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Avery

A character has been born.


 







In many ways, I feel it,

as if I did the physical process of birthing, just now - myself.

I'm exhausted.

A bit confused.


For the past six months,

I only shower or eat, rest - when I put this baby down.


Fatigued mentally. Emotionally. Physically.

From birthing a creation.


But I am equally delighted...to have this bundle.

It is promising.

Filled, I hope, with potential.


This project is meant to be fun.

Creative.

Expansive in its ideas but -

Short.

Bring exposure and awareness to a certain population.

And help me to complete a circuit of healing.

Yes for myself, and as always,

for any others who have a resonance with the material.


I didn't really know EXACTLY who my target population was,

except women who had been inked,

when I allowed this to come to fruition.


"This" meaning...seriously entertaining

and then actively pursuing the achievement of a dream-

with no expectations or attachments to the outcome,

other than what Universe wishes for it.


The dream? I have had many. I still have many.

But this one -


A story building itself in me since the age of fourteen;

of writing about tattooed women,

just for the heck of it!


...because I had promised myself,

and someone else super special to me,

now deceased,

that I would do it!


...one day.

Just for the sake of it.


But I have since determined the target population

(I think)...

to be laid out in the book.


This project...

right from the start,

each and every time when I thought I understood the direction it was taking,

and put my nose to it,

something of pertinence would - pop up...

needing proper attention and addressing.


Prolonging and changing what I thought was going to happen next.


Before I knew it, "this" became my work.


Just like, -

when I became a mother,

for a long period of time;


that was my ONLY work.

(Along with holding it down in the house, the community and also, at the office, rehabilitative center, school...going to bed wondering what I did all day).


How is it...

that we women manage to sneak and encompass EVERYTHING we do,

into one little common word?


Work.


Why do we tell ourselves this is all -

just small stuff?

I have ideas but that can come from me some other time.


For now, in between the domestic waiting - I have decided, THIS is my only work.


This is an ok transition with me...

Having a different kind of purpose now.


Dissolving certain expectations and attachments to myself and my children...

so that they can develop as they were meant to according to Source.


Dissolving certain expectations and attachments to myself and my children...

from an ever pressing and out of sorts society.

One that can at times, manipulate us into forgetting how important and truly powerful we are as individual beings.


Entrusting them, my offspring, to carry themselves the best they can with what we have done for them;


which was to provide,


the best we could at all times over the courses...


just like our own parents did... and theirs too.


That and reassuring the "knowing" that already exists in them -


that we are always here.


Ready and waiting to support

or catch

or to just stand by

for a call in;

or, of course:

if we saw it was needed...

TO STEP IN.


...as they each are slowly yet at the same time,

so quickly growing into stages of life that, I,

as a devoted house not-wife and stay at home, work from home mother with all kinds of crafty hustle going on outside, just to make it cohesive...


For so many years,

only working for my family...


I do.

I grieve to a degree.

There is loss occurring. There are losses being revealed.

However, there are also gains being made.


There are all these changes happening!


In hindsight,

A hard to make choice;

To stay or to go-

a privilege earned, not given;


to have an opportunity to make that decision or combine them in some way;

a chosen mother over career.


Sometimes I still can't comprehend.

But I did it. Made it.

Just like Avery's primary "interview avatar"-

did it.

She made it.


"It" being, out. Through and out of her healing work.

And then after finding her calling- sharing her talented hands and mind with others.

Right in the face of the culprit of her deepest wound and biggest pain.


Avery.

Succeeding.

Despite all the challenges.


I can do it also, turn that grief into a construction of something new,

and needing of my time,

to develop it right.


I have no other option but to accept the necessary calibration in how I "practice my care" these days.


I accept, my boys are rapidly becoming men.

NOW, more than ever -

for mental health and heart survival,

for my brain's sake and theirs too;

needing and willing to accept and redirect my attention.


Most of the clinical career I wanted, has passed anyway.

I know...

I helped lay some of the stones for other women to stand upon in the fields that I pioneered.

They have since, metaphorically and literally speaking, laid bricks and pavers and maybe...even rolled out the roads by now. Making it easier for the next woman on this trek.

Professionally and personally.


Let us face it:

No healer goes to "healing school" unless they too,

are looking for some healing.


The trek of a hero's journey.

Like Avery's character did,


using her tattoo to mark her remembrance of her mother,

despite the years come and gone since her death,

stealing and robbing Avery of her memories.

Creating a deep mother abrasion. A scar.


Time is cruel but yet forgiving when it it does us like that...

(altering our memories surrounding loss).


So, "this" work, its ok by me.

Chasing my childhood dreams -

and tandem, nursing her wounds...


writing voices of a magnitude of powerful, brilliant and nurturing women,

into characters.


In this case.

Making Avery - up.


Being able to pause and set her down again.


For I try to balance and do "this" work

but only after properly TRYING to address theirs...


meaning my beloved "boys".

How does one mother ever know?


I appreciate the blessing of being able to do that work with them.

It is.

It is hard at times...for the motherless -

which is whom I - identify with, and have, for most of my life.


It has driven my work. Being motherless.

I see now, through Avery,


it has driven my work for mothers and children -

for the mothers and daughters;


their wounds.


So this work.

Writing characters into something a bit more tangible...

giving voice to our collective cries of war and triumph.


Those of the tattooed women.


I don't mind it...


Anything that I work at, I love. Or else,

and just ask my family,

I won't work at it.

I won't waste my time.

Or theirs.


Nobody ever should haphazardly discharge their own or another's time.

* I am sure exceptions apply.


So for me, "this" work is a good thing.

I love to labor.


Writing Avery into character has probably been one of the riskiest and yet most fulfilling and natural "things" I have done...since -

giving birth.


Each time.

Each time we extend ourselves through birth of our physical children

or give voice to any parts of our own inner children;


we are being vulnerable.


And only out of vulnerability can babies be conceived and born.


Much like my beautiful and strong Avery.


A baby of my heart and mind;

fashioned after a beautiful and strong, generous real life soul.


I have a feeling, others will relate to her.


At least that is what I can deduce from what I have observed since beginning the interview process.

And then,

doing my favorite part of research;

Venn Diagraming it with my own stories, studies and experiences collected and collated over the years.


Many of which I have gathered and placed under lock and key while on my journey.

Stories.

Only to be released if and when, I complete this fun, creative project that feels more like a baby to me, than anything else.


Perhaps, this is my grief baby.

A term we can possibly discuss at another time in the future.






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