Here with these words I can be myself. I can be with myself. And being with myself isn’t that scary. Even though sometimes it seems to be. Others showed me life is scary and that they needed help. When I feel sadness and anger, the feelings seem to shout help. Maybe it is my mother shouting help! Help, Frances, help me! I don’t know the way back home. I’m lost.

She was lost. She was restless. And sometimes I feel restless. Scared. Filled with rage. As if the feelings have pointy edges. Screaming: help, help! But so much has happened. So many wounds have opened, so much pain, damage, emotional and physical pain has come to me in life. And now, I am left with the wounds, with the marks, the scars. Left to my own devices on how to heal.

Luckily I have got intuition and people tell me I am good at reflection. I also have very loving friends. Understanding, really living through what I am living, rooting for me, hoping for me, helping me, caring for me. Giving me a card or a gift, sending me options for a place to live, going on a day out on the bike. Sometimes strangers or neighbours are so kind. So kind, it nearly overwhelms me. Sometimes the kindness makes me feel guilty as if I should do more.

Maybe that is my mother shouting help! I’m scared. I’ve always depended on her and she depended on me and of course you are depended on each other but she never found her footings, her bearings, her peace. There was nothing to come back to. And I do feel peace. I feel rest. I can feel relaxed. I can be with my emotions. Even though I sometimes do get overwhelmed and it is my task to be curious. Why am I scared?

How do I become myself, love myself, take care of myself, whilst being an interbeing, dependent of everything around her and at the same time independent. Maybe it has to do with peace, going back to peace. Being present, feeling what you are feeling or thinking, letting it be.

Letting it be, letting it go. Letting things go scares me. But I am probably past the point of not doing things that scared me. I can let go and so I do. I felt so much rage. It keeps coming. Feeling unheard, unseen, unloved, uncared for. The wish of the love, the care, the nurishment. The longing. The hope. The hope that is lost.

The hope I now have to give to myself. The love I have to give to myself. It’s there. The love just needs a safe attachment to myself. No need to be scared, no need to scream, to shout help, I’m here. I have always been here. I have got your back. I am here. I love you. I love you so much. I love your curls, I love your eyes, your softness, your openness, I love you. I love you for who you are. Even though that is scary. Because who are you? I am Frances. A being, just like another being. And I love.

I have love to give.

Sending love ❤