The Weight of a Big Heart

November, 2015
After three flights, a six hour road trip and a ferry, I am on a tiny island floating somewhere in the Tasman Sea. As I step off the boat and onto the pier I am greeted by loud smiles, New Zealand accents and shots of tequila.

I am here for another speaking gig. I know little about this retreat, but I feel an air of sacredness here. Like this is a piece of extraordinary amongst the ordinary of everyday life.

We all huddle together in a tiny room with wooden walls, listening to Si speak. His voice booms. He speaks about the the responsibility and power of being an artist, of sharing the uglier parts of life for those who can’t and of changing the world through art. The days we have together on this island are a gift, he says. This is a time and place where we can be totally ourselves, as weird or as mad as we certainly are. It’s a fine welcome.

From my bed I can see the sea sweeping in and out of the shore. I miss my little family. The thought of them is the warmest thing there is. I write Bee a love letter.

‘The hardest part of missing you is the things I ache to tell you, they pile up on top of each other, swallowing the ones that came before. They’re insubstantial things. Like, the sun was falling through the airplane windows in such a way that there were these lovely circles of golden light on the cabin walls. Or, I met a man who reminded me of a character from one of Alba’s picture books. Or, I thought of that word we couldn’t think of and it is sonder. But they matter to me because I know that they matter to you because they matter to me.

Isn’t that a beautiful thing about love? Who else would care about my thoughts on smoked paprika, or my sore ankle, or my dreams every single morning? I’ve grown so used to telling you every little thing that I’m being crushed by the weight of my unspoken thoughts, dreaming of the nights to come when they’ll all come flooding out like a tsunami of moments and ideas in-between hurricanes of kisses.”

The flames of the bonfire are impossibly red against the blue sea. The island is full of people and I want to disappear into a great big shell like a sea snail, but I don’t. Instead I tell myself these people are just friends I haven’t met yet and just like that, they are.

I walk with my new found friends across the edge of the island until we reach a little cove. The silver stars are so fierce their reflections burn in the water. “Let’s go swimming,” I say and I’m met by disbelief, arms crossed tightly over winter jackets. I shrug, take off my clothes and dive into the sea. The water is so cold there is nothing to do but laugh. I beg the others to come in and a few do. A seal swims in the sea beside us. We swim in the stars.

As we walk back shivering we watch glow worms in the forest trees. Tiny pinpricks of glowing light like stars themselves. We climb into a spa and watch the others warming their palms against the fire, quite possibly thinking we’re out of our minds.

Minutes pass like years all tangled up together, wondering aloud how we were just strangers hours ago. Every light goes off on the island until it is just us and the universe. Galaxies are spread thick and glittering across the sky like wet paint. The feeling I feel, within the warm water, the milky way, passionate conversations and these incredible humans, is everything. In those marvellous few hours all is profoundly good.

The few days before I am due to speak, I explore the island and listen to the others. They share stories that rattle bones and lessons born of great failure. I am blessed, sitting cross-legged on that floor soaking it all in.

On the day of my talk we’re all piled in Oli & Eric’s bed. The morning feels sweet and still. As people come to the door we bring them all in until the bed is a crowded mess of limbs and laughter. I often downplay my immense love and affection for people so I don’t weird them out but here I feel like I can just be me.

I’ve always known myself to be more loving than most other people I’ve met. In the same way I’ve known myself to be more sad, more excited, more sensitive, more introspective. I seem to only feel things at full force, which can be either crippling or the best thing in the world.

A single comment can leave me obsessive and sad for days but the thought of my love for my family can make me burst into joyful tears in the middle of the night. It’s part of the reason why writing is deeply important to me, if I kept all my feelings inside I’d go crazy.

I’m shaky so before I speak I go down by the water and listen to a song my friend Elle wrote for me. It’s a song about standing up and speaking my truth without fear, even in the face of misunderstanding or criticism. It gives me the strength to say all the hard things I’ve come here to say.

In the middle of my talk I look around the room and see people crying. They’re not just listening to my story, they’re feeling it. I am overwhelmed by the reality that these people are giving a piece of their lives to hear my story. When I finish, I ask if I can please hug everyone before they go. One by one I hold everyone in gratitude. People whisper all kinds of beautiful things in my ear and I find myself crying too.

I am high on this euphoria. I’ve never done work that feels this raw and fulfilling. A girl I know pulls me aside. I realise she must have hung back after I spoke, because I never got to hug her. I’m still grinning, still caught up in the glow of my talk.

“I think you know why I need to talk to you,” she says quite seriously, and I shake my head naively. I’m totally unprepared for what she is going to say. I don’t know how long she talks to me; all the colour leaves my face and the people around us blur into nothing.

She tells me my affection is making people uncomfortable and the organiser regrets inviting me. She repeats a hurtful comment my friend Andrea made about me being loving. She brings up the spa. My tongue is tied with the horror of being so misunderstood and disappointing these people I’ve come to love.

I feel myself being picked apart thread by thread and resewn darker, more broken. She offers the abuse I experienced as a child as a reason I’m so touchy. Says that when she met me I wasn’t the person she expected from reading my blog. I can see she’s trying to be helpful. Trying to say things that are hard to say, reminding me that not everyone sees the world like me. But these are daggers.

I am weak. I’m stumbling over words, crying, offering up apologies. Trying to explain me. I keep thinking she is right, that if these people I admire feel this way about me there must be something deeply wrong with me and I am ashamed for being so blind. It’s true that my heart has gotten me into trouble in the past, true that it has confused people, true that I’ve made countless stupid mistakes. But here I felt so understood and that is shattering around me now.

Then she asks me what Bee would think and it snaps me back to my good intentions, because I already know exactly what Bee thinks. My love for everyone is one of the reasons he loves me.

I remember when I first went to a grocery store with Bee. He ran into his friend and gave him the longest, most loving hug I’ve ever seen a man give another man and I fell a little more in love with him. I think of movie nights where a bunch of us just cuddle on the couch or times where I’ve almost fallen asleep on his best friend’s shoulder. He gets my platonic love for the people I connect with because he feels it too.

When I leave I’m sobbing like a child, hiding my face behind my hands. When I come into reception in my room I finally call Bee.

“It’s okay,” he soothes, “I know your intentions, I’m sorry they don’t understand. All you can do is just be honest about who you are.”

“But what if I really am a bad person?”

“You’re not. You love a lot, and that’s a good thing.”

He helps, but I still feel hollow. I so desperately want to explain myself and it gives me the resolve to brave the outside world. As I’m walking I feel like a shell of myself. I am exhausted and confused. Andrea emerges from by the fire and stops me. “I need to talk to you,” she says, and I’m instantly sick with the guilt of knowing I upset her. “I need to apologise,” I say. She replies, “no, I need to apologise.”

She takes my hand and walks me out by the shore. “After you spoke today I climbed out of the window to cry because I had judged you. Once I heard your story it all made sense. I was wrong. I am so sorry. Please keep on loving and hugging and being you. It’s what makes you special. Please never stop.”

Her words are like hands reaching down into the hole where I lay curled, pulling me up and up and up. She hugs me tightly as I begin to cry again. I’m crying for so many different reasons tonight. Her message about my love being good is one I hear several times throughout the night and each time the reassurance lifts a little of the weight.

Oli takes me for a walk across the pier. I feel closer to him than anyone else here and I’ve been desperate to talk to him. As soon as we’re alone my words spill out fast and thick while Si is letting off fireworks on the shore. Oli just laughs and tells me, “of course I get you Nirrimi, don’t worry.” The more he talks, the less alone and weird I feel and the smaller this whole situation seems. I tell him he’s my hero.

He reminds me that it’s our last night and we should be heading to the party. On the way the incredible lady who organised this retreat tells me how grateful she is that I came and she is the final hand pulling me to the light. Inside the hall everyone is dancing. The owner of the island is dressed as a woman with a blonde wig, dancing on the table. The energy is brilliant.

My despair melts into joy again. From the euphoria of my talk, to the darkness that followed, back to joy again. It’s exhausting. I’m not sure I’ve ever connected with people the way I did here and maybe I never will again. Whatever it is that makes this place special, this is my last chance to embrace it. So I soak it all up for what it is worth, and for what it is worth, I love even more than ever.

I climb into bed at 4am feeling strong. Feeling like my love isn’t a flaw but a strength. A superpower that comes with great responsibility and a need for transparency. Not for the faint of heart.

I head home via Wellington so I can see my best friend Kelsey. She’s dressed in high heels, sparkly earrings and pink lipstick. I’m dressed in boots, some wacky pants I found in a Balinese supermarket and a boy’s army jacket. We’re clearly soulmates.

We book a hotel room, down fancy cocktails, eat sweet crêpes and peanut pie for dinner and fall asleep late holding hands, as we always do when we’re together.

I tell Bee I’m coming home a day later than I truly am so I can surprise him. He’s at a gig the night I arrive so I secretly book tickets for myself. I get to our place only minutes after he’s left. While I shower I am shaking with excitement, nerves and a serious lack of sleep. By now it’s 3am in New Zealand.

I wear a new white lace dress I bought in a secondhand store in Wellington, hoping he won’t recognise me in a crowd. When I walk into the venue my heart is beating like mad. I hide in shadows and text Jasper who tells me Bee is near the stage.

As I walk over I am wondering why I didn’t plan this far ahead when he suddenly sees me. His eyes meet mine in one breathless moment and the gig is up but then, just as suddenly, he’s looking at something else like he never saw me at all. I run to him and when I’m right next to him I ask, “care to dance?”

He looks at me like I can’t possibly be real. It’s a long moment before he registers that it’s truly me. He shakes his head and just says, “oh my god.” Jasper is laughing beside us. “That was really good,” Bee says, between overdue kisses.

It’s becoming hot and sticky. Most mornings we drive five minutes to the beach and dive into the cool ocean. We come home and do yoga, all three of us. When the sun is low I tie up my runners and head to the park at the end of our street. Bee pushes Alba on the swings and I run laps. I’m moving so much and it makes me so happy that I wonder why I so easily fall out of these habits

I call my little brother Zake and tell him about what happened in New Zealand. We are one and the same and he tells me his own stories about his affection being misunderstood. We joke that maybe we should come with warning labels.

Laura comes to stay with us for her friend’s funeral. I’ve never been any good at knowing the right things to say or do in these situations. I just hold her as she cries. Through Laura’s stories I can feel her friend’s absence from this world. There are times where life feels inexcusably cruel.

One night I ask Laura, “Do you think Bee is a good match for me?” It takes a lot to ask this. Laura is brutally honest and has disapproved of every love interest I’ve had since I met her.

“Yes. In all the right ways you’re the same and all the right ways you’re different. Like yin and yang. I usually don’t give a fuck about what anyone thinks of me but I do with Bee. He’s special.”

I recognise the fire in Alba’s eyes, I think she has more than I ever did. She’s spirited and stubborn but if she sees that I’m down she will kiss me so tenderly and sing to me until I smile. In the hard moments it can be difficult to find gratitude, but when I do, it’s all there is.

Bee & I listen to parenting podcasts together. After a particularly tough day we talk over everything, figuring out what went wrong and what we can change. He has all the time in the world for Alba. Sometimes I wonder how my life would be different if I’d had a step-father like that instead of one that frightened and abused me. Many of the men who have come into our family have left us with scars. I’m grateful for my scars for what I can bring to others, but I would never wish them on Alba.

One night we drive into the country to spend a night at a friend’s house. Most of Bee’s friends are here and we’re all playing board games and drinking wine. He is so happy to have them all together he can’t stop grinning. In the height of the fun it is time to get Alba ready for bed so I say goodnight, kiss Bee and leave. When I turn to close the bedroom door behind me Bee is standing there saying, “you didn’t think I’d miss bedtime, did you?”

Instead of staying with his friends he chooses to brush tiny teeth, read bedtime stories, listen to ‘I’m thirsty’ and ‘I’m not tired’ a hundred times and lay in the dark for an hour while Alba falls asleep. As we lay quietly in that dark room, faint sounds of laughter trickling through the windows, my heart is exploding. That little gesture is big to me. We’re a family.

A poem by the sweetest poet Joel McKerrow, written as he listened to me speak.

Growing up around mangoes
and mothers who had hopes and dreams taken,
or left behind
or stripped bare, like mangoes, stripped bare, like strangers, stripped bare.
The abuse of a man to a girl is perhaps the worst of all,
it splits a body.
Two halves and the rupture. The splinter. The cleaving separation.
Holding yourself together when torn
is harder than it looks so we throw up the darkness.
Pick up sticks. Pick up knives. Pick up portraits.
The potential of a camera in the hands,
dripping tears onto lenses,
changes pictures
And soon a new self. And soon the true self.
And she looks through glass now. She holds herself now.
A lens held stable is a life held stable,
even roller skates,
even boys who break,
even circumstance and a romance that never tasted right,
even through it all, she holds and she holds and she holds and now she holds life inside her.
When a child forms in the womb it brings with it
so much more than just body. Just soul. Just herself.
She was not the only one born that day.
Her mother was born again. Given new life. Everything changed.
And this is who she is now,
she chases hope now,
chases joy now
chases stories now,
the beauty and the tension of broken.
She calls her life a film,
and for some this brings a posture of projection,
the casting of a false self out to those who are watching.
But not for her.
Her life is a film, because everything that happens is taking her somewhere,
nothing is left alone, left stranded on a beach with no meaning,
everything is pieced together into the larger. And this larger is a story.
And its the story of her life.
And this life, it began around mangoes and mothers and broken and fear and photos and punches and lovers and bodies and lenses and babies and daughters and stories and stories and stories.

40 love notes

  1. To Nirrimi 🙂

    Oh my goodness truly thank you for being so raw and honest about your life, I feel less alone. I have suffered from not abuse as such but manipulation and constant criticism growing up there were good words but there were words that were not good. I have not found my happy ever after yet but reading your posts makes me feel hopeful that at 30 I could still somehow find my happy ever after.

    Where I am understood and loved the way you are loved that’s what I have dreamed of my whole life to simply be excepted and truly loved FOR WHO I AM not who others want me to be or expect, not loved solely for what I can do for someone but for how I love, who I am.

    I love you writing its like I’m reading a biography but written in a creative way, its like reading a story books the creative writing you display is so much fun to read.

    Sometimes being true, being transparent, and loving people with selfless pure love can be confusing to others who rarely see it displayed its can be so rare that some don’t trust it because they rarely see it they thing someone is fooling them or that that person who loves so intensely wants something from them etc.

    I’m glad you were understood in the end by those people you connected with you are such a lovely person if everyone loved like you the world would be a peacful and safe world. My fave parts of this post, paragraphs in which I saw myself and can totally relate are :

    On the day of my talk we’re all piled in Oli & Eric’s bed. The morning feels sweet and still. As people come to the door we bring them all in until the bed is a crowded mess of limbs and laughter. I often downplay my immense love and affection for people so I don’t weird them out but here I feel like I can just be me.

    I’ve always known myself to be more loving than most other people I’ve met. In the same way I’ve known myself to be more sad, more excited, more sensitive, more introspective. I seem to only feel things at full force, which can be either crippling or the best thing in the world.

    A single comment can leave me obsessive and sad for days but the thought of my love for my family can make me burst into joyful tears in the middle of the night. It’s part of the reason why writing is deeply important to me, if I kept all my feelings inside I’d go crazy.

    from Becca xo

  2. Hi, thanks again for another wonderful post. I always look forward to your writing. Have you ever thought that maybe you are on the spectrum? The more I read your posts the more you seem to “tick the boxes”.

  3. I have read your blog for years, and what’s always struck me about you is the joy and love you seem to always strive for. I think you know yourself well enough to know all that, you reflect so well. But I think that even when I stopped reading all other blogs I still kept checking yours for updates is exactly for the reason that you discuss here; my impression is that feeling so intensely magnifies your life, and I cannot help but think that even when the hard parts get really hard, the good parts are so fantastic that this is something I also want to do. And ultimately I think one builds strength from the good parts to overcome the hard bits, and that since people are mostly good there will be more good experiences than bad ones. Your beautiful writing and your open heart does inspire, and for that I’m grateful. I hope that one day I can also feel such a connection to people who were strangers only yesterday like what you describe here.

  4. Thank you for all this. Every time, your post breaks my heart in the best way: opens it up and lets all the tears and hope and thankfulness flow out.

    I, too, have a thin skin. Soaking up everything around me and revealing my heart without my permission. I have spent so much energy, so many years, trying to thicken my skin. Trying to shrink my heart & not to let myself care so much. Trying to hold things inside. Trying to be like everyone else.

    It hurts me that your friend tried to blame your sensitive, affectionate nature on the abuse you experienced. I have never been abused–what’s my excuse? Only devoted parents who tried, very lovingly, to teach me that the world doesn’t want to see my soul. They’re right: most people don’t. It makes people uncomfortable to know how much I love them. Or how angry they make me. Or how I grieve for the world…

    Your post convicts me of my own confused efforts to stifle myself. Unhappily swallowing my truth to keep others comfortable. Even with my beloved husband, who has beautifully thick skin & can handle my oddities without turning a hair. I feel like a coward compared to you.

    But I’m learning. My 3 year old challenges me every day to cradle him with my thin, sensitive skin. To allow myself to feel his emotions, to let my own love flow easily around him, to be transparent & whole & strong enough to be real. To pursue beauty on the inside, so that whatever I express will not spring from ugliness.

    When you have a thin skin, you approach life differently. You do more internal housekeeping–because you are so acutely aware of your internal life, and you know how it affects everyone around you. And you have to be stronger, I think. Your skin doesn’t protect you, so you have to love without being broken, and to heal when wounded.

    Thank you for sharing parts of yourself with us. Thank you for staying real & challenging us to do the same. Thank you for the hope & love you give so freely.

  5. Dear Nirrimi,

    Thank you for writing this. Your posts always fill me with hope and joy. I understand what it is like to want to connect with people, to feel close and to love and I too have found resistance from others who feel uncomfortable with how I wish to express my joy for human connection. You give me hope of one day finding the people who will understand me, who will go on many crazy adventures with me and laugh under the stars. You give me hope of one day finding the right love for me. This all seems so far away right now but I know it will happen some day. Thank you for existing. I am so happy to know of you, and I wish you a lifetime of magic and love. 

  6. I fall asleep hugging my best friends. I’d hug you to! Im sorry you were misunderstood, that makes me sad. But then again it accounts for the way in which humans are each so unique and diverse, I guess it makes the world all the more interesting. Sometimes we stumble across kindred spirits and its all the more special when we do find each other. And yet sometimes we dont and we must listen and be open but know that we each are different and think differently.

    And that capacity to feel so deeply is something Im feeling extremely keenly at the moment, both with personal and global events. Reading your beautifully written words helps tenfold, knowing that others feel in this way to. It reminds me to hold onto the light and pass that onto others.

    I’d love to meet you someday, until then love and light from England. X

  7. This is another beautiful and so needed post Nirrimi.
    I find it so rare to find souls who can just admit all the love there is inside of us, who can handle it and bravest of all, share it. You keep inspiring through the best tool you have, yourself, and for me that is of great honour. 
    I am sorry hate has found you in the middle of love, and I’m so very proud of you for turning it into light again. 
    I hope you know you are free to be who you are on your “real” life, don’t measure yourself for the expectations people might have because of what you share here. There’s no need to fulfill any expectations, what you naturally fulfill is way deeper and more profound than that.

    Sending lots of colourful rays of love, so happy you found Bee and a new beautiful home!
    All the best always,

  8. God damnit, I want to hug you! 
    It’s crazy how much I recognize so much in your words. 
    I wish I could write you letters and draw little creatures for Alba. 
    You are one brave soul, pretty Nirrimi. You spread love all over the world by written stories and I honestly love you for that. 

  9. Sometimes I hate myself for feeling, why am I so intense, why am I a freak, that’s why I’m alone and so I isolate more and  hide and edit my comments so I’ll seem average  . I’ve even been told I have a mental disorder and I believed them 🙁 … Thank you so so so much for sharing ❤️ 

  10. I’m so sorry you got misunderstood and hurt. and I’m so thankful that you’ll share it with us all the same. thank you for being you.

    all the love from another soul who only feels at full force.

  11. Nirrimi, you are incredibly woman. Your every words make my life better and give hope, that in our world, somewhere, are people like you. People, who are courageus enough to give so much love.

    I wish you all the best

  12. Nothing but love and grace to you, dear Nirrimi. As always, thank you for sharing the inside of you.

  13. I feel so much for you being misunderstood. It is this thing of emotion people don’t understand because they can’t feel it themselves. My partner is a very passionate musician and he got told to stop playing guitar so many times, one time got kicked out of a place after performing emotionally. It’s not always easy having strong emotions and being whoever you are. But he will always continue making music and you will always continue to love people. It makes you who you are and what others love you for, and there will always be some who hate you for it.
    Thanks for writing, Nirrimi, reading your stories always makes me feel so much. Stay who you are.

  14. I love you for being you, and am grateful that you are sharing your light and clarity in our world xx

  15. Hey, Nirrimi.
    I’ve been planning to write to you for a long time now but I never find the right moment. I am just going to repeat something you must have heard thousand times now – your world, or rather, the way you reflect on your world, is like therapy for me. I don’t know how to explain it but everytime I see you’ve posted something I feel my soul makes a leap inside of me.

    I’ve been following you since the winter (the one in Europe :)) and I’ve grown so fond of your reflections (I will keep using this world instead of just “you” because your reflections are just the part of you you share and the part we – your readers/viewers – need) that sometimes I can’t even draw a line between what you feel and what I feel, between what you think and what I think. If it weren’t that strange, I’d say we’re soulmates, but you must have heard this a thousand times too. I don’t know if it’s our choices of expressions (I also ‘archive’ my world through photography and writing and this is crucial for my emotional health :)) or something else, but I do feel you as a distant friend who brings me back to my roots when the wind of life has swept me away somewhere. I don’t really need to see you or meet you live because this part of you that you share is sufficient to me.

    And because I feel you as a friend who makes me feel better when I’m down I think I should do the same, just like I do with my physical friends 🙂 all the time: first it’s me soothing them, then it’s them soothing me and it seems like friendship is an incredible exchange of wisdom: we are the wise when we soothe and the weak when we’re being soothed.

    So, what I mean is: dear Nirrimi, please, never never never let go of your heart. I guess in my language I’d say you have a “thinner skin” that lets life in easier than it is with other people. This is a gift. And a curse of course but you know that joy and grief are the two sides of one and the same coin. This polarity runs the whole universe and experiencing it on a daily basis means that you’re just one with the universe and that the universe speaks through you. Don’t you doubt that. Hold to yourself because you’re precious. The same thing that might make you feel weak sometimes is your power. I am sure you have already embraced that polarity. To me, rises must be followed by falls – this is how the world works. That’s why the life line we see in hospital monitors goes up down up down. When it’s even, it means we’re dead (sorry for the unsuitable metaphor 🙁 ). So you’re full of life, Nirrimi. And this is special. I hope you never ever grow “thicker-skinned” and I hope the same for myself. You see, the way things work with you gives me the faith these things would really work for me too, and I am not talking about professional or love success but about vailidity of feelings.

    And the last thing I want to tell you is not really related to the previous. I just wanted to tell you something else that you might have also heard but still, it’s incredibly important for me as a woman so maybe you’d like to know it: the first time in my life I felt it physically that I wanted to have a baby was when I read your post about giving birth to Alba. It was a very important moment to me. I felt something stir in me. I cried. It will always be a small but important moment of my personal history.

    And can you even imagine how many such moments you’ve caused in the histories of others?

    And if this doesn’t make you feel powerful, I don’t know what will.

    Sending you my warmest feelings, warm as the summer in my country (Bulgaria). 🙂

    Antonia

  16. Thank you for sharing,I love your words.
    You give me hope and strength 💖 
    I have followed your writings for a long time and love and admire your beautiful spirit xxx

  17. Reading this gave me so much hope. I’m a lot like you, Nirrimi. I love with everything I have, all the time. I don’t know how to be any different, and I don’t want to be. I also feel things immensely, no matter what that feeling is. I’m all or nothing, the feelings don’t tame themselves and I wouldn’t be me without them.

    I’m so sorry that someone misunderstood you so much. Reading that, I never once doubted your intentions. If anything, it cast a light on their own flaws, their poor experiences that have poisoned their thoughts and views on the world.

    You are beautiful. Your love is beautiful. Your vulnerability is beautiful, and brave. Don’t ever stop being who you are. Be yourself until the world stops turning, until there’s nothing left to be. You make the world a more beautiful place. 💛

  18. Sometimes it’s so easy to feel judgement from fear of being vulnerable. Thank you always for your open heart and giving courage to others through your bravery to share.

  19. Your words are beautiful. Reading them is like reading a really good book and feeling so sad once you’ve finished it because it felt as though you’d made a new best friend!

    I think you’re brave. 

  20. You are brilliant. I love you Nirrimi. Please let me know if you need a place to stay in Chicago 🙂 I will make vegan food for us and we will laugh until our bellies hurt. 

    Keep shining,

    Polly 

  21. If I could write this beautifully I wonder what I would say..
    My mind and heart are always going a million miles an hour but I struggle with expressing myself purely from self doubt and fear of judgement.
    My partner and I always joke about how I have no in between, when I love I burst when I’m sad I have boulders on my shoulders weighing me down and when I’m angry I can bearly contain my words and will say anything the my heart is feeling. Any mood that I’m in I feel completely in it not just a little or slightly I am completely over the top and there has only been one person in my life so far that can not just Handel it but cherish it and love all things about me. 

    Reading this makes me feel and think a lot about how I don’t have any friends. When I’m around people I forget who I am or what it is you’re meant to say in certain situations. At age 20 I guess it’s hard to find people with a common mind set, someone that enjoys nights in chatting and watching movies opposed nights out in the latest club. I feel the need to connect with people and be affectionate.

    This has been just one big blurb of messy nonsense. 

    Thank you for posting this, it has given me so much inspiration and hope ❤️

  22. Nirrimi – such a winding beginning to your sojourn on that little corner of paradise !!!!

    You are a courageous woman,and brave to be bringing life [wee Alba … and she is oh-so-cute !] into this crazy world.

    Some how,I was not surprised to know/read of the apology that followed. You ‘speak’ well of all humans in your reflections upon us,here. You. Not another,but you ! I’m glad to have this from you Nirrimi. I have shared and will re-read this for sure ! Thank-you once again !

  23. Dear Nirrimi, THANK YOU for always being true to yourself! Thank you for showing your vulnerability, thank you for being brave! Thank you for inspiring me! Thank you for being in love with love! I am, too! My son, David, says that I am obsessed with love! I take it as a splendid compliment 🙂 Dear Nirrimi, thank you for being in love with people, with beauty, with truth! I know that one day we are going to give each other a big, huge, humongous hug! I love you!

  24. I feel so mad on your behalf. It sounds like you’re not mad, but why does this girl feel like she has to police your behavior? Especially after you’ve been told to be your self and an be as mad and weird as you are? That just feels so wrong to me, but I’m so glad that you were able to prevent it from ruining the experience for you. You just be you. Haters gonna hate, and a lot of times it has more to do with jealousy than to do with you. I’m glad that there are so many people in your life who do get you, and seem to love you for exactly who you are <3

  25. Your words always find a way to seep into my heart and cover it with warmth. I, myself, war with being “overly kind” (there is no such thing), judging, and forgiving. I am a walking contradiction. I wanted to be angry for the words your friend said to you. “How dare she steal your happiness because of her differences? How dare she voice her own insecurities as universal?” I wanted to be protective of your kindness, your vulnerability, because it’s rare and it’s so beautiful, Nirrimi. And then, just as quickly as I wanted to be angry, I wanted to forgive. Some people have been so hurt, that they gift their pain to others. Sometimes we get so caught up with our own thoughts that we forget to remember that we’re all different. All hurt in some form and trying to persevere. This why your openness is needed. I hope you never stop being genuine. Never doubt a kind act, we need those more than all others. ❤

  26. I’m sorry that your affection and loving spirit were misunderstood. I’m sorry that we live in a world where people feel justified being unkind to each other, and that your joyous day was partly corrupted by that unkindness. Keep being your affectionate, loving self. The world is better for it. 

  27. you are so loved, nirrimi.
    reading about you being so misunderstood sent tears down my cheeks, your love for people and the world is what i adore most about you, what inspires me more than i could ever articulate.
    and without really knowing you or having ever met you in person, my love for you is so strong as well, and also for your daughter. the shines through the screen, it feels almost surreal. and i smile and know that she is so loved.
    (thanks to one of your facebook-posts i also listen to “unruffled” and it changed to much about my understanding of children and in my interactions with them.)

    reading about the magical time you experienced on that island, my heart is full of happiness for you. i admire you immensely for sharing also the darker parts of it, that is so, so important and helpful.

    i love you, dear. and i mean it. sending hugs to you.

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