Becoming emotionaly strong

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Refreshing me mind👓. Lots of fun and insightful literature out there. Today, I decided to learn more about Emotional đŸ˜”cleansing. Interesting. . .

My take?✍
We alllow time and circumstances, the weakness to be understanding, empathetic and manipulations, to pollute our emotions. Think of it as a water dam that we keep throwing rubbish in it and never make time to clean it. Eventually the life that existed there will suffocate and die.
The best approach to clearing the rust hidden within your emotional space starts with honesty [of the self] : accepting that there is rubbish within what you consider pure in you. And then recognise the issue(s) and accept that.

These are negative things that keep popping in and leave residuals, tiny eggs, smelly droplets, or those that seem to have made home in your beautiful space: subltle or very loud actions… you get the gist.
I mean those colourful  bubbles flashing brightly every where in your space, even at the corners of your eyes.
You sometimes get used to them, and subconsciously they all become part of you.

Once you start paying attention, and take time to listen to the worries in your heart,
If you cautiously tap into those suspicious bubbles, you’ll eventually get the message.
And start working on your beautiful self.
Take care of you!

LaurindaM

Some learnings from David Benson-No stress, there is progress

This girl I knew

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I saw her transform. She became a beautiful, humble, intelligent woman. I worshiped the grounds she walked on. For her strength and intelligence. Her class and elegance ignighted a fiery piece of light to those around her. Immessuarably perfection fuelling intuition, beauty and, style. I saw her floating freely, soaring like an eagle in the world She lived in light. Blushing, Gigling, Smiling, Laughing with rupture.

So it became, and her light dimmed. Her heart stopped. Het mind froze. Into a slumber she dipped.

“Wake up dear lady, It’s been too long. The word awaits. The time is now. Rise and live. Revive your mind. These shuttered pieces of your heart, collect and push them inward to light your heart and guide you home. Pick your fine ass up and spread your wisdom once more. Change the world, touch those who wish to milk your wisdom. Spread your love.

Wake up mama, they need you Be the rock for yours again” LaurindaM @magz_poetry

Is it promising…?

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I dont know much about the scientific world. Well, except for my biological formation; the billion neurons and molecules influencing the functionalities of my body.
The events, tragedies and  restrictions of the past eighteen months however confirm to me that we are faced with one of the biggest, if not the most stubborn pandemic in the history of humankind.
I’ve watched my loved ones succumb to the coronavirus. My friends and colleagues, associates and neighbours lost those closest to them.
Everyday I wake up, I feel blessed. Every minute is a gift that my brother, cousin, friends and million others did not get. They were robbed of their lives.
I watch with worry, though with the hope that one day, it’ll end.

If I were to pencil a poem, it’d read:

HUMANITY is being bullied
As complex its cognitive capacity
Yet it is crippled
And forced to submit its freedom
Kicking and screaming
Whilst swallowed into a worm-hole by design of a tiny invisible tentacled microorganism
That weaved itself into our existence
It is in control
“It’s a pandemic” – we cry
Whilst it cultivates in waves our immune systems away
“It’s a new normal” – we adapt
Yet our beautiful-bright-yellow-quirky smilies arr hidden behind that which is supposed to be impermeable a cloth

The world is on pause
Pressed down with fristration, to a standstill

That which we used to be
Is no more

LAURINDAM
@magz-poetry

Perfectly sculpted

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I used to always feel somewhat ‘bent’, and often question every angle and the formation of each limb of my being. I used to look at my size; from the structures of my toes, my hands, my thighs…and then compare to that of the girl next to me. Everything made me feel…less attractive. It made me shy, embarrassed, with my own being. I kept seeing only deformations and felt like the world was starring at me, focusing at only the faults of my structure. Though I have features that I’d brag about…including my walk. O, I love the way I step, but, less did I realise that these thoughts were compounding my self-esteem.

Slowly, these feelings manifested into blips and silently started to impact on everything I do, how I present myself, how I interact and engage with people. The more I tried to hide behind a smile, the more I failed. Because instead of plucking the problem, I was indirectly feeding it by entertaining my own internal abusive dialogue.

I just couldn’t help but keep seeing the girl next to me perfectly made. In her, I’d see everything outlined to perfection, with her petite structure, and her soft skin complementing her so well.  Her hair, and her perfect figure, the shape of her chin, those eyes and her hands so fitting to her body.

Maybe intimidated by her, still I couldn’t see my own perfections only deformations. There were times I used to think that maybe there was a [war] of chromosomes when I was being formed, and some missed their mark, maybe I was supposed to be a boy, funny hey! For the longest time I debated with myself, not knowing exactly what my problem, about my shape could be. I kept wondering if it could be my height,  my big thighs, my long manly shaped fingers…whenever I searched, I kept finding nothing beautiful here compared to the girl next to me. Everything made me feel
less attractive.

Whenever experts talk about critical abusive internal dialogue, they mention a number of glitches but no where have I seen the mention of what I was going through; lack of appreciating my design-my shape, the form of my eyes, my lips, colour and texture of my own hair etc.

The more I explored, the more I realized how unique a model I am, and I needed to see that, and appreciate that. Of course I could never match up to a Cinderella’s beauty; with her curved-bottle-size figure nor her snow white teeth complementing her thin shaped lips with such mesmerizing smile. Her eyes so bright you could see tiny stars waltzing in them.

I did not realise, for a long time how this was affecting me, and crippling my self esteem. Still today, I cannot tell where this self-patronizing mentality mushroomed from, but I knew I needed a change. I had to get out of that space and learn to be happy with myself; to see myself in this form that I was made. I needed to open my mind to appreciate myself; to see my own kind of beauty, with a shape made especially to complement my height, well rounded and shaped to my own perfect form.

I needed to find a way to take back control of my own person, to construct a pattern strong enough to start lifting myself up, because if I didn’t do it, no one else could to it for me.

I know I’m not skinny, nor do I come close to matching the typical petite girl next door. Oh, please don’t get me wrong, I love her shape, I admire her confidence. I love how she carries herself. So proud, she represents me, a strong and proud being, that I should be.

Yes, it took time, but I learned to be kind to myself and recognize that I am my own authentic sculpture. I am a package that only I can carry; a woman, a lady, the diva that I am. I am my very own kind of a special being.

And yes, I’ve never had the pleasure of picking a size 30 from the catalogue or from the boutique rail. But I understand my shape. I love dressing it, flaunting my figure and glide with confidence. I enjoy seeing this model, my reflection on the mirror-so right. I appreciate how each outline complements every angle of this sculpture. My height, just perfect for this weight. My figure is one of my favourite features. I embrace my chest, just the right size. I wouldn’t change anything, for this is how I was made, this is me, and I am perfectly sculpted!

Be kind to yourself

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Oh, thee brash lady bearing mine very resemblance. Be kind to thy self. At least let not the wrinkles hoard thy splendor, nor thy fraught sketch deeply and gore thy face.
Favour thee, and smile upon thyself within the ticking of this clock.
Well, that was my attempt to Shakespeare this piece

But seriously, just on this day my dear lady, focus on you. Let everything be about you.
Create your own happiness, your own kind of therapy. Just on this day, rescind contamination in your space. Remember; positive energy enriches a soul, so push all the negative thoughts down the dark how.
Just on this day, smile for no reason
giggle like you’ve been tickled by your favourite person. Find the silliest reason to laugh out loud.
Enjoy this day, be selfish, if it doesn’t make you smile, stay away from it.
Stay happy!

A queen-owning her throne

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A general definition of a queen is a female [woman] ruler of an independent state. In a chess game, a queen is regarded as the
MOST POWERFUL piece that each player has. This is a highly authoritative title, a role that commands respect and submission.
Ever since the beginning of time, women have always been regarded as strong and influential beings. To cement this, we even have a special month dedicated to honour mothers, wives, sisters and daughters who fought tirelessly to position women in our society. This commemoration is also extended to women who carry the baton to challenge and influence change in the contemporary society. These women are recognized and honoured for the impact they made in our communities and different structures through many platforms.

I was 20 years old when I had my first child. Six months later I found myself juggling a full time job, motherhood and being a wife, partner, spouse and caregiver. I had to manage these responsibilities and still look after myself, and remember to be someone’s daughter, a friend, a sister, a neighbour and a member of society. On the plus side [for me at least] was the fact that I already had some experience in care giving. I learned the ropes of taking care of and raising a child with my little brothers and sisters. So that part was basically taken care of. The part that no one teaches you exactly what you need to know, and I mean every single detail [as in the nitty-gritties], is how to be that perfect partner; a wife, a friend, a lover, supporter, advisor or even a better critic, or how to fit in a new family.

In the African culture [or at least some], when a young woman is about to leave her paternal home and marry-after the process of negotiations and [amalobolo] the dowry has been completed-she is subjected to a special type of “coaching”, which is provided by the female elders in her [paternal] family. If you’re lucky, your favourite aunt would be part of that. The purpose is to prepare umakoti for the role of a woman and a wife she is to become. This is theory though, and when she enters the land in her new own home or in-laws
the practical part begins. And this can become overwhelming, trust me I know! Your fortitude may be tested; from critics, to empathy, you have to grow up and create your own identity, sometimes you find yourself having shelved your own values, slowly you adopt even those that do not feel rightto you.. You do this to fit it, to be accepted, to blend in. If you’re lucky, you’ll get thos that can support, respect and appreciate you. In that case you’ll get the guidanceyou need to learn all the tricks and trades that make your new family tick.
Survival in some instances depends on one’s strong traits, most importantly the type of support system that one has; spouse, parents, in-laws, friends and maybe new associations. I was blessed, I had a strong support system. As daunting and maybe demanding as it was, I believe I managed the role of being this awesome working mother and a wife because of the pillars of strength I had around me. Ofcourse there were challenges but I always found the strength to maneuver and eventually established my own roots.
The establishment of the women’s position in society was made possible through multiple structures which were geared to support and cement their existence. They helped shape and position, whilst strengthening the voice of women even in the most difficult structures as it’s still the case today.
Our background differ-from the families we come from, and the teachings we had as children and young women. As we grow older and become more aware of who we are and what we stand for, we start to establish our own values, circles of friends, fractions and communities. We start to dream about what we want to do and how to get to those goals; in society as a whole, business world, families etc. Some as it is common in women see and begin to prepare themselves for that special [wedding] day, whereas others don’t even have a choice in the
matter due to various circumstances, and instantaneously become care givers [mothers and possibly wives].
Whatever the type of background or circumstance, we are gifted with the ability to adapt, influence, challenge and transform even the most difficult situations. And with the structures available now, we are equipped to stand tall. As much as we want recognition from others-and do deserve it-but, we need to start acknowledging our importance and the changes we have made and continue to implement across all platforms-it doesn’t matter how small, what’s important is the impact.
In my few decades [of life] and interactions with people, I connected with women who are not only strong but also not shy to share their experiences and wisdom. The gorgeous beings who turned their houses into homes. The Divas who continue to challenge the ‘what not’ into ‘why not’ and still remain poised. The intelligent minds that silently kindle the souls of their families and make even the most difficult and arrogant people see reason. The insightful and sensitive females who employ their intellect to command a realm. The passionate children of their mothers who are selfless enough to share their love without fail. The objective decision-makers and the role models in our communities.
Here’s to you game changer!

Sometimes we just need to take a stroll

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I met a lady the other day, and instantly connected with her. She became my motivation in a matter of minutes. Motivated, yes, but her story also sent a bucket of shivers down my spine. I still can’t get over the chills from the story she shared with me in the twenty minutes that I spent with her. I am still teary just thinking about it.
So, how it all began: I was waiting, not so patiently at a dealership, whilst reading Ricardo van Rooi’s 7 Steps© on Kindle. Eventually, I got up to take a walk down the block, passing about four shops, and then I noticed an antique shop ahead. I decided to go in to check if they possibly stocked typewriters. I’ve been looking for a specific model since my father’s one grew legs and took a stroll down the road many moons ago.
Just a few steps into the shop, a sweet voice greeted me and asked if she could be of any assistance. In response, I told her that I was just browsing. Looking at her, she could be in her mid to late 70’s. “Scanning” her again, I could tell that she used to turn heads in her younger days, a classy, well polished dame in her own right.
So I asked if they could possibly have or stock type writers. From there we continued chatting about her work. She showed me some of the unique pieces of jewelry she designs, and sold at the shop. As she was talking, she paused, struggling to re-
member one of the items she uses for her creations, and immediately apologized.
I could read the frustration on her face. She frowned, and then told me that since her last “experience” she’s been “forgetful”. Well, I sympathized with her and she started telling me, a total stranger, about her life. It was disheartening, enraging a story to hear, to listen to the ordeals she went through.
This is a woman who became a punching bag everyday for seven years of her marriage, for a man who was supposed to protect her. One of those punches missed their toddler by an inch and landed on her, dislocating her shoulder. This is a woman living with over 12 different types of screws in her
body; from her face to her toes. In one of her ordeals, she “was technically declared dead” and only got stitched up when the doctor saw that she “was still breathing the following day”.
In the twenty minutes that we spent together in her shop, I felt like I was sent in there for inspiration. We connected, but Lord knows I needed it. As much as I was heart broken by her story, I went out of that shop motivated.
I lived in pain for almost three decades, knowing only pain. There was a time when I convinced myself that pain was my joy. I also saw first hand women battered by their own spouses, robbed by their true love, treated like manure by those who had vowed to honour them.
I’ve seen women who were locked out of their own homes because their husband’s were simply in a mood. Luckily with one of my experiences, I had the keys to the gate, but couldn’t unlock the doors into my house ecause another set blocked me from inside. We buried friends, colleagues and neighbours murdered by their own partners, and some like my new friend crippled for life in the name of “inkomo zami”- “my dowry”, in the name of “ngimthanda KABI umfazi wam”.
My conversation with this sweet lady reminded me of how history and society positioned us [women] for sadness. However, I appreciate the strength that we muster to survive and reposition ourselves. Although still a major challenge, but hopefully with the various support structures we’ll eventually realize the desired transformation.
I gave up on my own life, devised means to stop my own breathing, giving in to pain.
This woman is living with her pain. She is living in her pain, and she became stronger from her pain.
She told me that she is in CONSTANT pain. I am in constant pain, but the difference is the way she HANDLES her pain and how she DEALS with it. My motivation, an inspiration, this
woman, an accountant by trade, cuddles the conviction that one day
it’ll all end. But it’s up to me to find a way to deal with my pain; to be strong, to seek help, to be

A simple pick-me-upper

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I watched the movie maybe a hundred times, and of late a bowl of spaghetti with peri-peri hot chicken and veggie by the side has become a must have, whilst downing a glass of some red natural sweet something. But seriously, I love my food, I indulge at times and only worry about the carb effects later. Going back to the movie Eat, pray, love; I value my ‘me’ time with my creator, and make it a personal goal to connect with Him on the regular. Athough sometimes I express my pain somewhat belligerently, but I remain hopeful and trusting to Him. I am grateful for this life, I appreciate his guidance and blessings. Sadly my experience with the last part-“love”-still leaves a bitter feeling in my taste buds, however, I value the relationships I have dwith my children, my family and friends. I give them as much love as I can and I appreciate the love I get in return.
Finding your purpose in life, knowing “who you are”
the real you, and embracing that which makes you tick is important. Once that is sorted out, you can be able to move on with confidence, to ‘share’ yourself selflessly, and fully with those who reciprocate.

Gaining perspective also allows your soul to flush those mosquitoes which tend to create frustrations, hollow and grumpy feelings, and vindictive desires in you.

So my motivator-as slow as the hours goes, is to fantasize about my date with myself
 relaxed, watching the movie yet again. Shame, and the kids will unfortunately have to be ‘strong’ hey, but with so much love from mommy.

Have you ever been obsessed with something that people around you start to get
mh annoyed by it? That’s me. My kids are starting to loose interest on the Julia Roberts ‘all things’. I love everything about Julia; she knows how to bring a character to life, she has class, elegance…and yes you know it, beauty! So, I can’t blame my kids for their annoyance, my new obsession for her character in Elizabeth Gilbert’s romantic drama Eat, pray, love is simply insane. Just wanna be her-a dream!