This is a long one. Quite a personal share. Something I’ve not ever spoken about to anyone outside of my immediate family.
I’ve not even shared this with my close friends.
For years now I’ve kept it a secret.
Kept it hidden.
I was ashamed to speak out about it.
I know I’m not the only one with a story like this one.
I now there are hundreds and thousands of people out there who have been there, done that… So to speak.
Now is the time that I released it.
Even though doing so gets the butterflies and nervous energy coursing through me.
But, what the fuck, ‘eh?
I am the Queen of encouraging you to go all-the-fucking-way-in. To be unfiltered. Authentic. To speak your truth. And to be unapologetic in doing so.
When I was a child, my mother always treated herself to the best that my dad’s money could buy. No judgement, I’m done with that. I’ve moved past it. I’ve worked through it.
And I hold no anger, bitterness or resentment either (FYI).
My parents married in the era, some 50 years ago, when the man was the sole provider, the bread winner, the money maker. And the woman was the stay at home wife, the house keeper, the child raiser, etc.
We were by no means rich.
And although we weren’t even a ‘middle income’ earning family. Nor were we poor.
I could share with you many a story about what it was like – growing up in that house, in that family, with those people.
I WANT TO FOCUS ON ONE THING ONLY
I remember as a kid my mother having a love of and for the finer things in life. Not that I blame her, not at all. But these were things that my father, the sole provider for a family of 9 couldn’t always accommodate.
Nonetheless. That never, ever, dampened my mothers love of all things precious, beautiful and expensive.
Back then I fancied her as someone who thought she was well above her station… As a woman who thought she was worth more than she actually was… Whatever the fuck that truly means.
I mean, it was nothing for my mother to, at times, not all of the time, spend my fathers entire monthly wage (maybe that’s a slight exaggeration – it’s too long ago and i was too young to truly know for sure) on one outfit.
Dress (or skirt/jacket)
That’s the era she grew up in.
That’s they style of the day.
That’s how women dressed back then.
Not every day.
At least. That’s not how it was for most women but not my mother… I remember that every time she’d go shopping, even if it was to the supermarket, she would dress up to the 9’s.
THE WHOLE NINE YARDS
That changed as the years went on. I’m not sure why. I don’t know if she stopped giving such a fuck about her appearance or merely accepted that the constant arguments and violence over her spending so much money on herself, over money in general (or the lack thereof) that she simply stopped doing it.
I distinctly remember many, and I do mean many, occasions when my mother would beg and plead with my father for him to buy her a Royal Doulton or a Royal Albert dinner set.
Fit for the Queen.
SHE HAD A PENCHANT FOR LUXURY
But my father always refused.
I always understood why.
That was never lost on me.
The reason was clear but always unspoken in our house.
Why would he?
Don’t mistake me.
Regardless of EVERYTHING that happened in my parents relationship.
Irrespective of ALL of the dramatics, the arguments, the violence.
My father loved my mother. Unconditionally. He was a man who took his vows and his commitment very seriously.
I often thought that that was to the detriment of his and our mental stability and safety, but, ultimately, that was who my father was.
He was principally a man who was true to his word.
A man of honour.
Though my mother had a house full of beautiful things, and there were a LOT of them, my father refused to spend thousands, or even hundreds of dollars on the fine China my mother desired the most.
If he loved her so much…
Why would he deny her that?
My mother was, and possibly still is, a woman with a fiery…. NO… a fucking volatile temper. And when she got angry anything, and, yes, I really do mean A.N.Y.T.H.I.N.G. and E.V.E.R.Y.T.H.I.N.G she could get her hands on would be picked up and thrown, either at the walls, the floor or my father himself.
IT HAPPENED ALL TOO OFTEN
I can still clearly remember jumping out of the way of shards of glass, porcelain, and more so as not to get hit with shrapnel or cut to pieces.
This often happened when he denied her something.
When he tried to explain that there just wasn’t enough money to pay for that expensive or unnecessary thing she desired.
Oh the rage.
Oh the fury.
Oh the abuse.
Oh the hatred.
Oh the nastiness.
Now I’ve not had anything to do with my mother for over 17 years and my father passed away about 4 years ago… I’d not spoken with him for a long time either…
But I can almost guarantee that she never did get that Royal Albert or that Royal Doulton dinnerware.
As you can imagine, which I’m pretty sure if you know me at all, these things, these experiences, these angry outbursts, that violence… Well. It took a hefty toll on me. On my belief systems in particular.
On my level of deserving.
On my level of worthiness.
On my level of personal value.
On my money mindset as a whole.
And it has taken me nigh on 40 years to realise that THIS^ stuff has impacted me across so many areas of my life.
I used to refuse to buy myself a pair of shoes over $50.
I would deny myself that gorgeous dress that was $100 or more.
I never allowed myself the luxurious holidays in exotic locations… Unless I could do it dirt cheap.
But every single day I do the internal work on something from my past that is blocking me from rising up to be the Queen that I was born to be. That is keeping me from living my life as the highest version of myself.
Which is why I’m so fucking persistent in letting you know, in reminding you that:
YOU ARE WORTH IT.
YOU ARE DESERVING.
YOU ARE VALUABLE.
And that you must love yourself, unconditionally, unapologetically and unrelentingly. At all times and forsaking all others.
YOU MUST ALWAYS FUCKING COME FIRST!!
So, what bought me to the point where I felt I needed to share this story above with you?
Take a look at the image above.
Do you know what it is?
Do you know WHAT it REALLY is?
I’ll come back to that in a minute.
A couple of years ago I decided to get really serious – in a fun way – about journaling. And I also decided that when it comes time for journaling I not only desired but deserved to have a gorgeous tea cup and teapot to accompany me.
I’m not a coffee drinker.
But herbal tea.
I LOVE it!
My partner, Dan, bought me the most gorgeous tea set as a gift to encourage me on my journaling journey.
For those of you who have been following me on social media for some time, you will no doubt have seen me either drinking from my gorgeous cup on livestreams or at least seen it featured in many of my blog and SM posts.
Primarily red with multi-coloured dot-mandalas, and gold trim.
I FUCKING BROKE IT!
I dropped the lid of the teapot on my unforgiving tiled kitchen floor in September.
I dropped the cup on my unforgiving tiled living room floor Friday last week.
I gotta tell ya.
I was devo’d.
I literally shed a tear over my loss.
I was crazy in love with that gorgeous piece of porcelain art.
I know that for some of you THAT^ might come off as a tad weird… but I’m down with that.
After a moment of OH. MY. FUCKING. GOD!! sadness and mourning while looking at my delicate little cup split into 4+ pieces, I decided that it was time.
We’d shared many a moment and hot herbal brew together.
But. The thing is. When your time is up. Well. Your time is up.
When one door closes. Another opens.
WHICH IS EXACTLY WHAT HAPPENED
I knew I couldn’t get my hands on another tea set like it… I had tried to find one for a couple of months to no avail. So I was left no choice but to CHOOSE AGAIN.
I needed to find a new tea set.
One of equal class, elegance and beauty.
One that was equally if not more indulgent.
And so my internet search began. Because who goes to shops and spends hour up on hour looking for something you know you can find online.
I did the Google thing on Friday morning immediately after saying my goodbyes to my little red cup. I was able to find a couple of nice designs but nothing that really took my fancy.
While swinging in my hammock chair on my patio.
I FOUND IT.
I had stuck gold.
I have decided that this year is all about tapping into abundance and the colour for abundance, so I’m told by my fabulous abundance attracting friends and coaches, is blue.
I have chosen the phrase:
Everything I touch turns to GOLD!
as my go to reference for badass abundance for 2018.
So it was to be.
My new tea set would be blue and gold.
And within minutes of deciding that that is what would be. Because that is what needed to be.
In my eBay search stream.
Ever so elegant. Ever so classy. Ever so beautiful.
Was a Royal Albert Polka Blue Tea For Two – priced at $399.00.
It was meant to be.
It was meant for me.
Sent like an angel directly from the Universe itself.
Manifested before my very eyes.
Did you get that though?
The brand my mother had longed for.
But never got to enjoy.
And so it was.
And so it is.
I ordered the tea set there and then.
No thinking about it.
Not once doubting my level of deserving.
Not once doubting my level of worthiness.
Not once doubting my level of personal value.
Because, even though I know I still have many layers, many fear based and money stories, and many limiting beliefs to work through…
My knowing that I am a fucking Queen and that I am worthy and deserving of such a valuable investment into myself and my feelings and my higher self is so much stronger, so much more powerful than any of it.
Don’t mistake me.
For years I resisted addressing it.
Admitting that THAT STUFF was actually real.
That it was blocking me from rising up and claiming all that was mine by divine right.
But the moment I actually allowed myself to own it instead of hiding from it, even suppressing it, that’s when I was able to take control back from it.
That’s when I was actually able to tap into and claim my true power.
Getting yourself to that place is so much easier than you think.
Much easier than most people think.
Because you see.
THE REALITY OF IT ALL IS THAT EVERY SINGLE ONE OF US CARRY AROUND THE BURDEN OF MONEY BLOCKS HANDED DOWN TO US FROM OUR PARENTS – FROM SOCIETY AS A WHOLE.
What causes them are the things:
We see as children.
We hear as children.
We feel as children.
We experience as children.
We are subjected to as children.
By the time we hit 7 years old ALL of that shit has already formed rock-solid, non-serving belief systems and behavioural patterns within us that are designed by our ego mind to protect us from experiencing more of the same pain and suffering we went through as young children.
But, in truth.
It has the reverse effect.
Instead of serving us.
Instead of helping us.
Instead of protecting us.
Those belief systems and behavioural patterns actually cause us FUCK-TONS more of the exact same pain and suffering…
It just shows up differently, like it’s wearing different clothes… Disguised as something else.
The thing is though, pain and suffering is the same NO MATTER how you try to dress it up.
Because, let’s be honest.
Right now won’t allow yourself to get past the blockages that have you wondering where you’re next sale is going to come from.
Right now you won’t allow yourself to be debt free and financially independent, abundant.
Right now you won’t allow yourself to buy that $500 outfit to wear to your sisters wedding, to feel like the fucking Queen you were born to be.
But if you were to simply accept, if you to just own, that what you experienced as a child is what is keeping you on that fucking treadmill of pain and suffering YOU could turn it all around.
If you dedicate yourself to digging up that past trauma and releasing it, surrendering it to the Universe.
If you commit to doing the internal work and to owning the truth that IS buried deep down inside of you.
If you gave yourself permission to rise and to show up as the person you truly wanted to be.
Instead of allowing yourself to repeatedly speak and think belief systems that keep you playing game and living less of a life that you know you deserve.
Instead of allowing yourself to continue with behavioural patterns that constantly take you 1 step forward and 10 steps back, suffering the pain and misery of your own angst.
IT’S TIME MY LOVE
To RELEASE the burden of the past.
To let your parents and societies SHIT go.
IT’S TIME GORGEOUS ONE
For you to give yourself permission to rise up like the MOTHERFUCKING QUEEN you were born to be and to allow yourself to be, do and have every-fucking-thing you secretly desire.
IT’S TIME BABY
That you allowed yourself to see, feel and experience the FINANCIAL ABUNDANCE, the joys, the fun and the excitement of it, that is all around you.
Love, Truth & Badassery,
Remember… You Have One Life. Hit The Fuckin’ Button!
Mindset & Online Empire Creation Mentor
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And gorgeous one.
I believe that is you.
Well, I’m glad you asked 🙂
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