Our brains are vehicles that carry us from here to there.
How many families take driving lessons so that each gets to where he or she needs to go—peaceably?
How many families crash into each other's needs, head on, like bumper cars that follow no Rules of the Road?
Every vehicle that functions safely is in need of fine tuning, from time to time. For instance, let's say the brakes on my temper need relining or replacing. Or my battery needs a jump. Or my fuel tank is so low that my spirit runs on fumes. Or my radiator is in need of water—water everywhere but not a drop to drink—so everything that's ripe and juicy overheats and dries up. Memories of sliding into the driver's seat just before sunrise on an icy winter morn and sliding, uncontrollably, from one lane on the freeway into the next sends shivers down my spine.
In order to get safely where we need to go ...
Our vehicles need freeways with boundaries for good reason.
How much do you know about taking care of an instrument, as complex as your car? How often does the 'weather', which changes daily, affect its performance?
When my car runs out of gas, makes weird noises, revs its engine, won't quit screeching, or just keeps stalling, I get to a mechanic who inspires my trust by encouraging my vehicle to take me where I could not go, before.
Just as going crazy's not my style, I've learned not to run on tracks that circle round and round until my car races so fast as to ram into wall after wall.
At times when my conscious mind feels too confused to tune into my five tools, I get my car to a specialist, whose training is more sophisticated than my own.
Once subconscious confusion stops dizzying my conscious mind, I can calmly absorb which parts of my vehicle are in need of retuning, rewiring, or replacing, and as adjustments are made, clarity is mine.
When a toddler's mind crashes into tragedy, early on, tuning in to acquired traits in need of retuning may be puzzling, indeed. And that's especially true when a sunny child sports a smile as a shield.
When a light hearted, deep thinking spirit flits around for decades, sprinkling sunshine here and there, who might think to hold that person's hand while she tunnels through many layers of self protection in hopes of diagnosing unresolved issues, hiding out in Denialand?
As long as this swirl of subconscious confusion remains unidentified, Post Traumatic Stress Syndrome will spit bullets at this person's wide range of acquired strengths.
A healthy home is not a shoot out or a hide out.
A healthy home does not house a wide range of mechanics
A healthy home is one in which leaders develop a 'sense'
For when their vehicles are in need of fine tuning
When I want my vehicle to free me
From fear of the unknown
The buddy system takes me
From confusion to a peaceful place
In hopes of enticing you to slide into the driver's seat
And adventure down a path that may open many doors
I'll continue to describe the road less taken in my blog
I want to hold your hand—Your friend, Annie
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