we get married to feel complete, only to hold our partners accountable for how we feel about ourselves.

    And then we have children to fill that void that just doesn’t seem to fill up, and we become ever more threatened with fears of inadequacy when we don’t know how to be enough as parents.

    Thus, innocent lives get destroyed, all because we didn’t learn to be grateful for who we are, while trying to make up for it by raging at those who have nothing to do with how we feel about ourselves.

    It always starts with you.

  • Maybe tomorrow…

    Maybe tomorrow…

    Just like tomorrow is not guaranteed, neither is our next breath.

    Each moment taken for granted is a moment lost.

    Each loved one taken for granted is a heartache earned.

    Each abandoned resolution made after tasting loss or visiting death’s door is food for the seeds of hypocrisy and self-loathing within.

    The victim mindset turns supporters into enemies, and significant others into options, until what we once cherished is lost, and what we’re left with intensifies our yearning for the past, or for death.

    When the pain of the past overshadows our joy in the present, the future loses its lightness, and our souls succumb to the darkness.

    The shame of admitting failure prevents us from making right what we got wrong.

    All because we were distracted by the harsh criticisms echoed in our narrative in our mind.

    A narrative that convinces us that sincere advisors are criticising our efforts, and those who celebrate the shadow of what we’re capable of are in fact our friends.

    We find what we seek. Shame in the past, purpose in the present, or hope in the future.

    Sadly, most lose themselves to the past, while protecting themselves from embracing the promise that the footie holds, in the process discarding the ones who love them most.

    Who are you discarding because they believe in you more than you believe in yourself?

    Own Your Life.