I want to see someone with whom I can just be myself. Someone with whom it is not exhausting to be with. And suddenly I remember my childhood where I spent so much time in solitude longing for love. As a result, I become a creative person. Creativity is the only thing that keeps me sane in such a lonely and dangerous world. I feel like an alien in this world, yet keep creating. Writing, drawing, recording, finding relief in my stories that I create. Talking to imaginary friends. Or spirits.
This dream has been bizarrely gentle, bringing up memories from my childhood and making me dive into the realms of deep self-love and acceptance.
I managed to break my right arm and they tell me I will get a cast and there is this almost funny conflict inside of me that I am slightly annoyed about the fact that I am in pain and a bit more annoyed about the fact that I will not be able to do much work the following weeks and having a cast is not fun - yet I feel taken care of.
The process of getting a cast on my arm is a mesmerizing miracle by itself. The gentle examination of my bruises, the soft linen wrapping around my skin like a second layer of skin, hugging my pain. It is beautiful, in a way. To have a body, to feel. To navigate in 3D reality. I am moved that there are others around me that take care of me and there is this guy with me all the time. So I smile, in the midst of chaos and pain and not even knowing how all of this has happened. And it is alright, somehow. In the middle of the storm, there is deep surrender and peace.
And I wake up, alone, with my arm hurting and I start to cry because I feel so alone in that moment. Thought I know deep inside my heart, everything is there, all the time. Love is always there. The sun is always there, even at night, when the stars are shining and she seems to be asleep.
I want to see someone with whom I can just be myself. Someone with whom it is not exhausting to be with.
And suddenly I remember my childhood where I spent so much time in solitude longing for love. But my father wasn't there and my mother would always send me away, tell me to go play by myself, because I am a big girl, I can do that, and then she locks herself away in the bathroom and vomits or falls asleep. I do not understand what is going on at that time, just that this earth is a frightening place. Fantasizing about my parents getting killed all the time at a young age. Wondering how I find my way home from another town in case my father gets shot and I have to walk back alone. I am deeply afraid of people, of life, of loss, of everything.
As a result, I become a creative person. Creativity is the only thing that keeps me sane in such a lonely and dangerous world. I feel like an alien in this world, yet keep creating. Writing, drawing, recording, finding relief in my stories that I create. Talking to imaginary friends. Or spirits. My real friends are cats or other animals, somehow they are closer to me than most humans. Humans are weird. Other children do not understand me when I talk about energies or other things I am interested in. I rather write stories or do art than play outside. Their games are so violent, I do not want to be part of that.
And then I remember, the only times when I felt really held and taken care of is when I was sick. It was the only way to get attention. Getting good grades in school was just expected from me.
So I wonder if getting sick or injuring yourself can be a cry for love, for my own love. Because now I am the parent of my own inner child.
I find it hard to imagine myself being a loving mother so I divide myself into another person that I truly love and into the small me. That works for me though in the past I have experienced needing to justify why I should take care of myself. Every day? The beliefs "You need to be strong and do it on your own" and "You don't need anyone" were cemented into my head and heart.
Slowly as this year unfolds and I am away from the energy of my home country I start to realize:
I deserve more love, not less. Whatever arises, whatever I feel. I deserve love, every single moment. I do not have to be sick or hurt or whatever first. I do not need a reason. The reason is my own existence and that is already enough. And that feels so good. That feels like coming home.
The sun is shining today so beautifully and a voice inside of me tells me: You should go outside.
Another kinder voice tells me I do not have to do anything. It asks me what I want to do right now. If there was nothing to do, what would you do? I want to write down my thoughts and feelings, and that is what I do now. I don't know why or how all of this happens, but it does. I create, I write, I sing, I express myself the best way I can. Not knowing the next step on the road.
What I enjoy about this moment is - there is nothing wrong here. Nothing has to be fixed, or different. I do not suffer. I observe the flow of life flowing through me. All of this means I am alive. And there is love for myself. What a gentle sensation.