Letting go of Knowing
(more…)Since last week’s blog I’ve pondered the question of wether I can truly let go of knowing, of control, of my need to be right, even if it’s just some of the time.
Not OK
Not ok is ok
Don’t be ok
when it’s not ok
Lean into the pain in your heart
when it breaks
for the smallest things;
a mum who says ‘wait’ when you need her ‘now’
a friend who says ‘no’ when you need a ‘Hell Yeah!’
when you feel belittled, and not invited
when you feel not good enough, or out of place
not heard, not seen
not valued
The True North of Memoir
I didn’t realise revising my memoir would be this hard or take this long, but now I see what I’m here to learn.
As I reread one of the though chapters I wondered, was it the abuse, or that fear we all feel when something unacceptable and wrong happens to us at an age before we have the words to describe and share our experience with anyone, that is the center of my story? I’m not taking away from the pain I felt at the time, I see that its real, nor do I dispute the fact that what happened to me was wrong on so many levels, it’s the core of what we have come to know as #metoo.
As children, we love our parents even when they fail us. As we grow into adulthood and recognise their shortcomings, even neglect, love can give way to anger, frustration and hurt over how they failed to protect and comfort us. How they scoffed at our pleads and told us to get on with it – when a comforting hug was all we needed – or when they laughed when we shared our tender teenage feelings. They did not see me for who I was and so started my journey of becoming someone I hoped they could accept. On that journey, I sailed further and further away from my true self. It’s choppy water full of pain as I failed, again and again, at getting the acceptance I craved.
(more…)
Flow
There is nothing quite so luscious as getting lost in the FLOW, where you forget that you haven’t washed your hair in 3 days and you have a daughter in school, who forgot her lunch money and sent you an SOS email, which you forget to check, and Facebook and Instagram is as far from your mind as the room you’re in, right now, lost in the flow.
There is nothing quite so sumptuous than to feel the tips of my fingers tapping a dance on the smooth Apple keys, notes to a melody uncoiling stories on the page, to the tunes of smooth jazz coming from afar.
There’s nothing quite so delicious as the writer’s flow.
