Please Don’t Forget Me!

In the challenging and mundane moments that are parenthood, it’s often hard to remember the times when we were just us. You, Me – Us. Partners! Hours of freedom to do what we like – listening to and responding to our own needs as they transpire. Trips away to paradise- to cities- exploring, playing and just being. Weekends filled with passion- limbs intertwined in every room of the house and him- devoted entirely to me – only me- and looking at me with eyes that so clearly convey that I am the person who brings him the most joy and fulfilment. I am happiness. I am love. I am peace. I am his safe place. Pure contentment. And then I’m not.

Having a child is no doubt the most challenging hurdle that any couple can encounter. I am still coming in for landing twenty months into the journey. I knew parenthood would bring us a myriad of challenges, but I did not prepare myself for facing the fact that I am now number two in his life. Having a daughter to the man you love is a combination of complete joy and satisfaction, mixed with disconnect, loneliness and dubiety.

Perhaps this is just my own experience and my own insecurities, but ever since becoming a mum, I have felt like less of a partner. No, I am not competing with my daughter because I am emotionally mature enough to know that the way he loves me is not the way he loves her. But I can feel that things are different and I am smart enough to know that getting his attention and his complete focus these days requires work, a huge amount of selflessness and some tact. I am smart enough to know that not all relationships last the distance, and that entering the realm of parenthood can make or break a partnership, no matter how solid the foundation.

It’s not easy this motherhood thing. Last night I went out to dinner with my mothers group ladies. I returned home at 11pm tired and depleted because socialising is, well… social. Husband asked me for back scratches (his love language), but I reactively and aggressively rejected him because I was counting down the seconds until my head would hit the pillow and I needed to maximise my sleep for the night in order to be a fully functioning mother from 530am for a full day of intense toddler fun. These days I prioritise myself and unfortunately, the result of that is that I am not as smitten and devoted to my man as I used to be. The flow-on effect? Our relationship suffers. He suffers. Pre baby, I was borderline obsessed with my husband. I was at his beck and call with a sex drive that was literally ‘on-tap’. He used to make my limbs shake. He was a drug. Goosebumps, heart flutters, dripping p*&$y- the works. I would get withdrawals if a certain number of days went by where we did not ‘connect’ and then I would do anything and everything for his attention. As soon as he gave me a hit of his attention and physical touch (my love language), my nervous system calmed down. If he did not give me a hit, my cortisol levels would rise and I would find myself a complete emotional mess.

I am sure my attachment style has a lot to do with my relationship with my own father. These days I am more securely attached, but not by choice. My secure attachment is more to do with the fact that I need a bit less from a man since becoming a mother and I am craving being on my own a lot more these days due to the demands of motherhood. I am also hyper aware of my own journey and why I am who I am as a mother and wife – why I do the things I do. And so I am also reluctant to challenge my husband and beg for his attention when he is so devoted to his own baby girl instead of me. In fact, I actually want this devotion for her. I see the way he adores her. But I am also entirely absorbed by my own feelings because I had him and now I feel like I do not. I notice how he does not hear me when she is engaging him. I notice the empty silence and single word responses when I express my emotions. I notice the days where he does not kiss me goodbye or greet me hello and the times where I am talking to myself and no one is listening. I do not feel heard, held or noticed and I crave all of this so much. I deserve this so much.

I get why relationships – why marriages fail. I get why people cheat. I have ticked off all of the above. One minute you’re entirely devoted, the next minute you’re feeling flat, undesirable and literally craving attention- any attention! Some other person is interested in you and bang! A fire inside you lights up. And so the demise begins.

Dear Husband, please don’t forget me. I adore how you adore your baby girl. It brings me so much pleasure, particularly as I have no memory of my own father adoring me this way. Every little girl craves for her father to be devoted to her and the way that you ravish our girl is exactly as it should be. But me – your wife. I need more. I deserve more. Because I am still the baby girl that was not ravished by her own father. There is a little girl inside me and she is still hurting. She craves to be adored, loved unconditionally, desired and touched. She craves to be the centre of attention and for your eyes to be glazed over as you look at her. Darling husband, please look at me with admiration the same way you used to- before her. I know that you cannot replace what I have not been blessed with prior to our partnership, but I do know that you can cherish my commitment to you better and with more zest and more dedication. I do not need to be pushed aside because you have a new ‘love’. Love me- as I am- with her. Love us together because ultimately, you and me – we ARE her...

…Until Next Time…

H.V.G.

X.O.X.O

The ‘Mumposter’

“[Motherhood is] the biggest gamble in the world. It is the glorious life force. It’s huge and scary—it’s an act of infinite optimism.” – Gilda Radner

I had a moment at Salsa Class the other day. You would think that by my late thirties, I would have my shit together and quite frankly, not care what others think. When I arrived at class, I felt more than a little little insecure. I had my period, I had been struggling to figure out what to wear because I felt bloated (yes I move better when I look good), and I wasn’t exactly feeling sexy or like dancing with strangers. When I walked into the dance studio, all of the presumably younger Latinos and Latina’s (I am neither of these), were greeting one another excitedly with kisses and hugs and the energy of the room was a buzz. As usual, I removed my comfy shoes and sat down to put my heels on in the hope that I would at least look the part and be able to move my stiff hips and tight shins a little more freely. I was ok, and then I wasn’t. Firstly, I had sat down next to a young Latino guy who had been friendly to me a couple of months back, offering to meet up to practise our dancing. Due to life – being a mum and planning my own wedding, I neglected to ever lock in this practice and ever since, I couldn’t shake the cold shoulder feeling from him. He half looked up, looked at the possessions on the chair next to him then he turned back to the dancing. As two more dancers turned up, they approached him with excitement and started an energetic conversation. The calm adult in me told me to keep watching the previous class (who were very good), and to keep smiling. I am not in high school and I do not need to be affected by aloneness. But- I felt like an imposter. I felt like I shouldn’t be there- like I wasn’t cool enough, young enough or attractive enough to fit the mould of a Salsa Dancer. Mind you there are a handful of over 50’s in the classes, although the average age seems to be twenties to thirties. There was no obvious reason for me to feel this way.

When class started, I was relieved because it was a double class with two levels of dancers, meaning I could just blur into the dancing scene and forget all of my unwarranted ‘imposter syndrome’ feelings. Then there were those one or two familiar faces that I knew would make me feel welcome including the instructor. I was ok. Everything is fine. “Ok everyone, partner up and make 3 lines”, says the instructor. My ‘mum brain’ struggles to process anything complex. Threeeee lines. Uh, yes three lines. By the time I figured out what ‘three lines’ meant, I realised almost everyone had formed couples. I looked at the last couple of solo men and started to walk towards them only to be interjected by other women. Then I was alone. Oh gosh. Looking around the room, I realised that I was standing by myself and everyone else was partnered. I won’t go into the details, but it certainly felt like a primary school flash back moment where I hadn’t been picked for a sports team. My cheeks flushed as multiple people were telling me at once where to stand because I wasn’t making enough space for the couples to move in their lines. I was almost tearing up and every part of me wanted to rip off my shoes and escape from the room. When I got home, I cried.

Motherhood has really shifted my identity. Ever since I had my daughter, I haven’t felt like myself. I experience fleeting moments of myself like when I have a good session at the gym or when I’m dancing- and that’s about it. I am 18 months into motherhood. Unlike many women, I did not bounce back. Many would argue that I don’t have anything to worry about because I am a normal size and am fit. However, I have truly been grieving the person i was before becoming a mum- physically, emotionally and energetically. I am not going to lie- I used to get many looks from the opposite sex and I always felt confident whilst working out or attending social gatherings or public venues. I found keeping my appearance in check almost effortless pre motherhood. I had so much energy to train and i didn’t even have to think about the food that was going into my mouth- i must’ve just been intuitively doing the right thing. Since becoming a mum though, I have gained extra kilos that I can’t shift; losing the great hourglass shape my body used to have. Food is comfort and I have to squish my thighs and belly into my clothes these days. I have honestly aged five years and I have lost my mojo almost completely. Sex drive. What’s that?

This has been the toughest transition in my life. I do believe that some women are built for motherhood. I am not. You know those women who from their primary school years are obsessed with babies and go into adulthood with a vision of the family and the white picket fence? Then they pop out 3 under 4 and are oh so blessed and still fit into their pre baby jeans? My vision was more of the man, the high life, the travel, the career and the money. And all of the above was to be provided by yours truly. Until I was 35 I didn’t think I wanted children. My now husband provided a sense of security that I had never experienced and so my vision shifted. Trust. Protection. Being provided for. All of this is what has led me to take this path instead of the other, The outcome? I often struggle. It does not always come naturally and it is work- a lot of work. Don’t get me wrong, I am happy with my family. “Blessed” as they say and I honestly do believe that my baby girl is some kind of miracle as she was both created and born with minimal stress or fuss. I am elated every day to have her, but it is harder than I ever imagined and there are days where I really really grieve “me”. I haven’t quite found my feet yet a year and a half into the journey and there are so many days when I feel like an imposter – just like in dance class. In dance class I WAS the mum. I felt frumpy and there was an illogical part of me that wanted to be at home being a housewife, whatever that means these days.

In motherhood, I also feel like an imposter. I feel like I am that girl from Salsa class that has entered the sacred realm of motherhood without my licence or loyalty card stamped with four visits to the maternity ward at the Royal Women’s. I often feel lost, empty and a shell of my previous self. There are so many moments of pleasure, pride and disbelief that come with the job, but I have no doubt that becoming a mother for many is an entire life transition that can take years. There is eternal work and some never even make the transition. Having a child is not simply ‘becoming a mum’. It shifts the dynamic as an individual, a partner, a lover, a friend and a career woman. It’s wild. It’s tough. It is glorious. It hurts. It changes you. Getting your ab’s back or fitting into those jeans is only touching the surface. The real work is realising that I am meant to be here and it doesn’t really matter what that looks like.

When class started, I was relieved because it was a double class with two levels of dancers, meaning I could just blur into the scene of dancing and forget all of my unwarranted feelings. Then there were those one or two familiar faces that I knew would make me feel welcome including the instructor. I was ok. Everything is fine. “Ok everyone, partner up and make 3 lines”, says the instructor. My ‘mum brain’ struggles to process anything complex. Threeeee lines. Uh, yes three lines. By the time I figured out what ‘three lines’ meant, I realised almost everyone had formed couples. I looked at the last couple of men standing alone and started to walk towards them only to be interjected by other women. Then I was alone. Oh gosh. Looking around the room, I realised that I was standing by myself and everyone was partnered. I won’t go into the details, but it certainly felt like a primary school moment where I hadn’t been picked for a sports team. My cheeks flushed as multiple people were telling me at once where to stand because I wasn’t making enough space for the couples to move in their lines. I was almost tearing up and every part of me wanted to rip off my shoes and escape from the room. When I got home, I cried.
This has been the toughest transition in my entire life. I do believe that some women are built for motherhood, I am not. You know those women who from their primary school years are obsessed with babies and go into adulthood with a vision of the family and the white picket fence? Then they pop out 3 under 4 and are oh so blessed and still fit into their pre baby jeans? My vision was more of the man, the high life, the travel, the career and the money. And all of the above was to be provided by yours truly. Until I was 35 I didn’t think I wanted children. My now husband provided a sense of security that I had never experienced and so my vision shifted. Trust. Protection. Being provided for. All of this is what has led me to take this path instead of the other, The outcome? I struggle. I am happy with my family. Blessed as they say and I honestly do believe that my baby girl is some kind of miracle as she was both created and born with minimal stress or fuss. I am happy every day to have her, but it is harder than I ever imagined and there are days where I really really grieve “me”. I haven’t quite found my feet yet a year and a half into the journey and there are so many days when I feel like an imposter – just like in dance class. In dance class I WAS the mum. I felt frumpy and there was an illogical part of me that wanted to be at home being a housewife, whatever that means these daysHaving a child isn’t just ‘becoming a mum’. It shifts the dynamic as an individual, a partner, a lover, a friend and a career woman. It’s tough. It’s wild. It’s glorious. It hurts. It changes you. Getting your ab’s back and fitting into those jeans is only the beginning.

Until next time…. Keep Dancing.

XO H.V.G.

Boudoir – Ooh La-uh-huh!

How unleashing your inner ‘wild woman’ could be the ticket to unprecedented self-love.

**How taking a Boudoir Photoshoot enabled me to reach a new level of confidence and self-love.**

I’m not sure how I became so insecure with my body. My mum was always comfortable in her skin and I’m sure she believed that I would follow suit. She was the ideal female role model and as a little girl and a teenager, she taught me self love and compassion, frequently feeding me the belief that I was beautiful as I was and that I would grow into a perfectly proportioned woman. My mum was a fine example of confidence and femininity. In fact, I vividly recall sitting on the floor of her dressing room as a child, watching my mother radiate the most breathtaking feminine energy, as she applied her makeup then dressed effortlessly in flowing skirts, espadrilles and thick leather waist belts to highlight her hourglass figure. She was that woman that turned heads as she walked into a room, and as a young girl, I dreamed of experiencing these moments myself one day.

Perhaps it was the lack of male attention due to my dad being so absent in my growth years and I actually craved the compliments from dad rather than mum, or maybe it was that one time those teenage boys yelled out “fat skank” as i walked up the street in a denim mini skirt at 12 years old showing off what I had thought were ‘good legs’. Maybe I can blame the Australian culture for sexualising nudity, rather than accepting it as ‘normal’ like many of the European cultures, or maybe it was because I never had the opportunity to attend a dance class where I could learn to be in touch with my feminine form. Nonetheless, I have lacked confidence in my physical self my entire life. The journey of loving myself in my body, and finding the confidence to feel deeply free in my own skin has been one of my greatest roadblocks to self growth.

When I joined a coaching program after a broken marriage and a couple of failed attempts at a new relationship, It’s safe to say that I was rock bottom and my self love practices consisted of fuelling myself with alcohol, over-training at the gym and flirting with men that I had no intentions with, simply for self validation. Every small ounce of attention from a male would give me a quick tick of validation, which was always followed by the same feelings of not being good enough. I would find myself ‘acting free’ on a dance floor, as I stared daggers at the beautiful woman dancing with her eyes shut, moving freely – embodied – feminine- with no care in the world. As I stiffly shook my hips, I would glance around for male approval, then convince myself that the ‘other woman’ was being slutty and was probably the type of girl that would take off her clothes for anyone. Yet deep down I wanted to feel what she was feeling.

When I came across the ‘homework’ to partake in a boudoir photoshoot as part of my coaching program, I quickly pushed the idea to the back of my head, telling myself that this homework was for the prettier women- the women with better bodies and that I wasn’t good enough to get the tick of approval from men. For me it was always about validation.

Then, like a sign from the universe, I was approached online by a photographer who had seen my published photo from a car event that I had attended for a work colleague. I had posed with the cars for a bit of fun and my ammateur photos were online. The photographer asked if I would be interested in TFP (a trade of services – my modelling in exchange for photos for his portfolio). The timing was fit. I had nothing to lose (not even money), and so I bit the bullet and asked if he had experience in boudoir. Ah the ultimate test of me being comfortable in my own skin – in front of a camera!

The Shoot:

Me. Lingerie. Camera. Photographer. Exposed. Having a Boudoir photo shoot was one of the most challenging things I have ever done for myself. For once, I was doing something for me- not for anyone else’s approval or validation. I was lucky that the photographer who approached me was experienced and I quickly learnt after speaking with him and reaching out to some of the models that he had worked with in the past, that he was professional, tasteful and a respectful family man. (Yes it had crossed my mind that he could be a rapist or a serial killer, so references are a must). Joe worked with me prior to my shoot, so that I wasn’t aimless when I turned up to the shoot. He sent me example photo shoots, names of girls I could talk to online for encouragement and ideas and suggested what I could wear. He booked a hotel room to take the photos so that we were in neutral territory. We agreed to a couple of styles of photographs and he told me to bring a few outfit changes, jewellery, heels and fresh flowers. As I pulled all of my gear together in the days prior, I could feel the nerves and excitement brewing. I had no idea how I would do this, and how I would feel comfortable and not awkward. I was kicking myself for not being stricter with my nutrition in the weeks leading up and as I scrolled the models on his instagram page, I felt a pang of inadequacy, then reminded myself why I was doing this. If I hated the photos, then I never had to do anything with them. No pressure. No pressure. No Pressure.

I remember now, on the day of the shoot meeting Joe in the hotel lobby. I had my makeup done, my hair was perfect and I was wearing sky high heels. As I got into the elevator, I recall making eye contact with myself in the mirror. And in that moment I let go. Wow. I looked beautiful. This was a chance to be free- to fully embrace the experience and let go. If I can’t love myself now- in a moment of true vulnerability and in the ultimate feminine space, then when will I ever? So I left the old me in the elevator and decided to ‘Carpe Diem’. While it did still take me a little while to ‘warm up’, I managed to relax into my shoot relatively fast. The lighting was dim (perfect for boudoir) and so it flattered my body. I owned up to Joe about my insecurities (please no bum shots and can we be kind to my lower belly pooch). This communication was oh so important because Joe nurtured me, encouraged me into my best angles and respected my insecurities. We were not rushed, and there were many moments where I laughed if I felt awkward instead of judging myself. There were nipple slips, leg cramps and awkward double chin moments, but with trust in myself and my photographer, I felt confident that this was all a part of the experience and was able to let my inner wild woman free. Ah so this is what it feels like! Before I knew it, I was coming up with poses on my own, and a natural sparkle was coming out in the photographs as the shoot progressed. I was fuelled with adrenaline, pride and confidence and was able to truly believe that I was a worthy subject for the lens. For once, I was entirely present in my body and the me that drove home that day was experiencing a whole new chapter of self love and acceptance.

When Joe contacted me with the photos a few days later, I was shocked. He sent me some rough unedited shots, and admittedly I was in awe. I couldn’t believe how beautifully some of the photos turned out. And that they were unedited. Pride bubbled up into my throat as I scrolled the photos, and when he asked me to select twenty for him to edit, I actually found the process of elimination tricky, because each and every photograph was symbolic of tiny tiny steps towards self love and true feminine embodiment. I now proudly have a framed black and white piece on my bedroom wall with three of my personal favourites and have pledged to myself that I would do this again in a heartbeat if ever I truly doubted my feminine self – my beautiful female form, my feminine energy and inner wild woman.

In the mean time, I’d like to encourage every woman to embrace this experience – at least once – for herself. Because one day, you will look back at your twenty, thirty or forty year-old self and wish that you had embraced your ‘younger’, ‘wilder’ self.

MY TIPS FOR A BOUDOIR SHOOT:

Find a great photographer. Photographers are dime a dozen, but it’s important to find a good one, and someone who makes you feel safe. Social media is invaluable these days but can also be dangerous. By reaching out in the amateur modelling world, resources are at your fingertips. Search hashtags and find local models and photographers, then talk to them, ask questions, ask for references and research before meeting with someone. Make sure the person you choose is confident in Boudoir and is leading you from the beginning, rather than being left feeling aimless.

Find Your Style: It’s important to have an idea of what style you are going for. Again, scroll social media and Pinterest. Find photos and outfits that resonate and you may even find your photographer linked to the photos.

Have A Preparation Ritual: If you want to splurge, pay for a professional shoot and a makeup artist and hair stylist. Regardless, make sure you have prepared yourself physically for the shoot. I created a ritual prior to my shoot, making sure my legs and pits were shaved, I was moisturised, smelt good and that my hair and makeup was on point. Add some heels and lingerie to the equation and my confidence was soaring.

Have Outfit Options: Make sure you take plenty of costume changes. Nothing worse than being stuck with one outfit and trying to make it work. Props like fresh flowers or a silky sheet or robe are great too. Don’t be afraid to take the more risky outfit with you as well as the safe option. You can always start with one and progress to the next.

Have A Location that you vibe: Some women prefer to have their shoot at home, and that’s fine. But I found that travelling to a shoot location got me in the zone easier. I had no distractions and was able to fully embrace the experience and unleash my wild woman.

Carpe Diem: You may not be able to leave all of your insecurities at the door but remember why you are doing this. It is such an empowering experience. Trust me you won’t regret it.

…And just like that, in the words of Clarissa Pinkola Estes (Women Who Run With The Wolves),

“Bone By Bone, Hair by Hair, Wild Woman comes back.”

_{x H.V.G.}

Mother-Hood or Mother-Should?

As motherhood is the greatest and most natural God-given gift for women for posterity, it would seem that the birth and rearing of children, in the way which to us seems most ideal, would be the most satisfying and the most rewarding career for a woman.

Rose Kennedy

I’ve never been the clucky type. In fact, other people’s babies give me a unique feeling and i wouldn’t say it’s a good one. I find myself overwhelmed by a nervous sensation that’s half way between a fear of dropping them and a deep desire to squeeze their cheeks so hard that they will bruise – before promptly handing them back. Around me, friends and acquaintances are creating families – ‘lives’ and I am left with an unsettling feeling of inadequacy – that even with a successful progressing career as a Project Manager, being fit and healthy- and knowing that i’m breaths away from achieving that milestone of buying my own property, I know I will still have this weird feeling inside of me that I can’t put my finger on – that i’m not good enough as a woman.

As I embark on my mid thirties, I find myself becoming more and more aware of the purpose- the core function of a woman in this world to procreate another human. And it scares me to my womb. My early thirties didn’t go as planned. I suffered the breakdown of a marriage to the man that didn’t want a family to embarking upon a roller-coaster romance with the first man in my adult life that made my ovaries slightly tingle. Amongst numerous break-ups with him, I have found myself wondering about my fertility, my core desires and my ‘truth’ – whether or not I want to be a mother and if that is something that will fill me up to the brim. For sometime now, I’ve been waiting for my ‘maternal instinct’ to kick in and to suddenly want to declare loudly to the world that I want to be a mother!

… But it hasn’t happened. And as I delve deeper with myself in my journey of self discovery and through learning to harvest my femininity via various practices including embodiment, this is one emotion that I haven’t quite managed to fully move through my body. Even as a woman that has spent around fifteen years on the pill to avoid my body’s most primal function, I am aware of a pressure to fulfil this void as a woman. But how does one discern between fulfilling what’s ‘normal’ or ‘expected’ by society, natural instinct (hormones or lack thereof) and genuine desire? While I understand completely that all big life decisions come with a perceived fear attached, this is the one that rattles me the most and the fears aren’t vague.

Firstly, the concept of the stereotypical mum. There is no internal part of me that labels herself as a mum the way society sees her. Becoming that stereotype – going to mother’s groups, giving up my career and independence to push around a pram and bitch about other mothers new botox procedures over almond lattes makes me feel sick to the stomach. I’m more a strap on the chest, hike up a mountain alone kinda girl. On that note, is it politically correct to strap a baby on during a spin class? Maybe he/she can act as extra kilos on the stair climber? I rest my case. I can’t actually see myself feeling content with the fact that I have to tend to another screaming, needy human, rather than go to the gym, bake cookies in peace or earn a living for that matter.

Then there’s the body. At 35 the chances of getting pregnant are around 15-20% during each monthly cycle. Then at 35 it’s downhill. According to google i’m headed downhill. Supposedly the chances of the body bouncing back are around the same. I already have some loose skin from fluctuating weight and It makes me very nervous to think what could happen to my body as a result of growing another human inside in my late thirties. But who cares about that, right? Mummy scars etc etc. They say your man will still find you beautiful regardless, but say that to the wives of the two in five men that are rejecting their wives for porn, extra marital sex or massages with a happy ending. Ok Ok, but what about those insta mums, you ask? The one’s plastered all over instagram holding their babies stretch mark free with their perfect tans and tiny bikinis? These women are not the norm. A combination of good genes, good camera angles, tucking in loose bits, cosmetic procedures and being 24 years young does add to the whole yummy mummy look. And hey, if you’ve got the cash, vaginal tightening cosmetic procedures are on the cards now too. That’s if your husband values you as a piece of arm candy and earns enough to invest $50k annually in cosmetic procedures.

So what about sexual desire? Oh, sex. Such a taboo topic! Combined with the inevitable changes downstairs resulting from childbirth- which i’ve had conflicting feedback on, desire will undoubtedly shift. One of my honest girlfriends told me that things just changed down there; that sex became like throwing a hotdog down a hallway and that she never quite enjoyed it the same. My other mate told me that his friends wife has her uterus just drop out when she’s at the supermarket and basically can’t enjoy sex at all. I don’t know about you but the only thing i want to be dropping on the floor at the supermarket is my car keys. While I’ve heard both ends of the spectrum- no desire to increased desire, the ballpark seems to be that sexual desire shifts and your core needs and hormone production adapts to caring for another human. Humor me. Where’s the complete appeal in this? I get it, but let’s be honest, sexual intimacy is important. If most of you aren’t doing much of it, i’d suspect that even if you won’t admit it, you wish you were doing it more. Yes, I have a strong sexual appetite for a woman. Most days I’d be more than happy to embark on a sexual venture. If I had to make a split decision whether to film a porno or make a baby I know which would excite me more. If i can’t get my man into bed frequently enough now, then why would he desire me more when we are sleep deprived, my stomach skin is sagging and my vagina is fit to park a mini cooper? Oh how incredibly shallow of you H.V.G! As if sexual desire matters when you’re staring into the eyes of another human that you created yourself! Call me shallow, but it really is a genuine fear and I am likely speaking a truth that many women are afraid to voice.

And then there’s the stuff- oh the stuff! One of my girlfriends said, ‘oh but you get used to having all of the stuff’. Well… i’m not so convinced. I have such structured dreams about styling an incredible home. Picture Arizona meets Canadian log cabin. My dreams don’t involve placing jungle gyms and rockers in my living room and the thought of the constant mess and soiled clothing is enough to make me have kittens. And if you know me well, you would know I’m not a cat person… Moreover, having a tradie boyfriend that thinks that screws and concrete are washing machine friendly is enough stress for a woman like me. And as a career woman who has only recently experienced my first taste of non working life, I am also torn between some weird blurry desire and my innate need to work, have a career, earn money, earn my possessions, travel, buy property and not rely on another person to support me or fulfil my core needs. There is so much more to accomplish in life and I am shit scared of taking the wrong turn and experiencing regrets, whatever they may be.

And yet, even writing this article, I keep looking back at the statistics. My actual chances of falling pregnant aren’t incredible. So, given my apparent aversion and apprehension towards the topic, why does reading these statistics make me feel sick to the stomach? Surely this should only bother me if I have a deep core desire to be a mum? But for me it’s about allowing myself to enter the safe realm of choice. I want to be in a position where I am able to make the decision consciously- knowing that I am supported emotionally and financially by my man should I choose to sacrifice my body and knowing that putting my career on hold will not be the worst mistake of my life. My inherent nature – my learned behaviours from childhood is to work hard, earn my possessions and to make my own way in life – and that children are a burden. As I approach 35, the anxiety attached to the concept of motherhood is all-consuming.

But I can’t run away from this. One of life’s greatest decisions- life’s biggest opportunities for choice – taking one path vs another will shape a woman – for better or worse- for the rest of her life.

Until Next Time…

X H.V.G

Numero Uno..Or No?

.. Acing Numero Uno….The ultimate Love journey.

Numero Uno. Number one. In a world where our core desire is to be surrounded by love – to be greeted by our loved ones when we come home, it feels counterintuitive to direct one’s focus inwards rather than to invest it outwardly into our relationships. And rightly so – given that investing all our energy into ourselves and assuming that our relationships will magically unfold is a time bomb waiting to explode into shards of disappointment, unfulfilled desires and unrealistic expectations of what a successful relationship entails. So how does one find a successful balance, when being the opposite – overly invested in our relationships- can quickly become a dangerous and tumultuous journey of dependency and relationship anxiety?

I’ve always been a lover. I grew up dreaming of and believing in romance and soulmates. As a young adolescent, I quickly became fascinated with any novels that were centered around love and intimacy (and sex). I spent most of my teens thinking that each partner was the one i would settle with, followed by a period of sexually fueled single life, followed by meeting ‘the one’ – who turned out to not be the one. When I walked down the aisle on my wedding day, I truly believed that the man I solemnly vowed to love and honour – would be the last man in my life. Little did I know at the time, that I would be in my early 30’s, divorced and battling to understand myself as an individual as well as attempting to find a balance of ‘self’ and ‘relationship’ with a man that on most days feels like he is more into himself than me. Turns out the ‘one’ I married was a scenario of two people that lived and breathed one another to the point that ‘we’ became the norm over ‘you’ and ‘I’. But love is meant to be an obsession – right? He’s meant to be the ying to my yang and fuel me with excitement and entertain me on a daily, isn’t he? And then the stark reality hit. I am the only constant person in my life. I have to put up with ME every day and the relationships in my life are simply added value to the only core stability in my life -myself.

People come and go in life. As the Buddhists so bluntly observe, the only thing certain in life is our death. Therefore, the one continuity in our lives is our self, and as such, loving ourselves is the most crucial thing that we can learn to do. Our journey of self-love is exactly that. It is a life-long journey, and sadly there are many people that travel throughout life that never experience the full experience of self-love, let alone the ability to experience self-love in conjunction with peaceful cohabitation. Our experiences of self-love are so often masked by creating a version of ourselves that we present to the rest of the world. On the surface, we may appear to those observing from the outside that we love ourselves. Hell, you may have even convinced yourself that this image you have created is self-love. Every day, we are exposed to people that create a false image of themselves- someone who is happy, fit, healthy and successful, yet this is merely the art we create for our external world to consume. In addition, this is where the blurred lines between self love, selfishness and having narcissistic tendencies is created, leaving one struggling to find the ultimate balance.

So what about the people that devote their entire lives to caring for other people? You know who I am talking about. This person is so focused on their partner, their children and their friends, that they fail to even take the time to look in the mirror. Some individuals truly believe that love is found by looking externally, rather than inward. I was one of these people and to be honest, some days i resonate with this persona more so than someone who is highly independent and succeeding in looking within for ultimate love in fulfillment. In this state, all of ones energy is directed toward those they love. Without love, I am not worthy or happy or fulfilled. Without people to love, I may as well not exist. If I have no one to love in a romantic sense then I am failing. If I end up alone then I have ultimately failed. They travel through life relying on the care of other individuals and when they experience loss in any form, they feel that they have failed and often spiral into deep depression when that person or those people are no longer.

So how do we begin to find a balance between the love and attention that we invest into ourselves – be true to this and relationships versus the love and attention that we put into ourselves. The answer to this is not so simple. Being ABLE to look after ourselves, that is, to satisfy our own core needs and to practice self care, self development and live life with integrity and whilst meeting another person’s needs is A LOT of work. We are often made to feel guilty for being too ‘selfish’. If a mother wants time out from her child, they are selfish. If we put our own needs before our partners, we often feel guilty. In reality, the true ability to love externally comes from knowing when we need to look after number one – ourselves and how to love ourselves first.

Looking into the eyes of the man I love now, I have finally discovered that investing in our personal growth is often something that is put on the back burner when we become ‘drunk in love’, as Beyonce says. I have been forced to discover myself in the past 24 months and am forever grateful for this journey no matter how much discomfort it has caused. Investing in ourselves is the most difficult thing we can do, but our own journey – the journey of ‘self’ is ultimately the one that matters most.

....Until next time… xox H.V.G

High Value In The Lowest Times

For some time i have been toying with the concept of the ‘High Value Woman’. I had this concept mapped out in my head perfectly like the chronological pages in a novel. Then at 33, for the third time in a year, the love of my life left me again. All of a sudden I was faced with this downward spiral – a crash of intense emotions and pain that I had built up over a lifetime. Me. 33. Alone. But what about the ‘High Value Woman’?! How am I supposed to be ‘High Value’ and write about strength and being a great partner if I am on my own, rock bottom and my life is not in order? Then it dawned on me. Whilst listening to audio messages of support from a best male friend of more than 15 years, I realised that being a woman of worth – someone who has their life in order, does not require ticking off life’s ‘duties’ and being everything. Being ‘High Value’ is much deeper than this. It’s accepting that no matter what life throws your way and no matter who chooses to be – or not be in your life, that you continue to grow and evolve maintain the best version of yourself.

The purpose of this? So that you can provide your “higher self” to yourself as well within other avenues of life. Being “High Value” is more about knowing that your actions are driven by the right motivations and that you are so aware of your story that you can carry it high above your head and not on your shoulders . You do not have to be married, partnered, a mother or a business woman… or, you can be all of the above. Sound cliche? The message that I have finally began to process in my thirties is that you can’t rely on anyone else for your happiness. When you are truly happy within yourself and have reached that level of pure comfort, confidence and self esteem – AND can maintain this, the natural result is becoming a High Value Woman.

So what does this look like? I’ve met a handful of women in my life that really stood out to me. Not because these women were the most intelligent, most attractive, or most successful in their business ventures, but because they each exuded a sense of balance and confidence in all facets of life. You know who I am talking about. It’s that woman who has her eggs distributed nicely across all her baskets. Regardless of what this woman has going on in her life, she values her self-worth to such a degree that she is able to be confident within herself without the need for reassurance from external sources. The result? Being able to trust in herself and the decisions she makes for herself and her loved ones generates self esteem that is immeasurable. In here lies the key to true contentment and the ability to function at your true ‘best’, thus offering the best of yourself to the world around you.

For me, personally, amongst the most trying and challenging hardships, I have finally been faced with that “Who Am I?” question. And believe me, it’s never too late to have to answer this question. Yes, it’s a fundamentally vulnerable moment of realisation when you acknowledge that for most of your adult years, you have been running full steam ahead in a different direction to where you thought you were headed. This is particularly uncomfortable given that this moment of self-realisation for me has arisen amongst the haze of loss, grief and a true sense of rock bottom. After months of journaling my life, my experiences and my turmoil, I grudgingly realised that in my rush to grow up, I had missed the step of becoming an independent woman that values herself in ALL facets of life. And so here I am taking an honest look in the mirror – realising what and who has shaped me into who I am today, asking the question “what is my value beyond my physical and egocentric self?”

Looking back at me is a raw, rough-edged diamond covered in dirt. But a diamond nonetheless… A diamond that just needs to be polished and placed in the right setting.

And so the journey begins….

Until Next Time.

x H.V.G

Featured

I Am The Strongest Woman I Know

This is my Journey.

My name is Millie Kate. I’m 33, relatively successful and come with a smile on my face. I am fit, healthy and attractive. From an outsiders perspective, I am like most women my age. The truth is, I have experienced great loss, trauma and grief. More than most.
My story is complex. It is painful. I have baggage. I come from a family of 6. Out of 4 kids, we are now two. I had two brothers and two lovers. I am divorced, come from dysfunctional family and have suffered my fair share of adversity in life. Through pain and suffering, I discovered the importance of building real, raw self awareness and taught myself the art of true resilience.
I do not feel sorry for myself. I am the strongest woman I know.

My self discovery journey started late.
Through life’s events and various traumas, I developed the attitude of “keep on keeping on”. I didn’t stop. Oh god it hurt to stop. I thought I was strong, but I was merely ‘coping’. Through pain, i discovered fitness, eating, writing, sex and drinking. I also built the biggest guard to protect myself and an ego that is both my vice and virtue. While I have always lived on the premise of growing through continual self improvement, it took my body physically failing me to stop and begin to truly begin to rebuild myself .

My story may be more complex than yours. It may not. I may have suffered more pain and trauma than most women my age, or perhaps not. Maybe you are hurting more than I am. I’m not here to compare. I am here on a journey of self discovery and personal growth. I am here to share my experiences and to demonstrate that life’s adversities do not have to break you – they can refine you. My quest is to become a High Value Woman – the strongest version of myself so that I can provide the best value as a partner, sister, daughter, friend and one day, mother. If my words can resonate and I can connect with one person on this journey, then I am a success.

I look forward to sharing me.

xox H.V.G

In The Words Of Charles Darwin…