adica

Sold my pride to the dirt

Posted by adica | 5th November 2009

I’m learning that the lessons of life are not always about how to live, but how not to die. To be honest, I’m frustrated that my first writing about New Zealand will be one of shattered pride and crushed spirits, but this journey wasn’t ever meant to be one of only laughter, only joy, only peace. With suffering comes the rising out of pain, the strength to try again, the calm that comes from succeeding. Today was the beginning of the pain.

For some strange reason, when I am feeling confused or melancholy, I always reach for my ipod, turn it to Blowers Daughter (by Damien Rice) and allow myself to cry while watching as my fingers type nonsense to the screen. It’s a bizarre ritual of release and forgiveness; of myself, of the situation, of life. Almost like the only way I can shed the pain is to listen to the song of another’s. Today I have a lot to shed.

Life on the farm is a beautiful escape from life in a van, but with it comes the acceptance that I will never be viewed as equal

Continued | Adica's Adventure

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