Note to Reader: I have decided to write letters to my first love who left me 9 years ago - in the hopes that I will be able to write authentically, and just write, pretty much. It is killing me that I can't find anything to write, there is no impetus. One of my main motivations to write is love. To people I love, or about people I love.
If I don't start and continue to write, those novels or books aren't going to get written. I'm already 35 years old and people have told me for the last nine years to write.
Dear Manu,
These letters that I now write to you are after having met you nine whole years ago. Today may have been the day you let me go by written words for the very last time, all those years ago. The good news is that I don't know the dates any longer. I spent 8 long years holding onto you, thinking you were it. That you were my piece of God.
I am writing to you because you are my best friend. Maybe in my imagination, but you are my best friend.
I mean, technically, I need to be my own best friend - but if you are my twin flame, then you are my best friend as well.... is that how it goes, Universe? Please bring clarity to my confusion.
I am doing my best to move on and progress.
This entire healing business, I know it ends at some point. I mean, the collapses and the disappointments and the illusions.
I met a really nice guy and in the space of a month, from not being ready for a romantic relationship, I now feel I am. But he already said we're not compatible and so we can be friends instead.
Now, I don't feel about him the same way I felt about you, or about the other two men I fell for, but it is difficult to deal with a heart that bruises. He's very childlike and has no idea about how it can be to have a sensitive person in your life. I wonder if I am really am just too sensitive.
My shamanic healer Gareth, he had to remove the heart I had and Spirit replaced it with a heart of crystal so that my heart would be stronger and not break each time something like this or worse happens. I feel the psychic surgery worked. I feel disappointed, sad, heart is hurting, but it's not broken.
After all, I've gained a valued and cherished friend. Most of it is my desi, Muslim programming. He knows Urdu, and he's a tad too desi for my liking but he's really nice as a soul. Another soulmate.
****
It really makes me wonder if I ever will find a few romantic partners in life. I really never imagined my life being like this after 2 years of proper healing. But it is. Alhamdulillah.
I'm still financially challenged. That hasn't changed, but I'm trying to be more generous to those who are sans abri and I messed up when I was in Naples, Italy. I got really scared and thought it was too dangerous to talk to them. I now regret it.
I'm determined to become a proper practicing shaman because that's where life is leading me, but that means giving up the regular joys of life. Going out, partying (I've never partied in my life, it's too overwhelming), having bunches of friends and travelling the world over.
As Matt Kahn said in one of his latest videos, we get what we get. We are doing the best with what we get.
I just learned a new healing modality which worked at the time of the course, but this week I'm struggling - possibly because I need to be doing things in the physical world. Such as exercise, going out and having fun, taking care of myself, and writing.
****
Do you know how long it has been? I used to write extensively. You know, you were the poor unwilling victim to tomes and tomes of poetry, written prose and love notes.
My friend told me, very wisely, that I was exposing myself and giving everything to you, warts and all, and you just stood back and observed the carnage.
She was right. I had to continue, though, because I needed to experience it first hand. There was such a pull, a compulsion. Now I just think it was a huge spell, and entities.
But beneath all of that, there is love. There is always a potent, powerful love.
***
Now, I just don't write any longer. God knows when was the last time I channelled a divine poem, a healing poem.
I had another guy from Islamabad have a crush on me recently and sending me erotic poems and some really beautiful poems. From the heart. Channelled.
But messed up emotionally and I deserve better.
I was envious of his poems, haha. Somehow I could inspire him to write such amazing stuff, and here I am - depleted and worn out and heart-bruised.
London has never been the right city for me. Never.
I just didn't have a choice at first. Maybe I came back here because we were meant to meet. We were meant to get married, according to that dream you had in 2017. But we never did. You blocked it, or whatever external influences. Or whatever, who knows?
I'm seeing a Sufi healer on Thursday to help remove the dark magic. It's all over my third eye.
But then, if we vibrate high enough, none of this should be able to touch us, right? Unless it is part of the path.
I can't empathise and heal someone going through something without going through it myself. That's always the case.
****
Sometimes I am a priestess, a goddess.
And sometimes I am a mess.
****
You used to write really well when you tried. I remember the sweet things you used to write. They have been coming back to me after all those years. Since September. I could see your face, hear your voice, your words would come to my mind all over again.
I'm just a tad too intense sometimes - but trust me, it's a lot more balanced than when we knew each other.
That's why I thought it would be okay to send you a message on 11/11 last month. I thought it would show me how much I have healed, by how you replied to me.
You had a flippant reply. When I read it, my entire body burned all over again, and I felt sick to my stomach all over again, It felt like pure venom. At first, I thought it was the tone of your reply - then the next day when I re-read it, your reply was fine just as one writes to a professional colleague.
Is the venom inside of me then? Or is it true what they say about twin flame connection - it actually burns you when it's wrong and messed up?
Anyway, I was going to write more, but I feel this is enough for today.
I still miss you. I remembered that it's your cousin's death anniversary as well this month and I prayed for him because well, why not? Still remember his cat on Facebook. It was a cute cat. His kid must be a teenager now.
****
The best thing for a woman who has only been able to attract unavailable men, and emotionally wounded men is the opportunity to go back within, and heal her hurt selves, the inner child who feels hurt and abandoned.
I am still leaving myself for the other reflection of me.
There is no need for that,
Their light only blinds because you once again dimmed yours.
Please, can we sort the financial blocks please? I'm so tired of that pattern!
