A sad feeling creeping up from my stomach; the seat of so many emotions. A palpable yet elusive sense that something is amiss and off-centre. And when I look more closely it’s made up of a cocktail of anxiety, sadness, fear maybe a bit of disappointment splashed in.
All the uncertainties around my work situation, my son’s challenging behaviour recently, my phone call to my mother, my partner’s temper, my rage and the unresolved mass that comes bubbling up from time to time.
I can’t pinpoint it but I feel the uncomfortable feeling. I sit with it, acknowledge and accept it with the wisdom that it will pass in time. It wants to be heard, to be felt even if I’m not ready to understand it.
In my mind’s eye, I place my inner child in a warm place under a warm fleecy blanket next to my grandmother. They eat warm buttered popcorn and watch a film together. She is safe. She is loved. She is near.