21/01/2021
This picture was taken in December 2016. Those Raccoon eyes are not the result of smudged make-up; those are the exhausted eyes of parenting two kids under 4, in a relationship with someone who travelled frequently as an entrepreneur, dealing with and historical family trauma in the wake of my fathers’ death.
If I’m honest, I don’t quite remember much from that time; all I feel is a deep sense of regret and heartache for not recognising that woman needed help an had no fu***ng way of knowing how to ask for it.
Her heartache often stole her voice and that voice often sounded like rage.
My heart breaks for the kind of mother I might have been. Or not have been. If I didn’t love myself, how did my precious children know how much I loved them, or indeed, what were they learning about love?
As I sit here, reflecting upon this , I am invited inward, now, to hear that woman. To answer her call for help. To step into her my shadow, and to let love cast its glorious healing light on that wound, on that woman. On me.
I’m learning that looks very much like being the best version of me;
the front and the back;
the top and the bottom -
no mutual exclusivity.
If I have any hope of teaching my children any value, I must be a reflection of that value. Right?