Shirley Valentine Eat Ya Heart Out

Life on the road was all I knew, bouncing from one gig to the next with my life packed in a suitcase. That was my world until I spoke my mind about trans women being men and suddenly I was out in the cold, blacklisted. That hit me hard and turned my life upside down. But as they say, when one door slams shut... Crete opened up for me, a place to dig up some roots.

Crete's not Cyprus but it's close enough to feel a bit like coming home, to feel that Mediterranean vibe that's in my blood. This place has been a breather for me, a quiet corner after all the noise.

This journey's been about patching myself up too. After the nightmare of being stalked, losing my music gigs and that mess with the law (even though I came out on top thanks to my supporters), I was forced into a silence that I've filled with a lot of thinking. Been dealing with personal stuff, echoes from my family's past and now this new bit of my life.

I've been writing here - not just songs, but stuff like this and trying to figure out who I am now. My music's changed, it's softer now played with the backdrop of ancient stones and olive trees. Each word and each note it's like I'm piecing together who I am under the Cretan sun.

Every day starts with a swim in the Aegean - bloody cold, but it wakes you up better than any coffee. No fuss about it just me, the sea and a bit of peace. It's my new routine, starting the day not with chaos but with calm. The sea here feels like history I can touch even if just for a moment each morning.

After my swim I've taken to using this olive oil soap I found at a local market. Nothing special to look at but it's the real deal, made from olives grown right here. Using it feels like I'm getting back to something real. My skin's taken a beating from all that stage makeup over the years and this soap feels like it's bringing some life back into it.

This whole routine, the swim, the soap, it's simple but it keeps me grounded. Back home life was all about the next show or the next legal fight. Here it's about the next wave, the next sunrise and the next bar of soap. I'm living one day at a time and learning to like the little things.

Crete's showing me there's a different beat to life. Not the rush of tour schedules or court dates but the sun coming up, how cold the sea is and when the olives are ready. It feels like I'm just another part of this island's long story, not as a musician but just as me. When I head back I'll take this with me, this new pace and this simple life.

I've been reading this book called "Goddesses in Everywoman" by Jean Shinoda Bolen. It's like a roadmap for figuring out what's going on inside, especially now when I'm trying to find myself again.

Bolen talks about these goddess archetypes in us and here in Crete, where every rock's got a story of gods and people, it hits home. I read about Athena, Aphrodite, Hera and think about how I've been living mostly like Athena, all strategy and fight. But Crete's nudging me to be more like Demeter, caring and nurturing.

Aphrodite's about love and beauty. My life's been dry of romance, not just with others but with myself. Here where myths of love were born I'm learning to love this new, quiet version of me, finding beauty in simple things like my morning swim or that local soap.

Hera, she's about commitment. I've been committed to my music and my fights, but never really to a place or to just being okay with myself. This book's got me thinking about what sticking to something means outside of music, maybe to this land, to this new way of living or just to keep understanding myself better.

Bolen's book is like a friend here. Each morning facing the sea, I wonder which goddess's vibe I'll channel today. Will it be Artemis, free and close to nature? Or maybe Persephone, knowing life's got its ups and downs like my own ride from being in a spotlight to this quiet life.

The book's teaching me it's okay to be complex, to let all parts of me have their moment. And Crete in its own way, is like a goddess itself teaching me through its land, its stories and those quiet mornings. Each page I turn feels like another step on this island grounding me, reminding me our stories are made of many parts, many gods, many versions of ourselves.

So as the sun dips into the sea painting everything gold, I'm here chatting with ancient wisdom and finding my rhythm in this dance of goddesses, learning that every moment's a chance to start fresh, to feel whole and to be okay with all bits of me.