I walked first in sun…but by the end of the walk the grey clouds had amassed and blown in, as though heading purposefully to me, and brought with them sheets of horizontal rain. I am snug, warm and dry now back inside the house, except I am not. I am not the dry lady in the centrally heated house…I am the little vulnerable girl made of paper, stood outside still, feeling the strength of the heavy clouds pressing down on her. I am the girl from the past. Summer is a stranger to me….I am the girl who had the bad life and wants it to end right now. Suicidal ideation weather station. It must have blew it with the rain.

Something little became something big.

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The wind brew in a particular way. I became the little girl (me) walking through the alleyway to town. Wall to my left. Wall to my right. Posh buildings in view on the other side of the wall belonging to posh lawyers who worked to provide services for posh people to consume property and sue people and divorce a partner they once loved. I clutch a warm hand tightly as though my life depends on it. The hand belongs to my mother. She is my ‘safe’ person…except she isn’t safe…and I don’t in actual fact know what ‘safe’ is, but there is no-one else, so I continue to keep hold of her as though my life depends on it.

The autumn leaves are wet and stick to my wellington boots. My coat is red. I am little red riding hood in that coat. I feel excited and have nervous butterflies a fluttering inside my very flat malnourished tummy…. That’s what you get when your mum has an undiagnosed eating disorder. You get one of those too.

We are walking somewhere…or is it an alleyway to nowhere. The weather then is the same as the weather that day…so I remember it. I glance sidewards at the red berries on the bushes during my dog walk. I remember the little girl view of those same type of berries in that alleyway.

I don’t know where the memory goes from there….maybe nowhere except MEMORY LANE.

I walk down memory lane as that girl I once was everyday.

I swish in the leaves as child me once did. My chubby fingers reach out to grab a cluster of berries to squish in my hand. My Mum tells me they’re dangerous and I shouldn’t put them in my mouth because I’ll be poisoned, but still I reach out…that’s what children do. Children push boundaries and adults set them. But what if your boundary setters (your parents) have boundaries that are wrong? askew? in the wrong place? inappropriate? unfair? immoral? What if your parents abuse you?… psychologically, emotionally, physically and sexually?

My memory lane is a sad place. But still it’s where my true soul lies, or so I think.

Is my accurate soul the one who is further on in their healing and writing a blog called summerstartstoshine? or is my true soul the queen bee who was singing the body electric all those months ago? in perpetual suicidal crisis, wanting to die, broken, fractured, splintered, living as different personalities?

This is how my blogging on WP started. I sang the body electric. I lived in the cage, and through a spiritual awakening escaped. I look at my blog design now (although I can’t find the picture) and it is visible how I have moved on. From dark to light. From a feeling of being trapped, to relative freedom. But have I really moved on? Today I doubt that. Today I am having a body electric day, not a summerstartstoshine day. I’m back in the cage. Memory lane defeated me, yet again.

“I SING THE BODY ELECTRIC, WHILE MARY PRAYS THE ROSARY FOR MY BROKEN MIND :(“

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