Just what was it last night that took me to such a dark angry space. One person in the assembled company became the focus of several 'button pressing' areas, a constellation of sore spots, deep wounds. I sat with it able to watch, to acknowledge but all too soon I was becoming; the limit of my containment at that time reached. Going to bed that vile pain of fresh anger scabbing over old wounds, fear lashing out, tender heart fled to perceived safety. And this morning biter the grief. Last night in bed searching for the wounds which are the root of all this and again today staring at the scaring; layers, as the scab gets torn time and again. Pain body feeding. Familiar themes of (perceived?) rejection and isolation.
I'll need to spend time opening out the patterns and looking for the lessons; the wisdom to heal the sore places. What will I need to let go, what will I need to accept?
Stories, stories, mind spun stories...
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