Healing

May 23, 2013 § Leave a comment

Healing is hard. Really really hard. It takes a long time and often it is not very much fun. I think we have this picture of healing that has something to do with a woman’s peaceful face upturned towards the morning sun and she is free and she is happy and radiant on a mountain-top near a stream which symbolizes how she’s cleansed of all the toxins that had previously oppressed her before this great liberation claimed by her own self. Healing is actually very painful and frustrating and usually reminds me that I am one of the most impatient people I know. Healing feels icky like an itch that happens over a scab that you shouldn’t touch. But want to. And deciding to heal is only the beginning of a very long cassette tape that you have to listen to in a hot, cramped car on a road trip with all the family members you dislike. When the last song on the second side fades out that moment of silence where you have to sit with your hateful thoughts is the worst because you know that fucking tape is clicking over and getting cued up for another round of the worst song of all, the first song, the one you started with, the one you always go back to, the day you realized you were really fucked. But years later, you’ll be in the car again, this time with someone you love, and that first song will come on, and you’ll smile because even though you now have the freedom to turn the song off and/or smash the stereo in with your fabulous made-for-walking-shoes, that song reminds you of the hot, disgusting car ride with many versions of your hateful self and that even though you are certainly not on a mountain-top with your radiant face upturned towards the sun, you have never left the road, and you have come just as far as you could.

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Life logistics

March 12, 2013 § Leave a comment

Lately I’ve been having some hard days. I’ve been fussy and ungrateful and weak. That’s what happens when you open your locked-up places and let all the stuff spill on the floor and fill up the room and make a big fucking mess. It’s called facing yourself and it can make a gal grumpy. Dealing with your shit is a frustrating deal because a) the workload is overwhelming b) I’m not getting a pay-raise or any kind of award ceremony and c) it turns out I’m not perfect but I expect it anyway. « Read the rest of this entry »

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