the sunrise this morning

I'm trying to think of an appropriate way to say,
now totally is the time
and what I get is this:
the sunrise this morning was livid.
Could have been heaven or hell.
I prefer the former. Because
if it was hell that is
SO much less
of a validation
of waking from a night
of peaceful sleep.

pathos

Yesterday I kept turning away, but today I am looking head on at the photos on the news sites, listening with watery eyes to the radio. Health-guilt, safety-guilt, hope-guilt aches through me. Twice I moved to donate money online before I realized I can't today--my bank account is frozen because it was stolen from me by someone five states away. I can probably live for seven days on the $7 in my wallet, and if I can't, I am far from left in the cold. I can borrow and I can cash the check I'm carrying around and this is such a LITTLE problem. It is so little.
There was a mallard smashed in the middle of the road this morning. Smashed. It was the green of the neck, twisted back on itself, that first distinguished it from any other wrecked animal. Its beak was crushed. I hate the thought of beauty destroyed. I hate the thought of the last seconds of disorientation. I hate the thought of flying too low.
Today is the first day in ten that I'm not wearing long underwear and that's why the sweater is wrapped around my knees. I'm sitting at my desk listening to news reports with my head and heart going in circles. I'm distracted. I'm on the verge of weeping. And I'll be saying one-word prayers all day.

these days

I am breathing so much better. All the way down my lungs.

poisoned

I'm running on roughly a six-to-one ratio of good to oh god, I am such a failure. Had an almost-absolutely wonderful day today. Really, really good. But am stuck in the latter from now until I fall asleep. I can be such a coward. I am SO sorry.

vanity

I look good today. There's definitely some cause and effect in play here, and I'm grateful that I got the cause in in time. It is welcome, and it is almost a balance to the fact that I don't feel as well as I look. Hey. At least I am standing tall.

weak

Sometimes my body lets me down. Or anyway, throws up a bit of a roadblock. Did so tonight. Again. For what seems like the hundredth time.
I wasn't alone this evening when I faltered and my mind flew out and started screaming, picking, panicking. I could tell the difference between crying into my pillow and crying onto a strong shoulder and quite recommend the latter. But being comforted--and in the best possible way--isn't the same as being cured, and showing vulnerability, no matter how simply, will never be easy for me.
My eyes are red and I'm awake way past my bedtime. I am more tempted than I have ever been to call in sick to work tomorrow. There would be an air of legitimacy to it, after all.
I feel like I WILL be ok. But it may not be soon. And I'm afraid that way into the future I'll remember how this failing felt and it will make me distrustful and wary. If you see me dipping into that paranoia, stop me and remind me that I am just fine and tell me you love me and if I cry just let me for a few minutes before you wipe away my tears.

I am content

So many reasons why. Like of the big bowl of cottage cheese I just ate. I effing love cottage cheese. I also love oatmeal, unsalted pretzels, and plain cheerios, and I don't even care that this makes me sound boring.

I'm listening to a recording of a Haydn Mass I was a part of a month ago. I'm pleased. I think I have a little bit of bite in my sound. A good tartness. Maybe some spice. I like this. It balances out my love of cottage cheese.

This week I feel love. Sweet messages and notes and friendly jokes. And I feel it physically as well. S tucked me in last night and kissed me goodnight and turned off the light as he left. When my alarm rang seven hours later I hadn't shifted from the snug cocoon he'd gathered around me. I still smelled a bit of leather on my arms.

it'll take me ten minutes to dig out in the morning

Even though I think it should, I guess adding one more blanket to my bed won't increase my comfort or warmth level exponentially and honestly I'm not even that cold, but tonight I am layering on blanket number five and no lie: it's HELPING.

vestige

You're not the only one who's been seeing shadows of an alternate self. I have, too. For a whole afternoon the other day I could see myself sitting just where I was, but a little to the right. And I could read the thoughts crossing the me-shadow's face (I'm even more transparent in my head) and could tell that she was working hard to keep from balling her hands into fists and pounding them on her thighs. Caught a glimpse of the it-could-have-been me at a community band concert tonight, too. There would have been no one waiting for her in the audience, no voice saying 'I am so proud of you,' no witness to the neat collection of kudos and thanks that I always forget immediately when I'm alone. And she would have left quickly and shivered home, tried to keep her eyes open and wondered just how many more times of this she has left in her. It wasn't. I wasn't. I was full color instead of gray, and I was playing the music for specific souls out in the audience and I was uplifted and comforted and in company I saw practicing my repetitions of 'thank you!!' and 'you're welcome!' and 'I'm glad you enjoyed it' as less of a chore than I usually do. I was chauffeured home and curled up on my side in the passenger seat and halfway home I realized I'd lost her again--I'd banished the ghost of the it-could-have-been, and when I looked out the dark glass I could only see one reflection.

this blue moon

I guess you hope you'll learn something when you leave and then come back. Might find something new on the highway or in your dreams on the first night home. I learned in a reaffirming way that I knew what I was doing when I chose the people I want to love. I learned that there is mitigating power in being Not Alone and maybe it's better that I wasn't able--wasn't willing--to give into temptation and burst into tears. I wanted to cry long, nonsensical sobs because I came and I left and because of the color of the sky and because of who I was when I was fifteen and the comforting hand on my leg and the symphony leaking out through it all but I didn't need to.
Beyond that I suppose I've learned again how to nibble around the edges and count down from 250 to 1 and how to lean on your shoulder in time to the beat and bless myself for my luck and do what I can, whatever I can, to get past and through the bewildering aspects of unconditional love.