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The Kraken

A story by Eeke - Inquiries to yourself at the end of the story


A cheap, but fresh smell reaches Hera’s nose. It’s “Floral Feast” according to the Poo Pourri etiquette which is enthusiastically covered with a lavishly displayed picture of flowers.

“No, the manufacturer didn’t succeed to fulfill that promise”, she thinks while her gaze turns to the metallic toilet roll holder. Her eyes rest upon her own slightly deformed reflection, because of the dent in the metallic flap that holds the roll.

“pffff, more life promises where not fulfilled”, she mumbles as she inspects the bags under her eyes.

Where did the time go?

The voices of her children just outside her bathroom door seep through. “This door still needs fixing”, she tiredly adds to her exhausted mental-to-do-list. It got slammed by one of sons friends during one of the trillionth play dates that seem to occupy her home for the last decade.

The children are fighting over something she couldn’t care less about, but she is “the mother” so she should hurry up and get out there to make order.

She catches an inner longing to just stay where she is with a locked door where nobody can disturb her. Just to catch a breath, just to have a minute to not be responsible, useful or efficient. To just sit there and do nothing.

But… the eternal ‘but’ is calling her. Her responsibilities…. They are literally calling her, even shouting for her to come out and take care of them all.

Its time return to the order of the day.

She settles the children, ordering them to pick up the jackets and shoes, for the tenth time that afternoon. They just seem to drop these things in the middle of the hallway as soon as their feet cross the front door.

She suspects there is an invisible machine that peels off every outside-wear item the kids have on their bodies, within the 1 meter radius of the door. And as a bonus it makes sure that it meticulously spreads all items evenly over the floor.

God forbid, that some of it would accidentally land on the specially designed hooks and baskets for those jackets and shoes. She tried looking for this invisible machine but couldn’t find it to date. It only seems to works on children and husbands apparently, because it never works on her.

When she gets in, the jacket lands on the hook and her shoes in their designated area. Even her scarf is folded where it belongs. Another mystery to solve and to mark on her To-Do list, which is so long, that she would need 5 undisturbed years to clear all of it.

This to-do list is a magical artifact in itself, because every time she manages to take one thing of the list, 3 new items spontaneously appear. Maybe she should do another time- management course of which she already did 3, to tackle this specific feature one day?

As she proceeds during the afternoon, juggling her responsibilities as a mother, with her tasks she still needs to finish for work and the other obligations that are calling her as loving wife, caring neighbor, dedicated friend, decent citizen and dutiful member of society… more… better… nicer…more …more…more…. She suddenly feels this inner stirring….

Its something quite familiar to her. She doesn’t want it there so she tries not to give it any attention and continues her juggling, but … its too late….the daily pressure is too high, the kids voices too many, the to-do-list too long…..

This inner stirring starts to growl and groan. The unfolding seems to be unstoppable.

The inner beast is awakening. She knows this feeling all too well.

She is ashamed and afraid of it as she tries to hold this inner beast down.

She never dares to look at it fully, but she thinks she knows for sure that she needs to repress it. It’s dangerous and destructive for sure. She is convinced of that.

In the past it had managed to escape a time or two. It was dangerous, ominous and destructive. There was a lot of thunderous loud screaming, deafening roaring and blasting howling involved, pared with heartbreaking sobbing, earsplitting lamenting and soul piercing wailing.

At first when it happened she had seemed like a wild angry dragon on her period, spitting fire over everything. Burning it all down to the ground: the entire to- do-list, all the clothes of the kids and husband on the floor, all bills to be paid, stuff to be arranged and all the little and big efficient tasks she needed to accomplish. BURN IT ALL.

After which a deflated and broken wreck of a woman would lay crying in a corner trying to collect what pieces were left of her.

All in all it had been quite a shameful and disgraceful display of helplessness and impotence, she thought herself.

Her husband and kids knew the beast too. They have collectively decided to call it ‘The Kraken’.


“Release the Kraken!” She hears inside of herself, as her surroundings keep hammering upon her senses. This inner being starts to move quicker and louder. Her heartbeat is going up, the inner volcano of anger and frustration is starting to erupt.

and it is staring to overflow in her knackered face and body.

Oh no…Its surfacing !!!….

Fearsomely and horrified she tries to run away from the scene. But as she runs upstairs, 1 horrendous tentacle lashes out. She is too tired, her bucket too full and her boarders too crossed to be able to contain it and push it back.

It screams grotesquely at her kids, howls hideously at her husband and sneers uncontrollably to anybody in her vicinity.

When she finally reaches her upstairs bathroom, panting and ashamed, she looks aghast in the mirror. She sees her bewildered untended hair and slightly scruffy clothes, as a faint smell of her own sweat reaches her nose.

What happened?

Disappointed her legs cave and she drops beaten to her floor. Depleted of any grain of energy, overwhelmed by this immense feeling of total incompetence, she starts to cry. Tears roll down abundantly over her cheeks.

One tear specifically lands very gently on the palm of her hand. She doesn’t give it much thought as she is sobbing away, but the tear doesn’t roll like the others. It actually seems to emanate some kind of light or gentle energy. Her gaze turns towards the tear.

“Hello? ….Hello?” She hears cautiously. A tiny tiny voice emerges from this one little tear drop.

Hera can’t believe what is happening, but the voice is so gentle and delicate, that her curiosity is bigger than her fear of the uncanny.

She raises the palm of her hand to eye level and inspects the tear drop.

The drop starts to wiggle and wobble a bit. As she looks really well she can discern a very teensy miniature almost microscopic little shape of a girl.

“Oh, hello there” Hera exclaims carefully with surprise.

The microscopic little girl is still trying to find her shape, but as she settles down, Hera can clearly see the little girl looking straight at her.

“Oh wow! Hallelujah! Praise the Lord! You can see me?? You can finally see me!!”, the little girl exclaims. The little girl starts to jump for joy and a delighted laugh and happiness radiate from her.

“I have tried to reach you sooooo many times”, the little girl says. “I have tried so many shapes and have tried soooo hard for decades to get your attention”.

“You have forgotten about me since childhood. But I never left. We were together constantly up until around 7 years old when you started to bury me away.”

Hera looks perplexed at the microscopic little girl, and has to admit to herself that it looks remarkably a lot like herself when she was about 7 or 8 years old, wearing her favorite dress from back then.

Yes, yes, she can see it.

How is this possible?

The little girl continues…. “I got buried by your responsibilities, by your own and others expectations and the million goals you thought you had to put yourself.

I could only get a glimpse of an access to you when you were so tired, that you couldn’t hold the walls up. But as I managed to put one finger out there to connect to you, it turned into a raging voice of anger or a sea of frustration-tears.”

“I tried to contact you via your body, but then you locked me up in your neck muscles. You tensed your back muscles to push me down. I tried to reach you via your breath but you started to breathe superficially. I tired to talk to you via your belly but you developed digestive troubles, allergies and intolerances to keep me away.

You even started to sleep less and stay awake, so I couldn’t reach you via your nice dreams.”

Crestfallen the little girl continues:

“I only wanted to remind you to dance, sing, laugh and play…..”

Her shoulders fall a bit and she starts to sob teensy weensy even smaller tears upon the palm of Hera’s hand:

:….And for the last couple of years my endeavors to connect to you, to remind you of your own boundaries and needs, got deformed into what they and you call The kraken, but that was actually me trying with all my might to tell you that it’s enough! Its time for you to stop it all! To do exactly and only what you want and need.”

“That inner beast was me, you, your small 7 year old self, angry, unheard, unseen… who wants to live, play and dance!”

Hera falls backward perplexed… now it all made sense.

Yes, she had forgotten about her own needs, wishes and dreams. She had forgotten about the inner child in herself that just wanted to dance, sing, laugh, play, live and enjoy life!

“You are so right my dear”, Hera agrees.

“But what should it do?” Hera asks.

The little girl answers soulfully: “Every time you feel the Kraken coming up, the knot in your shoulders, the pain in your back, cramps in your belly or your breath going up, don’t judge yourself. Don’t hit or punish yourself.

Just love yourself instead…. love me, the 7 year old you.

Welcome it all as exactly what it is, a sign for you to go and take care of your needs. It’s the official permission of your body soul and mind to go dance, sing, laugh and play. Ask yourself what would your 7 years old self want to do right now? Be playful, naughty, witty, mischievous and explore.

Release her…release me…Lets go and play!

Hera sees the teardrop of a girl fuse with her palm and notices the energy of her 7-old light self traveling through her hand palm via her arm towards her chest after which it finally rests in the middle of her heart.

A warm homecoming feeling starts to settle in her heart.

From that moment on, Hera know exactly where to find her 7 year old self. She knows where she can find the power to set boundaries and creativity to explore her needs and wants. As she places her hand on her heart she feels the full allowance of pure life joy and the full permission to live it exactly how she wants flow through all the cells of her body.

She is ready…


  • What is your Kraken called?

  • How does your 7 year old self look like?

  • If you would ask your 7 year old self, what she would like to do right now, What would she do?

  • What would allowing yourself to be fully you, look like?

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