5-7 years old?
A steady low thrumming curdles below, the static from its electricity making an uncomfortable current which vibrates. Breathe deeply. One moment erratic, paranoid, insecure, the next, working at self-assurance hoping to go deeper into the interior rooms— past the anxiousness, to where peace is found…where the wholeness of being, along with achieving mastery over my pettiness, comsumes the anxiety engulfing me in soul calming waters.
Working in the studio soothes even while Samuel is on his cell trying to fix this new problem, no home phone. It’s possible my decision about trying a new phone service has made it impossible to retrieve the phone number we’ve had for over 50 years. Is this a crisis?
The crisis coming to a head and needing my attention is the way I attack myself over any mistake. It is not healthy. It is what I’ve done since the age of 8 after the sexual attacks by siblings began.
There are a few snapshots of before attacks began. It was also before the sudden death of my father; a skinny little blondie with a lolly-pop in her mouth making sandcastles on the beach, wisps of hair in the breeze, and contentment matching the magnificence of the sunshine and sparkling waves ticking my toes.