I’ve been quiet of late, I know.
I’ve been anxious about the birth next April and a lot of my fears from last time have been surfacing.
I’ve been feeling the reduced serotonin levels through the lack of running and am just about managing fast walking every night despite early sciatica rearing it’s ugly head. So, I have been a little bit low.
I mourned with Autumn. Which is why I have been quiet.
But it’s Winter now.
The stillness and the cold is ample at giving us the opportunity to reflect on inner healing.
This weekend saw the start of our Christmas clear out.
My Dad built me a new cupboard in the ktichen- hiding the hideous boiler and giving me the little bit of extra storage space I need.
In the meantime, I offered the old cupboard he had made to my sister who came up to collect it yesterday.
Saturday saw me ironing the four thousand pairs of trousers, two thousand tops and countless bundles of toddlers clothes still stained at the neck despite numerous scrubbing sessions. So although it wasn’t a heavy day, it saw me standing in the silent house doing repetitive movements and falling into a trance.
Sunday saw me emptying out drawers, boxes, shelves, cupboards. I woke up in a bad mood knowing all that I had ahead of me.
What is it about clear outs that get me in such bad humour?
Everything I do, you see, I relate to my inside world.
When I run I am chasing away inner stagnation. When I am resting I am the peace of a still lake.
When I am comfort eating I am shoveling down disturbed feelings that don’t have a place in my soul.
Just like how we have numerous bit’s of crap floating around the house that have no place. Clutter.
Urgh, clutter. Clutter is just a reflection of all those unsettled inner feelings that don’t have a place in my soul.
So when I have clutter in my house I know things are bad on the inside.
But yesterday, thanks to the glorious stillness of Winter, I was quiet enough to put a name to those feelings.
I found objects that I had hidden away in this cupboard.
This rarely opened cupboard that was looming over me every day. It was not built for my new home, you see. It was measured for a specific corner of our old house so it never really fit.
And when I took it with me, I also took all the baggage that I hid in it.
Yesterday I got up and began the clearing out process.
Confronted with hidden items, I weeped and I designated some pieces for the rubbish and some for the charity shop.
Little things that reminded me of Dolly- remember this post? When dogs die
I silently mourned her as I cleared away old collars, sprays, toys. I could still smell her.
Then I found an old bag of baby grows.
This really engulfed me.
Knowing that I cannot remember the first year of my Elf’s life struck me hard.
That year of walking in the clouds. There in body but not in spirit.
Seeing photos and not remembering taking them.
Constantly worrying that my distance effected her in some way.
Now worrying that if my new baby gets my ‘presence’ in the first year will they be or feel different. More so, will Elf feel different.
The anxiety that I robbed my precious first born of those essential nurturing, spiritually bonding moments all because I had left my body.
It took me two years to realise that the Elf’s birth had traumatised me to the point where I had changed as a person. But it took me one year to just come back down to Earth.
And here I am again, walking into the hospital like a screaming Celtic warrior, paint all over my face, ready for war this time. Ready.
Ready to defend myself.
Isn’t that sad?
Birth, the most natural thing that humans have been doing since the beginning of our existence and here I am struggling to even enter the hospital without feeling like a giant hand is constricting my stomach.
I am a file- not a person.
I am a mindless animal- not a decisive, intelligent woman.
****INSERT BIG SIGH HERE****
So there I was on the floor of the ‘play room’ (not that she even plays in it) accepting my grief.
My grief for my adolescence companion who I would give anything to just have her lie on me right now. To feel her warmth.
My grief for what should have been an ecstatic fist year of my firstborns life.
My grief for myself- who I am I anymore?
…and my loneliness.
The loneliness of knowing not one single member of the medical community can even comprehend what I am going through internally because it simply is not tangible or measurable to them. If it is not physical then it is not a problem. If they can’t see it then it is not there.
Winter brings with it freshness and quiet reflection.
But it also brings coldness and loneliness.
Even when you are surrounded by expansive mountains or magnificant people, in Winter, all you can hear is your own echo.