The greatest gift I have received of late is that of a deep, true, smouldering, sacred rage.
An irrepressible feeling deep within my belly.
A fire of Truth that is currently being fueled from all angles.
The Epstein Files. Trump. Global political figures. The ‘wellness’ movement. More war. The cost of living. The depletion of our planet. The fact that more otters are now endangered. The fact that women can’t automatically access areola reconstruction after breast cancer in Australia. The lack of ethics. The lack of Love. The amount of harm. Women hurting girls. The fact that Mary Magdalene was not believed (thank you Meggan Watterson and Glennon Doyle). The fact that I wasn’t believed. The fact that in our shared business, people respond to my husband’s emails, and yet not to mine (as it turns out the Dr title still doesn’t trump the penis).
This sacred rage has also been fueled by my own realisation about how much energy I have used over my almost-43 years of life to support others (often men) to succeed first. To grow in confidence. To heal. And then leave. The amount of times I haven’t stood, or insisted I was given the credit I deserved. I haven’t spoken up at injustice. I didn’t fight. The amount of energy I have given from the goodness of my heart. Not only without reciprocity, but in full depletion of self. Believing this was the only way to truly give.
And now I am enraged.
It is a gift.
I now realise the depth of this conditioning and patriarchal narrative. One that has kept me feeding my own depletion. One that has kept me small.
And I say no.
I refuse to partake anymore.
So here I find myself. On a precipice. Fueled to act. To begin again. Again. To start standing in More Truth. More Beauty. More Love. To step into My Power. To Use My Voice. To anoint myself. Without a game plan, other than to trust my innate wisdom and follow my joy. To walk with you in sacred rage. To share my Wilde Forme. To set myself free.