nightpacing.

I've been doing some nightpacing. With this second child there hasn't been much of it so far. With the first one we went out side every night with him tucked in a huge duvet walking for sometimes an hour or more while he struggled with sleep or the lack of it. Now he sleeps in his own bed accompanied by Teddy - only calls out for me when he has had nightmares. She has always been able to sleep rather well. But a couple of nights she or he has awakend and required some carrying and humming and stroking on the back.

And as the feet starts to pace the black floors of our appartment, so my thoughts start to travel darker grounds in my mind. "There is no way you can do it." "You have no money, just give up!" "Your art is ridiculous, as are you." Slowly numbing me and filling my legs and stomach with concrete. Heavy heavy heavy. For one day I just gave in to it. Did nothing. Hid in the closet for a little while. Looked at all my art supplies in there. Found a binder with old pictures and ideas for projects. Felt a tiiiiiiiny bit better. Had an apple. Went outside and blew soap bubbles from the balcony with my son. The delight and excitement of being up and outside late in the evening filling his voice with laughter. Slowly warming me up from inside. And now I think this:
"Everything is possible." "The darkness is not emptiness, it is a place to rest from all the input that bombards us all day and instead fall into peace and then new ideas." "Under my feet, pacing the darkness, are the hands of all my ancestors carrying me." And I feel good. I feel I am enough. I am scared, but also so happy and grateful for all that I can call mine.