am i a horrid person for not feeling happy for my ex now that he has another woman in his life...?
am i a bit pathetic if i feel rejected and cast aside all over again...?
am i just not moving on...?
am i wallowing in self-pity and should i just try a little harder...?
some thoughts that have been bugging me, popping into my head right amongst quite happy and joyful ones {that have nothing to do with ex or his new woman...}
i know i should give myself the time it needs, and i know that it takes however long it takes... i know there is no set time one gets for getting over a relationship, no handy formula {been together for X years, had Y amount of kids, then it will take ___ time...}. i know it goes with being a human being... and really, its okay...
i'm learning to be kinder on myself. which is not easy, when for 40-odd years i've been told to Try Hard, Live Good {according to a set of rules}, Be Good {more rules}, Be Fearful & On Your Guard {for certain people and their wrath}, Ignore Your Inner Self & Feelings {if they don't fit into the Rulebook, or whatever criteria the person{s} i was with at the time held}... learning very hard to figure out who it is I am, under all the debris... slowly getting there...
but don't expect me to be happy yet...
this loss still feels raw to me...
who's afraid of the big bad Woolf?
despite the last thing i wrote, not feeling very chatty...still feeling a little lost, cos i guess i miss my 'tribe' {the people i talked to or nodded at on a daily basis at the primary school} and i've not found anything to replace it with... the neighbourhood i live in isn't the most inviting {to me, that is... enough friendly folks around} and my friends are all busy living their lives {which is totally fine, really} and my family have never been the closest bunch to start with... 'world events' of recent have left me feeling a bit frazzled and exposed, i guess. being a sensitive soul in a harsh world can be trying, to say the least... but then, hasn't the world always been rather harsh, in different ways?
i remember watching the series on Virginia Woolf and her sister Vanessa Bell this summer, and i was struck by how familiar Woolf's plight in 1930's England was - being sensitive and delicate, with trouble on its way which might very well affect her {Jewish} husband, her pillar and mainstay, and as much as she tried to be herself and live her life, the news kept having a drip-effect on her mind, which suffered accordingly. now, i'm not saying i bare complete resemblance to Virginia Woolf, or that i'm about to top myself, but i can understand how she may have been affected, why it all hit her so deeply and that she may have become disheartened, and felt she couldn't fight it all anymore... despite having a husband by her side who loved her so deeply...
she possibly didn't have the things that i now have at my disposal: lovely kids who keep me from taking myself too seriously, but their lives quite. and a sense of humour {from what i gathered}. and internet, which gives me access to online meditations and insights, nice people to talk to, articles that shed a different light on stuff... {although if i had a suitable tribe, internet might not be at all needed... who's to say... chicken//egg...} there are plenty of things i can find that i am incredibly grateful for, and i name them on a daily basis, before i go to sleep, and i know how to ground myself, feel connected within, keep the world out {which i've discovered is most of the 'issue', being disconnected from my Inner Being, allowing The World and it's mother to drag me away}, so hopefully that should be enough to get back on track...
in the meantime, i'm going back into my Self for a but longer, connect with nature a bit more, and hope to God that this world will sort itself out soon...
love & light
and still i refuse to believe that the world is a rotten place...of course there are rotten bits, and those bits seem to be spoiling quite a bit of this beautiful planet, where so many beautiful people try to live their lives, follow their dreams, be loving, nurturing, caring... or just trying to Be, whatever it is they need to Be...
my friend Mo would tell me now that it's massively inflated Ego's that are running scared, cos Ego's are ruled by Fear, by Dreading The Worst, by needing to control our lives... and control others, as well, cos Power feeds...
and i'd say Yeah, i know...
and she'd say that all i need to do is tell my own scared little Ego to Shut the Hell up, that i don't want to hear what it's got to say.... that i will only listen to the loving sounds of my Higher Self...
and i'd say Yeah, i know...
i know i need to keeping letting the light in to follow Love and Light, to trust and Be Happy... to not let Fear win... to not look at the news, cos that will only feed my Ego's fear...
i know...
i do...
only, on days like Yesterday, when i hear of so many innocent lives lost, my Ego takes over... i know i shouldn't let it, but it'll be wading through my mind with it's dirty feet, trampling over happy thoughts, spoiling the colourful carpets... and it will take quite some effort, especially at night, when i feel at my least powerful, to find the soothing voice of my Higher Self...
but still i refuse to believe the worst...
autumn comes
autumn comes, the summer has passed
winter will come too soon
stars will shine clearer
sky seems nearer
under the harvest moon
autumn comes, so let us be glad,
winter will come too soon
stars will shine clearer
sky seems nearer
under the harvest moon
autumn comes, so let us be glad,
singing an autumn tune
hearts will be lighter,
hearts will be lighter,
skies seem brighter
under a harvest moon
under a harvest moon
{song learnt at the Steiner School of the kids, rejoicing in the changes that autumn brings...
and then i thought of this one:
the falling of yellowed leaves
this time of the year makes me simultaneously feel really happy, and crushingly nostalgic. happy, cos the heat from the summer and all it's extravagant exposure-fest has finally subsided, and my introverted side can safely come out to play... and as someone said on Facebook: it's time for the sturdy weather now...it also brings out a massive nostalgia, for my time in England. the first time i noticed that there was such a thing as a Love for Autumn was after my first summer. i had spent a week or so in Holland, catching up with the life i didn't want to go back to, and was picked up from the boat by the mother of the family where i was an au-pair. instead of driving home from Dover, she dropped in on the people they were spending the day with in the sweet town of Tenterden, who lived in a house that i adored as soon as i saw it: red brick, 'wild' garden, lots of pine furniture inside... the people were very sweet as well, very middle class English, and incredibly welcoming, offering me tea as soon as they saw me... on the drive back i noticed that the trees were slowly changing colour, and as the days and weeks went on, i witnessed the most glorious transformation of the area i was living in... it was beautiful!! the colours, the smells, the feels - it was as if i'd finally found what i was looking for all my life...
around that time i also got to know Mr G, and his group of friends, and my life appeared to have been taken off the hand break... it was as if i was allowed - finally - to be happy...
maybe it's that combination, planted into my subconsciousness, the expectation of Joy and Feeling Happy that i've only really felt out there, in Sussex...
this autumn seems to have been one of climactic catharses, of feeling despaired and lost, alone, sad... despite everything that's happened in the past year, the man i had carried on hoping would be able to connect with me, has made it very clear that he's moving on, with other people in his life, and it would be a good idea if i could let my feelings for him finally go... and i know... it's just that... you know...
so i cry, and i release, and i feel, and i allow... understand, accept, let go... like yellowed leaves falling from the birch tree i see outside my window... it's okay... new leaves will come again, when the time is right...
transported
when walking along the road of spiritual enlightenment, i think that i do quite well... i'm booking plenty of progress in many areas, can talk anyone under the table where reflecting and projecting and illusions and convictions are concerned, feel i have unearthed quite a few raw nerves and confronted them, gone through my own little versions of Hell... on the whole, i'm pretty happy with myself. on the verge of being conceited... {which is another whole ego-trip i'll have to look at soon...} but there is one area of my Inner Development that keeps tripping me up, every single time...
i don't like my body...
i don't like the way it looks when i see it in the mirror, i don't like the way it makes me feel, i don't like the way it reminds me of my grandmother {who wasn't a very pleasant woman, very troubled and well, ugly... i hate to say this, and i feel a horrible person for even contemplating this notion, but when i saw pictures of my nan when she was young, i wanted to cry... i know she was vastly under-loved and not cared for enough, told she was stupid and thick, and she never had the gumption to question her ' educators', as she was too busy being scared and unhappy... i know that a big chunk of what i'd see in photo's of the woman that gave birth to my mother was fear, sadness, self-loathing, and we all know that that is the worst basis for creating true beauty, inside or out...}.
i loved my body when it had a clear function...
i loved being pregnant, knowing that a new life was growing inside of me, that although it also freaked the hell out of me, i was a vessel for the little people that are now making their own lives, their own choices and falling in love and all that... i nourished them, for the first 7 months of their baby-hood, and quite some time after that {cos they were faddy eaters, and they got their comfort from being close to me and fed for years}. i sometimes have to tell myself that my milk, the milk that came out of my boobs, raised four babies for the first 7 months of their lives!?!! me?! and then i feel so bloody proud of my body... so bloody proud...
but that just fades into nothing when i think of all the other areas of my life... as long as i can cover it up, hide it, not have to be reminded of it, i'm quite okay. the internet is good for that, as is writing letters. anything to do with not needing to have my body involved is fine. as Sherlock was saying in one of the episodes that i still enjoyed {series one or two}: it's just transport... as long as it's fed and gets the minimal amount of sleep, and doesn't get too beaten up, it will function, and that's all there is to it.
now, i know he was made to be an unsocial, unusual, brainy, living in his head way too much, freak kind of bloke, and way too much is made of what his writers made him say, or not say, but i had to admit: that's how i think i feel, most of the time... it's transport... it gets me from A to Be, it carries my organs, it keeps my brain alive, it makes it possible for me to type, and write and craft and take pictures... but please, don't look at it...
cos that's what people do... they look at each other... i do... i look at others, and i judge. she's nice-looking, and she's too thin, and he's gorgeous, and that bloke there.... jeez.... i 'm convinced people look at me and judge... people say they don't and that i'm just being harsh on myself, but they do... everybody does - it's a normal human behaviour. we judge to see who'd be good partner-material, or fathering-potential, or mothering- possibility, or has friendship-stuff... we look to see what person out there could potentially fill our voids... it's totally normal... only, i don't want anybody to look at me, cos i have this innate fear that they'll see my grandmother - a big, ugly, sagged-out, double-chinned, grey-haired, unhappy person...
cos i guess that's what i feel i am...
have i ever felt attractive? yes...
in the last 20 years? no...
at the beginning of my two relationships {which still amaze me...} i felt attractive... i look back at photo's of myself then, in 1991, i was the most attractive i remember myself... thin, healthy, beaming - happy... but, was i happy already, when the only 2 guys that have ever desired me wanted me in their lives? was i happy already, when i suddenly had quite a few friends, and a fun life? can i ever resemble the happy person i was back then? or has that ship sailed, and should i settle for being a cranky old woman, who's years, no decades past her prime, who serves no purpose anymore, not to anyone but her kids and the cats...?
so, yeah, plenty to work on still... to achieve that happy mind and happy soul in a happy body... it's not just transport, i'm very much aware, but still....
i don't like my body...
i don't like the way it looks when i see it in the mirror, i don't like the way it makes me feel, i don't like the way it reminds me of my grandmother {who wasn't a very pleasant woman, very troubled and well, ugly... i hate to say this, and i feel a horrible person for even contemplating this notion, but when i saw pictures of my nan when she was young, i wanted to cry... i know she was vastly under-loved and not cared for enough, told she was stupid and thick, and she never had the gumption to question her ' educators', as she was too busy being scared and unhappy... i know that a big chunk of what i'd see in photo's of the woman that gave birth to my mother was fear, sadness, self-loathing, and we all know that that is the worst basis for creating true beauty, inside or out...}.
i loved my body when it had a clear function...
i loved being pregnant, knowing that a new life was growing inside of me, that although it also freaked the hell out of me, i was a vessel for the little people that are now making their own lives, their own choices and falling in love and all that... i nourished them, for the first 7 months of their baby-hood, and quite some time after that {cos they were faddy eaters, and they got their comfort from being close to me and fed for years}. i sometimes have to tell myself that my milk, the milk that came out of my boobs, raised four babies for the first 7 months of their lives!?!! me?! and then i feel so bloody proud of my body... so bloody proud...
but that just fades into nothing when i think of all the other areas of my life... as long as i can cover it up, hide it, not have to be reminded of it, i'm quite okay. the internet is good for that, as is writing letters. anything to do with not needing to have my body involved is fine. as Sherlock was saying in one of the episodes that i still enjoyed {series one or two}: it's just transport... as long as it's fed and gets the minimal amount of sleep, and doesn't get too beaten up, it will function, and that's all there is to it.
now, i know he was made to be an unsocial, unusual, brainy, living in his head way too much, freak kind of bloke, and way too much is made of what his writers made him say, or not say, but i had to admit: that's how i think i feel, most of the time... it's transport... it gets me from A to Be, it carries my organs, it keeps my brain alive, it makes it possible for me to type, and write and craft and take pictures... but please, don't look at it...
cos that's what people do... they look at each other... i do... i look at others, and i judge. she's nice-looking, and she's too thin, and he's gorgeous, and that bloke there.... jeez.... i 'm convinced people look at me and judge... people say they don't and that i'm just being harsh on myself, but they do... everybody does - it's a normal human behaviour. we judge to see who'd be good partner-material, or fathering-potential, or mothering- possibility, or has friendship-stuff... we look to see what person out there could potentially fill our voids... it's totally normal... only, i don't want anybody to look at me, cos i have this innate fear that they'll see my grandmother - a big, ugly, sagged-out, double-chinned, grey-haired, unhappy person...
cos i guess that's what i feel i am...
have i ever felt attractive? yes...
in the last 20 years? no...
at the beginning of my two relationships {which still amaze me...} i felt attractive... i look back at photo's of myself then, in 1991, i was the most attractive i remember myself... thin, healthy, beaming - happy... but, was i happy already, when the only 2 guys that have ever desired me wanted me in their lives? was i happy already, when i suddenly had quite a few friends, and a fun life? can i ever resemble the happy person i was back then? or has that ship sailed, and should i settle for being a cranky old woman, who's years, no decades past her prime, who serves no purpose anymore, not to anyone but her kids and the cats...?
so, yeah, plenty to work on still... to achieve that happy mind and happy soul in a happy body... it's not just transport, i'm very much aware, but still....
heaven gained an angel...
woke up to sad news of Dr. Wayne Dyer passing away... he was the first of the Big Teachers i found when back in Holland, back in the early Noughties, when i was in desperate need of Wisdom and Enlightenment, feeling incredibly deflated by life in my home town, and later in the town where the kids went to school. it just wasn't flowing, and then my brother was getting rid of a load of books, amongst which was one of Dyer's... a godsend, i felt...
this book got me going on the tracks of self-analysis, but in a kind, gentle, positive way, not one where i'd carry on criticising myself, finding all the bits that i wasn't doing right... or just wasn't... as i had been doing for the years that i was with mr G. cos i thought that was how it worked...
after him there were quite a few more, all in the spiritual realm, all teaching me things i was desiring to learn about. but he kept popping back into my thoughts, being the kind, sweet, wise father figure i seem to be looking for in my life...
may his soul rest in peace {and his light shine on...}
watching the lecture {?} he gave on the Power of Intention, again...
this book got me going on the tracks of self-analysis, but in a kind, gentle, positive way, not one where i'd carry on criticising myself, finding all the bits that i wasn't doing right... or just wasn't... as i had been doing for the years that i was with mr G. cos i thought that was how it worked...
after him there were quite a few more, all in the spiritual realm, all teaching me things i was desiring to learn about. but he kept popping back into my thoughts, being the kind, sweet, wise father figure i seem to be looking for in my life...
may his soul rest in peace {and his light shine on...}
watching the lecture {?} he gave on the Power of Intention, again...
woodstock at 46
apparently {according to the Hippies that i follow on Facebook} it's now 46 years ago that Woodstock was happening. i was born in the same year, and feel a strange kind of connection to it, still loving the music that i know from most of the bands/acts that were on.
a small selection of my faves
a place for wussies
while watching the mini-series on BBC2 on the lives and loves of the various members of the Bloomsbury Group - Life In Squares - it became very clear to me that, as an introvert and very sensitive person, England was a far more suited place for me to live than Holland has ever been...
where i lived, in East Sussex, i was regularly thrilled by the room there seemed to be for gentle souls, for delicacy and subtlety. for beautiful flowery gardens, and dreaminess and meandering, pleasantness and politeness... for those who have no truck with the demands of The Real World... don't get me wrong, there were plenty of highly strung and un-subtle folks about, especially in towns, with poverty and problems, so it wasn't a total Valhalla... it disturbed me, but on the whole i was glad i'd found somewhere where i wasn't feeling weird, or wrong... i relished visits to places like Sissinghurst Castle Gardens, or Charleston Farmhouse, learning about people who seemed to be celebrated for being wussies, for living lives wrapped up in dreams and fantasy...
Mr G detested that side of the country. the pandering to the pathetic and the 'needy', loving the Self-Reliance that the Dutch seemed to have in bucket loads. for a long time i found myself trying to bridge his strong dislike for England and my own dislike for being here, falling into a kind of splits... i needed him to like me, but it started to feel incredibly wrong... was i just being unrealistic? was i just being too dreamy for my own good? maybe Mr G was right, and did i need to buckle up, to get over myself, to be stronger and more self-reliant, as were the people around me. not needing to be pandered to... but when do i lose sight of who i really am? why can i not celebrate my own dreaminess? combine it with an inner strength? maybe he needs to get in touch with his own wussy side...
i don't know... it's probably time to let go of what others think is right, and follow my heart once again... who knows where it might lead to...
tomorrow is that last episode of the mini-series i mentioned.... maybe i'll get the dvd of it...
where i lived, in East Sussex, i was regularly thrilled by the room there seemed to be for gentle souls, for delicacy and subtlety. for beautiful flowery gardens, and dreaminess and meandering, pleasantness and politeness... for those who have no truck with the demands of The Real World... don't get me wrong, there were plenty of highly strung and un-subtle folks about, especially in towns, with poverty and problems, so it wasn't a total Valhalla... it disturbed me, but on the whole i was glad i'd found somewhere where i wasn't feeling weird, or wrong... i relished visits to places like Sissinghurst Castle Gardens, or Charleston Farmhouse, learning about people who seemed to be celebrated for being wussies, for living lives wrapped up in dreams and fantasy...
Mr G detested that side of the country. the pandering to the pathetic and the 'needy', loving the Self-Reliance that the Dutch seemed to have in bucket loads. for a long time i found myself trying to bridge his strong dislike for England and my own dislike for being here, falling into a kind of splits... i needed him to like me, but it started to feel incredibly wrong... was i just being unrealistic? was i just being too dreamy for my own good? maybe Mr G was right, and did i need to buckle up, to get over myself, to be stronger and more self-reliant, as were the people around me. not needing to be pandered to... but when do i lose sight of who i really am? why can i not celebrate my own dreaminess? combine it with an inner strength? maybe he needs to get in touch with his own wussy side...
i don't know... it's probably time to let go of what others think is right, and follow my heart once again... who knows where it might lead to...
tomorrow is that last episode of the mini-series i mentioned.... maybe i'll get the dvd of it...
obsess-Ed
it happened again last night...
i was having an alright kind of dream, where stuff tootled along nicely, and again i was at a Pearl Jam concert, with Ed and the band so close by... only three rows away, and i felt so happy, so in that blissful place...
the first time i dreamt about PJ was way before i actually saw them live, and Ed played a crucial part in it, being a kind of Messiah figure, guiding me away from that what was holding me back from being myself, while this song played in the background... he looked as kind and calm as he ever would be {as he can be when he's not all fired up}, the gentle father-figure i've been looking for in my life, guiding and encouraging...
maybe that's what it is, maybe i need to get in touch with my own inner father figure, release my own strength and courage, maybe that's the subconscious message of those dreams i have of Ed and the guys...
or maybe i just need to get a grip on this 'mild' obsession with this beautiful man...
;-)
i was having an alright kind of dream, where stuff tootled along nicely, and again i was at a Pearl Jam concert, with Ed and the band so close by... only three rows away, and i felt so happy, so in that blissful place...
the first time i dreamt about PJ was way before i actually saw them live, and Ed played a crucial part in it, being a kind of Messiah figure, guiding me away from that what was holding me back from being myself, while this song played in the background... he looked as kind and calm as he ever would be {as he can be when he's not all fired up}, the gentle father-figure i've been looking for in my life, guiding and encouraging...
maybe that's what it is, maybe i need to get in touch with my own inner father figure, release my own strength and courage, maybe that's the subconscious message of those dreams i have of Ed and the guys...
or maybe i just need to get a grip on this 'mild' obsession with this beautiful man...
;-)
hiding in a tortoise shell
{running the risk of this becoming a ping-pong blog, this is a response to what Kati wrote on hers, about something i wrote here...}
if i'm totally honest with myself, i don't think i'm looking for a Knight in Shining Armour, as such... i don't want a man in my life to rescue me and look after me for the rest of my life.... as such... i'm looking for Anybody to come and rescue me, deep down... i feel petrified of living on my own, of having to deal with all that life throws at me, on my own... on the one hand... on the other, i love living life my own way, i enjoy working stuff out for myself, love having my own house without anybody moaning about how the chairs are positioned or what colour the walls are, or having a bloody bookshelf downstairs {or not actually saying these things but making sure i know their opinion when others do this...}, having two crazy, hairy cats, and playing music that i want to listen to...
as i said in my comments to Kati, i just don't want to feel lonely... cos that's what i feel like so often... even in my marriage, i felt so lonely... i felt alone, unwanted, misunderstood...
while i was growing up, i had but a few friends. i had M, who's still my friend, and C for many years, and N for a few, but anybody else thought i was weird and left me alone, or i felt betrayed by at some point, and i started to become like a tortoise - i withdrew into my own world, in my bedroom mainly, cos i felt safe there... i created my own world, where i wrote and drew and dreamt about another life, with people who loved me and admired me and thought i was great... where i listened to music and read books, and cut pictures out of magazines and wrote letters and read the ones i received... i loved it in my tortoise shell... nobody could get to me... even my mum left me alone there, most of the time...
until the urge to travel and go to England overtook my need for safety. due to the Law of Attraction {it turned out afterwards...} i found the safest, nicest family that was available at the time, and i spent almost a year living a wonderful life. i got to know lovely people, i saw beautiful parts of the country, i did stuff i never thought i would... i even almost took the plunge to go to Ireland for a year, taking an insecure job as a nanny for the family of a musician i got to know through the school i went to, but that fell through, and i went back to Holland for a bit... but the old life i had left behind was wrong, then... it felt like a prison, after the exuberance and wonderfulness i'd experienced in England. thankfully the man i'd gotten to know there was keen to have me in his life, and i went back...
life in England with him, and the family we had very soon after, felt safe, and wonderful... and i guess that's what i long for when i think back of my life there -- the sudden, unexpected, craved for feeling of wonderfulness of life, of safety, the being cared for, looked after... i guess that's what i miss about being married... i don't feel safe anymore... cos i never have done before... not really -- not deep down inside, from within myself...
and it all comes back to that... the need to feel safe... the desire to be accepted and loved... the notion that All Is Well...
it seems that my Inner Child wants to be comforted again...
if i'm totally honest with myself, i don't think i'm looking for a Knight in Shining Armour, as such... i don't want a man in my life to rescue me and look after me for the rest of my life.... as such... i'm looking for Anybody to come and rescue me, deep down... i feel petrified of living on my own, of having to deal with all that life throws at me, on my own... on the one hand... on the other, i love living life my own way, i enjoy working stuff out for myself, love having my own house without anybody moaning about how the chairs are positioned or what colour the walls are, or having a bloody bookshelf downstairs {or not actually saying these things but making sure i know their opinion when others do this...}, having two crazy, hairy cats, and playing music that i want to listen to...
as i said in my comments to Kati, i just don't want to feel lonely... cos that's what i feel like so often... even in my marriage, i felt so lonely... i felt alone, unwanted, misunderstood...
while i was growing up, i had but a few friends. i had M, who's still my friend, and C for many years, and N for a few, but anybody else thought i was weird and left me alone, or i felt betrayed by at some point, and i started to become like a tortoise - i withdrew into my own world, in my bedroom mainly, cos i felt safe there... i created my own world, where i wrote and drew and dreamt about another life, with people who loved me and admired me and thought i was great... where i listened to music and read books, and cut pictures out of magazines and wrote letters and read the ones i received... i loved it in my tortoise shell... nobody could get to me... even my mum left me alone there, most of the time...
until the urge to travel and go to England overtook my need for safety. due to the Law of Attraction {it turned out afterwards...} i found the safest, nicest family that was available at the time, and i spent almost a year living a wonderful life. i got to know lovely people, i saw beautiful parts of the country, i did stuff i never thought i would... i even almost took the plunge to go to Ireland for a year, taking an insecure job as a nanny for the family of a musician i got to know through the school i went to, but that fell through, and i went back to Holland for a bit... but the old life i had left behind was wrong, then... it felt like a prison, after the exuberance and wonderfulness i'd experienced in England. thankfully the man i'd gotten to know there was keen to have me in his life, and i went back...
life in England with him, and the family we had very soon after, felt safe, and wonderful... and i guess that's what i long for when i think back of my life there -- the sudden, unexpected, craved for feeling of wonderfulness of life, of safety, the being cared for, looked after... i guess that's what i miss about being married... i don't feel safe anymore... cos i never have done before... not really -- not deep down inside, from within myself...
and it all comes back to that... the need to feel safe... the desire to be accepted and loved... the notion that All Is Well...
it seems that my Inner Child wants to be comforted again...
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