a life once lived

Once upon a time, a long, long, while ago, there lived a woman, who appeared (to herself at least), to know what she wanted to do and be.

She was sure to an extent and secure in the knowledge of the road she was on; the course she was pursuing and the many clinical placements she found herself juggling along-side a full time job. It was all worth it, she thought.  It was all going to be so good, so worth the sacrifices. And besides, it was good to be kept busy, to BE busy.  To be occupied all the time.

It made her feel like she was living a ‘useful’ life and that perhaps life did have some meaning after all.

And so this pursuit of clinical work, clients, psychotherapy in hospitals and prisons went on for five years.  FIVE years.  Even on Saturdays.  What was this woman thinking?? What she doing to herself?  Oh yes, finding meaning. Doing her bit for others.  ‘Helping’ others help themselves.  So this woman listened to stories, to so many stories.

Stories that were never simple nor straight-forward. Stories that others chose to share with her; the funny and the sad; the simple and the intricate; stories that have been filled with light and stories that have been blacker than the darkest night. And in the listening she had her beliefs, prejudices and clichés stretched and challenged. She struggled to let them go; to dissolve, to melt, to reshape. It is easier to stay with what one knows after all.

This woman is me.  She is still me.  And she lives on, today.

But the person I am today is some one who does not know where the road is leading.  The person I am today is very different from the woman who thought she knew.

And I think I have come to accept (through much fighting and struggling) that it is OK not to know.

That life is very rarely level-headed or clear.

And plans never seem to work anyway.

So it’s OK not to have one, I think?

Sometimes nothing is clear.

I have had to let go of this need that things ‘should’ make sense for they don’t, not always at least.

Sometimes never.

Sometimes there is no meaning to why things happen the way they do.

So here I am today, at this precise point in my life in place of unknown, of uncertainty.  I know this place very well now.  The fog has become familiar.

Yet, I long for the day when the fog lifts, if only a little, to show me what’s on the other side, so that I see clearly again and am able to do what it is I need to do with my life.

I wish you all much Light, amidst the fog and darkness.

candle light

Be kind to yourselves.


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I'm a woman living in London and this blog captures what lands within my sight and connects with my psyche. I expect it to evolve naturally. It is a place I shall visit from time to time and where things that I am touched by deeply will find a soft place to land. As a psychotherapist and a continuing student, most of the articles you shall find here will somehow, in some way, be related to therapy and well-being. I love comments, so feel free to add yours, whenever and however. I wish you well.

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