Dear Ones,
This is one of those strange times in my life, when all I can do is lean into love and be ok with all the questions. My Dad was not a good father, still he was the father I had, he was my only father.
Some believe we pick our parents so they can teach us some of the big lessons we are meant to learn in life. In that respect, he was a ‘great teacher.’ Accepting his view of the world without judgment and without having to agree with him is where I’m at today.
Today feels like starting all over agin.
The surge of fear swells up from my gut like burning indigestion. Halting my breath as if I’m reacting to a tiger about to eat me alive. Striking at my hip and shoulder where I carry my emotions like numb pain.
At first, fear so vivid, I can see the tiger, before I remember to breathe.
Last weekend, having lunch, I saw a good mum feeding her 10 year old daughter. It wasn’t a very healthy lunch and the daughter could do with healthy. I judged her, and I don’t even know her WHY.
A few days ago I went on a field trip with Ruby’s school. The day was extra hot and dry with the sun beating down on us in the desert landscape of Waadi Digla. I was in the back troop as we set out on a big hike. Climbing the steep hill, sand and rocks coursed down the hillside, under our trainers.
My god, what am I like?
So yesterday I wrote about showing up on time for our Write-In’s and today I turn up late for Ruby’s reading celebration?
– What the heck, like? I hate it when I find my own ‘behaviour’ unacceptable.
‘Don’t be so hard on yourself.’ I know, but . . .
It’s one of those #metoo stories I never told.
Buried in my subconscious, it first raise it’s ugly head, when in my teens, my boyfriend and I played at having sex.
When authors talk about it taking a year, or more, to write a book, they’re not wrong, For it’s stories like these that slows us down.