Hi everyone I know I have been quiet for some time and it’s because I am back in Penang (Malaysia). It’s been somewhat hectic with moving to a new apartment and settling into my class schedule I don’t even realise where the time is going until I am in bed at the end of the day, exhausted. There is plenty going on in my head and I feel like I need to unload my brain but unfortunately it’s not going to be today. I wrote the following poem in between one of my classes and thought I would share it here. Enjoy!
Like poison on my skin
You speak of only sin
I know I shouldn’t give in
but you make my head spin.
The rush it takes over
I never want to be sober,
like a thief who’s on the sneak
into my soul you slowly creep.
pain or pleasure who knows
But can you see, it shows.
You take me to a great height
Like a thousand bursts of light.
Its over and you’ve gone
Left me all alone and torn
But I know I’m your favourite crime
So bring more poison next time.
the map of your face is marked on my lips,
like an addict I crave you, waiting for my next big hit.
so tell me darling do I do the same?
Am I your personal brand of cocaine.
I feel you in my veins each night
When you aren’t close it chokes me tight,
I feel my body erupt in pain,
So darling help me douse this flame.
Relationship’s are hard, it’s a universal truth and if you want something to last you have to work for it. My relationship with food has been and still is one of the greatest struggles in my life.
I came to terms with my self that I will never be one of the slim girls, I have curves (in all the right places) and for a long time I hated the way I looked, I never saw the beauty in my self and if someone complimented me I had the terrible habit of thinking that they were secretly mocking me.
My body image struggles started at quite a young age, I’m not sure how or why but I remember days when I would just be sad and unhappy for the way I looked and I remember praying every night asking God to make me ‘thin because I don’t want to be ugly’ and this was when I was 8 or 9 years old. For me I think food is a form of punishment (terrible I know) every time I felt sorry for my self, weak or if I feel like I have done something wrong I would turn to food and it was never comforting because after eating I would just feel worse than when I started and if there’s anyone who can relate I’m sure you’ll know what I’m talking about.
The first time I went on a diet was when I was 13, the age when the opposite sex starts to make an appearance in a girl’s life. All my friends would talk about how a boy has started talking to them or texting them and there were no boys talking to me and naturally I blamed it on my body, I hated my body with a passion and it consumed me so I stopped eating and I started working out to a point of over exhaustion. I was constantly hungry but I remember telling my self that the feeling of hunger was my reward, I was proud of my will power and the compliment’s only made we want to keep going. The diet went on for a couple of month’s (it scares me to think what I did to my 13-year-old body) until one day when I was at Sunday mass and I remember kneeling down and I opened my eyes in the hospital. I blacked out from starvation. I was given saline, and a course of vitamins, the Doctor said that I was dehydrated, my electrolyte’s were off-balance and I had symptoms of Anorexia Nervosa!
After this episode I was under strict watch by my parents and my food intake was carefully monitored, I remember it being a very hard adjustment but I got used to it, I gained a few pounds but I started eating healthy and started swimming regularly and after a while it wasn’t so hard and life went on, the world didn’t end for me because I was not ‘thin’.
I wish I could say everything was all good after that but in reality it only got worse, I remember my weight starting to bother me again at the age of 19. This happened because once I left to Australia I was told at the end of that year my cousin was to be married and I was her bridesmaid. My mind went into a frenzy and I immediately got my self into the most drastic diet no carbs, no sugar, no dairy.. no anything! There would be days where I would only have black coffee from morning until night and I would eat a bowl of cereal and go to bed, towards the end of the year I was going on an apple and water.
I take no pride in admitting any of this, I have managed to destroy my body within a few years because of my physical and mental struggle with food. I have been anorexic, bulimic, binged, purged and everything in between. I am sad now that being in pain was seen as a reward for my self. Yet I still struggle with food!
I am more comfortable with my skin these days than I used to be but there are days I am brutal on my self. I thought of writing this today because I started yet another diet & my usual workout routine. People may think that dieting and exercise is all about wanting to fit in and being accepted but for me the struggle has always been about accepting my self.
I still have a long way to go with this challenge but I am certain that slowly but surely it is something I can over come. If I have the willpower to go without eating for 3 days, I definitely have the power within me to break away from another bad relationship.
sex is such an amazing thing, so primal and so… basic! but I feel like it’s one of the most taboo things in society. The human race has evolved by leaps and bounds but we can’t seem to wrap our heads around one’s sexuality. Being a woman, especially an Asian woman sex is not something that is talked about and if you are by any chance the kind of woman that talks about sex you might as well call your self *insert derogatory label*. You get the idea.
I have always felt a divide when it came to me and my female friends, I’ve always been the open one about sex. I up to today don’t understand why it’s so hard for everyone to accept ‘sex’ without it being some major secret because believe me if any woman tells you she doesn’t enjoy sex she’s either a liar or a prude and to my girlfriends having this ‘good girl’ image is apparently associated directly with their vagina. It makes me angry that women aren’t allowed to embrace and enjoy their sexuality as much as men can. I feel like sometimes it is a barrier that women create for them selfs, I don’t know if women look down at sexually active women because they are jealous or because they are insecure about them selfs. Either way for the lack of a better word it sucks!!
Don’t belittle me because I enjoy sex and it most certainly does not make me a ‘bad woman’ either. I lost my virginity when I was 19 and it’s not something I regret, I respect people who make the decision to wait until they are married and I have respect for people who choose otherwise as well, your body your choice but I don’t have respect for people who choose to condemn another persons personal choice just so they can validate their own self worth.
I don’t really know where this post is going but it was just something I had floating around in my head.
A few words of wisdom to my fellow women, if you enjoy sex, have it without any shame because your self worth is not measured by your vagina!!
I have this feeling inside of me these days, a sort of tension or is it a sort of sadness? I really can’t seem to figure it out entirely. I was thinking about it and I think it’s due to the fact that my vacation is coming to an end and once again it is time to leave.
Since I was young I always knew in my heart that Sri Lanka, my ‘home’ wasn’t the place for me. It was never enough, I wanted more. I loved my parents and my friends but I always felt like something was missing, like it was waiting for me to come and claim it, a sense of self-expression that I always kept boxed inside because of how my people or culture will perceive me. So I hid and I wore a mask and I conformed.
When opportunity struck to leave I took it in a heart beat and I didn’t look back. I have been constantly out of the country since the age of 19 and even though that is my dream there is a down side to it. I feel as I’m growing older I long for stability, something I’m not so familiar with. I enjoy meeting new people and experiencing new cultures and being the true free spirit that I am but at the end of the day I want to come ‘home’ and feel truly free and that is what I have realized, is missing!! I haven’t found ‘home’ yet, for a long time I thought Melbourne was home but life has a way of showing you that there is more in store for you by throwing major curve ball’s your way. When I left Melbourne I thought it was the end of my life but now I’m glad it happened because I wouldn’t be where I am today otherwise. I enjoy my time in Malaysia but it most certainly isn’t ‘home’
So here I am in the room I grew up in, boxed in by the walls that have heard my laughs, my tears, my darkest secrets, those late night sneaky phone calls and so much more and I can’t fathom why my heart doesn’t belong here, it fills me with sadness that I don’t have that sense of belonging but at the same time it’s exciting to know that my journey isn’t over.
To leave is always a sad thing because every time I leave, I have to keep behind a piece of my heart but I take away beautiful memories with me and it makes leaving a little easier to bare. I don’t know when or where my journey will come to an end and I know the road ahead isn’t always going to be smooth sailing but what is life without all the experiences that mold us into who we are. So I tell my self It’s hard now but one day I will be thankful and all the more wiser because of it.
My gypsy soul will forever roam. Until I find that place called ‘home’
I’m not home at the moment because I’m trying to spend my last few weekends in Sri Lanka with my friends so I am crashing at my best friends house this weekend. I will go back to putting out proper posts once I get back home on Monday. This is a poem I just spun last night when I was tossing and turning in bed, hope you guys enjoy it!
How much longer will it take
before the seams start to break
when the walls begin to shake,
Wait… I know this familiar ache.
I’m drowning in a pool of sorrow
not knowing if I’ll wake tomorrow
Is it okay if I can borrow
a mask that isn’t too hollow.
Pretending is the only way
to get through another day
So on my bed I lay
Until things are not so grey.
I enjoy writing poem’s occasionally when I get the inspiration but I can never put a heading for them, it’s something I struggle with. Suggestions are always welcome!
My demons don’t have names
And neither do they have tails.
We try to live in peace
And make sure no one sees.
They occupy my soul
Creating a great big hole
It’s hard to get along
Sometimes when I’m alone
I want to make them see
That it is time to let me be,
Time to move along
And watch me grow strong.
My demons are hard to tame
They were born along with shame
I want the chance to heal,
But my demons don’t let me feel.