A cake, white bread with cinnamon and raisins.
Or wine. It’s when the deep dark grief knocks me down. It’s when I feel gruellingly unhappy and I don’t like this feeling. I don’t want to feel this way. I shouldn’t be feeling this way – I try to convince myself each time.
It’s like I feel all the horrible things/ pain happening in the world extremely intense.
I would do all possible healing there are, listen to uplifting speakers and music to avoid/ get rid of that feeling.
Eat the cake or have a glass of wine or two.
Today was this day. Unexpected.
I saw a video of a dog protecting a child from a danger.
And it recalled the memory from my childhood when our dog didn’t allow my mother & family to punish me.
And no, my mother/ family weren’t monsters. They did what they were taught/ believed was right to do.
I was approx 3 years old, taken my brother, who was 1 1/2 and we disappeared into the woods.
Our house was just next to it.
So we walked and explored the forest and our dog followed us.
I even remember its’ name.
Of course, when our parents discovered we were gone, they were freaking out like crazy.
I actually remember clearly the scene when they found us.
There were lots of people. My grandmother. Some aunts.
Me, my brother and the dog stood in the middle of the circle of the adults.
As I was the eldest and apparently the reason of the whole trouble, I had to be punished.
So I can learn and not do things like that again.
Feeling scared and ashamed.
Alone and so small against the angry world.
But when my mom approached me, the dog wouldn’t allow her to come close to me.
Someone else tried and the dog wouldn’t let him either.
There I suddenly felt safe.
The dog protected me.
So, I escaped the punishment.
Thanks to the dog.
Today I know, that deep grief comes, among other, from the feeling unsafe/ unprotected by my parents.
It shouldn’t be the dog but them who should protect a child.
I know many people go/ have been through much worse, but today I am not belittling my feelings.
I allow myself to feel the grief.
I cry and cry.
First, it felt like that heavy never ending rain.
And then it dissolves.
It takes the grief with.
Wasn’t that bad.
It did hurt and wasn’t beautiful.
Feelings aren’t dangerous, but it takes lots of courage to feel them.
I know grief.
And I’m not afraid of it any longer.
It taught me a wisdom and love.
I love my mom, and my dad & all the other crowd- even it’s still difficult to say it loud (in our culture no one said it unless you were tipsy/ drunk – however, thankfully I never spared all the love/ loving words for my children).
Forgiving is not a big issue for me, as I can see the whole picture.
Avoiding the painful feeling has been the big issue.
Now I know better.
I just damn cry if I feel like.
Suppressing/ controlling/ not feeling aren’t the answer and it’s extremely unloving towards yourself and your loved ones.