This week has been a tough week.
I have had to stare down some things that I wish didn’t exist.
The reality that I am very imperfect, and have messes to clean up.
The truth that despite my commitment to peaceful settlements, they will not always be the outcome.
The sinking feeling that the block of land we have our foot on, may in fact slip away.
The dawning that while we learn in the community of friends and family to care for our babies, parenting a teenager is a solitary experience of which one cannot speak in everyday life.
The heartbreaking sadness of meeting someone who has worked a lifetime, waiting for retirement to enjoy life, only to be given a terminal cancer diagnosis just as that retirement begins.
My insides just wanted to cry “I’m not strong enough”.
But, I had to do what I had to do.
I made phone calls I didn’t want to make. And they were nowhere near as horrid as my fear had conjured up for me.
I sent emails that pained me as I attempted to source a peaceful seed in the space of loud and noisy conflict. And the replies showed me that while there could still be a seed of peace, I cannot ignore the conflict in that search.
I took action. I took the actions that I could take. Beginning with this.
I have shared with you many times, that putting my feet in the ocean helps me. Sometimes I stand still and just feel the pull of the waves coming in and out. Other times I walk, and feel the my feet moving through that energy.
This week I stood. I walked. I yelled at the ocean and I cried.
And when I was done, I came back, and began to do what I had to do.
Made the phone calls. Sent the emails. Followed up the paperwork.
It all led to the most important moment.
When I was able to sit quietly and compassionately, as I heard the story of the recent terminal diagnosis. They showed me their old documents, prepared by a firm in another state called Barker & Barker, and I felt a big old warm hug around me.
Barker is my Mum’s maiden name.
In 2013, we lost our own Barker & Barker. My Mum, Brenda, and my Uncle, Neil. I felt like they had given me a “you got this” hug, right when I needed it, at the end of my tough week.
But not until I had found the courage in my vulnerability, I dug deep, I asked for help, and I did the work.
And then, as I sat down to write this, all torn about life and tough moments and resilience and vulnerability, I saw this.
It appears that the ManBun has arrived at our house. Sort of.
Sort of Man. Sort of Bun.
But enough to make me giggle, and remember that a giggle over the ridiculousness of a sort of manbun, is JUST as important as the last dilemma I was dealing with.
It’s all the same really.
A snapshot in time.
May you know that you will make it through your next tough time, and before you know it, have the world give you a hug and a giggle.