My own Easter egg

It’s the countdown to Easter now and my thoughts have been turning to eggs.  Easter eggs for the children in my life, but also eggs and their meanings and metaphors.  Two in particular spring to mind: my emotions are as fragile as egg shells and I feel I am retreating into my own shell.  I have found the last few weeks and months incredibly disorientating.  It’s like I’ve suddenly woken up from a deep sleep and don’t know where I am anymore.  I am trying to re-orientate myself, to slowly piece the life I know, the life I had, back together.  I am trying to take a small step each day towards that bigger goal.  Yesterday, it was opening the ISA I’d been thinking about.  Today it was booking the flight for a work trip that will allow me to get away and escape for a while.  Escape is what I want to do – escape from the world.  My instinct at the moment is to withdraw from the world, to seek solace in my own little shell.  Self-protection, I suppose, and to hide the fact that I’m hurting.

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