The title is nothing, it's just what's on my desk right now and I appreciate the feel of those words together. It's poetry in a book of psychiatry ethics.
I'm not all that valorous. And I'm not sad. I had a moment last night when I was on my way home from a rehearsal, driving (in car 2.0) down a steep hill in the dark and I had the windows open and I was CONTENT. And then I came home by way of an ice cream stop, and I took a hot shower and cuddled up with my man and I kept smiling, because I still was.
I think what helps is giving into temptation, and also denial. Oh and yes, it does make a difference to have a working car again. It is a weight off my shoulders. Regardless of how offended I am at the gods of Car for letting my little silver one die, I am incredibly grateful now to have a replacement.
Now my biggest task is facing and not just denying my worries about finances and careers and cancers. Tomorrow.
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