There are days when all I crave is you
The smell of coconut oil, burned taro leaves and sweat in the air
I ache to taste your skin
To let my fingers taste the edges and crevices of your rugged exterior
Make love to me in our foreign language
Whisper your beautifully confusing words
My ears ache for the sounds of the dips and moans of your tongue
Let me dip my toes in the heat of your soul
My belly and spirit bloated with the seed of my island
My arms crave you… your culture
Lie with me until my confusion is gone
Until my heart is at one with home.



It’s hard to love yourself when the world keeps telling you, you ain’t enough. Not enough make-up. Too much make-up. Too fat. Too skinny. You smile too much. You never smile.
You’re a good girl but you’re not good enough.
You wonder why you are never happy.
Some days you feel like you’re wearing your body. Some days your body is a prison you don’t want to leave.
Your refuge becomes your prison.
Most days you have to remind yourself to be strong. That it might be okay. That this is just one of those days where the never-ending sadness sees no end. Yet… hopefully.
It’s okay to be sad. It’s okay to be angry. It’s natural to feel this way. And it will be okay, really. But no one told you that and now you feel bad.
You built a wall around your heart but you forgot the ceiling and it’s monsoon season out here.
What were you trying to protect my beautiful and fragile creature?
Because when it comes- the pain, the lies, the disregard for your feelings, the loneliness- you feign apathy but your heart has been plastered to death.
Your human is showing.


On Being Brown + Round in the Health Profession

There was a debate (and I use that term loosely) when the pictures of Moana and the demigod Maui were released, about the representations of the men and women of Polynesia.

Image result for moana disney 2018

A lot of the disappointment that I witnessed stemmed from the idea that Maui was too “fat” and “ugly”. There were other opinions that Moana and Maui’s bodies should have been switched as the Island girls are stereotypically that big.

Obviously, I was so disappointed when I saw this reaction. It was based on insecurities and pettiness. Because I myself had been so excited about having a Polynesian story on the big screen. Nevertheless this reaction did not change my view that Maui the Demigod looked strong and fighting fit.

Just like in the Western world, Polynesia have a culture of fat shaming and belittling the big and fat of us all. But that is for another post.

Ive been working as a Physiotherapist for 3 years now. Ive had a long struggle with weight issues since I finished high school and yoyo-ed like Zach Gormley. And believe me when I say it was hard to show up to learning about healthy living as a physio student when you have weight issues. I get the irony trust me.

But I want to talk about how bodies like mine, and like Maui the demigod… and like so many other Pacific Islanders are a certain type of body type. Not fat. Not overweight. Not obese. Our bodies are just…well our bodies.

I was taking a course last year where we were taping ankles. Note, as usual Im the only brown girl (Cmon folks, get into Physio!) And the tutor was taping mine. And besides being flat footed, I do have big feet according to Western standards… but that’s just what they are… my Island feet. And as she was taping, she seemed to have a hard time maybe. Because she commented saying that… “It’s okay, Island girls always have gumby feet” and people chuckled. Heck I chuckled too. And then I didnt.

Are you blaming me for your inability to tape my perfectly normal foot? Like seriously. That experience got me thinking for the longest time about how we treat people we see, especially people of colour. And how the health profession blames being fat on many ailments- not that this is not always wrong, but sometimes, it is a scapegoat.

I think we need to do better about learning about different body types and stop pushing this weird idea of what is “normal”. Cause trust me what is “normal” for white folks is definitely not “normal” for Island folks. I have assessed a few Island boys that were huge, but were strong and flexible. And they have been called “fat” and “obese” by my colleagues.

So Im asking that we have an open mind about these things. Dont just assume that people are fat and unhealthy. Fat does not equal unhealthy. And fat does not equal ugly.

Thanks for reading.



im so tired/when life gives you lots of lemons but it’s too much/when life is good but you are trash

i pull myself apart every couple of weeks
if im lucky it will take a couple of months
it is not beautiful or romantic
i cant wish it away with a hot chocolate and my favourite tv show
although that would be a nice change
it is dirty and disgusting
and gut wrenching
it’s the messy room with old cups of coffee
and sinks piled with last weeks dinner plates
it’s the pizza from two nights before for breakfast
it’s the long to do lists that are left untouched on the fridge
and the lying in your bed with unwashed sheets
i pull at each string of my being
not slowly and carefully either
it is quick and devastating
and im left in awe
i am left in denial and pain and wishing i was never born-isms
with my sanity laying about me
scattered on the ground like litter after a concert
wondering how someone as amazingly blessed as me
became this way
anxious and sad and sorry and apathetic
i feel like a wound bleeding every day
and healing every night
only to realise the next morning
i had scratched it over and over while in my dreams
i am tired
i am a loss
and i feel less than human
but at the same time relentlessly and scathingly human
i want to live
All the time
but i am always the pause button
always the ‘what if…’
always the ‘unfortunately…’
always the ‘where are they now…’
always the lonely leaf in the storm of life
and im tired
always so fucking tired
i want to feel alive
but nothing feels more alive than letting the storm take you
i am free
and mostly i am alone
and i have no control
and im just so fucking tired of having no control
im so fucking tired of understading my life in metaphors
i just want to be
and i just want to breathe while i can
and just stop thinking about where i am
and where i could have been
and stop saying and all the damn time
and just live in this catastrophic moment of life that i have
and stop believing the rains and the suns and the winds and the people can change me more than they can move me
and just accept that i am here now
that i am free
as long as i can believe that i am


not sure if im okay but im okay with that. i think.

there is a sort of beauty in chaos
an art to the sadness
a rhythm to the way my chest thumps and my heart rate increases double the rate in half the time
sometimes i find it hard to breathe
and the doctor says my chest pain is from anxiety
and now im afraid that i will die of a heart attack
and i hear that people who are afraid of dying of a heart attack
usually do
and now i am a bundle of nerves
pretending that i am okay
master of okayness
i try to ignore the impending feelings of doom and go to my happy place
i must admit i am not coping well
and i will go to church because it makes me feel more alive
than drinking alcohol or speeding down a lonely highway
i want to feel alive so much
i sometimes forget to live and my back aches and i try and sit in my backyard a bit more
especially early in the morning when the frost and the crispness is resting
and there is no noise and no one is awake and no one can touch me and only god can hear my rapid breathing
life has a way of making everything heavy
everything feels so heavy and intense and i know it cant always be like this
cause sometimes shit too heavy
but i will cope
and i will deal
cause what else is there to do?
im not ready to die yet


my hope for you

I only want the best for you
And i hope you will always work hard for what you believe you deserve
I hope that when doubt sneaks in through the window
That you will know all you have to do is chase it out the door with a bat and a teaspoon of hush
I hope you know that the only opinion that matters
Is yours
I hope that when you look in the mirror
That you remember all you see is a reflection of what you perceive
I hope you remember that sometimes your brain is your worst enemy
That sometimes it sees things that are not true
That it twists what you hear
And sometimes feels like something sinister
That at times the only enemy is yourself
And i hope that you are not afraid of that
I hope that youll be able to summon the strength of your shoulders
The courage of your dimples
The cunning of your eyelashes
The stealth of your feet
And the wit of your wrists
And i hope you know that you are always more than what people say you are
I hope you can enjoy the rain
Just as much as the sun
Beccause they work together for perfect harmony
I hope you will be able to appreciate that 5 minutes of quiet
Even if it is just before the alarm clock rings
Especially before that alarm clock rings
Cause some days that will be your only moment of peace
And i hope that life doesnt wipe that smile from your face
And i know it’s hard to believe it’s the same life that put it there
So i hope you have courage when you need it
And the strength to leave what needs to be left
And the wisdom to stay away
And the tolerance for things that cannot change
And i hope you remember that most things can change
I hope you know that you have a light in you
Even if it is only a flicker
Your flicker may be someone else’s lighthouse


distraction therapy

the brain does this amazing thing
where it keeps reminding you of your pain
even when youre done
even when it’s long over
even when youre laughing with friends
or trying to finish an assignment
i tell myself to get over you
but then i remember the way you would
lift me a little off the floor when you hugged me
i tell my friends i am happy now
even though i still see your face when youre not there
and i still remember your number
even though i try hard to forget
have you ever tried telling your brain NOT to do something?
it’s like the rebellious teenager that never learns
anyways i learned the other day about distraction therapy
it’s a pain management technique
so what i do is this
i jog up a hill
and at the same time i listen to my favourite comedian
and as im basically dying
i cant stop thinking about how loud my breathing is
how much my chest hurts
and how fucking funny this guy is even tho i cant laugh
and even though it’s not the most ideal situation ever
i know ill be alright


social anxiety part two

your silence is irritating
i wish you would speak
open your lungs
expand your chest
and just speak
your silence is deafening
your silence is loud
it is awkward
it is apprehensive
you think you shrink into the corner of the room
but your silence only highlights your presence
even your eyes are loud with questions
your fingers twitch with exhaustion and suggestions
but your mouth
it remains still
and your mouth remains quiet
your throat is a graveyard of words
that even you leave flowers for