"I’ll be your touch tree, again and again...the place you can come back to when life feels hard and hope feels thin." - An excerpt from a poem my daughter and I are writing together about parent/child love and attachment...
After an anxious night with little sleep (because even though I've done a lot of my own work, and take meds, I still have those from time to time) I'm thinking about how my own version of the "touch tree" has changed over the years.
Undoubtedly, my first touch tree was my parents, and then a few best friends, and then my husband. But now, I think it's just...me. I am on my own place of safety, my refuge from the storm, the one I come home too.
And maybe that's the growth journey, a trillion miles ventured out there only to come back to the one you started with-you. My hope, for myself and my children, is that being loved well (imperfectly) clears space for them to take a million little journeys and then return home.