Taking Control

I’ve let myself surrender over the last few weeks. I gave way to powerlessness and fear.

It’s ok to let go sometimes, to become the wild woman. The ‘undesirable’ and ‘unacceptable’ nature of a woman, all women, isn’t predictable and it isn’t pretty.
 

We sink. We sink deep, deep down into the Earth between the roots and the rocks, the warrens and the worms.
 

We cry, we scream, we glaze over. Pain and anguish gives way to worry and anxiety, and that in turn becomes a self-soothing numbness in the depths of our soul. It’s a quiet, unsteady silence that inside is deafening. It drowns out reality.

I sometimes feel my maternal ancestors must have been so strong, so much stronger than me.  They battled through wars, plagues, hunger and pain. They craved out an existence in a harsh landscape and survived. They gave birth to life without comforts, without medicine, in a time when birth often equated to death.
I don’t always feel worthy of their genetics, of their legacy.
But that primal survival instinct does exist within me, within us all. That legacy is there- we are strong.
We survive.
Maybe our hardships are not the same as that of our ancestors. But they fought so that we, their future daughters, could have peace. We will always have hardships, just of a different kind as the world develops.
The dark goddess comes out to play in the night, and with her we can stand with our heads held high - Dreadful and unforgiving, but tall and merciless.