It’s the middle of the night. I read a DM from a friend who had a rough day and was drinking. My tears - then words - flowed as I thought of that person with their talent, intelligence, beauty, compassionate heart - dealing - as we all are - best they can with the bullshit of the world.
Then I thought about the grumpy bitch I myself had been all day. How living authentically means we can’t help but pass on a little of what we feel to others. Had I relayed bad feeling to my child, my mother, strangers?
It had been funny earlier on in the day. We’d been on the train and my son caught and mimicked a face I made and it looked like a sour, angry old trout.
“Why are you doing that with your face?”
He’d said. How cool to have someone observe stuff in you, then throw it back as mirror. Instantly I laughed, seeing myself through cartoon eyes. Maybe we don’t always have someone to do that for us, but I guess it’s useful to try and see it in ourselves.
There’s a lot made of ‘being present’ but maybe being both present and distant is something to aspire to. Watcher and participant. Both adult and child.
This piece encapsulates the innocence and beauty of childhood ❤️ A important reminder that I need to work harder on looking after and appreciating my inner child. I remember that girl full of excitement, enthusiasm and hope...before the world inevitably wore me down. She’s still there and a part of me. Thank you Julie. x
She absolutely is. I see it. Your smile spans my feed like an endless, pearled beach. Your eyes always look so determined. Your skin still very much aglow. I look at you and I see someone summering in radiance. If I do, so do others. X
Thank you Julie. That means a lot. Your Substack is my fave. Love reading the musings of a fellow empath who doesn’t hold back. Makes me feel less alone in this crazy, woke world. So real, emotive, thought-provoking and inspirational. Keep up the good work ❤️❤️❤️ x
Good thanks hun, spending some time trying to look after myself and focus on my mental health at the mo. Not enjoying Truth or GETTR much at the moment but don’t want to go back to toxic twitter either. Trust you are well too 😘 x
Beautiful. Your writing is such an antidote to the feeling of disconnection that is foisted upon us. Cathartic, celebratory, comforting and challenging. Thank you.
This is beautiful, Julie. When I look at my grandkids laughing and playing, my wish for them is that they can always feel that joy. That we all can feel that joy. ‘Growing up’ isn’t all it was made out to be!
I keep a photo of the day I took my first steps. It reminds me to be kind to that little girl. The one that is still there inside me 💗
I don't remember who I was back then. I think its a condition that some people have, I can't remember the name, was researching a while back. I only know who I am today and who I want to be in the future. I guess all the things I can't remember, have shaped me into who I am today.
I think even those of us who do profess to remember, do so through selective eyes. They tend to cherry pick memories and write their childhood the way a film maker would. I always wonder with my own son which bit he’s ‘filming’.
My mum was a bit like that too about getting dirty. I think it’s one of the reasons I sent my son to a Steiner Kindergarten. I wanted him to feel mud, have rope swings, climb trees…
The washing powder adverts in the 80’s/90’s were always really big on things being ‘white’ in an OTT way. It used to puzzle me. People’s determination to defy a natural process of items fading, slightly greying…. Wasn’t cleaning something enough? 😂
Hair is a big trigger for many. I’m going to write a piece at some point devoted to my ‘hair journey’ as, as you probably know I’ve had many issues with it over the years.
I relate to that. I got shit from both son and his dad when I shaved mine. For my son it was the shock of it but I think men often feel both turned off and intimidated by a woman bold enough to shave her head. It’s too male and not pretty enough for them.
Many of them have a certain idea of the woman they want ‘on their arm’ in a trophy way.
Often in terms of words i have nothing, zero and I try and write and it’s bland toast crumbs but as soon as passion nests me, it’s a very natural process.
It’s the middle of the night. I read a DM from a friend who had a rough day and was drinking. My tears - then words - flowed as I thought of that person with their talent, intelligence, beauty, compassionate heart - dealing - as we all are - best they can with the bullshit of the world.
Then I thought about the grumpy bitch I myself had been all day. How living authentically means we can’t help but pass on a little of what we feel to others. Had I relayed bad feeling to my child, my mother, strangers?
It had been funny earlier on in the day. We’d been on the train and my son caught and mimicked a face I made and it looked like a sour, angry old trout.
“Why are you doing that with your face?”
He’d said. How cool to have someone observe stuff in you, then throw it back as mirror. Instantly I laughed, seeing myself through cartoon eyes. Maybe we don’t always have someone to do that for us, but I guess it’s useful to try and see it in ourselves.
There’s a lot made of ‘being present’ but maybe being both present and distant is something to aspire to. Watcher and participant. Both adult and child.
The photos.
1977/8? Prestatyn.
My first holiday. Already big sister.
The other one must be circa 2015, my son at forest school.
The hoop in each seemed symbolic of the obstacle courses we all face.
Children navigate the same - yet different ‘hoops’, challenges……as parents we come full circle.
This piece encapsulates the innocence and beauty of childhood ❤️ A important reminder that I need to work harder on looking after and appreciating my inner child. I remember that girl full of excitement, enthusiasm and hope...before the world inevitably wore me down. She’s still there and a part of me. Thank you Julie. x
She absolutely is. I see it. Your smile spans my feed like an endless, pearled beach. Your eyes always look so determined. Your skin still very much aglow. I look at you and I see someone summering in radiance. If I do, so do others. X
Thank you Julie. That means a lot. Your Substack is my fave. Love reading the musings of a fellow empath who doesn’t hold back. Makes me feel less alone in this crazy, woke world. So real, emotive, thought-provoking and inspirational. Keep up the good work ❤️❤️❤️ x
Love this Nat. Hope you are well x
Good thanks hun, spending some time trying to look after myself and focus on my mental health at the mo. Not enjoying Truth or GETTR much at the moment but don’t want to go back to toxic twitter either. Trust you are well too 😘 x
You had the same twinkle in your eye back then too! Lovely thought process there.
Bless you, lovely xx
You made me cry woman
Bless you. Wrote it two years ago but probably worth having another read through myself so I remember it too.❤️
Beautiful. Your writing is such an antidote to the feeling of disconnection that is foisted upon us. Cathartic, celebratory, comforting and challenging. Thank you.
When we lose our ability to experience and appreciate wonder, we lose everything.
Love it
Thanks :)
This is beautiful, Julie. When I look at my grandkids laughing and playing, my wish for them is that they can always feel that joy. That we all can feel that joy. ‘Growing up’ isn’t all it was made out to be!
I keep a photo of the day I took my first steps. It reminds me to be kind to that little girl. The one that is still there inside me 💗
Bless you. When we lose wonder for the world, the world is both lost to us and loses us.❤️
I don't remember who I was back then. I think its a condition that some people have, I can't remember the name, was researching a while back. I only know who I am today and who I want to be in the future. I guess all the things I can't remember, have shaped me into who I am today.
Beautiful piece. I hope you are well x
I think even those of us who do profess to remember, do so through selective eyes. They tend to cherry pick memories and write their childhood the way a film maker would. I always wonder with my own son which bit he’s ‘filming’.
Hope you are good too, strong lady x
My mum was a bit like that too about getting dirty. I think it’s one of the reasons I sent my son to a Steiner Kindergarten. I wanted him to feel mud, have rope swings, climb trees…
The washing powder adverts in the 80’s/90’s were always really big on things being ‘white’ in an OTT way. It used to puzzle me. People’s determination to defy a natural process of items fading, slightly greying…. Wasn’t cleaning something enough? 😂
Hair is a big trigger for many. I’m going to write a piece at some point devoted to my ‘hair journey’ as, as you probably know I’ve had many issues with it over the years.
Sending love x
I relate to that. I got shit from both son and his dad when I shaved mine. For my son it was the shock of it but I think men often feel both turned off and intimidated by a woman bold enough to shave her head. It’s too male and not pretty enough for them.
Many of them have a certain idea of the woman they want ‘on their arm’ in a trophy way.
Fuck. That.
Shaving your head is very symbolic of new beginnings, casting aside. Rebirth in regrowth. I’m so glad I did it. It’s a very empowering thing to do.
I wrote it through tears.
Often in terms of words i have nothing, zero and I try and write and it’s bland toast crumbs but as soon as passion nests me, it’s a very natural process.