chappykm

[chappykm]

Power to you.

I spoke up. I didn’t even think twice. And from the day I spoke up, I couldn’t wait to be surrounded by people who hadn’t heard. I didn’t stay quiet, and from the day those words left my mouth in 2003, I regretted it.

Because in 2003, in grade 5, my voice wasn’t met by an army of supporting women. It was met by onlooking eyes, uncomfortable people, accusations of lies, and more verbal abuse than I could have imagined. I was so naive, I didn’t think twice about speaking because he was wrong, I didn’t ask for that, so he was wrong, right?

He was a few grades above me, so was my sister. Her and I were at different campuses. She came home one day upset, she said someone wrote in chalk on the basket ball court, Kirsty is a slut. Because I spoke up, I got him expelled. Because I did that, I made a lot of enemies. It is still hard for me to believe that in these circumstance people still choose sides. He was wrong, so why?

I continued to go to school despite all the staring eyes. I heard a friend of mine talking to someone, she said “I don’t believe her, she just wants attention, that boy actually likes me”. She was a friend of mine.

But this was my life and I wanted to do what I loved. I loved public speaking and my assignment was due. I stood in-front of the class and started to speak. A boy who was walking past the room stepped inside and yelled “*his name* fingered Kirsty”, he laughed as he ran away like he’d just made the most hilarious joke. I walked out of my Grade 5 classroom. Dammit I’d just stopped my stomach churning and my skin crawling.

I loved to swim. That was where it had happened. But he couldn’t ruin swimming for me, I wouldn’t let him and neither would my coach. This boy wasn’t allowed in my squad anymore. But he was allowed at the swim meets. I trained 8 times a week, competing was everything to me. I was walking back from warming up for my race and I walked straight into him. He looked angry at me, like I’d made life for him a bit hard. I almost threw up my stomach dropped so quickly. I turned around and took the long way back. By the time I got back to my tent I was shaking. I don’t know why I was I just couldn’t stop. My coach grabbed me and said to me “You control your life, You work every day for this and he can’t take your success. He made a bad moment in you life, you make the good ones.” He said “Swim harder than you ever have before, dive in and show him that he can’t hurt you.” I walked away from the diving boards at Southport pool where we were standing and that is exactly what I did.

I will be forever thankful that at a time when it felt like the whole world either hated me, pityed me, or was talking about me, one man saw my strength and forced me to use it.

I am so glad that I’m alive in a day where women are being encouraged to speak up and their words are being met by support. Because my story is the exact reason they stay quiet. It would honestly be easier. Im over 10 years on and I can easily say that the best thing about my life is that no one in it knows that chapter.

As this movement starts, and I feel so proud of all the ladies speaking up, I’ve realized that I’ve spent years trying to outgrow my decision to speak, outgrow the people who knew, and wished so badly I never said anything. Im 25 now and only just realized how fucking disgraceful that is.

This really is a lifelong battle, and it doesn’t end for those ladies speaking out. People will still chose sides. These ladies are speaking up now but that won’t be the end of their battle. Both men and women need to come together and show support. If someone speaks up, it isn’t up to you to decide whether they are right. You don’t get to disagree because you’re a friend or god forbid a fan. From my experience, no one would wish that situation on themselves and no one would ever choose to endure what follows speaking out. They’ve gone through the hardest situations of their life, the next 10 years shouldn’t be filled with wishing they’d done it alone. So give power to these women, from Hollywood to your local school.

Because when I look back on that time, the worst thing I did for mySelf was say something. And that’s not okay. It’s not okay that for 10 years Ive wished for a life without anyone who knew. But not anymore. Not anymore because there is so many brave women in this world. Not anymore because I have nieces who only deserve the best, not anymore because I have nephews who shouldn’t be required to protect their sisters and not anymore because I have young cousins who are growing up in a new time. So speak up, be heard and be proud that you chose a path that certainly isn’t of least resistance but is one that will change everything for them. Power to you, I support you and I believe you.

[chappykm]

Shout out to the parents

So I was scrolling through my newsfeed yesterday in zombie mode after a massive day of work and I noticed a post from my Mum…yes both Mum and Dad are on Facebook and surprisingly they have some how manage to grasp the concept… well maybe no entirely, but they do know the difference between publicly commenting on something and sending a private message and they only occasionally confuse my sister and I (#notthedoctor).  

My mum posted a photo of herself dressed in all this new hiking gear. For the last three months she has become a fixture of the Nerang State Forest and other than avoiding snakes, sleep and the local drug dealer Pete’s business locations, she has clocked up some serious kms in crazy heat as she prepares to walk across the camio pilgrimage in Spain.  In 7 days she will fly to Europe with some friends and embark of this incredible challenge to walk 870 kms in just 34 days. 

While she does this, my dad won’t be joining…He’s already had his adventures dropping off cliff faces as his ride his mountain bike down hills in QLD, NSW, NZ and Tasmania, with his sights on Whistlers. He is not going just because he has no shortage of extreme sporting holidays under his belt and that he also has a false hip. He’s not going because aside from this ‘hobbie’ he runs an incredibly successful company that challenges the traditional cultural and business structures of SMEs all over the world, but he’s also studying his masters (forgive me if I got the degree wrong, but lets me real you’re still not entirely sure what I do haha). Whatever it is, he has to write 10 thousand words in the next 8 weeks before he makes sure 90 skis safely make it on a 700km journey over the course of a week to raise money for Variety Children’s Charity… I did mention he had a false hip yeah? It’s okay mum gets back a few days before it starts so she is stoked she can do it also. 

Other than it being clear that they are both batshit crazy… I am so lucky to have two people lead me through this life that refuse to give up or say no to a challenge.

Last year I applied for a job that was way above my experience level simply because it was in the field I want to be in. After securing the position with the company my parents asked me if I thought I could pull it off (their method of parenting is making sure you know you could fail, its truly beautiful) and I said well I am going to take the leap and learn as quickly as I can on the way down.

I’ve realised that it is because I have watched them never be comfortable and always be challenged that I can handle situations like this. This job has brought a whole new meaning to responsibility, multi-tasking and work load. I am completely and utterly stressed out but I am also thriving. 

My boss sat me down yesterday after 8 weeks well and truly in the deep end and he asked me how I was coping, if I needed a hand of maybe some clients leverage off me. I told him, that if I was poorly performing than by all means take them away from me…but I will never, ever predict I can’t do something and give up before I try. It’s not who I am, it’s not what my role models have taught me and it’s not in my DNA.

So until I fail, I’ll continue to find my inspiration and motivation in two of the most crazy, driven, energetic and incredible people I know and look up to. My parents.  

[chappykm]

Change your perspective.

Quick heads up – this lead in my seem long, but its an important point, one I have wanted to make for many years and it will all make sense. Just keep going.

Have you ever had a moment in you life when something just completely blindsides you. This something stops you in your tracks and leaves you with no idea what the direction forward is. When you get injured badly enough there are many frustrations with rehab and surgery. Your mood changes because of this struggle but it is one that is accepted by others because they understand and can see your are hurt. You visit professionals and put together plans to move forward. Your workplace knows and they put in place systems to make your job easier to continue to do. There is a team of people showing you a path through this, and your friends are there supporting you all they way. It’s never an easy road bouncing back from any injury but you continue to set yourself goals for getting better.

Now, this is where we fall down as a society. Have you ever experienced something, an “injury” lets say, that has hurt you more than anything you can imagine possible. It is worse than anything you’ve ever felt before. It has you crying in agony and looking for you next breath not just your next step. It quite literally, stops your whole world. Then every single morning when you open your eyes you relive this. Getting out of bed and facing everyone whose worlds have continued to move on feels impossible. But here is the thing about this injury…you haven’t got a single scratch on you. Physically, you are completely fine, and because physically you are completely fine… not one person will check in to see how you are going. Not one person wants to know.

This is the exact reason people fighting mental illness fight it alone. This is why no one talks about his or her anxiety and it continues to get worse. This is why no one speaks about depression when they are depressed. Because if everyone around you thinks you should be fine, then maybe you feel embarrassed or ashamed to say you are not. We live in a world where if we can’t physically see someone is hurt, we don’t want to help them. Which needs to change, now. This may not be the best post I have ever written, but it is by far the most important.

Two weeks and 6 days ago I lost a man that I thought the absolute world of. He made my childhood what it was, he added valued discussion and input in my adult years and most importantly he made me feel loved every single time I saw him in his own special way. He made me laugh until I couldn’t breath and his cheeky responses could always catch you off guard.  There is no words for watching a person that means that much to you slowly slip out of your life. There is no words for the heartbreak of seeing someone you love take their last breath and wishing so badly they would take one more. There is absolutely no words for this injury.

There is no words except knowing that every day you will fight with yourself over this to move forward. You will find your own path back, you will set your own goals to get your world moving again. You will do all of this alone knowing you will certainly never fully recover.

These “injuries” are completely over looked by every person and workplace in every single way. You know why that is? Because it is too uncomfortable to talk about. Because we cant physically see what a person is going through, we don’t understand, so we don’t want to know. If you know someone who has been through something, ask him or her again how they are going. Don’t ask them just the once, ask them again like you were asking them how their broken leg was feeling or improving. We need to become more comfortable talking about mental illness, anxiety and depression, or we are going to keep leaving these people to lead their recovery alone.

This post isn’t a sympathy post, it is something I have wanted to talk about for years. I have fought my own battles with anxiety quietly for a long time. Recently, this experience made me want to crawl up in bed and cry without any deadline for getting back up. But it felt like the world wanted to move me forward quicker than I felt I could because they couldn’t physically see how hurt I was. I am embarrassed to cry in public about how much this hurts. I don’t want to reach out to people because I don’t want them to be uncomfortable. This is how so much of our population feels and because we are too scared to talk about it we are losing children, teenagers and adults to suicide. People need to feel more comfortable talking about this. Maybe if we share how we feel and we bring the same mentality to anxiety, depression and mental illness as we do with injuries, this conversation will get easier. The support networks will get bigger and people will no longer feel alone in this fight. It should never be “too uncomfortable” to help someone. Change you perspective, and start asking the question - are you okay?

[chappykm]

Girls

Before we start I'm going to throw a language disclaimer up. 1 for the people who feel "girls shouldn't swear" (join us in the 21st century please, fuck.) and 2 for my dad (aka puppa bear) who likes to remind me that swearing is just a reflection of poor vocabulary (that may have some truth). But for this case, this subject angers me, and that results in tears, swear words, or both. Clearly an emotionally stable response to anger.. No issues here. Girls. We are each other's worst enemy. Everyone wants to preach about being a feminist and women being on an equal playing field as men. However, no one wants to talk about women supporting other women for achieving or exceeding the status of another. Whether this be in the workplace, in your social life or even In a night club.. (Yes, hi you, I caught your dirty look, along with at least 8 of your dirty slut drops with eye contact on the side). You keep doing you galfriend, no qualms here. But seriously, why do we constantly feel the need to bring each other down in almost every environment. I have come across this issue in so many ways and more regularly over the last year. On many occasions I've been able to shrug it off, and know in myself that this girl who is trying to bring me down In front of a group of people is threatened by me, self conscious or even just unhappy in their own life (sidebar: girls are so fucking crafty..you haven't successfully inferred your superiority unless a congregation of bitches, lots of attractive males or an important work colleague are in the vicinity). Most the time I can feel better about myself, because I know that this action is a reaction of me accomplishing another goal I've set or showing confidence in myself. And that is not a conceited statement. That is the reality of being a girl with dreams, ambition and God forbid, a girl receiving attention. Which brings me to an important point. Like fuck I've had boyfriends that show other girls plenty of attention.. I mean plenty..in every way on every level..on every angle.. and that wasn't the girl on the receiving ends fault. I personally have never had a guy open a conversation with I have a girlfriend, can I buy you a drink. If you have seen that scenario play out then by all means hit a bitch. But for the standard cases, these males are assholes. Educate yourself, learn the difference between asshole and home wrecker. But my biggest issue within this topic, is women that bring down successful women.. This disgusts me to my core. That is actually the thing that does get to me. If someone is below you, help educate them, fill them with motivation to raise them up and achieve more. And if someone is above you, see their accomplishments as admirable and work hard at achieving that next step. Do whatever it is you need to do, but don't you dare be intimidated by those who see you as a threat. I refuse to stop putting my ideas forward because others choose to shut them down rather than workshop them, collaborate and build upon them. I refuse to be suppressed by the opinion of females that are so narrow minded and so small that they fail to see that this is a time for female support and encouragement. By both, BOTH genders. Most importantly, I refuse to not talk about this monumental issue within our society because perhaps it's uncomfortable or unethical to address in certain environments. It is the most disheartening thing to come across women that belittle, ridicule and humiliate you for their own success. We don't need to climb over each other and destroy each other to achieve anything in this life. Women are an incredible gender.. Why aren't we proud of each other? Why can't we support each other in a way that we expect men to support us? We can't talk about men viewing us as equal when we can't even do that for each other. We need to voice this issue and support this change.

[chappykm]

Loosening your Grip, but never letting go.

Growing up is something that never gets easier. While it is exciting there is constantly monumental moments in your life where you come to the cross road where you must loosen your grip on something that has defined a younger you to chase something that you want for your future.  But at the cross road there will a moment where you linger between the two. You cant let go completely, you must take from these times what that they have given you, shown you about your own strengths and weakness and what it has prepared you for. Don’t be uncertain on whether you’ve made the right choice or uncertain on whether you’ll ever achieve that next stage.

 I’ve heard of a close family friend struggling with these decisions that I also made when I was 16 and I know better than anyone else how alone that can make you feel. When I was growing up, I was an elite swimmer (Hard for a lot of people in my life now to believe), some of my current friends have never even seen me in a pool… which is probably fortunate for them because I’d most likely drown at the 25m mark. But there was a time this was my absolute passion, there was a time when the second thing that came to mind when my name was said was swimmer and there was a moment in my life when the times between 5am- 7.30am and 4pm – 6.30pm were the only times that mattered…other than the one clocked on the stopwatch. Everything in-between appeared useless to me. Between 7:30am – 4pm the only thing I was focused on was my next moment in the pool. I didn’t do well at school, I didn’t have sleepovers in school holidays and I certainly didn’t impress any teacher that wasn’t my P.E teacher.

 While I loved every second of this sport, at that age it’s hard to take was it associated with being an elite athlete. It’s even harder for the immature kids around you to understand what it is your doing. There was always someone ready to put you down in your success or push you when you need a break. You were even right there beating yourself up when you didn’t make a time or perhaps you false started and just ruined months of training in a millisecond. That is an incredible defeat for someone that age to take but also an incredible testament of strength and perseverance. Because that same kid, and I mean kid, would get back in the pool the next morning and train once more. One of my strongest memories associated with this sport was the confliction between the pool and school. In the pool area I was admired, my coaches loved me and I was also the first person to jump in and challenge a boy to a push up contest… and win. The saddest thing about my memories from this time is that the feelings associated with how I was treated at school completely outweighed the positive ones I was given in the pool area.

 At school, the little prepubescent, underdeveloped, weak boys would put me down about my body. I’m not sure now why it bothered me that this little kid that was so much less of a person than I was upset me. But they’d call me a man… Every. Single. Day. They would ridicule me because I smelt like chlorine, or they would tell me I was on drugs because my eyes were always red. This was a body that a couple hours ago I was proud of but now made my incredibly insecure. I would do anything to cover my shoulders up, I’d wear jumpers when it was boiling hot and be incredibly selective of what clothes I bought.  I was a 200m butterfly swimmer so quite a bit of material was needed for those monsters. A size 10-12 shirt with zero boobies as far as the eyes can see supported by size 6 waist… this is an odd shaped body to dress in anything other than a speedsuit.

 My teachers would also treat me like I was unintelligent, like I needed extra help, and kids being kids would follow. I was in trouble because I didn’t do my homework because the two things I did when I got home was eat the fridge clean and sleep. The truth was I wasn’t unintelligent at all… I was simply very uninterested. Anyone who has the ability to focus so strongly on one area of his or her life to develop it and improve has far more intelligence than someone who doesn’t. A person doing that at 16 exceeds the maturity of that age group by years. They are even more intelligence then someone who can’t respect of appreciate that level of dedication.

 All these battles I had were hard ones to over come. But they were not as hard as the one when my passion for a sport that completely defined who I was, started to slip. I could ignore the boys, the teachers, the bad times because there was always the next thing I was training for. But when I decided I didn’t enjoy swimming anymore was the toughest decision of my life. I needed to let go of my complete identity. If I wasn’t a swimmer than who was I?

This is a decision that doesn’t come easy and it is one that a swimmer thinks about for months even years before they commit to it. While it’s hard for family, friends and coaches to understand I wish they would know how hard it is for us. You’ll go back many times in fear alone that you made the wrong decisions. But the truth is, if your stopping and starting you don’t want it at all. We as swimmer all know that. This is a sport that you fight to millisecond for a position in the region, state, nation or world. There will always be someone who knows they want it, who is committed to it and who will take it.

 After many failed attempts, pool changes, coach change, I didn’t know where I was going I just knew I didn’t like this sport anymore…and so I stopped.  My body started to change into exactly what I had thought I envied of other girls. I was unfit, I didn’t have big arms, and I didn’t have muscles. What you will realise is it doesn’t feel as good as you thought it looked. All of a sudden your soft where you body was once rock hard, your puffed when you walk up stairs and you can no longer eat anything you want.

 This transition was the hardest one I’ve ever gone through. I still bump into my coach now who can only talk to me about how much potential I had, how great I could have been, how many Olympics I would have been at. And while that is nice to hear, he can’t see or doesn’t want to see how great I’ve also become without it. Do I regret quitting swimming? Not for a second. That sport prepared me for more than I could ever imagine. I know how to apply myself to something I want, I know how to ignore pain and keep going and I know how to overcome defeat because I did it day in day out for years. And while I still don’t want the body I had when I was swimmer I can finally appreciate it. It took me 8 years but I admire that kid because she went through hell for something she loved. And that’s a trait ill forever have. It so important when life give you a cross road that you take the change, you loosen your grip on what you use to love, but never let go of the greatness it gave you.

[chappykm]

Growing Pains

I've had one of those months where it feels like I've had some kind of life growth spurt. I've started to want more from myself and expected more of the people around. I've been looking to next year without plans to run away but with ambition to start building a life. Which is a life 6 months ago I never saw for myself. In the same breath I've said goodbye to childhood best friends who have chosen to take on that adventure for the next few years. I've realized the life we had when we were kids, the one we thought we'd have forever and the friendships we thought were indestructible have started to tether and disappear. While growing up is meant to be exciting, this moment has been quite painful. In expecting more of people I've noticed an inability or lack of desire for people to be better to me. Ive realized wanting greater understanding, loyalty and respect within old friendships doesn't just grant it. Loving each other as kids doesn't merit an understanding of the changes in our adult years. Loyalty in the playground is far easier than being loyal in the turbulence of growing up. It doesn't mean these people will always be happy for me. Or will always be there to support me. Sometimes they'll choose the opposite. Evidently, I've found a lack of desire on my end to try put in effort with what disappoints me. I don't feel the need to spell out what I think should be second nature in a friendship or relationship. I no longer want to cast time to people who waste time with fronts of friendship and an interior of judgements and criticism. To girlfriends who refuse to understand a point of view. Who have much to say to everyone but me on my life choices and our friendship. I don't see comparisons as a healthy or worthwhile use of time. I no longer want to waste energy with thoughts of being compared to My sister, family, friends, or the girl with rig and the LO-FI filter. I'm not personally insulted by someone's strengths over my weaknesses. I will not compete with someone's history or someone's bright future. Because it isn't mine to look back on nor look forward to. So to the stranger who asks me if I feel like a letdown to my family in comparison to my sister who is graduating medicine, to the friends who choose to see my flaws and to the little boys who can only call girls with an opinion outside of their dick crazy. I say this..my dreams are so big they overshadow any ounce of negativity that is a product of comparisons. My endless love for my family makes me proud of their accomplishments not disappointed in my own. I don't draw parallels in my life and others because we aren't on the same path, and my choices to be alone now rather than surrounded by mediocre friends will ensure I see a future with fulfilling ones. I'm happy to endure this hard time because sometimes expecting better, wanting more and growing up simply has to to painful.

[chappykm]

Understanding coffee culture and the mood swings of your local Barista

Coffee Culture. It’s not a choice it’s a way of life. I had no idea when I decided to start learning about how to make coffee in 2011 that I was making an actual verbal agreement to become a sleepy, unpleased angry addict that only feels the true warmth of happiness maybe once or twice a year when either myself or some god like human amongst men presents me with one hell of a good cup of coffee.  Because the problem is, once you know exactly how it should be made, how it should taste and that the actual weather can sometimes have more control over this than the barista, you also know just how rare a great coffee is.

 I literally start every single day with the promise that if I pull my sleep deprived, overworked, under appreciated body out of bed and make it into the café, that i also now refer to as hell on earth, to commence my job at 4 A.M IN THE MORNING, that maybe, just maybe, today I may make myself the cup that ignites some kind of ridiculous fire from inside, fills my empty soul with warmth and makes me possibly the happiest little bitch alive.  I’m talking 24 hours here where absolutely nothing could bring you down. I could actually fall down an entire flight of stairs and get up and skip off. Id be willing to help a little elderly lady across the street, buy a homeless man a meal, and just be a straight up absolute fucking ray of sunshine in the lives of my friends and family.

  However, this has only happened to me on 3 occasions since 2011.  Quick little plug because I would actually have the children of these 3 baristas for the good they do for the people of the Gold Coast. Flayvah (No Longer Existent, but were once the loves of my life), Daark Espresso (He may not be the barista but to the blond hair blue eyed male working there who connects me with the goods, Hey baby call me. I love you.) And Finally, Metro Broadbeach (I would turn lesbian for the girl with the sleeve and the coffee skills of an absolute god). 

  I guarantee that this inherent need to get that next cup is literally every single Baristas motivation to get themselves out of bed at 4am. As the sole driver of your Baristas happiness has only actually eventuated 3 times in the past 3 years for myself, these are not great odds. Thus, its not likely you will be greeted by the previously mentioned ray of sunshine behind the coffee machine at 6am. So we come to understanding that on the other end of the scale, also known the majority of your baristas life,  is waiting an average coffee with a side of a shitty lifestyle.

  Because while we absolutely love/adore/respect coffee, have the occasional fist pump when our fern looks like Da Vinci himself produced it while simultaneously remembering about that small ¾ full, 1 and half short, soy mocha with 2 sugars and extra extraaaaaa hot coffee that you order a 8:06 every morning, that still doesn’t register with you when we call it out with a smile on our face… we all absolutely despise the lifestyle that is our jobs. We do not know what a weekend is, we sleep when everyone is awake and are awake when everyone in asleep and deso driver is no longer a choice but an obligatory requirement if you plan to venture out of the house past 8pm at night. This is because no matter how many times you try to convince yourself you can drink and make it to work, you will always, and I mean always, end up spray painting the closest toilet to your café in last nights sushi and memories, while holding yourself crying uncontrollably and wondering how coffee simply managed to bring you to the lowest point in your life. Trust me. I’ve done extensive research in the department and this is the one and only outcome. If you’ve just decided to be a barista. Grab and pen and paper and jot this one down, 1. Bye Bye alcohol and clubbing 2. Hello Green Tea and Dawson’s Creek Reruns.

 So if we have shed any light on the coffee culture here today, the lesson to be learned is the reason your Barista friend, is such a moody bitch, is because they are literally living a constant sleepless, friendless life while also regularly being let down by the one thing that drives them the continue living this nightmare. The promise of decent coffee. Second lesson, take it easy on your local Barista, they do not wish to have your useless coffee order taking up place in their head, nor did they wish to miss that party last night to get up and serve you a beverage at 4am because you for some unknown reason actually chose to be awake at that time. We of all people understand the disappointment for not getting the cup of happiness you requested, but lets be real, if you brought your own milk with an 8 page step by step manual on what you want, then you were never really going to be satisfied.

 So next time you are yelling at your barista because your extra extra extra hot mochachino didn’t incinerate the inside of your mouth the second you took a sip, or your skinny milk taste like full cream, or perhaps, this being a personal favorite, your short black is too strong (like what?), think about the sacrifices they have made for you, and the disappoint they face daily because all we really want in our lives is a little more sleep and a glorious wake up beverage. 

[chappykm]

[chappykm]

Can love ever truly become loved...

It seems like a topic that is over thought, over talked and over done in every element of our lives. There is an abundance of things in our daily lives that we love. I couldn't count how many times in a day I mention loving something. But I can count the fews times in my life I've struggled with the notion of moving from love to loved. But as an emotion that completely enfolds and blindsides us, is it really one we can then choose to stop feeling under any circumstances. Why must each break up be riddled with hate to avoid the continuation of this emotion. 

It may appear the grammatically correct way to refer to the departed individual, but is it realistically correct? Once you love someone, can you choose to then "un-love" them when you're lives start taking different directions. We associate a persons inability to stop loving someone with the continuation of wanting to be with them.  We analyse our own relationships when they end and we spend so much time agonising over the "getting over" them. We hate ourselves for loving them despite everything that has happened. We cry at the memories and we make our friends ears bleed with their names. Because as much as we wish it, this process is unnatural so it remains at the forefront of our minds. The main battle of a break up is predominately moving the person who has impacted our hearts, from love, to loved. We spend so much energy and tears throughout this transition we decide it can only be one of the two emotions, love or hate. To continue loving is to continue wanting and to start hating is to start letting go. Seemingly, we must despise our previous partner in order to move on. We try so hard to forget memories, to forget feelings and to remember negative qualities. To convince our hearts and our minds that it no longer is love.

This is just a notion that doesn't sit right with me. Not mentally and most definitely not emotionally. It takes far to much energy for me to hate someone, despite anything they did wrong by me. Their actions weren't my choice, but mine are. The memories I had, whether reciprocated at the time or not, were ones of love. 

I can choose not to publicly bash a person reputation, I can choose not to fill my life with hate, to not avoid certain locations for fear of crossing paths, to not continue this ridiculous battle against memories and love. I want to stop deleting photos, to stop cringing at the mention of a names, to stop feeling sick at the thought of seeing you again. 

This isn't at all to say I think that to accept loving someone is continue wanting to be with them or to agree with their actions. The two are not mutually exclusive in the slightest. It is to say, i accept love as a permanent emotion. We can't choose to feel it, so why should we think we can choose to forget it? All these nauseating feelings associated with a break are purely a product of fighting a natural emotion. Thats exactly what is it, an emotions. Its not a lifestyle, its not a need or a want. Its not a choice.

Instead, be prepared to let go of the space that they took in your life. Battle against changing your routine. Work for finding new favourite things with different people. Forget their actions, forget the pain and forget the hate but not the impact they had on your life.

Let the hate be theirs to taint their life and appreciate that love is all you will ever feel for them. Don't let a persons actions dictate your feelings.

I can now say if I've ever said I love you to someone, I will always mean it. But if someone is to stop bringing me happiness and responding with love will only determine whether they continue to occupy a place in life not whether they occupy a place in my heart.

[chappykm]