When You Can't Be Me, Be She
Fear, trauma, sadness, the body can only take so much.
But she dare not speak of what ailed her, it was too much and she dare not even hint of it publicly, the vultures would pounce. It's better to send what hurts away and then write a lavish blog post about how it was now someone else who would be Joshua, say how she was Moses and someone else gets to deliver into the promise land. Giving up is best, cheaper for sure and she would get to be an online hero, start a Listen to Your Mother seminar, and be famous instead of doing the hard work. The fucking impossible, daily, draining, hard work.
I think she wants to punch someone. She may need therapy.
She definitely needs therapy.
Ah but the glory days, think on those she tells herself, yes, think on those instead. She pulls them to the forefront, for she must.
The walking and walking and walking. Why did no one tell her how life giving walking was? She would have certainly lost her mind this last year had she not walked.
Walking, her husband, sister, an Esther and a Lolli.
This life is hills and valleys and plateaus and mountains where yes, there are chateaus with fire places where you can rest for a spell but there are also grand cannons that look beautiful but if you get lost in them without life sustaining supplies you will die. There are steep rocky cliffs you can fall off and caverns so deep and caves with steaming hot springs that make like a hot tub and he's John Snow and she's Egrit and she's all like "I don't want to ever leave this cave John Snow" because she knows that out there, on that path is the war, the war of life, the one they choose and the one that chose them and walking that path is hard right now, but it's not always, sometimes it's fun and frivolous and terrifying and awful adventurous and sometimes it's too much and you have a panic attack but it's the path they are on together and they can't stay in that cave forever, out there is the life they are living, damn it!
And sometimes she goes shopping for shiny platform shoes, has a dirty gin martini (you don't shake Gin! What are you crazy? Chemistry!) and she writes, her characters tell her all about their lives, she listens and tells their stories as best she can. She is writing more these days, perhaps because they take her away for a bit and that is good.
She also especially enjoys cozy parlor chats, weeks of peaceful negotiations with man child, fun trips to see a doll perform at Cats Meow and delightful conversations with a surprisingly sweet 14-year-old chatterbox.
So she must focus on the good, there is so much good, much to be thankful for and much is improved, the sun is always rising again.
Oh and medication, she is REALLY thankful for the medication.