I’m told its my eyes that tell my story.
A few days ago I had to have my photo took for identity purposes. You know the one where you can not smile or pull funny faces.
I struggled with looking at this photo not just because i hate having photos took of myself but because I couldn’t hide behind my smile. My facade to the world.
This photo rather shocked me as I looked haunted.
A little lost.
This led to an afternoon of self analysing not something I would really recommend. It can totally mess with your mind.
You see thinking never really does me any favours.
Well where was I?
Oh that’s right my haunted look.
It was as if my life had left a physical imprint on my soul and of course the eyes being the windows to the soul it was there for all to see.
I realised my identity has changed so much over the years. Not surface things like fashion, hairstyle etc but the roles I play in life.
I’m a wife, I’m a mother
But I’ve also been a mother of a disabled child.
I’ve been the grieving mom of the said disabled child.
I am now a foster carer to a disabled child , a foster mom.
Different roles at different times yet which one left the haunting.
It doesn’t really need a answer does it.
Losing a child is so strange it’s as if life moves forward but a part of you is left in the past.
Haunting the memories.
It’s as if you hold on to the then rather than live in the now without them.
I watched my first Star Trek movie the other night and they were talking about alternative realities and that made sense in a strange way.
A part of me is still in pre November 7th 2008.
It’s not about non acceptance it’s about holding them close and never letting go.
I believe all of us have a haunting.
A moment in time which we can never let go.
A time in your life which shaped who you are today.
I see my life as a jigsaw I was born complete but through life I have lost or left pieces behind in different places and at different times. I won’t be complete again until eternity.
But that’s ok.
I think this is what makes us human the ability to connect to form bonds.
The courage to give away pieces of ourselves.
So a jigsaw am I.
Or as my husband says missing a few pieces ha ha.