Thursday, 12 June 2014


Beach combing is one of my very favourite things.  In scrambling to write in the moment as quickly as the thoughts come I leave myself to then pick through it all after the tide has receded  to find the gems, the treasure, the things I will take home, clean up and keep.  From in amongst the driftwood and jumble of words I sort, find order and meaning and clean them somewhat into arrangements of acknowledgement.

I combed through my file of poetry on my computer last night and 46 written in 7 months is a fairly accurate reflection on this part of the journey for me.  Intense, doesn't cover it.  And those are just the ones I didn't delete and disregard or gag at on re-reading!  I could practically publish a book if any of them were of any interest to anyone else!  I have played with proojecting words recently, played with speaking them and shouting them at the universe, just to stand up and be counted.  I've toyed with the idea of speaking them to people, real people - but that is still a work in progress, watch this space.
I hit a major low a little while ago.  Until that point I thought I was handling everything in this separation with resilience and tenacity.  But cracks started showing, my walls closed in on me until some voice from deep within shouted 'ENOUGH of this already! wake the fuck up! GET the fuck up girlfriend!  In fact it wasn't a voice deep down at all - it was right in my face.  I had a phase of insomnia and sleep paralysis which ended one morning with an unnerving vision of this massive old black crow screaming and screeching like a wraith or wild banshee in my face, the urgency and message were unmistakable, critical.  WAKE.THE.FUCK.UP! 

At the same time my brother came to see me one afternoon.  He brought peace with him.  We drank tea.  He expressed concern.  All in his soothingly equanimous way and it spoke to something subtly within me,  defibrillating my flat lining soul.  Where I had stopped eating, stopped sleeping, started to drink too much and unwittingly let destructive thought processes start eating away - my gumption, self worth and respect got a reboot.  My siblings are amazing.  They are genuinely my best friends.
Every day there are tests and curve balls.  The weight of all the logistical sortings I have and still have to undertake press tears to the corner of my eyes - they sometimes breach and drag streaks of un-freakin-waterproof vegan mascara down my cheeks.  Soluble scars that say 'I'm trying, I'm trying real fucking hard'.  I need my tank topping up because the gods know I'm running on vapours.  Adrenalin is keeping me going and always at the back of my mind the knowledge that I cannot take my foot off the gas for a single moment, not until I am moved in to my own home and all my affairs are in order.  I AM closer than ever now.  Those tears that threaten to breach, well I let them a little - just a couple as a tip of the hat to all the raw effort I've put into what I have achieved thus far but not wishing to wallow or attract any negative energy I stop and hear the voice of my councellor 'and what are you going to do about it' ... it ... the challenge, the challenges.  Well what else is there to do ... I'm going to rise to them and above them and send that energy right back out there to the universe, transformed into 'can do' in a heart burst.  Feeling the alchemy inside each time.

And that is where I am at.  Sadly distracted from my beautiful children but this is all groundwork for a happy life ahead.  I hope I can set a good example to them.  Of changing shit you no longer need, that no longer serves that putting up for a peaceful 'easy' life don't cut the mustard baby!  Hopefully they will see this one day.  They are at the forfrount of my mind in all of this, how could the not be.  Each day they bring me copper coins they find to 'put towards the new house' BE.STILL.MY.HEART.

Always with so much love X


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