I’m waiting for you to come to me, with open arms and open heart, with the courage and vulnerability to be with me as I am, hold space for my unravelling, enter into it with me. I’m waiting for you to come with arms to hold my thrashing sobs and lyrical release. and I will give you my surrender and my strength, my wisdom and my innocence, my joy and my pain.

An invitation to myself, to those strong hidden parts of my self, those raging raw parts of my self. Those feisty frustrated parts of myself. Those deep and still parts of myself. The strong arms inside me. The open arms inside me. The butterflies in my ribcage.

I’m giving birth to myself. It’s painful, it’s messy, I don’t know how long it will take. I might panic the cat before it’s done, I might feel scared and swear I can’t go on at times. But I know I can, I know it’s held and taken care of by the older, wiser mother in me.

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