My spirit feels both compromised and more open, more present, I think is how I would describe it. I go between forgetting that there is such a thing, feeling injured on that level and to seeing and knowing.
This shows up more about others than myself. Maybe I’m scared to listen inwards, in case I’m told to stop and don’t have the courage to do so or I’ll find out that I’m being injured for life or even that I won’t survive.
I pray. I ask the Angels for help. I ask my mother, my sister-in-law, the people on the other side for help. Help to get through this. Help for it to be a good thing. Help to survive.
Maybe I should ask for help to live? Because surviving isn’t enough. Maybe in the moment, but there must be more than survival.
And that is why I write and share. That is why I push myself to be honest, to show me and in between the pain, discover glimpses of insights, learnings and growth.