How many of us lose our way back to the heart of the child we once were, to the little one who just ‘was’ or, at least way trying hard to be? I got overcome in the shopping centre today while eating my lunch. While also watching others queue at the salad bar I saw a Mum and daughter dressed from the bottom down in jodhpurs and dusty riding boots. I was drawn to the earthy, groundedness of the two of them and after a while they came to sit near to me amicably chatting and sharing lunch. At the same time I was reading the early chapters of actor, Alan Cummings autobiography in which he shares how his father actively tried not only to steal any joy he and his brother experienced but how he was always forcing the young Alan to do things far beyond his age range capabilities, while inciting him with fear. He forced Alan to ride a tractor before his legs were really long enough to reach the pedals and took the stabilisers off his bike too soon on an ice stretch of road setting him up for a number of falls that resulted in bruises. For some reason both of these things triggered my inner child, I took myself off to the nearby bathroom and had a massive digestive/ panic attack while fighting back tears.
I was thinking of all that I loved that was denied me as a child. I was thinking of how I begged and pleaded for a horse, but both my parents were ‘too busy’ to drive me to ride it. I then wanted a dog and that turned into a big battle I did eventually win, but our dog got hurt and in the end, had to be given away (or maybe my parents lied and had her put down, a thought that only occurred to me recently while watching a movie in which a child was lied to about their dog ‘going to a farm’ but really being euthenaised.)
I still struggle with letting the natural child in me be free just to like what she likes and have healthy boundaries around things, not so good for me I may want. My brother finally called yesterday. The issue of my move came up and I just broke down in tears, he then began pressing me as to whether or not I was in touch with ‘Scott’, my scammer of 2018 -2019. The truth is I have not been replying to latest emails but my brother was like a dog with a bone and wouldn’t let it go, saying over and over and over that he was lying all along and I promised I would not be in touch, which was not true, I only promised I would send no more money and I didn’t.
Anyway during the call my stomach got so tight and I felt like my entire body was in a vice and being scree\wed, its still hard to write about it today without crying. I broke down and told him I was feeling so lost and suicidal lately but I know there is a strong part of me, I just could not seem to access it yesterday. Come to think of it Venus just entered Pisces and I have been feeling water logged emotionally and inundated as well as it is hitting natal Chiron as well and Mars is hitting it too as both planets, Venus and Mars are in a square or challenging aspect for the next week or so.
My sister had tried to call earlier and I missed the call, so I rang her and she was great, she affirmed that she believes the place I am living is more ‘me’ and encouraged me to get the other place on the market. She also offered to go with me to the coast 4 days after my birthday in three weeks, asking if I wanted to take Jasper… which will be fun as he has never gone to the beach before and there is apparently a doggie beach just down from our family town house. This is a big change and partly I felt glad but also partly sad. Sometimes lately I feel its hard to breathe having fallen for a scammer who still affirms they are not a scammer but in the next breathe asks for money again. Why the fuck doesn’t he just let go? But as my brother said he will try to screw me over if I don’t block him completely but blocking is just not something I ever do.
I know that I am not truly stuck in my life, I just feel a bit pinned into place lately. My sister was encouraging me to try to have a break from Canberra, it has been years since I went away any where. I had a painter turn up to do a quote today and then the gardener came briefly but I got overwhelmed again. Part of me wants to be free of earthly burdens but I know its part of life to be grounded in matter, it is just that sometimes this house and the way I came to buy it is soaked through with the taint of ancestral, ‘overdoing’. I am hoping if I get a few things fixed I will be more able to relax here.
The hot dry summer has been tough on all local gardens, stressing over it before the weather changes wont help much. Sometimes i just need to find a way to be comfortable with signs of death, dryness and decay but I am such a water baby I long for moisture and coolness, maybe its why I can never go for too long without shedding some tears.
I was encouraged re reading parts of Bill Hayes book, Insomniac City about his move to New York following the death of his partner Steve from AIDS to read of how he found himself often just breaking randomly into tears on the subway, seeing couples in love, or watching other triggers. In one part of the book which is composed of vignettes he runs into an Asian man who is crying who he tries to help. In the end Bill meets therapist Oliver Sacks and they become lovers and partners. Which makes me realise that as long as their is life, there is hope.
Often loss makes of us better writers, more attuned to the darker side others may ignore, but I always pray such deepening does not come at the cost of losing touch with our wonderful inner child who as a youngster may have experienced his or her path towards joy frustrated, negated or blocked, for a life lived without joy and hope and glimmers of happiness is as meaningless and superficial in the long run, as a life without deeper sorrow.