I am alone again. How strange. It is as if I open the door to visit this other woman I leave behind again when I am with the family. Is that right? Do I do that? Who is she? She is more self-assured, stranger, wiser, more in tune, more grounded. Also more sad! Why can’t she be with the family? Can I take her with me? It feels like with others I am so much more (aware of dependency) dependent – weakened by it. Losing my self, this other woman, ISIDORA, the gift of wisdom. I am pulled away from her, pulled apart; I feel like being pulled back to family life at origin. Like my mother, passive. Like my father, excluded. Not always - of course. But these moments are sinking – drowning, at loss of a point of reference, of solace, of consolation, of strength, of power, of backbone, of fighting spirit. There is insecurity, shaking like a leaf, trembling, in the face of a wind, fearing the storm. In reality, I pick myself up, straighten myself and feel power. It’s not all lost. It’s just difficult.