Learning to Love Life

This post is somewhat of an unveiling of where I came from and may reveal the reasons why I am so driven when it comes to healing and change in the face of adversity. Though you are about to learn a little about my background, I want you to know that where I come from, is nothing in comparison to where I am going, who I am and what I stand for. And that is, the human potential for transformation and healing. Through the power of perspective, I wish to shed light here, on the truth that no matter what, we have to potential to rise above, live with love and learn with enough desire to do so. And I hope through the discovery of where I came from, you will understand how possible it is, to be your own inspiration…regardless of circumstance.

My sister was living on the streets when she was just thirteen years old. She had run away from our mother who’s drug dependency on heroin, canabis, pills and alcohol also had me struggling to choose between my frequently violent father and her to live with, as a young child. I literally ran away from my fathers at just 9 years old to return to my mother’s. My father drank heavily…smoking cannabis and injecting amphetamines much of the time. 

It was his volatility which lead to my flee…back to mum for the first time since we went to the family rehab when I was 7, being taken again by the courts. Once again, Mum had grown incredibly dependent on drugs and alcohol, and living with us at the time was my 13 year old brother’s 16 year old pregnant girlfriend. Just ten years old, I continued to witness my mother’s criminal pursuits that funded her heroin habit. Finding a new boyfriend after her last one overdosed when we went to rehab and left him, mum began spending most of her time away from home.  

Our sister (my brother’s twin) just 13, who was living on the streets, had overdosed a number of times on heroin by this time and our two older brothers were living in refuges already, leaving in their early teens. My oldest brother by nine years left around the time I was 6. Being the only one home one day (as I often was), I packed my bags and took the train back to Dad’s to live for just a few short months where I turned 11 before taking off back to Mum’s, while Dad and his girlfriend were injecting speed in the bathroom. 

When I arrived at the train station, everyone was waiting. There was mum, my brother, his pregnant girlfriend and even my sister was back again. Less than a month later, my sister was gone again after another fallout with mum, and my brother was taken, tied up and tortured to death by mum’s drug dealer with the help of six other men, and one woman. It was day’s before the twins would have turned 15. I watched my mother overdose right after my brother’s funeral before being rushed to hospital. With the murder all over the papers, immediately we were placed under police protection before the trial and 3 months later, my brother’s baby boy was born. Six months after that, my sister finally committed suicide after many attempts, leaving a note, which again made the papers.

A few more months and I left to go live with my Dad again when my uncle was released from prison and came to live with us, after having my life threatened by him. Little did I know, he was sentenced for rape, armed robbery and drug dealing. Some months later, I was assaulted by my father and placed in foster care again. At fourteen I had a nervous breakdown as I faced homelessness, and was admitted to an adolescent psych ward. 

After this my life became quite the colourful journey of up’s and downs. I lost my mother’s father who I lived a few blocks away from at the time when I was 16, just 2 days after spending Christmas with him. I lost my boyfriend in a car accident at 17 and my mother a year later when I was 18. The last time I saw her was when she came with me to put flowers on his grave. When I was 20 my father died and today 7 years later…I look back with gratitude for it all. Watching my mother go to prison for dealing heroin at 4 years old, having first been taken from her at 3 years old, going to 13 different schools and moving over 55 times by my early twenties…I give thanks for the lessons I have learned and feel grateful to have such a contrast of life experience to give me the perspective that I have today. 

I feel blessed that life has taught me how to begin again, how to let go and surrender to the divine will, for it has given me the understanding that sometimes, things fall apart so they can fall together. Every little twist and turn, every time I’ve been burnt, I have learned. I give thanks for the blessings in disguise, for they have opened my eyes. Through the hurdles and hardness, I have grown. Life to me is an art… and though the canvas may look bare, we have the freedom to choose what colours we bring. Writing my first book The Sacred Psychology of Healing, was for me a journey of completion, putting into words, all of the insights that have brought me to a place of peace and clarity that I can only hope to share with the world. 

Having encouraging feedback from incredible leaders in the field of personal development and healing has given me great encouragement to keep on believing and doing what I have always done…that which has helped me through. Through the book, I share my deepest learnings that have transformed my life in an incredibly empowering way to come from a dark place and be able to step into my own light, completely inspired and grateful. I feel blessed to have accomplished such a huge heartfelt dream that I have had for much of my life…to finally publish my first book of many. It gives me great honour to be able to share with others in a way that I can facilitate healing and awakening to the potential of the human spirit. So today, I wish to give thanks to all of the people that have inspired and believed in me along the way, to know the value of sharing, beyond the fear of judgment.