Post #6
Sitting at my desk, for work, is like a war zone of uncomfortable, unpredictable and stressful interactions with my father. Eventually, we come to a peace. I don’t think I could continue to work with him if we didn’t. Sometimes, it even makes me feel ‘lucky’ — he does say ‘I’m sorry,’ or ‘I am wrong,’ or ‘I appreciate you.’ And the stress just disappears.
Isn’t amazing, how much time we spend not believing in ourselves?
Isn’t it amazing that I’m still learning to think of myself as beautiful?
How long do these things take?
I have always thought I was ‘nurtured’ as a child, that my parents taught me well and I felt loved. Are these illusions? Or did this really happen? Is my perspective flawed? Do I even have any perspective?
I get glimpses, of believing and feeling…powerful. But they’re just glimpses…they don’t last.
No responses yet. Want to be the first to comment?
