It seemed that whatever I did was never enough! I'd get up at five to meditate, feed my son and take him to childcare or school, go to work, pick-up my son, have dinner, go to satsang if I had a baby-sitter or drag him there with bribes of ice cream. I'd rush home trying to be home by nine, because most baby sitters rarely managed to get him to sleep. After he fell asleep there was meditation for me... The children certainly didn't feel welcome at the satsang places - they were hushed all the time.

Two months after I left M my 18-year old son Daniel died. So there at once I was without the two most important things in my life...

I've written a manuscript about my grief after my son and also one about my wanderings in India in my twenties (I didn't meet M before I was 24, and that was in Sweden).

I've also written a short description of my life until about 1995 - and got it published in an anthology with other immigrants writing about coming to Sweden.

I've played with the thought of writing about my time as a premie, bu I havent quite got around to it yet. I also thought I wanted to write about my father, and wanted to wait until he was dead. He's been dead for over two years now, but I don't really care if I do write about him or not...

I suppose nothing is compulsory... My father wanted me to becoma a lady and my mother wanted me to save the world. My mother was very pleased when I joined the DLM. She herself didn't join until eleven years after. She thought I got too fanatic and warned that the women in our family had that tendency. Her mother was an eager Theosophist (with karma and reincarnation)and her grandmother was a pious Laestadian (ascetic Christian). I can imagine the religios discussions going on in that household!

Sorry for my long posting!