Three days ago, I woke up with a frozen shoulder; I was unable to sleep the prior night or get out of bed. This has happened before, but this time, with the help of my amazing practitioner, Jenny Ellis, I really listened to the message being offered up. I came to understand the message along with fixing the actual physical pain. And this is what I discovered… Continue reading “A Frozen Shoulder: Thawing my Resistance to my Inner Quality”
I can pinpoint the exact moment that I first encountered women’s breasts being portrayed in a sexual way. I was about seven years old and was in the little village post office, come newsagent, come hardware store, come sweet shop, in the very rural part of North Yorkshire where my family lived. I was having my usual quandary as to how best to spend my ten pence. I could either get a little white paper bag of 10p’s worth of sherbet pips or I could get 10p’s worth of assorted 1p sweets. Invariably I went for the latter, as I loved the whole process of choosing ten different sweets. Black Jacks, Fruit Salads and Outer Spacers were always a non-negotiable part of my mix. Whilst pondering the almost magical assortment of different boxes and jars of sweets, I looked up at the top shelf and saw the front cover of a ‘girly magazine’. I distinctly remember the photo on the front, not of the woman’s face, but of her bare breasts and the fact that her arms were above her head.
I remember, even as a child, not caring about what I wore. Often what I did wear was really just to hide my beauty and I used clothes to make me look ugly. One time I remember choosing glasses similar to my Dad’s, which did absolutely nothing for me. As I did not care for what I wore I got all the hand-me-downs from relatives, friends and boyfriends. On reflection they did not support me at all in being me or as a woman – they were more masculine, very simple and completely random.
I went shopping the other day for some nice warm vests or sweaters. I have been having some trouble finding one as I find the fashion at the moment very ‘baggy’ for women. With that I mean that it is very wide and does not show much of our bodies. I would find myself wondering often if the clothing I had in my hands was really a size S or that it was tagged wrong? (It would be the first one – really a size S.)
As a child growing up there was not a lot of money coming into our household so I would wear hand me downs that my mother altered to fit me, and as for underwear, it was plain and practical.
Our home life was not a happy one in any way. I lived for the day that my father would finally see me for who I was, or even talk with me. There was never any sharing or chatting with each other, and as children my sister and I only seemed to be spoken to when we were judged to be in trouble. Even Mum and Dad very seldom spoke to each other. At school the children used to chatter away to each other, but for me I was always on the outside thinking that ‘no one wanted to hear what I had to say’, and my self confidence and self worth slowly diminished every day.
For many years I used to sit up late at night, watching TV whilst indulging in some sweets or junk food, thinking this is ‘me-time’. Considering that I was always a natural early morning person, I used to push through when I felt tired in the evening, choosing to override that feeling and just prop myself up with some sweet foods to stay awake and watch another late night movie I thought I could not miss. Interestingly, most mornings I could hardly remember what I had watched the night before …
I recently participated in a 6 week Esoteric Yoga Program for Women at a significant point in my life – towards the end of my last pregnancy. I was blown away by all that the program unveiled for me, and the offer to go deeper to appreciate the amazingly powerful woman that I am. I noticed as I progressed through the program I was connecting more with an inner stillness.
This supported me to be more lovingly attentive and remain steady through each day and as situations came up.
The following is just one example of a situation that came up while on the program and what was revealed to me about making a choice to feel amazing.
I have two of them and never would I have ever expected to be sharing the story of my breasts with the world, let alone celebrating the depth of beauty and Love they emanate and that I now live.
My True relationship with my Breasts began 9 years ago with my first Esoteric Breast Massage (EBM). At the time I was breastfeeding a baby and moving on from an abusive relationship. It could now be said that I was moving on from a long-standing, far more abusive relationship with myself.
I’d never realised how deeply ingrained self-abuse was, how insidious and foul – a stench that plagued me for as long as I remember and yet was a safe, known companion and the red marker pen which I branded myself with as ‘wrong’.
Although it hasn’t always been this way …
Breasts. Even just saying this word conjures up so many feelings.
When I was young, intimate body parts like breasts were never discussed with family or friends. There was a slight air of embarrassment around it, and from this I interpreted that breasts were definitely something to hide and not talk about.
It seems strange to say this now, but once upon a time I had no awareness of my breasts other than as:
- a visible marker of my womanhood
- objects of sexual pleasure
- a physical inconvenience due to persistent lumps and soreness.
In truth, I was actually more annoyed by my breasts than anything else. At times I resented their visibility and the fact that I would be judged in some way when given the ‘once over’ by others (men and women). I certainly was not impressed by the lumps and pain I’d experienced since my 20s, which had me frequently rushing off for mammograms, convinced I had cancer. There was some compensation for these woes, in terms of the feelings I derived from them during sex, but even this felt somewhat hollow and certainly didn’t offset my physical condition.