Holding hands with yourself

When you were a kid did you ever lose your parents hand or piece of clothing that you were holding onto in a crowd and hold onto someone else’s hand only to look up later and realize that the hand you are holding is not your parents?

No? Only me?

Well, I got scared. I looked up and around and didn’t see any familiar faces. Lots of colors, dresses and pants, but nothing that looked like my mom. I stopped and cried, you know because tears help me see clearer . . . at least the stopping was somewhat helpful.


I don’t know how long I was missing, but it wasn’t a terrible amount of time, but this moment sticks out, the moment fear takes hold. This cycle plays on repeat.

Patterns. Like a loop.


When I get scared I stop. It’s what I did as a kid and thankfully was eventually found. It’s what I’m doing as an adult, only now, I’m finding myself. The game is still the same, only the players have changed.

I get scared. I stop.

I look all around and see colors and movement passing me, time feels like it is going in slow-motion and the world is moving in fast-forward. It’s like I’m caught in some sci-fi ripple between the two movements. 6 Months later and I feel like I’m finally catching up to speed. I was found much quicker by my parents back then. I take a bit longer finding myself. Probably because I”m stuck inside and don’t recognize my own patterns, my own reasons for doing what I do. . . the ‘Why’ in all of this. The why is covered in tears, you know, because they help me see clearer, right?

Back then when I stopped and cried I was 5 and back then the stranger who’s hand I held onto could see above the crowd and could locate my mom, my way out of the maze. (Stranger, thanks for not being some creep who run’s off with little kids) The stranger could think clearly and see the situation objectively, connect two puzzle pieces together because I wan’t moving and helping myself any.

It takes me longer on my own to find my way out of the maze. I still stop when I’m scared. I’m still in the same pattern, same loop I was in back then, only now I’m holding my hand, bowing, Namaste