Time as Healer

clock on marble fireplace

I have been reminded this week what an excellent healer time can be, and how much respect we ought to give it as something which can solve our problems.

I wrote up my birth story last week, and I was amazed at what a different perspective I was able to have writing it so long after the event.

I took copious notes shortly after giving birth to ensure that I would always have an accurate record of how things went chronologically, and also have a copy of all my medical notes, so it’s not that the hard facts have changed. It’s that something which traumatised me at the time and contributed massively to a year of postnatal depression is now something that I can genuinely laugh at in parts. I have not forgotten the difficult bits (of which there were many) but they don’t define me anymore. The passage of time means that I am no longer the woman who cries all the time while sitting on a doughnut cushion.

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Place and Time

stained glass window with bird

Sometimes when I can’t sleep at night, I lie in bed and try to remember the exact layout of houses that I’ve lived in. I’ll imagine myself walking around them, picking out as many small details as I can.

There are four that I can remember with real clarity; the house on Harris where I spent all of my early childhood, my Grandpa’s house in Staffordshire, where I used to spend lots of holidays, the farmhouse in the Borders where I spent most of my teenage years, and the house in Edinburgh that I lived in until a year ago.

There are other places that I can remember a few details of. There was a white cottage on Lewis where I lived with my Mum for a year, and then a townhouse in the Borders where I also spent about year. And of course, there were several flats in Edinburgh where I lived as a student. But the memories of those places are a bit fuzzier.
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