I have been using my writing a lot recently as some form of silent witness to my deepest secrets, without breathing a word to unleash any such secrecy.
I am a Scorpio, we’re dreadfully private creatures. I write, but nought is often said. My mind has been thrown into chaos, thanks to some carefully spoken words and I feel the wall of security around my thoughts has been shattered. I’m in an illusion that there is something wrong, when in reality, I’m stronger than I have ever been.
I systemically analyse the troubles I believe haunt me and these are truly insignificant, by that I mean they’re either in the past or invented worst case scenarios…
Neither of which are worth my peace of mind!
Granted, grief is a nasty little fella to comprehend. It is something I can mention, but it is not something I can discuss nor elaborate upon. That will take time, which I can respect.
Self care is something I had pushed aside, overwhelmed by my own self deprecation. This fictional ‘I’m not worthy’ that has been suffocating my good nature, its been festering, growing with self doubt. Created by insecurities, fed through the lies I tell myself.
There is no point to this wallowing negativity! Sure, I have bad days, we all have bad days… Bad days are there so we can see how clearly our good days ought to be treasured. But bad days, should not manifest into bad weeks, bad months. They are but fleeting in a life time, I say with honest hope…
I have been knocked back recently, but I’m also my own worst enemy. Upon realisation, I feel clouds lift, I feel clarity, for I know my way forth is by not stumbling into the past…
Thank You for being there for me…
Anne Harrison 20.07.17
Tatterhood 