Even admitting it here is tantamount to admitting a fall. And so I think this might be equivalent to transition in childbirth. Totally freaking out, reaching out to others to catch me to help me, looking for reassurance around me, outside of me - searching for points of reference of others who have gone before and succeeded. And transition happens in every labour, not just the first, so perhaps I can look to other situations where I have lost my points of reference and gained some centrepoint to hold me while the change takes place. Playing and love gets me through, a long kiss from my husband brought my second daughter into the world. Leaning on my friends did it for the first. And head in the lap of my doula for love and reassurance did the third. When the world as she knows it is or appears to be collapsing around, the woman is alone. Can only be supported gently and quietly from the outside, it is her journey to go alone, only she can birth the baby.
And now only I can protect and hold myself as the school structure melts away from us along with the friendships (as they were), the accepted rhythm of school runs, the passing over of responsibility, I'm desperately holding on to the memory that there were positive things about school, partly so as not to alienate myself from my peers and partly because I know that we may need it some day again and so not wanting to be two-faced, hypocritical. But hey, I'm the only one judging myself so harshly. Perhaps for now I do need to reject and drop the school system for all that it didn't provide, for the depression and anxiety I link to the drudgery of allotted time slots, forced relationships with others, passing power away to 'professionals' (all the more odd as I am a school teacher by trade myself!)
And so here it is Weststar. The responsibility is back, fully landed on my doorstep.
I thought we might do vision boards today but then I think we might do lots of things and thats before the crew wake up and everything takes on a new direction...
Centre centre centre.
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