Archive for October, 2016

fall.jpgAlmost 4 years ago I sat in a doctors office, bouncing my baby daughter upon my knee, whilst a medical professional told me I had breast cancer. She looked at me with a sadness and confusion that almost annoyed me as I desperately tried to calm my fussy baby. In that moment, I was more interested in calming my daughter than facing the concern of the stranger in a white coat who patted my arm and asked me “Do you understand what I am trying to tell you? This is bad news.”

Yes, I told her. Yes, I understand. I whipped out the offending breast and popped a nipple in my daughters mouth. I looked at the curvaceous white flesh that provided my baby with life giving nutrients and wondered whether the same breast would take my life. Yes, I understand. But in the way of human nature, I clung to the little piece of hope hidden within the box of bad news – more tests meant uncertainty. I could live with uncertainty. (more…)

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quote-anne-lamottHello world.

It has been rather a long time since we last spoke – so long in fact, that I forgot my log in to this blog. I was in hibernation, or in hiding. I think I still am. I am not even sure if I am ready to be here, to hold this space, to open the door and let anyone in, but here I am. Scared witless and struggling, but still here.

For the last year or so I have had the worst writers block I have ever experienced. It was only today that I finally accepted the truth – that I was not only finding it difficult to write, but that I have been actively avoiding it. For someone who believes in living ones truth, I have been living a lie. Or lots of little lies. Lies of omission.

I haven’t finished the book I was writing. A book I know is meant to be birthed into this world, a book with a due date that is past due, a book that should be nestled on my shelves with the scent of fresh ink. A book I have let down repeatedly by not giving my best, my all, my heart and soul, my truth. I stand still with anger, and the pages remain blank.

Here is the painful truth. I first write to clear my mind, then to open the floodgates of my soul, and then to pour myself and my stories onto the page. To feel the flow of words where the magic of creation happens. I cannot write with a cluttered mind, and my mind is cluttered. The floodgates are jammed with debris, the flow slowed, and the magic out of reach…. because I won’t let myself write the words I need to write. I am creating the blockage, I am the clutter, I am holding myself back, I am holding myself in. It is not that I cannot write, it is that I am afraid to. The words that need to spill out of me are personal, emotional, ugly and revealing. I need to turn my blood to ink and then bleed all over the page in ways that other people may find unpleasant and uncomfortable because what I need to write are all the reasons I could not write. I am afraid that in telling my stories, I will be telling the stories of all those connected to me. I censored myself so much, in fear and compromise and consideration of others, that I taped my own mouth shut.

vulnerability

 

Enough is enough. I am on a journey to the underworld, and like Inanna I will strip myself bare to face the truth of love and loss. Through the dark half of this year I will turn my inner journey outwards and as the world awakens, so shall I.

I shall be vulnerable, and I shall be strong.

 

 

Thank you World, I needed that. Maybe we can talk again tomorrow.

 

 

Bright Blessings,

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