forgetting how to breathe

I am writing from experience when I share with you dear reader the difference between a woman who returns to herself on a regular basis and a woman who does not.

The first is a woman I have lost and as I sit here putting these words together the best way I can, I struggle to remember what that first woman looks like or feels like. The second woman however, I can talk about easily as this is who I am in this very moment.

This woman who does not return to herself is the one who is constantly running in one direction or another, internally and externally. She is busy all day long with the many tasks each new day brings, barely having enough time to sit and sip on a cup of tea whilst it still steams from the top.

Her face is fixed, focused if you like, her jaw is tight and her eyes tired. She rarely smiles from her heart anymore.

Her hair, if she has any left, falls out of its clip on a regular basis each time revealing the unattended ends. She whips it back up in a flash never bothering to even glance in the mirror when she is done.

Her clothes no longer represent who she is, rather they are practical and most of the time comfortable. Sometimes she stares in the wardrobe with despair as her eyes desperately search for something she likes. Not one item can she find. “What would I like to have hanging in here she asks herself?”, she doesn’t even know anymore.

Her mind is constantly filled with an uneasiness that she can never explain. All she knows is that life is unsatisfactory and passing fast. She fears she may die feeling this way, unsatisfied with life and all its contents.

Every time she catches a glimpse of something inside that inspires her to turn in a different direction and move towards her becoming, she is chased back the other way again.

She slowly but surely loses the ability to communicate. She nods and smiles an empty smile when she needs to but ever so quickly the focused strain returns to her face and her lips seal tightly together once more.

She even loses the ability to communicate with herself. She tries in vain to hear what her body is trying so desperately to tell her but the sounds are muffled and she can no longer make any sense of what she hears.

Her breath no longer fills her with life, it merely prolongs her death and her heart beats to a rhythm she can no longer dance to, leaving the task of loving the other an impossible one.

She doesn’t know where to turn next so she keeps on running in one direction or another keeping far too busy to reflect on such sad things.

She cries inside. She can’t tell you why … she doesn’t really know.

She moves through her days in a mechanical way, she is becoming a machine, not a woman.

Who is she now, this woman who walks through life like a corpse?
Void of feeling, empty and numb.

She needs to return to herself, somewhere in her heart she knows this all too well but she doesn’t know how anymore.

She is lost in this strange place and fears she will never find her way back.

She needs to breathe, she has forgotten how....
Too long attached to the fake placenta.... she needs to breathe on her own again.

Routine on the run!

My latest epiphany happened when I was in the midst of desperately trying to create some kind of routine for my very earth bound virgo child, whilst packing my back pack in preparation to move onto the next place.

Is is just me or this a super weird image?

It really got me thinking and recognising just how much time and energy I put into trying to maintain some kind of rhythm and routine so that my little one can move through her days with more ease. I know this is an absolutely normal practice for the majority of mums that work with the idea that kids function better with some kind of routine and rhythm (I am obviously one of these) but to me it just seems a little contrary to our lifestyle somehow.

Here we are roaming around the globe with very few possessions (we have plenty at home in boxes!) trying to immerse ourselves into different cultures, thinking how wonderful this is for our little lotus flower and all the time I am subconsciously maintaining her security by keeping the rhythm that she loves and works best with.

I am talking about the little things like; the stories we read together in bed when we wake up in the morning or brushing our teeth after breakfast or washing our hands before we eat and of course the songs we sing as we lay in bed together at night before we go to sleep.

These simple things, these re-occurring moments mean so much to my little virgo girl.

What would it do to her if I totally let go of these small things that give each new day some similarity to the last and that provide her with the comfort of knowing at times what comes next?

Likewise, what would it be like for her to always be able to sit in her chair at the table and to always eat the same kind of food or to sleep in the same bed.... and always wake up in the same bed?

She has us... her mama and papa and we are always with her when she drifts off to sleep at night and always there when she opens her eyes in the morning.... but is that enough?

My virgo lotus is an amazing 2 year old that can remember all the words to nearly every nursery rhyme I have taught her, that can count to 10 in two languages and say hello in many. She is gentle, loving and toilet trained and as independent as we will allow her to be.

But is she blossoming as fully and totally as a child that has a permanent address?

I am not so sure anymore.