Inner Life and ‘Inner Chick’

In Blogland I  invisibly meet a large number of people, some more known to me than others, as we read each other’s posts. I write now, because I am always in awe of how some people shape and use their inner experience to benefit and enrich the lives of others. Inner chick ( http://myinnerchick.com/ ) is one such person.

‘Inner Chick’ is a blog I have followed for two years, or somewhere near that time, and written by a women who does not refine her emotions. They are raw, expressive, and generous. She embraces life , in a manner which inspires me, and the reason for this soon becomes clear.

Her sister was murdered in  2010, and the love she felt and feels for her, and the closeness and intimacy they shared, lives on in life, and in her Blog. Her writings are a testament to her spirit, and a cry against those who victimize others through domestic violence. She writes in a direct, immediate and striking style which  involves you in her thoughts and in her world.

If you click on the links in her Blog there is a section concerning domestic violence. The whole idea of it is sickening, of course, and she defines it so well,  stressing the need to get out from under it now. No life is worth giving a bully a second chance: no excuse can ever explain one person hitting another to subdue and demoralise them. It is an abomination lived out behind drawn curtains. Her Blog,  and the cause it gives voice to, deserve all the support they can get

I have always loved the warmth of her, and the larger than life generosity of spirit which informs her work. She is married to an English guy called ‘Mr Liverpool’ which might give you a clue to the soccer team he supports. One of his relatives was getting married over here ( UK ) and the whole family came over to the wedding. I arranged to meet them one day under the clock at Waterloo Station in London.

Sure enough, not too long after the appointed hour, and at nearly the right spot, I saw a smallish smartly turned out women peering at me quizzically: a pleasant-looking man was by her side. After a time she came over to me and asked if I was ‘Peter’: a pseudonym I use in real life, and I confirmed I was. The three of us  went off to enjoy the British version of coffee or, to put it another way, a cup of faintly brackish liquid softened by milk and sugar while their boys went off to do something more entertaining. Let me just tell you that in  face to face meetings she is beyond nice and charming and, what is more, the bearing of her whole family would be an example to many of us. To add to the experience, her husband is as nice as her: he was  tolerant and understanding while his wife and I exchanged blogging chatter and got over the shock of realising that real people exist behind these lines we read.

We sat and chatted about everything and nothing, as you do, and all the time I wondered how so much love and warmth of spirit could flow out of someone whose family had been blighted by the actions of a monster. How she had refused to become a victim of that experience, but for herself and for her sister, shouted out from the rooftops against the sickening and often concealed violence and bullying which blights so many lives. She is one of those people you would be proud to call a friend, and I am one, albeit one living at some distance from her.

Anyway, without further ado, I am now going to put the photograph up, which her kind husband took on the day. As I have mentioned before, and with the proof now before you, I do not offer any fashion tips. The picture has not been photo shopped because I don’t know how to do it, but next time I really must comb my hair. Read her Blog. It is a treasure of the internet.