Rising Star

This blog is dedicated to 'Anonymously Addicted' who, in yesterday's comments, wrote:

"OMG- am I addicted?? Where's yesterdays blog Grace? TALK TO US!!!!!!"

Whilst I had in fact posted a blog the day before, it was, by my own admission, rather insubstantial.

So today I'm making up for it by telling you a story. A word of warning; it's my longest post to date and may require tissues. It's about a 5-year old me, my out-of-control tricycle, bully twin sisters and my Barbie star pendant.

My childhood home was situated at the highest point of a cul-de-sac. The land plateaued in front of our property before making its steep descent to a main road, which connected us to an adjoining court. We (my brothers and I) were not permitted to venture outside our court. It was the law; one I adhered to without ever, intentionally, breaching.

One day I was riding my fixed wheel tricycle, when I started gaining too much speed down the hill. The pedals were spinning faster than my little legs could manage and I remember feeling totally out of control as I accelerated towards the legal boundary.

There was nothing more I could do than to hold on for dear life. My trike arrested once it crossed the border and ascended the hill on the other side (to this day I am thankful a car wasn't travelling on the main road that connected the two courts).

I knew I'd be in trouble for breaking 'the law', but what I didn't anticipate was the trouble I'd be in from landing in enemy territory. The twin sisters from the opposing court were renowned for being bullies, though I'd never known it first hand. That is, not till that fateful day.

The wicked sisters of the west charged towards me, their brother in tow. Before I could retreat to the safety of my turf, I was being restrained by the boy who held my arms behind my back. They each took turns at using me as a punching bag, not to mention scratching me and pulling my hair.

I can still hear my voice crying out loud and desperately shouting at my then 3 year old brother, "Don't just stand there!" but really, what could he do? (I'm so grateful now that they didn't turn on him too).

Then they did the unthinkable.

They grabbed my golden Barbie star pendant, along with the necklace it was attached to, ripped it off my neck and threw it down the street drain.

"Nooooooooooooooooooo!!!!!!!!!!!!"

This hurt more than the punching, the scratching and the humiliation.

That was my favourite piece of jewellery before being acquainted with my next favourite; a bluebird on a silver-plated chain. I had received the gold star as a birthday present with an accompanying Barbie doll (I'm sure the pendant was meant to accompany the doll, though to me that faux-gold star was worth more than the 'perfect plastic woman').

I don't remember much after the beating, other than being left in a heap at the bottom of the street. I was sobbing uncontrollably and attempted to retrieve my beloved Barbie star pendant. But no matter how far I reached, or how hard I tried, I could not get to it. I just looked at it through the concrete gap, crying, and crying... and crying.

Years later I found myself in Kuala Lumpur. It was the day after our 6th wedding anniversary and my husband was out buying bike parts for his impending cycling trip in north India. I on the other hand was heading to south India and preferred doing more girlie things prior to my departure, like browsing for shoes.

Our anniversary gift to each other was a romantic few nights at the Crowne Plaza Hotel overlooking the Petronas Twin Towers, which was just lovely. Only whilst I was out on my shoe expedition, I came across this diamond-studded white gold star (pictured) and thought it an apt encore to the previous night's celebration.

It instantly reminded me of the loved one I lost in that incident, bringing forth a flood of emotions. Instead of running away from the memory and the pain it regurgitated, I wanted to rise above it. And so, in that moment, I did the unprecedented act of buying myself a valuable jewellery item (albeit under the guise of an anniversary present from my husband).

This pendant is my 'rising' star.

It is my daily reminder of how I can overcome obstacles and rise above adversity no matter how big (or old) they are, or I am. It is a reinforcement to me now, and a comfort to the little girl that I grew from.

In times of self-doubt, I hold it. It speaks of my strength and resilience. It prompts me to let go of the past, with a promise that the future will be better. When I catch sight of it in the mirror, I can't help thinking that perhaps there's something else it's trying to tell me... and possibly the reflection I see, is the rising star within me.

Until tomorrow, may you seek what reflects the rising star within you.

Grace xx

ps. As I wrote today's blog, I realised the uncanniness that the reunion between me and my star all took place while I'd been sleeping in the shadows of the world's tallest twin sisters, the Petronas Towers, and my husband was looking for bike related products (quite possibly brake parts) - is that the Twilight Zone theme I hear playing?

FRAGILE: Handle with Care

Sometimes life throws us curve balls. Just when we think we're on the right track, everything is chugging along nicely - we hit a bump in the road.

I have hit such a bump.

Though my injured right butt cheek's recovering, it's feeling 'fragile'... and so, it seems, is my spirit.

After flying high on the wings of empowerment and 'getting my shit together' - here I find myself feeling lost once more.

How can this be?

Then I realised that a recovering human spirit is not unlike a recovering addict... and a recovering butt cheek.

Like an addict, I had damaged my spirit (and consequently my body) by becoming hooked on abusing myself. My poisons were; harsh self criticism and 'illicit foods' (for me that stands for anything with a high Glycemic Index, as I'm bordering insulin resistance).

Since embarking on Project Grace 2010, I've enjoyed the benefits of being 'clean' - free of damaging toxic thoughts and actions. However I have found the demons are quick to raise their ugly heads as soon as an opportunity presents itself.

This time something is different.

This time, I know I have a choice.

Instead of heading down that dark road to self-hatred, I am choosing something else.

I am choosing to say: It's okay...

It's okay to have a setback - it's not the end of the road. You're not a bad person. Your recovering spirit is as fragile as your recovering butt - handle with care and you'll soon be over it.

And with that I sign off with a smile and the words of Katherine Scarlett O'Hara.

"After all... tomorrow is another day"

Until then,

Grace xx

ps. BTW Will's been a little distant, though (thankfully) hasn't completely abandoned me. It's a bit like being in the presence of somebody too busy SMS'ing someone else to notice you've tripped up and could do with a little assistance. You can be sure that I'll be having a word with Will Power as soon as I've hit 'publish post'.

Will and Grace

Today I'd like to talk about a side of me that I've had a troubled relationship with. Please allow me to introduce you to Will - Will Power.

Will and I once enjoyed a very healthy and mutually respectful relationship. Will was always by my side - ready to stand up for me when I couldn't stand up for myself.

If it weren't for Will, I would never have won $15,000 in a body transformation challenge back in 2002 (see pic below) - nor would I have had the courage to launch my children's book in 2007... but that's another story.

It was a comfort knowing I could rely on Will. Always at my side and stepping in at any sign of weakness, Will was dependably there to save me from myself.

But something happened.

Over the last few years, Will had proven to be rather unreliable and, until now, I'd never bothered to ask why. Instead, I became despondent. Having felt that Will had abandoned me, I began taking a series of regrettable actions and inaction, which lead me to the unenviable point of 'losing myself'.

Whatever happened to my friend and saviour Will Power?

Thankfully, Will has been dropping past more regularly since I embarked on Project Grace 2010. Today, while I was at the gym, Will and I had a long overdue conversation. Just in case you have images of me talking to myself while the gym manager dialled up the dudes in white coats - this was all taking part in my head while I was licking the sweat from my upper lip, which I might add was deliciously salty.

I discovered that Will became wounded several years ago and has been battling just to stay alive. There were moments when Will would gain strength only to crumble whenever there was a bump in the road.

I discovered that Will was like a muscle and if not used, would atrophy. The more Will is exercised, the stronger Will would become.

Going to the gym to build my muscle's strength and endurance is also doing wonders for Will. The two of us, side-by-side, are unstoppable. As I become stronger, so does Will... and vice versa.

Thankfully, our relationship is healing. With each day and in every moment I connect with my wonderful long lost friend, Will Power, I feel anything is possible... and with that, I am happy.

May the love and strength of Will Power be with you too.

Until tomorrow,

Grace xx