Angel of Fucking Doom! (Black Heart)

I’m very, very unsettled this week.  Lots of internal stuff has been happening and not actually being able to voice what’s been going on has been ever so slightly frustrating.  If I had written this blog over the weekend it would have looked like this:

Red, scratchy, tigers, roar, lion, rip, slap, red, explosion, FIRE, FIRE, FIRE, Raahghghghghgh!! Wanky, fuckity fuck fuck fuck, more tigers, more flames, lots of red, punch, pinch, sulk, scratch scratch scratch, knives, razorblades….. I don’t want a job, thank you, red, purple, sailing stormy waves, wind stormy, warrior, warrior, warrior, black, black, doom, Doom, DOOOM!!! Humph.

Not much sense really is there?  That’s how it’s been for the last few days.  I’ve felt very unsettled and I’ve been trying to figure out why.  I know I had a very emotional, humbling, beautiful experience in my training at the end of last week.  Connections were made, holes opened up, I have a fear of not being able to save, protect and navigate to safety those I hold dear, and therefore I don’t look where I’m going and in Skills Practice I fell down a massive emotional hole of my own, very unexpectedly.  I cried, I apologised, I hate crying in front of people, still I was brave enough to be the first, and hopefully I’ve opened the gate to this path for many of our little group.  Anyway I’m digressing.  Yes that unsettled me, but something much, much more deeper than the shitty weather in the UK was the cause of this storm.

First it was self pitying huffiness and envy, seeing some photos taken over the weekend; it reminded me that though my body is going in the right direction to where it was 4 years ago, I’m still quite a long way off….

Then my sneery anger came through when I was filling out a form to claim JS allowance, I have no job, I have some money but it’s not going to last, so I found myself filling out this form that wanted to know the ins and outs of a ducks arse and how to get there.  It made me pissy and wasted time I would rather have spent, studying my counselling books or choreographing my Bellydance homework.

Last night I accused a friend of being the ‘Angel of Fucking Doom‘, when he was just trying to point out to another friend whose job is finishing in the New Year, that he really should be thinking about looking for further work now.  Then, after short gremilicious rant and the throw away comment I made to finish off:  “Just let us fly, stop trying to bring us down.” I realised I was talking (ranting) about me.

It’s taken until Wednesday morning after a very lovely Yoga practice to really get to the nub of why I’m feeling unsettled.

I’m standing on the edge of my new life, I’m learning how to, for want of better words, how to fly, I’m stretching and testing my wings, my brain, my body. Doors are opening to my empathy, my sensitivity, my soft fleshy inner self, I’m bearing my belly, sometimes literally, (Yep thems the photos) I’m trusting a process I don’t quite understand yet and I’m loving every minute.

So when I hear the words and I KNOW they are meant to help me, support me and that my best interests are at heart:

“Maybe you should think about signing on.”

“I can look over your CV.”

“Do you think you should start thinking about looking for work?”

 I hear:

“Raych, do you really think you should be running about so much, you’ve just come out of hospital.”

“Raych you need to go and lie down now and rest.”

Or….. And I do absolutely understand the logic of this one and hold NO ‘hard’ feelings to the person who said it.

“No more painkillers for you, when you start to hurt, then you know you’re doing too much and you will rest……”

I’m 7years old again or in the last one I’m 16, I’m a natural, bubbly, lively, child, I’m curious about the world, I want to run about because I feel well and I want to be like I’m the ordinary girl that I am, and in not allowing me the ownership of when to rest, of trusting my body, myself, I lose the ability to extend myself, to fully become me.

So in other words, in my ‘adult’ conversation last night, I felt 7years old again, and reminded yet again of the negatives of having a CHD.  Fucks me off big time I can tell you!

So Angels of Fucking Doom, (not my friends, you’re lovely) fuck off, in the nicest possible way of course.  Allow me to listen to my own inner wisdom.  Thank you.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s