I carry her…

This is so powerful.

You can’t abandon her. It’s true. I’ve tried. There are things she has done along the way that no longer sit well with me. They probably didn’t sit well with me at the time, but I didn’t know then how to process and rectify them.

I have some journals, that are full of fanciful nonsense, and unfiltered truths. There have been occasions where I have thought about burning them. Each time I am super unwell or need surgery (the catastrophizer in me goes straight to, this is it - death 💁🏻‍♀️) I panic and think I can’t leave this kind of telltale legacy behind. So I again consider a bonfire, (there’s a bunch of journals, fuel will be needed), a sacrifice to the Gods of let’s just removed the evidence. But I just can’t do it. Wuss! Am not! (that’s the me’s having a fight).

I hate the thought of someone actually reading my thoughts. Yet at the same time it feels deceptive not to own who I was and ultimately am. I can burn those journals, but I can’t ever deny who I was/am. Because they are one and the same. We are a whole, we got me to here.  And on some level I am still all those parts I have played, I have just learned to hone them, to deliver them better.

But none of that would be possible without her, so I carry her,  I own her, and I don’t burn the journals. Nor do I allow myself to delete blogs (ok maybe one or two, but they were super lame). I just feel like I’d be deleting what was my truth, even if was short lived.

Footnote

Just after publishing this blog, I came across this post.

seemed fitting…

17th December 2024

I came across this yesterday…

To me it was so powerful that I wanted to give it it’s own blog. But I realised I would just be repeating in a round about way something that I keep trying to express. And here’s yet another persons words perfectly conveying them so smoothly. Coming across those words is so validating. To see another persons explanation of how you feel makes you realise, that you are not alone in your way of thinking. If another person wrote this, chances are there are a lot more that feel this way. And it’s a way that makes perfect sense. If we see ourself as a lot of short stories, sitting in a pile, waiting to be added to, it means we get to move on to the next story without continually trying to edit the last one. We just start on the next. We plant new seeds.

10th February 2025

A lil something save worthy…

11th February 2025

19th February 2025