I had a dream earlier in the week about being robbed and the person putting some kind of putty stuff on my throat and I was unable to call for help or wake up my husband who was sleeping nearby oblivious.
I won't go into the gory details, but a mentor and confidente said to be grateful for the gift of dreams, one of God's ways of being in touch with us. "Be thankful for this season of finding your voice". So I did just that today and told my mother-in-law off, which I've never done before. I'm not sure who was more surprised, her or me!
I can't understand this place I am in: don't like my brittle temper; am embarrassed by tears that seem to be lurking high above sea level; am fearful of our looming move.... My life seems in turmoil, yet I seem to have so much insight, patience and grace for clients and friends. Today I asked two people how they were being kind to themselves. Do I need to be asking that question of myself.
Why does life seem to be so murky? I'm trying to discern the strands of peri-menopause, financial pressure, purpose, God's invitations, fear. What could be my next response? Solitude and solace. Placedo, finding the home of our soul according to Dr Clarissa Pinka Estes, storyteller extraordinaire.
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