Stone-hearted

 Yesterday I reached for my paintbrush and a stone to paint which should sound like a good thing, but I don’t think it is. I haven’t painted stones since 2013 and I associate this hobby with a period of great hardship and sorrow. That’s not to say that I don’t love the things I painted back then. They were, and still are, beautiful life expressions. I still have a few of them even now and others I have given to people whom I love and trust. But it bothers me that I feel the need to paint now because I know it means I am feeling broken again.  This time, actually, I feel even worse. I feel my peace has been broken. My trust has been destroyed and after I have shown such courage, such vulnerability.

Lockdown, I think, was a better period for me. It protected me from giving too much of myself, of my light and creativity, in the flesh. 

I hope I am wrong.  I am an INFJ - HSP after all. I feel things very deeply. I worry terribly, too. Although, unfortunately, I am also very intuitive.  But yet, perhaps my peace is not gone, perhaps it is just resting and my trust is safely resting, too. I hope so. The idea of that returning darkness, after finally finding my balance, terrifies me.