Monday, 15 December 2014

Strength, vulnerability and Christmas love

It has occurred to me that there is a big difference between being strong and having feelings that make you vulnerable and make you human.
I think it was Buffy the Vampire Slayer who was the first person to ever make me think about this (;)), and recently I have experienced it first hand.
I have had to learn self reliance, yes. I have had to distance myself emotionally from my patients in order to cope with some pretty deep feelings. And maybe I spend too much time doing that. Maybe it is not a bad thing for my children to see me acting like a fishwife every now and again and losing the plot: not always calculated and measured. Maybe it's good for them to see that their mother is human, and vulnerable, and ok the next morning, like that oak tree.
I think the hardest thing is the feeling of falling in a whirlpool and losing control. Nothing a big cry and a sincere phone call to a friend does not fix.
Which brings me to my Christmas wish: I hope that this Christmas I can simply be thankful for all I have. Not the material stuff, not the stuff with price tags; but the knowledge that when I'm really in trouble, I've got at least 5 phone numbers I can try before I need to resort to kicking the punching bag. And my health, my ability to face another year with my health. reasonably intact. Thank you to all those I love, my family, my kids, my friends, my animals. Because they are what makes getting up every morning worthwhile. And if this makes me a little vulnerable and shed a few tears at Christmas, so be it. I plan to embrace my vulnerability in 2015. It's part of me. Love, Yellowfluff. ❤️fi

Monday, 8 December 2014

OAK TREE

I am an oak tree. 
I am large, solid. 
Quercus. Astonishing really, I am a little quirky. 
My wood is hard, strong. 
I am resistant to attack by parasites, so I am so infinitely useful. 
Easily recognisable, I stand out of the crowd. 
I am a symbol of endurance. 
Infinite complexity has shaped my years of enduring. 
My roots dig deep into the earth, 
searching, gathering further complexity and aiding in my growth. 
I hardly need watering. I can stand on my own. 
And yet,
you wouldn't choose an oak to adorn your garden.
You would choose something more delicate,
a birch maybe, or a flower that will die the first time temperatures soar. 
At the end of the day,
strength and endurance are not what people want in their gardens.
They want a waif like, weak tree they have to nurture, invest in, take infinite care of. 
I stand, I wait. 

I burn with the same intensity when flames lick my limbs,
I break along the same lines as other woods. 
My leaves rage in the storm the same as other trees. 
I just reliably stand the morning after. 
I don't want to be a fragile flower, 
or a birch tree that dies in the Australian climate. 
But I do want to adorn a special garden. 
I wait, and endure, as is customary for me. 
Another season, another year. 



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