Heartspace

Wow, has it really been more than 2 years since I poured my heart out on 'Syb's Sunny Side Up'?

Time has  flown by since I completed my teaching degree 18 months ago; there has been little time and even less energy to indulge my writing passion. Lately though, it's begun to itch - the impulse to write something other than a teaching resource, or observation notes, or a shopping list. So Syb's back!

This time I'm intending to use my blog as a sanity-saver. I still hope to keep an upbeat, positive vibe, but it may occasionally get a little darker when the stress pours in and I need an outlet. I've reread some of my posts, and it's like curling up in your mother's lap: although some of them are tinged with sadness, the memories are something unique to me, a touchstone to my past and my heritage. There is comfort in revisiting them, something akin to returning home to your roots. To your heartspace.

The idea of returning to my roots is just that - an idea. An unspeakable evil entered our lives 17 years ago, and tore apart our family. It's interesting to reflect on this expression; phrases are often metaphoric rather than literal, but this one is very apt: when a family is torn apart, it is just that - a horrendous sense of ripping the very fabric of your existence. I ache from the loss of that sense of belonging. Being someone's treasured daughter. The habitual ribbing of siblings. Secret in-jokes. Family celebrations. Sharing food. Sharing memories. That place that exists in your mother's embrace, where her arms create a barrier to the rest of the world, protecting you from harm. Her heartspace.

It is the fairytale of family life that I miss; it seduces my memory and casts a spell, erasing all the bad times, the arguments and hurtful words. I long for that special embrace, where I can fall ... fall ... fall against someone and know they will catch me and prevent me from shattering. The adult me knows this is a fictional representation of family life, a fabrication based on magnified good times and omitted traumas. The adult me rationalizes that life is better without the toxic presence of manipulation and deception.

So the adult me has created its own heartspace. It's a place where I feel safe and loved, nurtured and protected. A place were I can release the pain in my soul as well as the song in my heart, and not be judged.  A place that celebrates life. All of it - the fairytales and the tragedies.

Welcome to my heartspace. Let the memory-making begin.