#70 My Dad and I the Super Hero by davidTrig

superman-kidWelcome back. You belong here.

When I write about the process in my life, I tend to get worried looks, lots of messages and texts expressing concern all of which I appreciate. I’m fine, in fact, when I share these things my hope is to be an example of vulnerability and stop pretending.

It’s good to stop pretending.

But what I really need the most is to get myself out of my own funk and take care of business. So last week, I called my spiritual guide and counselor, sat on his couch and talked and listened, cried and thought and did what you’re supposed to do when having one of those weeks.

I left my counselor’s office with notes scribbled on a yellow note pad with five quick tips to a perfect life (yeah right!). Emptiness, childhood trauma, loneliness, all the usual culprits came to the surface but there’s always one memory I can’t talk about just yet.

I remember a picture of my dad holding me up when I was one.

In the picture I’m smiling, laughing with my hands up in the air, standing on the block fence or “muro” around the house. Every time I see that picture I imagine myself jumping out of his arms and flying like Superman.

My father died a long time ago and when I get in trouble it feels like I’m falling off the block fence and crashing into the ground instead of flying through the air like a super hero.

And that’s about all I have right now, as I said, I’m still working through this memory but I can tell there’s a lot of stuff behind it that I need to figure out. Can’t wait (he said sarcastically).

Thanks for being here,
Thanks for reading and caring,
Your ‪#‎GOZO‬! friend,
davidTrig

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