šŸƒAmanda22Janeā¤

Ghost Writer
2016-05-04 13:08:56 (UTC)

Post Midnight Entry.

Mission Bay visit went well alongside constant deep breathing. Got in the door (home) two hours ago. The stress has gone now. Have finished eating and having a wash. Now I feel better and am more than happy to end yesterday on this note.

A lot of driving was involved yesterday for the male friend and he did very well. He only got tired on the last few kilometres so I kept at him ; checking whether he was alright or not. If I talk to him during this end period of travel, it keeps him alert because he won't stop to rest for even a few minutes. Driving conditions were dangerous and slow going for most of the last half of our journey south.
Some flamin' stunt driver boy racer wannabe thought it a great hoot to loudly hoon his way through the road conditions! Freaked the living daylights outta me! I'll line you up next to my daughter and kick your ass as well! (Flamin' irriot!)...I must say though, that part of me was secretly impressed by this blatant risk-taker.

A Sad Aside :

As we left the CBD, and approached the area where my grandchildren are living, something happened inside of me. I became overwhelmed with a feeling of deep sadness intertwined with love and the pain rose to mingle with this temporary emotional state, then the tears fell. I felt their presence with me in the truck so strongly that it was as if they were sitting right beside me. Then the tenderness that I feel for them took the edge off the pain and God came to call in the form of comfort sans hope.

It was a difficult day of not allowing other people's shit to swamp me, beginning with the moment I set foot in the meeting and feeling this subtle yet utter sense of powerlessness return. It started to escalate and I fought it and fought back with courage.
What it truly takes to be brave these days...and I'm no Joan of Arc that's for sure.
Somewhere, somehow, I began to experience a sense of achievement for the first time in over three long motherfucker years...somewhere, somehow I truly believe that I have finally made a difference as a lone voice speaking steadily through the unspoken furore. It's what's not said, rather than what's denied that holds the seat of power in this continuing ordeal. No sooner had I come to this place of realisation, I found a new birth of quiet self-empowerment.

It's time for me to honour the hard slog that this journey has been.
I have unconsciously denied the extent of my efforts because what remains of my injuries has smokescreened my progress. I have worked because of those injuries and never in spite of them ; such is the subtle yet cruel nature of one crucial leftover childhood injury : denial.
An insidious monster of a ghost to deal with.





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