“If the pain was deep, you will have to let go many times.” Yung Pueblo

We often feel surprised by how long the pain lasts. By the fact that we’re not free – even years after the trauma.

There are no easy answers.

There is no magic bullet.

The memory is ingrained and it doesn’t go away.

Letting go is a process we repeat a million times.

Every time it helps a little. Just a little – not a lot.

It’s a hard reality. A truth we’d rather not embrace.

But we are making some progress, every time we let it go.

Please be aware that some of the content may be triggering. Please take care 💚

The last few weeks (probably longer) have been really tough mentally. My thoughts have been everywhere. I feel lost. I don’t feel connected to anyone. I just feel like I don’t know what to do or who to turn to. This has meant things have felt chaotic.

I am trying so hard to be OK. So hard not to burden everyone. So hard to just keep going. But I’m failing. Things I shouldn’t do have been appealing and led to some questionable decisions. This means I’m just making things worse. Self harm is a part of my daily life anyway but it’s more appealing and more of a need. I’ve contacted someone who has hurt me in the past and he’s making me uncomfortable. I feel lost in this world.

I am also trying to…

NEVER-ENDING-VERSE Come quiet. Come vigilant. Come true. Come alone, intuit what you should do. Do not make an effort. Do not stir a thought. Truth breathes wisdom, in Divinity of all. Open heart. unconscious mind. Listen to the mystical cues you find. Time is lost and not, as it has been. When co creating, with our *Awen*. Milking insights, of primal surrender. whisperings of Cambrian ancestors. It’s quite unbelievable and absurd. How many ignore their ‘writing’ words. There be a thread of quivering sound, slipping of knots, into stitches around. Scribbling sentiments like wild hunters, or lightening strikes, when it thunders. It’s a taste of brilliance, sewn in colours. Rainbows imposed on top of the other. Focus in contemplation. All you will; when Awen holds your magical quill. Weavers of Cymru indigenous tales. Blessed be, our Awenyddion of Wales. Victoria…