one breath at a time

When one has things happen to them in life they process these things in their own way. I used to be the person that would throw it at the back of my mind and deal with it later, or never deal with it. If it was a compliment, or something that made you feel warm and fuzzy I would not allow myself to feel good about it. A part of me felt that I did not deserve to feel good by another person's words.

Only recently, and I am talking in the last few weeks, I am processing things differently. I am taking time for me. I am taking the time to feel every bit of the emotions I should feel. If it be that I am hurt, I am feeling the hurt and processing what that hurt means to me as a person, and how I am going to let that affect me, or not affect me. The not affect is something I am working on. I take it all to heart. Everything. It is the way I roll. And at times it may not be the best way to be, but I also believe it is what gives me a beautiful heart. The heart is out there to be seen.

I took a few moments last week, as I am sure I will this week, to really feel what I went through last week returning back to Canberra. I returned to a place I could not return since loosing my mum. I walked with her for the last time, and I said goodbye to her with all of the beautiful people that were once in her life. I never went back.

I drove to my mum's home. The home that I once lived in. The home she once lived. (just breathe). With my daughter in the backseat I cried the whole way to the home that was now not my home. It was not my mum's home anymore either. It was my sister's matron of honors home. She bought it off my mum when mum moved to Sydney to be closer to me.

I knew it would be hard. I knew I would be hurting. {But I didn't think it would hurt so much}. The front screen door was the same. It made the same noise. The memories were all there. The only thing missing was my mum. Seeing her in the mirror of the bathroom doing her makeup with me sitting on the bath talking to her. Hanging out the washing together. Cooking dinner. Talking. Laughing. Mum with her bare bum up against the heater in winter. Her bedroom door open with her head peeking out of her blanket saying good morning to me. Having coffee. Mum being there. She wasn't there. It was her home. Our home. But she was not there. That hurt. After four and a half years I still feel pain.

I think I will be hurt forever. I need to be kind to myself and allow me to process these feelings. Let myself cry. Let myself feel what this means, and not push the pain away. It is ok to cry. It is ok to miss her. It is ok to want her back.

To process things in ones life is something I believe allows us to appreciate ourselves more. Appreciate what our feelings mean. I believe I am growing more as a person each day I wake up and breathe in my own feelings.

To have feelings is beautiful. To have a beautiful heart is sharing your feelings.

I go to the beach. put my feet in the sand. people watch. just be. stand in the rain. write. share. process. and reach acceptance.