“Hello, it’s me. I was wondering if after all these years you’d like to meet, to go over everything.”

That damn Adele song is stuck in my head.

It is a spooky remembrance of a particular big break up. But for sure, there is something even deeper, emotionally, that the song conjures up. Maybe there are unresolved childhood mom wounds still deep inside of me. Somebody once said that all my relationships with women are my relationship with my mother.

But I can go deeper than that.

I’ve started to write again. Like Hemingway once said, “There is nothing to writing. All you do is sit down at a typewriter and bleed.”

For me, sitting down to write again has me first pass through the gates of an old boyhood story of “I can’t,” “I don’t know how,” and “I’m not good enough.”

In my thirties, I ran roughshod over that story. I climbed mountains and I made a million dollars. But those “achievements” were built on top of the repressed foundation of the old story.

Life is good here in Petaluma and with Carole. I actually have everything that I ever asked for. Guess I’m lucky that way. I get to soak in it. I get to love it. I get to use it as a gift from the gods to empower myself to be of service. I’ve been given everything so that I, too, may give.

This time, as I sit down again to write, I’m owning my old story. Not repressing it. I’m going eyeball to eyeball with “I can’t,” “I don’t know how,” and “I’m not good enough.” I am not toughing it out. I am not numbing it out.

This time, I’m owning the remnant voices of my inner wounded child. I take him by the hand. I hoist him up on my shoulders and let him know that I am now always going to be here for him. The adult mature me has time for him now. I take my wounded inner child and hold his hand. He walks side by side with me. I do not repress or hide him. He gets to come along for the ride now.

So, yeah, I am getting back together with my highest and best self. I am re-integrating myself and all of my parts.

And I sit here, quietly, scanning my own body and listening. Who else speaks to me, through me and as me? I welcome all my parts, my voices and my pasts to come forth within me and to be present now.

“Hello, it’s me again.”