A night of awakenings not in a good way left me grumpy and ragged. Meditation didn’t want to happen. Instead I wrote a friend who is struggling. My words struggled too. Still unsatisfied I sent it off. I stormed groggily out of bed for not a little coffee.
I found an old picture of myself who I barely recognized. She looked back at me with a sparkle. I was surprised she showed cleavage. That’s not like me at all yet I felt less shame somehow. In fact I decided to make her my profile picture as if in doing so I would reconcile a piece of me long forgotten.
I slowly dragged myself into the kitchen, another batch of cookies to make. My feet were like mud, my mind too. I slowed everything down so as not to hurt myself. I thought it was funny I was making my favorite to give to others. That felt really good.
I left the kitchen to trim my Frankenstein toenails and draw my bath. The water was close to scalding yet I inched my way in. I felt enveloped in a hot and tight spandex suit, Spider-Man style. Bubbles made me happy like my beta Jewells in his tank.
Call me clothing incompetent. I have few skills with shopping, choosing, wearing clothes. I second guess everything. It’s another of my relationship problems. Thankfully a friend assisted with my wardrobe the night before, but I still have to grapple with looking and feeling presentable today. That’s only the clothes part. There is still the relating part, the crossing of fingers insuring no faux pas, and social terror hopefully well hidden.
Each step through yet another holiday is difficult, from scars past, yet I fiercely give and open my heart wider. That’s really all I know. We give thanks. We grow. We love.