Ces enfants malade de leurs parents

A wordless encounter this week. A moment of reflection…

Just a woman on the metro with a book you think. 

True, but…… the title of the book means “These kids sick of their parents”.

Here’s the synopsis of the book:

Without wanting it, without knowing it and in spite of us, our parents, our grandparents, our ancestors leave us as a heritage of the things they didn't mourn, the traumas they didn't “digest”, of their secrets. Early death, sexual abuse and other dramas: Insurmountable injuries leave their traces. They continue to exist and are transmitted. 

Even when these things aren't told, the body sometimes expresses them: It’s called somatization. The body of the child, the grand-child or the great grandchild, no matter what age, will become the language of the hurt ancestor, the "word" of the traumas.

Therefore it’s necessary to get the “skeletons out of the closet”, to analyze and treat the open wounds. To free yourself – finally – of the “cold” you carry inside.

I couldn't quite read the look on her face and was left wondering; Is she one of “these kids” or is she a psychologist reading up for her work?  

“Don’t they all have the same eyes?”

Talking with a friend the other day this remark came up and we decided it would be a good title for a book. I’m not writing a book today, but I’ll be writing about a man’s eyes.  

In my encounters eyes are often the first contact. After that most often a smile breaks free, on both faces and a conversation starts. Not today.

I’m sitting here just wanting to cry. There’s this sad feeling in the pit of my stomach still, even though the encounter wasn’t really an encounter and it didn’t last more than 5 metro stops. Yet it touched me so deeply that it has changed my day.

An elderly man got on the metro. Morning metros being crowded he was standing close to me. I noticed his hand shaking even though it was holding on to the metal bar. I looked at him and I saw an immense fear in his eyes. 

I got overwhelmed with feelings of compassion and an urge to cry. I wanted to reach out to him. Hold his arm, give him a hug, say something encouraging, but I didn’t…

First of because I have my own set of inhibitions, and secondly what if I would scare him? So I gave him a smile and his face lit up for a second before moving away to another spot.

He got off at the same station as me. I made sure to walk out directly behind him so he’d have to hold the door for me. I thanked him with a big smile and that’s when he smiled back.

Maybe there’s a next time.

But for now I was left with this sad feeling. I would love to grow in my confidence that reaching out to people is ALWAYS a good thing.

Mirror mirror

The other day I read an article about how we can only love in others what we have in ourselves, because if we don't have it ourselves we can't recognize it in others. "Everyone in your world is a reflection of you."

So I'm sat here looking at the names popping up on my screen at the start of this new year and I can't help but smile.

The diversity of people that have a special place in my life and in my heart is simply amazing. People from all walks of life.

From Mike the homeless guy in my neighborhood, who teaches me about gratefulness, to my friends at Trinity International Church, who give me a sense of stability.

The musicians I've got to know this past year. They inspire me, they make me want to dig at that big ass passion stuck deep down inside and bring out my JOY!

From Oirda the Muslim woman I've known for 5 years, but only really know since this month. We aren't all that different. To my imaginary friends on the internet all over the globe that are always around to lift me up. Time zones are a blessing.

Not to forget my special friend Philippe, nicknamed Poulette, who reminds me to dress like a woman from time to time. I tend to forget.

And of course the strangers that reflect "en live" what they see in me. They make it real.

There's the old friends that remind me of how far I've come and the new friends that show me whom I've become. 

In each and everyone of my friends I find something that inspires me. Positivity, simplicity and limitless love.

I'm the person that has always felt different. Looking at my friends I finally know why. I am so much....... 

Inside of me I hold a piece of each of you and all those pieces make me me. Thanks for holding up that mirror... 

Thanks for being the amazing in me! 

Keep shining!