I should have been writing more, only I have been busy doing stuff like leaving my job, dealing with roof leaks and endless ducking DIY. Also, I was recovering a bit from the vortex experience and re-learning how to breathe. So - in my world - the usual.
I had my last coaching session too, which was, as ever, super-productive. My coach said the whole vortex experience sounded to her a lot like a re-birth, and given the shit I’ve been letting go of, I liked that interpretation. She also flagged that a Phoenix needs to be re-born in order to rise again.
I should be writing that in titchy font to keep it hidden from prying eyes, except that my Phoenix has been making herself scarce again lately, so I suspect she was eavesdropping on that particular conversation and is giving me a wide berth. Interestingly (to me) my coach doesn’t know I write this blog. I told her, and we had quite a good natter about psychoanalysis, the subconscious, the conscious, and how I have personified (what’s the avian version of that?) the part of me I’m tussling around with. Hmmmm.
We also established, for those of you who might give a fig, that I am no longer lying on the floor of my metaphorical (Jungian, transition vehicle, perhaps) gypsy caravan. Nope. I am now sitting out front, holding the reins, while my pony wanders along country lanes, dappled by leafy shadows and kissed by unstoppable sunbeams. (Note to self: I think I might invite my Phoenix to name the pony. Tho I think I already know it’s called Splash.) Anyway. I am Gently Exploring.
I have also felt like crying quite a lot, as menopause symptoms have once again taken over my body, mind and soul, as only menopause symptoms can. This might be down to a clash of the titans: testosterone and oestrogen, that has left me feeling shaky (literally), panicky, and very emotional. I do hope I’m going to get the balance of chemicals right. It is so debilitating. And my kids keep asking if I’ve got dementia. (Tho I have pointed out that they’re the ones that need to be told fifty frigging thousand times to remember to turn the bathroom light off, and I have asked then to Google ‘gaslighting’).
Finally, I have, for my sins, made a return to the world of online dating. I have decided to keep the material I am gathering on this for the stand-up show/dramatic monologue I am going to write and perform in my fiftieth decade. It’s Frightful. (The dating; I haven’t started the monologue yet.) But I continue to live in hope of finding love. And not withering completely on the stem. In the meantime, if my Phoenix so much as mentions her egg, I might, accidentally on purpose, smash it.
More soon.
PS the sock! It’s about how, even tho you can feel all ‘here I am again’, actually, you are not (quite).
