I've been drawing a portrait of my lil family. It always strikes me, when I draw myself, how very different I look. My face is longer, a bit more gaunt... My wild rage red hair has mostly grown out long again, faded almost to its natural dirty blond shade. Many more line of laughter and pain surround my mouth corners and eyes, especially when I smile, or cry. So much older, this me.

This woman has gone through so many changes, I hardly recognise in her the round-cheeked girl with a head full of romantic notions who loved to play forest fairies, eat chocolates, go dancing, flirt, draw mermaids, read fantasy, garden... Mooning and swooning over men who ultimately, weren't the fantasy heroes she'd read about.

No, this woman has changed so much she barely even resembles the dreamy young woman who waterbirthed a baby 6 years ago, or even the angry, grieving, desperate soul who packed up her sculptures and her 4 year old son and left a brittle, dying relationship to find a new life.

I know I am all that and more. I know I will go on changing, becoming new people, or, I guess, becoming more and more ME.

And, of course, I'll keep on blathering on meaningfully about it right here on my blog, so stay tuned.

But at the moment I am going to make some soup for the kidlets.