Dust
/This is a poem about something that bothers me in my living space, but that I constantly make the choice of leaving it as it is, until I have the energy to do it.
Sharing openly from the heart. Looking Trauma in the eye.
This is a poem about something that bothers me in my living space, but that I constantly make the choice of leaving it as it is, until I have the energy to do it.
‘What about me?’ This question popped into my mind several times in my life.
I am giver. I spent a lifetime giving my love, attention, energy, to work and people. I gave, again and again, and there would be times, when I would somehow stop and ask myself: ‘What about me?’
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This is the first part of a two part post. A before and after account of what has changed in me. How I became aware of the many aspects of being me and what it means in practice to become aware, the transformation and the benefits.
Read MoreThe following text is a post on my experience of remembering trauma and I share something that feels very sensitive. The path for me to actually press the publish button, has felt long and painful. The more I felt the push to publish, the more fears came up, the fear is still here, right now, as I write, and I am still going to press the publish button.
The push eventually subsided and now I have a sense that these words need to be said so that I can carry on exploring my authentic self in all it’s colours, variations and emotions. It feels like I can no longer write about anything without sharing this first.
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