Heartbreak took me into the womb

If I look back now I can see the magical thread that wove colour back into my life, and it was not always a pleasurable experience.

Picking up the pieces of my heart

In fact, you may look at this particular situation as a rebirth, and lets face it being born is tough for both the mother and the babe…in this case I was both.

I had spent my childhood playing wedding wedding (always the bride of course, my poor little brother forced into marriage with me again and again while my little sister got to live the ‘always the bridesmaid and never the bride’ adage through those years) but having been quite shattered by my parents split when I was 6 as soon as puberty hit I changed my tune completely.

For many years I shied from all advances with as much determination as I could muster. I would never let my heart be broken…again.

Falling in love was way too dangerous so I just would not do it, it was something I forced myself to accept.

Years passed and there came a point where my sister who I love and respect (just because I am older does not mean I am always wiser) encouraged me to give the relationship thing a try.

In my heart I knew it was time and that she was right, but my head was reeling. This is not the story of how I finally did let a man into my heart though.

After a year of dating and then moving in together for all the wrong reasons. I had turned into the exact women my fierce teenage self-had tried so hard to avoid. I had molded myself to the perfect women I thought he needed me to be. I had fallen in love with the ideal.

I was in love with the idea of love and the prospect of marriage and children that I had denied myself for so many years.

Unhappy as we both undoubtedly were I convinced myself all I had to do was try harder.

It didn’t work.

Thankfully he had the courage to break my heart. And thank him I do, with the presence of hindsight of coarse.

At the time the pain I felt was so visceral, I thought I might die.

And so, the labour escalated.

My mother fetched me from our flat and virtually cradling me like a babe in arms moved me into the little cottage on her property.

I found myself slowly trying to make it feel like home, as my contractions rolled through me like waves.

When I tried to sleep in this new and empty bed.

In the supermarket isle or while talking to a customer at work.

They were always there, rippling through me, out of my control.

Slowly it started to feel like my home and I found myself gravitating to Mr Price home for curtains, linen and big scatter cushions in deep burgundies and bright oranges.

These were not colours I had ever liked before and it became compulsive, the more intense the orange the more I craved it.

Looking back now I laugh low in my throat at how my deep and mysterious feminine wisdom was at work.

I see now the womb space I was creating in this safe red and orange cottage.

I see now that I needed to survive the broken heart and be reborn through the process in order to know my own strength.

If you have birthed a baby, you will know the strength and power you feel afterwards.

Looking at that new born, you will know the anticipatory excitement at what this new beginning may bring.

I didn’t know it then, but that was exactly what was happening to me.

I didn’t know it then, but my innate wisdom was waking up, and it was using these powerful feminine colours, for the first two chakras.

The Root chakra, which dances to Mother Earths call, and the Sacral chakra, which harmonises with Grandmother Moon and the element of water.

The wisdom in my cells was igniting.

Womb space to gestate