Proverbial Lights

I am quite far from certain, nor in need of certainty, but it be entirely possible I was raised with the proverb that the light at the end of the tunnel is usually an oncoming train. The doomsayings of my birth clan were many and cleverly scripted and rehearsed. The proverb is wreaking havoc on my contentment of this peaceful morning. Perhaps Big Bro is suffering his own rendition of the phenom, too. He interrupted my early meditations in a bolder repeat of yesterday. The "bolder" evidenced by the absence of lingering in the kitchen outside the utility room door. He approached without hesitation and climbed onto my lap to tell me of his nightmare. The Hollywood idol, "Chuckie" had invaded his room to work his bloody magic. I wet my bed again, too. (?Chuckie made him do it?) The second take on yesterday's sheet changing played a little more smoothly for yesterday's rehearsal. Not that I am complaining about yesterday's rehearsal. 'Twas a good start.

Two days doesnae qualify as long-haul stability in Arf World, but ya gots to start somewhere. This morning will be the first launch of the school train from the new station. The cacophony of doomsayer prophecies is clamouring. The quiet voice is whispering to calm the clamour to balance. Over-confidence can be even more dangerous than a shattered self-esteem. My over-confidence is idiotically bolder. I amnae ever far from a hidey-hole retreat on my shattered self-esteem days and always reluctant to try much of anything. Even breathing feels like more challenge than I can handle on my shattered self-esteem days.

Do I need a rapid cycling mood indicator this morning? Perhaps, but I believe I really am okay. Stepping small, praying big and holding the love sacred. . .