I wish I never doubted that you love me. Because it feels so good to have you love me. And you keep doing it. Even when things feel off between us. Even when I can’t stop being scared of it. I wish I never doubted that you love me, or that you’ll keep doing it.

Because when I can believe in it—when I can even start to believe in it—it just feels so, so good. I wonder whether there are people out there who just believe things like this in their lives, as a matter of course. Who don’t have to fight so hard for it.

Learning experiences are important and I don’t regret things generally and I don’t regret this relationship etc etc BUT ALSO: lol no, I would not do this relationship over again. There was a reason I doubted! And it’s because it was inconsistent. I don’t hold it against anyone and like I said, learning experiences and so forth. But yeah.

Been a long 4+ years, y’all.

March 2021 Illustrations ヽ(• ‿ •)ノ

Double Take

I imagined that you’d miss me, thought you’d pace your hardwood floor in odd worn socks, watch the clock sit stuck,

get late to work, type my name caps lock press and hold shift/break, miss buses, meals or sit with fork half-way, lost, for minutes, hours, sleep badly, late, dream chases, shake send fingers out to pad the pillow, find my hollow, start awake, roll over, hug a gap,

an ache, take a walk, damp dawn, of course, wrapped in a mac with the collar up, glimpse a slice of face, tap a stranger’s back, draw a blank;

as I have. Each time, I run to press your face to mine, mine, shining with imagined rain.

- Kate Clanchy

There’s a reason a sewing kit includes scissors, a wood shop has a saw, and a kitchen is full of knives. In order to build something, to create something on purpose, you have to be prepared to cut away what’s extra. A bolt of cloth does not a blanket make, a piece of wood a shelf, nor a loaf of bread a sandwich. When you snip off frayed bits of string, cut the wood into shape, or slice the end off a loaf of bread you are creating, with the act of removal, something closer to what you desire. 

Now let’s say you’re not sewing a blanket, you’re not building a shelf, not making a sandwich. Let’s say you’re crafting a life in which you are happy. You will end up removing things. You’ll leave partners, stop talking to family members, let go of friends. You’ll move apartments, lose jobs, change wardrobes. And you will feel their absence. You’ll look at the scraps of cloth, the odd angles of wood, the stale end of the loaf. But that cloth couldn’t keep you warm and that tiny corner of wood can’t store books. You wouldn’t be full from that little bit of bread or happy with that person. In the art of creating there is the act of removal and it is essential. 

Stretching the metaphor further: my sewing kit includes a seam ripper, and my hammer has a claw to pry out nails. I have made decisions that looked done, looked final, and realized they were wrong (for me), so I ripped them back, pried them out, and tried again.

the beatrice letters, lemony snicket // dirty work, sadamoto yoshiyuki

Doing the same thing over & over again & expecting a different result. (x)

Ellen Bass, ‘The Thing Is’

Listening

‘When we speak of listening with compassion, we usually think of listening to someone else. But we must also listen to the wounded child inside us. Sometimes the wounded child in us needs all our attention. That little child might emerge from the depths of your consciousness and ask for your attention. If you are mindful, you will hear his or her voice calling for help. At that moment, instead of paying attention to whatever is in front of you, go back and tenderly embrace the wounded child. You can talk directly to the child with the language of love, saying, “In the past, I left you alone. I went away from you. Now, I am very sorry. I am going to embrace you.” You can say, “Darling, I am here for you. I will take good care of you. I know you suffer much. I have been so busy. I have neglected you, and now I have learned a way to come back to you.” If necessary, you have to cry together with the child.” “Breathing in, I go back to my wounded child; breathing out I take good care of my wounded child.”

You have to talk to your inner child several times a day. Only then can healing take place. Embracing your child tenderly, you reassure him that you will never let him down again or leave him unattended. The little child has been left alone for so long. That is why you need to begin this practice right away. If you don’t do it now, when will you do it?

If you know how to go back to her and listen carefully every day for five or ten minutes, healing will take place. When you climb a beautiful mountain, invite your child within to climb with you. When you contemplate the sunset, invite her to enjoy it within you. If you do that for a few weeks or a few months, the wounded child in you will experience healing.

With practice, we can see that our wounded child is not only us. Our wounded child may represent several generations. Our mother may have suffered throughout her life. Our father may have suffered. Perhaps our parents weren’t able to look after the wounded child in themselves. So when we’re embracing the wounded child in us, we’re embracing all the wounded children of our past generations. This practice is not a practice for ourselves alone, but for numberless generations of ancestors and descendants.

Our ancestors may not have known how to care for their wounded child within, so they transmitted their wounded child to us. Our practice is to end this cycle. if we can heal our wounded child, we will not only liberate ourselves, but we will also help liberate whoever has hurt or abused us. The abuser may also have been the victim of abuse. There are people who have practiced with their inner child for a long time who have a lessening of their suffering and have experienced transformation. Their relationships with their family and friends have become much easier.

We suffer because we have not been touched by compassion and understanding. If we generate the energy of mindfulness, understanding, and compassion for our wounded child, we will suffer much less. When we generate mindfulness, compassion and understanding become possible, and we can allow people to love us. Before, we may have been suspicious of everything and everyone. Compassion helps us relate to others and restore communication.

The people around us, our family and friends, may also have a severely wounded child inside. If we’ve managed to help ourselves, we can also help them. When we’ve healed ourselves, our relationships with others become much easier. There’s more peace and more love in us.

Go back and take care of yourself. Your body needs you, your feelings need you, your perceptions need you. The wounded child in you needs you. Your suffering needs you to acknowledge it. Go home and be there for all these feelings. Practice mindful walking and mindful breathing. Do everything in mindfulness so you can really be there, so you can love.’

- Thich Nhat Hanh, Reconciliation: Healing the Inner Child.

Things you can say to yourself

If you were abandoned as a child and the child that you were stopped growing in some way - you are that child’s guardian now.

Its hard when you think ‘I didn’t deserve this and why am I burdened with messes I didn’t make!’ It’s easier when you think ‘I deserved better as a child and now I have the chance to give my inner child a better life.”

Be proud of raising yourself.

— Kazuo Ishiguro, in his Nobel prize (2017) acceptance speech.

Don’t romanticize other people’s brokenness. Don’t take people on as your personal projects. Don’t insert yourself into the role of fixing people. It’s better to be supportive and encouraging as people work on themselves than to try to be someone’s savior. There’s a narcissism in helping others only to stroke your own ego.

thin places