It's hard to feel love for the father of my child. He is angry with me because I left the relationship after we had an abortion before our child in the here and now came along.  I became numb, emotionally dead, couldn't relate to him, lost any will to communicate, lost my respect for him for not saying "YES let's have this child."  I didn't feel I could do it on my own: Had just moved to the area, started a new job, didn't have a support network around me, nor enough money or a suitable home. I blocked Ed emotionally (I was stuck) and after 8 months of him trying to reach me I said clearly,
 "I can't do this, I don't want to do this anymore."
 
 He cut all communication with me. I tried to communicate with him in a light way, but he was completely unreceptive. So, I had Gaia healing, took herbal/flower essences, talked and related. In retrospect, I needed to do much deeper work than that: excavate and get in touch with my anger and rage.  After 2 years, on Christmas eve, I had an over whelming urge to write a long letter, pouring my heart out to him. We got back together too quickly and within 3 months I was pregnant... except this time we were going to have the baby...and we did! There he is, the bubble of love, in the picture.

    I had to move to a larger place before Ruben was born.  I wasn't ready to live with Ed and he was ambivalent about it himself.  He said he would help me move, which he did, 3 months before the baby was due. Soon his help was tainted with resentment, which turned to anger, which turned to aggression because he kept saying that I'd left him after the abortion almost 3 years before. He hadn't dealt with it at all. I think this ties in with the suicide of his mother when he was in his early 20s. All of it was directed at me. As a heavily pregnant, vulnerable woman, this was a nightmare; at the wrath of a 6'4 angry man, walking on eggshells.. SO NOT what I had in mind whilst growing up, dreaming of having a child with my man- my Love.

I can hear my Mother: "What a mess."

  Two weeks after Ruben was born, Ed shook me by the shoulders whilst Ruben was in my arms and I was forced to saying an absolute NO to him. I was sick to my stomach and hated that Ruben was exposed to this energy. How hard to make this decision when the body is hurting from birth, the emotions are blasted open from hormones, the sleep is very little. So much support is needed for new mothers and there I was cutting out the help I hardly had anyway.

Ruben is 2 now and I have been and still am a great, single Mum. Sometimes I get irritated and frustrated being the single carer, but am learning to channel and release this appropriately. I am in touch with Ed each fortnight when Ruben sees him. He is erratic with his emotions and energy with me. I give him much less chance to do that these days and am learning to separate his "shit" from mine so I am not taking on more than I need to. It is hard to feel love for him.

   Ruben's safety? Don't worry. His Dad loves him very much and is a gentle father. Just look at Ruben's picture! He's a happy soul. Better he spends more of his time with one happy parent than two unhappy parents together.

           I see and feel everything in an artful way. Wether it is ugly or beautiful it still leaps onto my internal, sense-awareness, energetic-affectivity chart. The most impactful work of art I saw was this morning, when I walked into Ruben's, my son's room and there he was standing in his cot.... everything thrown out of it onto the floor..... what a creation. Him; round, moon-face, fluffy, curly hair as big as a motorcycle helmet, full of now, full of "Juice" in essence and expectancy... what a work of Art.

What also came to mind is the woman on the right in these pictures. She is my Great Grandmother, Etty, and therefore, Ruben's Great Great Grandmother. The other two are her sisters. She had 14 children. Her daughter's: my grandmother's; Miriam's ashes were scattered in a field last weekend. My grandmother died on March 11 this year, my birthday. I felt touched and communicated-with by that synchronicity. The work of art of generations..... the work of art of a camera to capture images....... and eyes to see....... and senses to feel..... and connective energy..... and existing through relationship......

Sharon

 I feel that I am taking a risk writing this entry here. Part of it is wanting to feel seen and another part is wanting to share, express, bundle up a wad of energy in the package of words, sentences, nuance and style and put it out there; for peoples' pleasure, curiosity, and a sense of "I can do that, and I can do it well."  Validation, yes that's what I'm wanting. The intention underneath all of this is a a deep, juicy need to practice being transparent and vulnerable; always orbiting that soft spot and give it breath, life, thought waves, sound waves, form, structure, existence and eternity as opposed to remaining unborn in the void, the vacuum, the hole behind my diaphragm, my solar plexus, my heart, my anti- spine.

So, who am I writing for? For YOU and YOU and YOU and as many people who will read it and be in awe of it. That's the truth and on one level, it's draining and on another inspiring and motivating and scary. I've got this well-spring in me that I long to extend from my mid-riff out to you like some kind of beautifully, clear ectoplasm, chording it's way to your electromagnetic energy field where it blends with you; informing you, adding to you, reviving you in an "Ah Yes" and a knowing smile, the kind of smile that comes when the perfume of a beautiful flower probes your nostrils, firing the sensitive nerves in your olfactory centre just between your eyes... you become present, knowing, still, a little more on fire and enhanced by it's increased light.... for a few seconds. That is what I wish to give to you.

   Since I do not know who will read this and nor do I wish to keep tabs on how many viewings I get: Because that feels like a painful waste of energy to me, but I probably will look and be sensitive to the pain I feel every time I check the numbers, I will also remember that beauty exists all on it's own... it does not need to be seen to be validated or categorised or enhanced. Beauty is simply created and there it is until it dies and is then created again.
 
   This is all about me not deleting this post after an hour or a few days or 6 months, but just letting it be there. I owe that to myself, in the name of gentleness, worthiness and self care. Me space: We space.