A Trilogy of Grief – Part 1

/2 Comments/in , /by

Today is March 3rd, 2023.

Finally, De La Soul’s back catalogue has been released on all digital platforms. 

I’ve been waiting for this moment…I don’t even know how long. 

I just know that digital streaming felt strange. 

At least for this hip hop head. 

I’d go onto Spotify, but I couldn’t stream most of my favourite De La Soul songs.

Why?

Doesn’t really matter. Some legal bullshit. 

3 Feet High and Rising

De La Soul is Dead

Buhloone Mindstate

Stakes is High

Art Official Intelligence: Mosaic Thump

Art Official Intelligence: Bionix

That’s a heap of goodness, totally absent on Spotify and other digital streaming platforms. 

But De La Soul had been working tirelessly to negotiate a way to get their work onto the steaming platforms. 

And they succeeded. 

The date was set. 

March 3rd, 2023.

Today is the day and it feels bittersweet.

February 12th 2023 I had another restless night of sleep. Tossing and turning. I reached for my mobile phone. I went onto Facebook to check my feed. 

I see someone writing this massive essay about De La Soul.

That’s cool. 

De La Soul deserve dissertations and thesis’ dedicated to dissecting and celebrating their genius. 

I went back to bed. Tossed and turned some more. 

Woke up again, returned to Facebook.

Now I’m seeing my feed saturated with posts about De La Soul, with a special focus on Dave aka Plug 2 of De La Soul had passed away aged 54. 

I sobbed in bed. I had to mute my grief as I didn’t want to wake anyone up where I was staying.

I may have been manufactured England, but the craftsmanship is Pakistani.

My people grieve hard. Without reservation. Muting my grief was fucked. There’s something there…this is not the time or place for that. But that wasn’t innocuous. I’m gonna nip my ADHD in the bud and get back to the topic at hand…

The news hurt. I saw friends of mine, grown men in their 50s mourning. Another musical hero. Gone. Aged 54! That’s too young. Too young. 

The next few days I had to go onto my iPhone where I saved all of De La Soul’s songs and revisited EVERYTHING. 

A rush of thoughts, emotions and inspiration flooded my senses. Heart, mind, body, soul, ALL engaged. 

1998-2000 was an important time in my life. 

I’d always loved music, but this was the time when I went in hard. I’d gotten into hip hop in 1998 and for those two years I snapped up so many albums. 

No streaming, no iTunes.

I’d go to HMV, log onto Amazon (in the very early years) and pick up everything I could. 

3 Feet High and Rising

De La Soul is Dead

Buhloone Mindstate

Stakes is High

These four albums got me through college. 

College was hard (final two years of high school for my American cousins).

I was 17 and I’d returned to London after spending 5 years in Pakistan.

I grew up in the 1980s under Margaret Thatcher and Norman Tebbett. 1980s Britain was racist as fuck. 

My mum took me out of school in 1993 and took me to Pakistan. I left while John Major was the Prime Minister. 

1998 I came back to the UK 1 year into New Labour. 

I decided to go to college instead of a sixth form. 

I wanted more freedom and that’s what I got at college. 

But it was hard a tricky time. I was still 22 years away from being diagnosed with ADHD and autism. I was experiencing constant social and academic challenges and had no idea why I kept fucking things up. 

I was smart, had a relatively kind heart, but yeah, things always went sideways. Always. 

Hip hop was a sanctuary in this time. And within that, two groups stood out for me:

A Tribe Called Quest

De La Soul

De La Soul appealed for so many reasons.

I loved how unapologetically themselves they were. It would take me another 22 years at least to get that comfortable in my skin. But I know that De La Soul planted some of those seeds that allowed me to blossom into myself. 

They modelled the best behaviour for me. 

Provided me with a map. 

I’m a romantic and an idealist. 

I remember listening to Eye Know from De La Soul back in college. 

This is Dave aka Plug 2’s verse:

May I cut this dance to introduce myself

As the chosen one for speak?

Let me lay my hand across yours

And aim a kiss upon your cheek

The name’s Plug Two (is Plug Two)

And from the soul, I bring you

The daisy of your choice

May it be filled with the pleasure principle

In circumference to my voice

About those other Jennys I reckoned with

Lost them all like a homework excuse

This time the magic number is two

‘Cause it takes two, not three, to seduce

My destiny of love is brought to an apex

Sex is a mere molecule

In this world of lust that I have for you

It’s true

I know I’ll love you better

Fuck!!!

I was floored. 

Now I love blowing out backs as much as the next man. But love, that’s…love is…I love love (shout out Metaphorest). 

I’ve never heard love expressed in such an innocent and tender way. I was 17 when I heard these rhymes, and I’m gonna be 42 soon and these rhymes still make my heart flutter. 

I don’t need to quote anymore lyrics by Dave aka Trugoy aka Plug 2. 

You know everything you need to know about his skill and his heart from those lyrics. 

Altho, I’d say also listen to “Trying People” on De La Soul’s album Bionix. 

Dave’s verses on their always made me cry even when he was alive. 

Now…those verses are unlocking so many layers of unexpressed grief. 

  • The loss of a close friend and my closest uncle to Covid
  • Divorce
  • Navigating fatherhood from a distance
  • Finally making sense of my brain (Autism and ADHD)



There’s more, but…

Dave was the heart of De La Soul. 

He worked with my brother Ty who so many people miss. 

De La Soul’s music was honest, sincere and at times fucking weird. 

I’m coming up to my 42 birthday and I realise that for most of that time I’ve masked myself. Suppressed it.

Who knows how long I have left. 

“Tomorrow’s not promised for none of us” Ty – I’m Leaving

I want to be:

  • Honest
  • Sincere
  • Fucking weird

Dave aka Trugoy aka Plug 2 and De La Soul’s work left me with a blueprint for this. 

Today is bittersweet.

But I’ve been up since 5am and writing furiously while the birds cheep and…despite the bittersweet feelings and grief (re)surfacing…I’m good ya know?

I am up and I’m looking forward to today and to the rest of my life. 

I’m living a life infused with passion and love.

De La Soul played a huge role in that.

They will continue to be a huge part of the soundtrack of my life. 

Dave aka Trugoy aka Plug 2 – September 21, 1968 – February 12, 2023.

Thank you for your generosity.

Thank you for sharing your heart with us.

Thank you for modelling a form of masculinity I could get with. 

Rest easy sir and look after Ty. Remind him how loved he is. 

2021 Reflections – Part 1

/in /by

2021 had its fair share of surprises.

Here in London, we came out of lockdown.

What would that mean for me?

I had no idea…there was a lot of uncertainty too.

As I close out 2021, I realise it’s been almost 5 years since I ended my marriage and stepped out of my comfort zone and decided to get to know myself better. Away from the scripts imposed on me by family, culture, religion AND myself…Yes. I have to won what happened to me prior to 2017 too…Anyways, let me reign in my ADHD and stay on topic…

2021…I started the year in a really anxious place.

I’d just had Covid and was already experiencing symptoms of long covid back then. And I started off 2021 reflecting hard on 2020 too, sadly I never really documented my thoughts on here…not explicitly at least. 2020 had been an instructive time.

I won’t go into the loss and grief I experienced in 2020…but I got to spend time away from the poetry scene that I’d been a part of 2017-2019. I had no choice. We were “locked down”.

I attended writing workshops, wrote and shared my work. It was cool.

Come 2021, I had no idea how to react as the world re-opened.

I kept to myself for the first 6 months. Then I got a call from Abdullah, aka SoftSpoken who runs a poetry night called BYOB (Bring Your Own Bars).

“Haroon, we’re firing our DJ. We need someone new and your name came up.”

I actually kind of said no initially. I had imposter syndrome.

I was convinced by my friend Dan to say yes! Dan even invited me around to his home to teach me to DJ to reduce my anxiety around saying yes to Abdullah at BYOB and to get ready for my first gig!

June 2021, I DJ’d and it was incredible!

DJing…It’s been beautiful…It’s made my heart sing, I’ve met some beautiful people…I’m very socially awkward..But I can connect with people over music. I get to make people with my ability to curate music. The whole thing is just infused with so much love.

And after 6 months of being BYOB’s DJ I have been asked to join the team at Pen-Ting.

Pen-Ting is a poetry night I first started going to several years ago. It’s always felt like home. To be asked to join their team as their DJ is an honour.

I’ve been a fan of Repeat Beat Poet and Omari aka SKY GOD. To become collaborators and colleagues with people you’re a fan of…it’s a beautiful thing…

It’s insanely late and I can’t hold my pen much longer. This is just some musings and reflections from 2021…part 1. I’ll put the rest of my thoughts into a part 2 and share that in a couple of days.

Time For a New Story

/in /by

The narratives we tell ourselves are important.

Partly because what we tell ourselves is what we’ll live out. There’s no escaping that.

But also because we have a tendency to centre ourselves. Which is dangerous.

It also means we can hurt others….

Let’s look at love (and sex).

Over the years all I’ve ever done is focus on how another person didn’t reciprocate my feelings or respond the way I want them to.

But……..

I’m not the centre of the universe.

Neither are you.

The more I interrogate myself and my past….I realise….I’ve rejected people…I haven’t returned feelings. 9/10 times those people have dealt with it better than I have. Their kindness towards me hasn’t diminished

There’s a lesson in this.

Whatever you want….

Love
Sex
Pleasure
Joy
Friendship
Understanding

You are likely being rejected by someone for those things….but you’re also likely rejecting others too.

I know I’ve rejected people for some of these things and denied some of things to others, I’ve not been aware until recently as I’ve taken time to reflect and interrogate myself.

I need to get over myself. We all do really….

Love, sex, companionship….all of this shit is a multi-sided thing……we get rejected, we reject others….but we’re all gonna find what we’re looking for…..the right fit, it’ll come….until then though, we gotta just get on with life.

Want love?

Be more loving to others.

Want friendship?

Be a better friend to others.

I’ve fallen short on these and numerous other dimensions.

But, I wanna do better.

The work begins now.

To turn up to life as a more generous and empathetic person.

加油.

Notes on Grief

/in /by

It’s been a strange week. 

Once again I’ve been playing hide and seek with grief.

It is my big bro Ty’s birthday week. Last night it was his birthday and I celebrated his birthday at a gig held in his honour. It was attended by his fans, friends, family.

Grief isn’t linear.

Grief has no timeline.

Last night was definitely one of the most complicated nights I’ve experienced since Ty’s death. 

At times I cried some of the most bitter tears I’ve cried in a long time over my big bro’s passing. 

At other times my heart was overflowing with love and joy because of his music and the musical tributes done where his touring band performed the music for his songs. 

Shit, my eyes are fucking welling up as I write this. 

One of my friends reached out to me after Ty’s death and told me that the pain I feel and tears I shed, they are not just because of the absence of a loved one, but they are evidence of the presence of love. The love I experienced from Ty and the love I felt for him as a brother. It wasn’t until last night that I truly understood what my friend was trying to tell me.

Last night, I looked around the room. Granted many like myself were hurting. But despite that, the room was full of love. 

I was surrounded by love.

I grew up in an abusive and dysfunctional household utterly devoid of love. 

But as I looked around the room, I realised that I was surrounded by so many people who show me love. 

Ty’s legacy wasn’t just the music he created. 

For me personally? He was my family and he gave me a big extended family. A family that carried me in the wake of my tumultuous divorce as I finally found my feet and began to rebuild and reinvent myself. 

A family that I share the burden of grief with. 

A family that I share moments of joy with. 

A family with which to Pass The Torch. 


Choose Yourself

/6 Comments/in /by

Trigger warning: References to sexual abuse

It’s May 13th, 20201.

Ramadan is over.

It’s Eid. I will NOT be celebrating it with other people. Specifically, I will not be celebrating it with family.

I have no desire to put myself in a situation where I have to interact with my abuser. A man who repeatedly sexually abused me when I was a teenager. I do not wish to interact with his enablers.

I’ve repressed memories of my abuse for years. Actually, I’ve repressed those memories for decades, to be precise.

Even when I began to acknowledge the abuse I experienced in my teenage years I made compromises.

I’d attend family gatherings where my abuser was present.

I’d interact with him.

Since 2017, I’ve been in therapy and I have realised I can’t make these compromises anymore. No more interactions.

When my marriage broke down in 2017 I even told my family about the abuse and the identity of my abuse. My father told me to “put it behind me”. It got swept under the carpet.

I even told various cousins. Yet, I’d get invited to get togethers where my abuser would be present.

So, today, despite fielding an avalanche of Eid Mubarak messages from relatives encouraging me to come visit, I’ve said no.

I choose to spend Eid on my own.

I choose myself.

Reflections on Father’s Day: 2021 Edition

/1 Comment/in /by

January 2017 I had a mental breakdown at 3am in my car.

I was dropping a friend off so she witnessed my meltdown.

I proceeded to list reasons why I was sobbing and couldn’t string together a sentence.

I won’t bore you with the list. Plus a lot of that shit isn’t mine to share.

My friend called bullshit on it all.

“You’re not loved,” she said.

I asked her what she meant.

“Your home life, it isn’t right.”

I had a moment of clarity.

I was in a terrible marriage.

I tried to avoid eye contact with my friend. She didn’t let me hide.

I was in an unloving marriage. That shit will kill your spirit.

It was choking mine. That became apparent to me in that moment.

But, I was hesitant to let the truth wash over me like a baptism.

My friend asked me what was holding me back. There was clearly a block. I wasn’t convinced I could be a father unless I lived under the same roof as my daughter.

I’m so glad my friend challenged me on this.

I’m of Pakistani origin and was raised in a very patriarchal family. I grew up believing that there was only one way I could be a father. And that was to live with my daughter.

I had to shift that thinking in order to file for a divorce and start my life over.

In my culture the belief is that you sacrifice yourself for your children. I am the by produce of this thinking.

May I be frank?

I grew up in a miserable home. Money wasn’t an issue, but it was miserable.

Breaking the cycle. That’s all I could fixate on.

I approached things differently. If I could become the best version of myself, I could become a better father.

If I can set a better example, then my daughter will benefit.

Mindset wise, this was a major adjustment for me.

I’m writing this 11 months since I saw my daughter off at Heathrow Airport. She moved to Dubai with her mother and a global pandemic has gotten in the way of us travelling to see each other.

But, I couldn’t ask for a relationship with my daughter. She’s felt comfortable coming out of the closet to me. I called her on Father’s Day and she greeted me with:

“My guy, how are you?”

I cracked up.

Last year she made me an animation for my birthday. This year for Father’s Day she made me two Star Wars themed hand drawn illustrated Father’s Day cards.




I love hearing her talk about her desire for racial justice and LGBTQ rights.

I love witnessing her passion for saving the environment.

I love giving her space to be herself.

I love letting her explore her thoughts in conversation with me.

I love her.

Living With Autism and ADHD

/2 Comments/in /by

I have autism and ADHD.

I’m 40 years old and I received my diagnosis for both conditions when I was 39 years old.

I won’t pretend to be a guru about either condition. I’m doing my best to furiously sprint up an insanely steep learning curve to understand both conditions.

Both neurodiverse brain types have great advantages (hyper – focus, creativity, etc) but they also come with challenges.

An inability to regulate is a major challenge. I struggle to regulate my focus (ADHD) and I struggle to regulate my emotions and reactions (ADHD and autism).

One of the things that has plagued me has been how to navigate social interactions.

I don’t always understand context or boundaries in conversation. If someone opens up and shares information with me, I do the same. But I don’t understand what I can and can’t share. I can’t figure out what details to include and what details to exclude.

Autism, or at least my experience with my autism, it makes me view things in a binary way.

You get all the details of my life or an anecdote or none.

This is tricky in social interactions because at best, you’ll bore the shit of someone.

Worst case scenario? You’ll upset someone because of details that could be triggering or just plain unnecessary.

I’ve lost friendships this way. Only recently I had a chat where I struggled with context and boundaries. I needed to tell someone the ending of the story. The headline of the story to be more precise. But I gave a bunch of super upsetting details along the way.

They told me to stop. I did.

But they got understandably upset. I started to panic and apologised.

But on the inside, I was having a complete meltdown. I wanted to go into another room and have the kind of meltdown that can be common when you’re autistic and can’t regulate your emotions in a difficult situation.

I didn’t. But I did cry. The other person told me it’s cool. I made a mistake, they set a boundary. They told me they won’t think or obsess about this again. But, they’re aware that I will, because of my autism.

They’re not wrong.

It’s been a day and I’ve obsessed and beat myself up about it and even poured through memories of when I’ve had these experiences with other people in the past and they were not so understanding or forgiving.

It’s hard.

Having autism is hard.

Having ADHD is hard.

Having both ADHD and autism?

It makes life incredibly challenging because you will find socialising, navigating a work environment and getting through the education system really difficult.

With regards to my social life, I’ve lost a lot of friends along the way due to my quirks which I now realise were the challenges from ADHD and autism.

What’s changed since then?

I had to advocate for myself and get referrals on the National Health Service (NHS) for ADHD and autism assessments.

Since being diagnosed I’ve done more research on both neurodiverse brain types.

Self awareness is really important.

I’m lucky that I have an incredible partner and great friends. I can be open with them about my autism and ADHD.

They are kind, patient and understanding.

They accept for who I am and let me be me.

In parallel I’m working hard to understand my neurodiversity better so I can make the most of my gifts and be of service to others.

I Struggle With Adult Life

/4 Comments/in /by

Quick note: This was written and drafted on July 30th, 2020. It’s taken me this long to let go and just share this piece. Here it is:

I’m lying in bed right now and I’m unable to sleep. In the morning I’ll wake up and it’ll be the last complete day I spend with my daughter Zaynub before she moves to Dubai with her mother. 

I wrote a blog post last year called “Love Is An Act of Sacrifice” and was meant to write a follow up not too long after…actually I was meant to write a follow up post almost immediately. It outlined what happened when I met my ex-wife to discuss Zaynub’s future and how I felt, the thoughts that I had to process. 

I started writing the post, but I just couldn’t bring myself to publish it, because that would mean really sitting down with the piece, editing it and having to think about it more. I didn’t know this at the time…I just know that I avoided the task of completing that blog post. Then I got busy writing other posts.

On March 8th I had dinner with my friend’s Sofia and Ty and we chopped it up over dinner, discussed my daughter’s impending move to Dubai that year. Expressing my feelings  with my big brother and big sister really helped me attain some peace.

During the pandemic, I had time to think. That wasn’t all I did. The pandemic was full of anxiety and grief and mourning too. I came close to losing my big sis and friend Sofia to the virus. I’ve documented Ty’s death in these posts Cosmic Dust, Tomorrow, Saying Goodbye, and Repressing Grief. I had a couple of friends in China were ill with Covid too. 

During the pandemic, I had time to think. I realised dealing with Zaynub moving away would be a two stage process. 

Stage One: Processing and accepting the idea of Zaynub leaving.

This took weeks, initially I would talk to others about this, but very quickly I decided to just keep this to myself. Dinner with Ty and Sofia helped me consolidate my thoughts and feelings after I’d done the important work of sitting with them myself. Free from anyone else’s influence and suggestions. 

Stage Two: Accepting and Adapting to the Reality of Zaynub leaving.

This is where I’m at now. At the time of me writing and drafting this, she will fly out to Dubai in a little over 24 hours from now. 

I’m teary and utterly overwhelmed with emotions. 

I knew that this day was coming and I knew a fresh wave of emotions would be visiting me. I just wasn’t aware it’d be more of a tsunami. 

The past few months have been a mixed bag, bittersweet:
I dealt with the loss of income due to the pandemic, just when I’d acquired a new skill that I think could completely change my life and finally enable me to pursue my dreams. 

I stressed over 4 friends who were hospitalised with Covid-19. I lost one of them to the virus, came close to losing 2 of them and 2 of them are still vulnerable and I still worry about them both.

My mental health has been tested to the limits and yet my understanding and self awareness around my mental health grows with each day. This enhanced understanding of my mental health is something I hope can benefit my friends whose patience, love and support I want to reciprocate. 

Part of this understanding has been facilitated by therapeutic counselling and as a result I’ve been referred and have started submitting paperwork to potentially explore diagnosis of ADHD and Autism. That’s a longer story and I’ll be exploring that in many more dedicated blog posts. 

The recent weeks have been the most trying of my life as I struggle to process grief, but they have a also been filled with pure joy as Zaynub and I have spent time together. 

We’ve laughed, joked, watched Rick and Morty. I read her some of my poetry and she genuinely loved it. We discussed my divorce with her mother. We discussed my own fractured and dysfunctional relationship with my family. 

Zaynub talked to me about my dreams and the importance of me following my dreams. 

We had a heart to heart about Ty’s death after Shortee Blitz delivered his instalment of “Pass the Torch” (an event held to remember Ty) and Zaynub held space for me to cry and let me hug her as I communicated my pain over Ty’s loss.

Zaynub has confided in me, I’ve confided in her. We’ve expressed how much we’re going to miss each other. 

I’ve acted as a chauffeur and chaperone with her and her friends as Zaynub has tried to squeeze in as much time with her close friends as possible before she has to say goodbye to them. 

I’ve felt love and pure joy. I’ve felt unconditional love. I’ve expressed unconditional love. 

Zaynub has been my anchor for the past (almost) 11 years. But children are not supposed to be tethered to their parents, not physically, nor emotionally.

It’s time to truly uphold the ideals of Kahlil Gibran’s poem “On Children”

On Children 

Your children are not your children 
They are the sons and daughters of Life’s longing for itself 
They come through you but not from you
And though they are with you yet they belong not to you

You may give them your love but not your thoughts
For they have their own thoughts
You may house their bodies but not their souls
For their souls dwell in the house of tomorrow
which you cannot visit, not even in your dreams.
You may strive to be like them,
but seek not to make them like you.
For life goes not backward nor tarries with yesterday. 

You are the bows from which your children 
as living arrows are sent forth.
The archer sees the mark upon the path of the infinite, 
and He bends you with His might
that His arrows may go swift and far. 
Let your bending in the archer’s hand be for gladness; 
For even as He loves the arrow that flies, 
So He loves also the bow that is stable

Kahlil Gibran

Let this be my North Star as Zaynub’s father. 

Repressing Grief

/4 Comments/in /by

I’m finally waking up.

This past week has been full of tears.

I’ve received knock backs. This isn’t new. I’ve heard “no” far more often than I’ve heard “yes”.

Despite this, I’ve been unusually teary.

I’ve become accustomed to shutting down my emotions this past year.

My close friend and favourite artist Ty passed away from Coronavirus last year.

On top of that, my ex-wife landed a great job abroad last year and wanted to move with to Dubai with my daughter to pursue this opportunity. I signed the consent forms for my daughter to move to Dubai.

It wasn’t easy, but it was the right thing to do. Anyways….

I’ve repressed my feelings about both of these seismic changes in my life.

I’ve done it as a survival mechanism.

However, this past week, that’s been changing.

I’ve felt more. Albeit painful shit, tears and even anger.

Last week was May 7th, the one year anniversary of Ty’s transition.

The night before the anniversary I felt anger and rage at some negative developments in my personal life. This particular problem has been ongoing. My partner has felt rage on my behalf, yet up until earlier last week I’ve been repressing my feelings under the guise of stoicism.

But the night of May 6th, the night before Ty’s anniversary, I finally felt rage, hurt, pain, loss and tears.

The next morning before I went out to Lambeth Cemetery and Brixton to celebrate Ty’s life I took a phone call from a friend. For 2 hours we hatted and I let myself cry about losing Ty.

I’ve spent a year fearful of my emotions. It’s stunted me. People would asking how I’m doing. People would ask how I’m coping with my daughter living in another country. I’d like to people.

“I’m ok…..It is what it is….I’m just getting on with it….”

May 7th, I felt a shift. I cried on the phone to my friend about losing Ty.

Then I attended a celebration on Ty’s life and finally expressed my grief in front of other people. I cried without any self restraint. It was cathartic.

I was asked about my daughter and I finally gave an honest answer.

“I’m struggling….I miss her….I don’t know when I’ll see her next.”

I’ve given into my feelings. I’m not trying to resist my sadness and my grief.

This is my 2nd blog post since January. Both posts were written within days of each other over the past week.

My block is lifting. It’s not a coincidence. I’m not hiding from my grief anymore.

I’m lying to other people a little less.

Importantly, I’m lying to myself a little less.

More honesty and less self deception going forward.

Building a New Life

/10 Comments/in , /by

I’m currently re-reading “The Illusion of Money” by Kyle Cease. 

I highly recommend it to anyone who is trying to build a creative career in the 21st century. It’s full of wisdom and insight.

While re-reading it earlier this evening I came across a passage where he says:

“An architect can’t build a brand-new hotel right on top of an existing old one – he needs to demolish the old one, clear it out of the way, and prepare ground for the new one……”

He’s not wrong. At all. 

I’ve made difficult decisions in the past 4 years. 

I walked away from my marriage. I no longer live with my daughter who I love more than anyone else in the world. 

I’ve struggled and continue to struggle as I navigate changes and build the life I want to. 

A new life, one that is better would result in a different story. One very different to the story of my past life.

Thing is, I’m not sure if I’ve managed to kick my addiction to the old story I’ve become attached to about my old life. 

Sure, a tonne of bad shit has happened to me in my past. Hell, I’m writing a long form fictional story based on my past and I routinely find myself upset and triggered when revisiting past memories and events as I mine them for artistic gold. 

There’s nothing wrong with acknowledging the past and the bad things that happened there.

But that past is full of very negative and unhelpful stories and narratives I accepted about myself. Those self limiting beliefs resulted in low self esteem, constantly putting myself in incredibly harmful and abusive situations, whether that was jobs, bosses, friendships etc. 

It’s hard though, and I don’t think I’m alone on this. When hearing negative and abusive shit about yourself becomes so common from the people around you who are supposed to love and support you, you’ll internalise those toxic and destructive beliefs. 

But those beliefs are out of sync with who I want to be. 

I’m currently experiencing blocks, obstacles in the way of me becoming who I want to be and building the kind of life I want. A life full of creativity, joy and love. 

I need to work on eroding those beliefs, consigning them to the dust bin. A new house is eager to be built. I need to resume demolishing the old one first. I thought I was done, but I’m not. 

I need to work harder at demolishing the old building. 

I need to work harder at laying the old stories I tell myself and believe to rest. 

Only then will the obstacles I currently face in my artistic and creative journey melt away.