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Reflections…Week One

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A New Year, Blessings to all, and a new chapter.

For this year my goal is to do a weekly blog post, for some that may seem a small challenge, but for myself, it’s a sheer rock face; and have you ever seen a fat man rock climb?

A week has passed with the thoughts of…should I make it about one subject? Question of the week? Ramblings on of a wayward mind? Short? Long? etc,etc.

The end result?…Anything goes so long as the main principle of my blogging remains – Try to bring humour to the writing if possible, Focus on the positives, but above all be true to myself, only that way will I find myself.

My life has been, until my ‘breakdown,’ either about trying to fit in or avoiding social interactions, until beer introduced itself.  Alcohol and the right environmental conditions has a strange effect on wallflowers as I am sure many of you have witnessed at least once. The mouse that suddenly roars, the dance as though in the throes of passion or insanity, maybe they just scan their bum and email it to everyone, including the boss; especially the boss! Only to return to the mouse in the morning. These actions are not ‘out of character’ but more a release of suppressed character, the side we don’t publicly show.

Dutch courage is no longer an option and on reflection it never was, now I get to pick myself up, assess the damage, repair what is required and discard what is not. No longer will I be bullied into submission, nor will I listen to the criticism. Tell me I have done something wrong in the roundabout way,”It’s good but it would have been better if…”, you had better be able to put up, I aint given you the option of shut up. All this change, all on my own, but it has to be done and only I can do it. Others can only guide.

My self belief is like a lump of clay on a potters wheel, and if you have ever tried to shape clay on a potters wheel you know it starts of well, a shape starts to evolve, you go to fast and the clay distorts into a slippery eel, it seems to flop all over the place and for some inexplicable reason you make it go faster the more out of control you get, squeezing until bits of clay fly in all directions. That is the breakdown, now I add clay and start again, taking my time, allowing myself time, time to think, time to enjoy, time to feel. And I swear to god that if another pair of hands suddenly come from behind and join mine on the clay, I will seriously freak the **** out.

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