I have been given a masterclass by the universe in noticing fear. I am motivated by it in deeply entrenched ways, and it’s hegemony is impressive. It is inherited from my family, written on all the pages of my consciousness, and I stand vigilant with a small eraser, rubbing out this graffiti at every opportunity. Sometimes it comes off clean, other times the graphite smears and I have a larger mess than when I started. Delicate touches with the rubber saviour are then required.
The internal does take on the external. I realized that I always expect my peace to be disturbed, as I grew up with unpredictable bouts of anger and shouting. My psyche has taken this on, and does not allow a healthy or peaceful perspective to remain undisturbed for too long. This differs from the expectation of feeling happy all the time-people conflate unrealistic exuberance for stability too often. Earlier today, I realized my peace is safe. No one is going to barge in and scream at me, figuratively or otherwise, and I can stop doing that to myself.
Understanding that the past is past. Understanding, on a visceral level, that you are safe.
The task at hand. What I hold everyday.