The dark night of the soul—waiting for the dawn.

Have you ever felt like a shipwreck survivor, alone and naked on a little square of driftwood?

The ship was my life, carefully constructed and maintained, with gleaming golden detail and shiny polished portholes.

Small but pristine, she proudly bobbed upon the waves as I dressed the part, spoke the part, acted the part in line with my conditioning.

Even after my ship hit that iceberg of realisation I continued to party, like it was the end of the world. Hiding from the dark night that was descending, I just drank more alcohol, smoked more cigarettes and even took a secret lover.

Then that ship sank!

And ever since then I have spent the past 6 years sat alone, in the dark, on my little square of broken helm. Waiting for the dawn.

Three years ago I prematurely thought that the dawn was here!

I accepted a lifeline from my husband, joined him on his ship and we made a baby!

But as the pregnancy progressed so did my anxiety.

And when the baby came I took my precious bundle to retreat back onto my piece of driftwood.

I row up close to my husband’s boat daily and we spend time as a family but then off I go, back to my solitude.

I read spiritual texts, I listen to Ram Dass talks, I discover musical artists on the journey such as Nahko and Trevor Hall, I am preparing to do my YTT 200 (yoga teacher training).

But I am so alone.

Friends and family visit less and less frequently. All except my big sister who remains a constant in my life, I know she doesn’t understand and is just waiting lovingly and patiently for me to re-emerge.

It is hard to make mummy friends when you refuse to conform—my hair is wild, I ditched make up long ago, I like bright colours and Indian-inspired elephant print. I also contact nap, bed share, breastfeed, and shun buggies in favour of a sling. None of these things are considered ‘normal’ and seem to make other mums uncomfortable.

And it is hard to make non-mummy friends when your life revolves around a toddler.

People just don’t want to chill with a toddler—nor did I before mum life!

But the main barrier is I am just so damn serious!

When did I lose my sense of humour, of lightness, of play? Around the time I saw through the illusion I guess.

Because, in the dark night all illusion has been shunned, I have no choice but to be authentic.

There’s no mask, no alcohol, no soma…

And that means that I am a very genuine, serious, and boring hippie.

When the dawn comes I do hope I see the cosmic joke. It will mean genuine joy, elation, love, laughter, and peace.

So if there are any other dark nighters out there wondering “will this night ever end?” you aren’t alone.

And it will be so goddam beautiful because, after all these years of darkness, it will be the most vibrant, bright, and colourful sunrise of all our lives!

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