Call me crazy, but I think that even at thirty — I am a hip-kid.  I mean, it could be the massive amounts of dope that I smoke (not that I am advocating, that is what makes you cool) and if you are judging me, then you can stop reading right here.

Moving on, what I am trying to say is that lately I have really been having moments of clarity, as I have spoken about before.  Spending much needed time on myself and sweeping out what is underneath,  I’ve been reaching into some of the cobwebby corners of my farthest subconscious self.  Although some people would argue subconsciousness altogether.  Once again, I digress. What I’m getting at is, I’ve been visiting that place lately.

All of my life I grew up believing in three’s.  I have three women in my life;  my mum, nan and auntie Bev, three siblings Andrew, Grace, Matt, three major romantic relationships (in order of time) Zach, Mike, Steve.  So many three’s in my life, the list could go on and it’s freaky deaky.

Last night I went with my auntie in-law to a “Tuesday Message Night” held by a Clairvoyant amongst many other gifts, Janet Ross and daughter of the late and world renowned, Ms. Jan Ross. The idea is that each week Janet speaks about a topic associated to the metaphysical realm and sub-subjects in which pertain. My approach with anything is to allow myself and condition myself to make it relative to what I am going through.   

She discussed our gut instincts, our guides and letting our proclivity within ourselves take over allowing whatever higher power you put your energy towards to beckon you down the corridor of life with what it has to offer.  From there I began to think of the romances I have had in this lifetime of mine.  A lifetime that seems to be so much longer than it has actually been.  I feel like I should be writing romance memories from the sixties because that’s how I feel in moments with Steve.  But the three boys, fellas, men, that have impacted my young life and the way I view the three’s, the third being the lucky charm and all the lessons that each relationship has taught me in hindsight is actually quite beautiful when I look back.

In my younger years I always needed to feel in charge, in control of the situation.  I’d be damned if I would have a chap running the show.  Not on my watch.  I was raised around three bad ass babes and I am a huge believer that the chances are fairly high that children  grow up to be a replica of their environment, in which case I did.  I even have a British accent as my native tongue for f*ck sake.  

As I sit back and I become more observant of my former life (prior to cancer), I see how incredibly opposite the situation was.  With the relationships that didn’t last, I thought I had taught them lessons, but when I look back I see how they were preparing me for and the lessons that would later be seen through the rearview mirror.  When I think about my husband, I see why our relationship started the way it did and why he is the person he is inside and out.

First, I should mention that Steve is cool as shit and our relationship and bond is tighter than a sailors knot (assuming those are pretty damn tight, I have no clue). He is also selfless as fudge (I’m trying so fucking hard not to swear, I swear!). He understands that a part of my healing process and the journey towards a quality of life as well as mental stability, is that being open and honest with feelings and who we are through and through is the best policy.  

Here is my experience in understanding the lessons towards the purposes of my ex’s and my husband who deserves a medal of honor:  #lovegoals #clarity #tryit

1

Z:  Numero uno.  Zach was my first relationship, like actual legit BOYFRIEND — not just the holding hands BS.  It was a whirlwind romance.  He treated me like a queen and quite frankly dipped out on me quite a bit at the same time.  Which, stems back to an issue I have from the men in my life dying at such a young age.  The sense of a loss of males within my life was traumatic for me and stuck.  But, he taught me discipline, because he didn’t have it so easy.  He taught me that I should not take shit from a man, especially not him.  We’ve since reconciled and have kept in touch over the years *platonically* and we are actually  in the process of writing a book together!  Our relationship began on a friendship level and that is where we have ended up.  Two creative minds back in each other’s lives once again.  He and Steve met and even went record shopping together. Twilight-zone.  But, it was great.  I learned that time heals all wounds and if a core of a relationship is a friendship, then it is worth being salvaged.  It just may take time.  Forgiveness and time is key.  Just make sure you don’t wait too long, we never know how many tomorrows are left for us.

2

M: Mike and I met at a New Year’s Eve party, in fact it was the same NYE party that I crashed and the same one that my now bf was hosting at her house.  I did not know her prior to that night.  Or Mike.  But they were all cool and not rude to me or my crew, surprisingly.  I don’t know how or why we even ended up there — but that’s neither here nor there, cosmic I suppose — my, Allison.  Anyway.  Back to Mike.  He has Cystic Fibrosis.  For those unfamiliar, it’s a very sad disease and I hate to use that word.  But the lives of some of the CF patients are cut extremely short, as early as 20 to 25.  He and I didn’t have a particularly profound relationship, in fact I can’t remember much about it other than where we met  because I met one of my best friends on the very same night.  But his illness that he had to deal with on a daily basis and the way he handled it impacted me greatly.  We were not together for a long period, a year, if that.  But within that year I watched a twenty-two year old live every single day as if it were his very last.  The disease that he had did not define who he was.  He was most certainly passionate about it, he wanted to spread awareness, we would do 5k’s and attend different events.  Nothing stopped him.  In no way were we compatible and that is FINE by me, we wished each other on our merry way.  I think of him from time to time.  Not in an inappropriate way, but I wonder if he is alive and well and if he will live to see thirty, like I did.  I can only hope.  In looking back he was a lot stronger than I ever gave him credit for, he was a little bit younger than me and I thought I was God’s gift.  Hindsight is 20/20. But he showed me how to not let something define you.

3

S:  Of course I had to save the best for the last.  My, S for Steve, for Soldier, Sargent, Son of a beautiful woman. There are so many things about our meeting that I wish I could indulge but I’m afraid some of that is in my book and it’s tied up, so looks like you’ll have to read it for the nitty gritty details. He’s one of the most foul mouthed, cheeky men I have ever met in my entire life.  He doesn’t put up with my charmed ways, my bullshit batting lashes and sassy stubbornness.  The moment we shook hands it was as though there was an electric shock, during a desert monsoon as there was lightning, thunder, wind and mist.  He had just spent 15 months in Afghanistan and at war and I knew that night he would be the man I would marry, it was an instinct in my soul.  We’ve spent the last seven years taking care of each other when one of us are down and then picking each other back up again.  Steve served a war, a vicious, vile, horrible war that I am in no way disrespecting or comparing to my cancer.  I honor Steve and ALL who have served past, present and future.  But, this man is also currently in a war of his own.  Being married to a partner that has terminal cancer, particularly at thirty and coming home day after day to a pile of medical bills, a sick wife, then needing to run out to pick up twelve prescriptions, cook dinner, take care of the dogs, then go to bed and do it over again all the next day.  Yet, he does it and he still has time to make everyone around him laugh.  Steve,  my love, you have most importantly shown me because of your journey through war that life is too short to be lame and negative and to ultimately “drive on,” as you would say.

Everything is a lesson.  Listen to your instincts.

Love,

Britt xx