Speak your truth to find your tribe.

Fear untenable.

Defences dispirited, heart torn asunder, I am terrified...stricken child lost, alone feels entirely I have run. I circumvent no more. Intrepid delusion, repressed, not served. With dread too intimate, I am willing at last to fall, encompass the bleak, the dark, the worst dank of it all.

Most cherished darling I have your hand to heart, you are sheltered, this bond is sacrosanct. Into the lightness, we journey together. Fear is no stranger to me, no oppressor, no life shall it steal again. Anew we venture, afresh we begin.

Aligned and ready to let go to the beauty of sadness, tears for seeds. The earth shall provide.

“A teacher cannot give you the truth The truth is already in you You only need to open yourself – body, mind and heart- so that his or her teachings will penetrate your own seeds of understanding and enlightenment If you let the words enter you, the soil and the seeds will do the rest of the work” ― Thích Nhất Hạnh

Joan Armatrading - Love And Affection 1976

What's love got to do with it?

Okay, so I fell in love, a whole mess of chemicals messing people up since the dawn of romantic love. A drug perpetuating desire and I am driven crazy. The trouble is...the trouble is this is not just chemicals, this is recognition...recognition of the person I know is frighteningly right and recognition of the person I know is familiarly wrong.

What I don't know is which is he and which is my transference onto him, reminders he triggers by his words of no reciprocation whilst his excellently revealing body tells me an otherwise I have not yet met. No riddles, no games, just straight talking damn, I'm teetering on the edge of falling deep and need to know before I let my most passionate self go, before I can breathe back an equilibrium, resignment to a life incredibly lost and found in gratitude and determined confidence, a life I choose not to burden another. If love is to let go then let go I must. If love is to find me then it must come willingly.

As the day looms large.

Ripped aghast, insides out I tremble with exposure. I have spilled, cannot put back, revealed and most vulnerable.

The mediator personality.

INFP-A / INFP-T https://www.16personalities.com/infp-personality

Headhunted.

In praise of qualification, a want of my skillset and focus brings initial joy then quick comes the apprehension as the mothership kicks in with her jealous resentment of a life she feared to live, a terror past down I doggedly pushed on through. Without her spited voice seething down the line, viciously prodding and poking at my acquired sensitivities, her bile can still be felt, embedded in my soul. The child I am trembles at what punishers will befit such an occasion, for this accolade.

I am my own mother, a necessity borne. There may be fear, dear one, rest easy and know you are desired, you are worthy of such attainment and will go where you will with ability many know not as you hide away that self most deserving of recognition and loveable affection. The company I mostly keep is not so interested as they are themselves provide a wall of conceited attention gained to safely hide behind, to maintain illusion of one so affable, simplistically aligned with flow of bragged noise abound yet quiet, hearing all and saying nowt to bring to me eyes that do not view with clarity I would be afforded if only known. Bring back that double-edged sword for I am lost in such surroundings yet found the space to rest weary with jovial mechanisms they too hide a person in want of caress for until I find my tribe.

Honest Communication

Full interview with Dr Bob Gill - harsh truths about the NHS

Your mountain, my vantage point.

The proverbial mountain made of molehill leaves deep tracks for others to follow. Dragged up with reticent heels digging in preventing ever reaching each far off summit. I learnt long ago to take flight when the air becomes thick with supposition, when breath is held so tight my chest cracks with stifled grasp. How the transference strangles, confuses and pins down the other's plight when there is mind to examine and will to know. No, I have never said I would be with you, I have never said I wouldn't, but friend that I am, I shall always glide myself in stable consistency, in trusted air and beside you all the way.

Left the chat.

There's an overbearing elephant in the room, his name I do not know. It's not mine to provide, nor mine to extinguish but mine to pass back the wonder of why he's there. Mine is a room full of coffee smelt, a room filled with breathable air.

Leaving behind conventionality to dance the flight of freedom.

In being left behind, cruel reminders of upbringing in the oppressive trails on. Streets ahead, consequence of witnessing more than required with eager determination to break free the mold I was not cast but attributed. I am discarded, embarrassed of a life I had no control other than to conform or rebel. A child's lot dragged through the years. My starting point was pulled back, way back...there's no equalizing handicap in this game of arrested development, it's do or die, partake or hide. My story is as full of achievement as any career yet there is no qualification other than a subdued knowing quietly shared when met with another's grief and no wage but reward for having survived thus far.

Worldly goods conventionally reflecting a life lived are scarce, wounds, scars are hidden healing...to wear the badge of the abused is to bring pity and derision, unwelcome companions. Why not then are the tribulations of those who have walked a thousand and more extra miles just to catch up not praised, not seen as a strength many would crumble under? I live in a cave, in a soft hovel of harmonious solitude, protection from a people who'd throw me to the wind for lack of grappling with understanding, an unwillingness to hear. Alone yet not lonely, I have my own soul to keep. Separate yet connected to a life seen in depths not witnessed by passers by. My door is ajar, who will be my brave and ready companion to challenge, crack me open to the self I've yet to bear? My dreams of flight have at last returned, exuberant, painted, a warrior like dance on air only fully felt when rubble is brushed from my restricted path, the heavy dirt from my boots...years since such a dream was woken from with a taking back to the escape my childhood self knew, the saving sleep that kept me living, the enduring force of passionate quarrel I long...I am.