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The low, dark places

I was recently empowered, during a fabulous Zoom meeting with fellow female creatives ( & to stop censoring myself, particularly my writing. I have been writing poetry off and on since I can remember, but most of it is dark. Really dark. A lot of it landed in the bin, others ripped up, many left sitting, unread in my computer because I figured - no I knew - that no one would want to read the vulnerable, often dark words that I had poured out onto those pages.

But recently I came to the realisation that when I read the dark musings of fellow creatives who struggle with their own set of demons, their words reach down and touch the depths of my soul, allowing me to feel connected in a way that I desperately need. We are not alone, even in our suffering. We can be connected, even in the low, dark places.

There are bright shiny moments radiating out the top like a sparkly rainbow where the whole world is alight with joy, the warmth of love that makes our heart want to burst with pleasure, the fiery sun of our ambition and power that radiates out our feelings of self worth in those moments of success, the sexy flirty moments of fully engaged sensuality, the grounded feeling of standing tall in our truth and our innate goodness. In these moments it is easy to connect with others.

But there is also the scared child trying to hide, the shame of trauma buried deep that occasionally rears its ugly head and draws us back into the shadows, the darkness of depression that begs us to just disappear, the sinking vortex of anxiety that sucks the goodness and light out of your surroundings like a black hole, the stomach clenching devastation of rejection, the sometimes overwhelming feelings of insufficiency, of inadequacy, the imposter syndrome, the loss of trust that leaves us feeling like an exposed live wire... those are the moments where we disappear. In these moments we feel disconnected, and we disconnect ourselves.

I wrote a poem the other day in a particularly difficult moment in my life. I cried, I comforted myself. I hugged my hurting self and gave her love, I allowed myself to just feel it all, to honour the pain and release it back to the earth. Then I went to bed. I woke up the next day, hugged my kids and went on with my crazy busy life. Within a few days I was dancing and singing again. That is the cycle of my life.

I am not ready to share this most recent poem yet, but here's one from last year that I have had the time to process. Hope you enjoy it 🦋

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