Three is a magic number

One day last week, on my icy morning walk, I saw a young boy teetering on the edge of a frozen puddle. His curiosity and desire to test the ice was mesmerizing. You could see it in his face. Eyes wide and focused. Tongue sticking out. He knew that there was a risk and a very high chance that his foot would shatter the ice, and plunge into the cold water beneath the very thin surface - and he did it anyway.

This innocence instantly reminded me of the courage it took for me to open my heart up to women.

As you have already read in the previous piece, trusting women was not my natural state.

Today, I want to share with you what I believe was my first experience of heartbreak when it came to feminine relationships. Just like the thin ice, my young heart shattered in this particular story.

When I was in grade three, eight years old going on nine, I was part of a trio.

Samantha, Ashleigh and of course me. We were truly inseparable. Samantha and I had been in kindergarten together, and when we hit primary school, we found Ashleigh. It was an instant cosmic connect. We did everything together, from netball and basketball matches, to hysterical sleepless-sleepovers, to talking about our first crushes. At school, we were together in every class, and at recess and lunch breaks we had also formed a Spice Girls group (if you know, you know)

We collected all of the collector cards that were all the rage at that time, and at every break, we would gather and rehearse: singing into our imaginary microphones, while Samantha would create dance routines for us so that we could have dance offs with the “other” Spice Girls clique. (if you were wondering, I was Posh and I even begged my mum to cut my hair into a bob to complete the look. I know, such commitment and follow through!)

Anyway as you know, there was Baby (Samantha), Ginger, Sporty (Ashleigh) and Scary too. So we had two more places to fill. We chose another Ashleigh and a girl named Rebecca. They naturally spent more and more time with our trio, and there felt like an expansion but also an undeniable loyalty between the three of us. That no matter what, there was an unspoken bond between the three of us. It would just be us.

At some point that year, the infamous chicken pox was going around, and slowly but surely, we each got it. Somehow the rest of our Spice Girls group managed to get it all at once, except for me. Which meant, when I did finally get the pox, I was out of school, and little did my eight year old self know, that my whole world was about to change.

I’ll never forget the day I came back.

As I walked into the school yard, to our usual before class spot in the quadrangle, and saw Samantha, Ashleigh and Rebecca standing there. My heart jumped up into my throat and I instantly knew that something I’d been dreading had already taken place. This was one of the first clear and visceral memories of intuition in my young female body. One I’ll never forget.

For a little background, Rebecca had always been wanting to be part of our trio. What the three of us had was special, and naturally she wanted to belong. But we had always enjoyed our special bond and didn’t want anyone to break that, or so I thought.

As we went to class, the three of them sat together without a word, and I was left to find my own seat. Without any explanation, a cold shoulder, and the existential dread deepened.

If you have ever been left out as a child, you know the feeling I’m talking about. I can feel that same lump jump up from my heart and into my throat and I can feel the tears welling in my eyes as I type.

Little me, if you are listening, I want you to know that I wish I could have been there for you in that moment, to help you make sense of what was happening in your heart and in your world.

Because it was at that moment that I decided I wasn’t safe around women.

It was at that moment, I had evidence that I could not trust girls/ women.

And at that moment I wanted the hurt to stop so badly,, so I got tough and pretended like I didn’t care. I went quiet. I denied my feelings to my friends, but worst of all, I denied them and buried them deep within me.

I let myself slip away from the connection with Samantha and Ashleigh and girls at large, and became better friends with the boys - because they couldn’t hurt me, not like this. (More about this way of relating in future stories) If you read last week’s email, you’ll see that I was also subconsciously repeating what I saw my mother do at the salon.

I still was friends with them, but the distance helped to keep my pain at bay, and the sadness - oh my god the sadness - was just buried and denied, pushed all the way down to the deepest part of me, only to resurface last year when I allowed myself to move through the grief recovery method with my teacher, Everest.

Grief recovery method is a process that I cannot highly recommend enough, because when we navigate grief (which is highly connected to the feminine) we need a safe structure (the masculine) to hold us as we traverse the depths of our experience. Contrary to belief, grief is something we shouldn’t have to go through alone.

We all go through life pretending we aren’t fucking heartbroken about all sorts of things. Whether that’s the death of a loved one, the end of a relationship, the current global situation, or that eight year old you who was really sad about being left out.

The sadness harboured within us yearns to be felt. It is an invitation for us to go deep into our hearts, and should we choose to accept this invitation, there is a love unlike any other, waiting for us to return, remember and embody on the other side.

Grief brings us to the life-death-life cycle. The death and rebirth process is one that I intimately and professionally work with by accessing the archetypal rites of passage - the journey of Maiden to Mother, from immature to mature Feminine. Death, grief and the underworld are portals to our soul path and purpose in this lifetime. We must go down there, to the places that ache to feel and then let ourselves die, so that we can come back with the wisdom integrated.

As you can see, this process requires support, and a holding like no other.

We were never meant to do this alone, not now, not ever, and yet so many of us wander around in the dark and in silence.

It took me getting really honest about how sad I was and why I hadn’t trusted women for so long. When I was able to be with it, I could then tell the story. Hearing it for the first time gave me the opportunity to heal it at the source.

However, as I continued to grow and move from adolescence into womanhood, I also continued to gather and compile every shred of evidence (consciously and subconsciously) I could find to support the way I made sense of the world in that moment as a hurt, eight year old girl.

The fractured relationship with my mother.

The fractured relationship to my sexuality and my body.

The fractured and distanced relationship with other women.

It was only really when I moved away from home and began to settle here in the UK and began to make new friends, that I started to see the narrative for what it really was. Since moving to the UK in 2013,, I have had my fair share of feminine heartbreak, but the truth is I’ve also fallen madly in love with the women in my life.

In case you’re still wondering if I trust women, the answer is yes.

I now trust women, because I trust and love myself.

And as each day goes by, I lean into the love of women in my life, and love myself more.

The past year or so has been pivotal in healing this wound. I’ve finally found my teachers Everest Asher and Sarah Durham Wilson - thank you, I love you both, and there will never be words to describe how your unique expression, love and presence has changed my life.

I am blessed to have a worldwide community of women in my life. Literally worldwide.

You know who you are. Each of and every single one of you were the women I was destined to find and fall in love with. You see me, understand me, love and accept me in my wild fullness. I’m home and on my throne because of these women (because of you.)

The only way I could find these women was to find the sad little girl inside of me and love her to queendom come.

So back to the boy and the ice. Any new relationship, regardless of gender, is kind of like teetering on the edge of a frozen puddle.

I know that there is a chance that it could all shatter, and I plunge into the deep cold water beneath, but I take the risk. I choose to open my heart to the pain and sadness, and the love, joy and connection. Because sometimes you can skid and slide along the top of the ice with a great big smile on your face. Or like this little boy, your feet go all the way through the ice into the puddle, and you let out a huge belly laugh, and your mate comes running over to laugh with you.

Life’s not easy, but sharing our stories makes us feel less alone.

So, to my eight year old self,

“I am sorry you went through that. It was really tough.

But you know what? I’m here now, and I’ll scoop you up in my arms and hold you tight, because your heart matters to me, and you don’t have to feel sad or alone.

Mark my words, there are amazing women out there, waiting just for you, so as much as this sucks, because it really does, I want you to know that you are loved, and that I’ll never leave you or turn my back on you. Ok?

I love you.”

Love,

Big You