I was recently asked by a stranger on Instagram, how long it took me to trust my intuition. At first I had no idea what to answer. After having thought about it for a while I finally answered, this: Well that’s a good question. I have spend the majority of my life trying to fit in and be just like everyone else, which meant that I was mainly following my ego. But now I am trying to find the strength in being myself and I have discovered, that the best way to be me, is to follow and trust my intuition. Yet it’s an ongoing process.
Yesterday I posted a picture of me skydiving in New Zealand. I remember being absolutely terrified (especially considering, I was quite scared of heights. I wrote was, as I feel like that experience did do something to cure my fears). Since I posted it yesterday, I have not been able to get the picture out of my thoughts. Thinking of it now as a leap of faith, a mile stone in my life. A highlight of 7 months backpacking around the world. Yet I had already written about it, hadn’t I? What else could it be?
Having seen 111 twice already today (once on the washing machine, which seems to be all it wants to show me. And once on a sign, while I was driving home from dropping off the girls this morning. I was on auto-pilot and forgot, I had to pick up a parcel at the local shop. I stopped, turned and found myself stirring at a sign, which had 111 on it). I looked a the bookcase. As I have been doing a lot lately (It’s an intuition-of-mine-thing). Anyway, without questioning it, I did find myself looking at the book, that had caught my attention. But page 115 was not ringing any bells (had I misheard?). And then it hit me. Could it be page 111? (as in 3 times 111, instead of just the usually 11, I keep seeing all sorts of places).
The book was about being a first-time parent. Page 111 had no words. Just one full-page picture of a woman feeding a baby with a bottle. No words? That was a new one for me. And then I got that feeling, of which is quite difficult for me to describe. I stop breathing for a moment, and I sense an emotion in my stomach. And I just know, that I’m on to the right story.
Not only was the skydiving and all the travels, I have done around the world, adventures I went on, it meant so much more to me. All the experiences. The people. The culture. The food. The nature. The languages. The sights. The feeling of country. The soul of a country. Not only had it contributed in shaping who I am, it had also truly nurtured me. Although it may sound crazy comparing the feeding of a baby with travelling, I realised that it is (almost) how important travelling is to me. I have never really looked at it that way before.
And by those words, I had to go and pick up my youngest at her daycare, as she had been sick. She spend the following 3 hours sitting on me, sleeping on and off. Whilst being unable to move anywhere (I didn’t want to wake her up), I sat there thinking, that as a mommy my most important job is to nurture and love my children. But in order to do so, I need to be nurtured myself by doing something I love (besides being a mommy and a wife).
Like that plant I came across in the waiting room yesterday. The flower pot was obviously too small for the plant – almost crying out, help me! And it was leaning so much, trying to reach the light. Reaching out for nurture.
You realise, that you have about 7 hours of recorded diary from your travels lying around right? The intuition seemed to whisper in my ear. As I started looking for it, I came to the conclusion, that it was packed away in the loft. Did this mean, that it was time to bring it back into the light? And repot it to a bigger place for growing?
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