Walking in Old Wounds
Here I am again, holding space for the palpitating panic that I'm experiencing. Giving it the space to roam free. A safe, embracing, loving space of not trying to fix it. A shaky space of unknowing. The need to fix, to help, to soothe, to solve, taps into my deepest struggle of a core wound. It still comes up, especially in the role I find myself in. Somedays I feel like life is playing one big cosmic joke on me. The joke of putting me front and centre in the fire of my biggest struggle. Making me face it again again until it's accepted, healed, dissolved, seen through, felt fully.... I don't know what, all of the above and more probably! The need to fix so as not to feel this burning, this sense of helplessness, the uncomfortable, unbearable pain and heartbreak. The deep feeling for another's struggle. My need to fix is my escape, an escape which solves nothing, certainly not permanently. But can I walk my talk? Can I hold space for this? Can I let myself fall into this burning, into my own heartache? Can I let go of this escape route? Yes. Because what is the…