Loved

img181It is windy today outside my studio window.  Sun. Cloud.  Spring, and the weather can’t make up its mind.  I’m voting of course for sun, my favourite.  It is warm enough to have the window open.  The air smells cool and green.

Fresh air.  That is what I am inviting in today.  I’ve been thinking about disappointment, what it is, where it comes from, what melts it away.  I’m airing out an old belief here on the page.

I woke Saturday morning with the oddest thought, flashing by so quickly I almost missed it.  But I didn’t.  I caught it.

There, caught in the net of my awareness.  I am a very young child, a baby.  Baby-me is thinking ‘I am a disappointment’.  The adult-me watching this knows this is referring to my parents.  This is all feeling, no words, but adult-me is translating the feeling.  Accurately.

A feeling that becomes a belief.  Baby-me is believing that I am a disappointment to the ones I love and who love me back.

I write this, and now I ask myself, ‘Have I believed this all of my life?’

Yes.

Is this belief true?

My heart says loudly, lovingly, firmly, No.

I can tell that my head still believes, despite my heart knowing the belief is not true.  I trust what my heart says over the belief that sits in my head.

Time to sort this one out.

I was born with crossed eyes, strabismus the doctors call it.  Some cultures believe that people with crossed eyes can see both into the future and the past.  Cool.

Not so cool for first-time parents, though, who are loving and worrying about their brand new child in equal measure.  And then there are all the well-meaning family and friends who are saying……

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