Here..Here..Present!

Remember the smart-alic kids in elementary school during roll call?  The entire class would say “Here!” when their name was called…except the few bent on being cute who said, “Present!”  I don’t know what made me think of that for this post lol.  All I know is — both responses feel GREAT right now!!…to be both Here and Present!

First, I want to thank all my blog friends again for the kind words, the cheers, the prayers, and positive thoughts during this time.  I send you all abundant love and appreciation.  I’m slowly up and about after surgery, waiting for the last remnants of soreness and dizziness to bid adieu.

Looks like I’m not a general anesthesia virgin anymore lol, and what I previously thought was a problem with awareness, was really a problem of expectations (the docs had only given me the “cocktail“, not full-blown anesthesia).  This time, they got me good lol… “Just take deep breaths of the oxygen.”  After 3-4 breaths, the next thing I remember was waking up with what felt like a pipe up my right nostril.  So, now I’m nursing my throat and neck where they also inserted the breathing tube into my chest….a tell-tale sign of past unconsciousness.

Another sign? Nausea.  This throwing up business happened with my “cocktail” episode too.  Only then, I wasn’t in front of the hospital in a wheelchair, upchucking into one of those small hospital basins.  Not a very cuteful moment LOL….but anyway…*smile*

Fibes and polyps?  Well, the latter was all removed (pathology report soon), and the former were no where to be found!  This could mean the fibes are in a deeper place, or healed altogether.  Wouldn’t that be fab?!  I’ll keep tabs on it with another ultrasound this year some time….

Overall people?  God has been super gracious to me!!  Little to no pain, blessed to have a job and paid time off from that job, hubby has been my hero, moms has been my shero, support from friends and fam, and I survived the what ifs that had caused me great angst.  Don’t laugh, but when you’re new to sickness, surgery, etc….you think about it.  Is this my time?

So grateful purpose still lives large in me, and I want to accomplish every purpose and dream predestined for my life, in a healthy body…hmm, like having other women read my story before they live my story.  Let the new day begin…

Wanna Win? Shoo the Birds!

Blood pressure.  120 over 80.  Weight. 156.  Darn 30 is now darn 6 .  Smoker. No.  Alcohol. Twice a year count?  No. Drugs. No.  Chronic disease? Diabetic. No.  Stroke. No.  TB. No. Chronic pain. No.  Acid reflux. No. Heart murmur. Heart disease. Heart attack. No, No, No.  Std. HIV. No, No.  Asthma. No.  High cholesterol.  Thyroid problems. Blood clots. Ulcers. Seizures. Arthritis………

The cute PA with the baby face checked off a laundry list of No’s for pre-op.  She finally ended the form with, “You’re a very healthy woman”.  Her smile was geniune.  Maybe it was me that projected the question in her eyes…”what are you doing here?”

I’ve been very blessed…thanks be to God!  Hearing those words made my soul smile, so grateful to say No to sooo many diseases others deal with on a day-to-day basis.  I have no clue.  But, her words sparked not only gratitude, but reflection.  The mirror of my past, and thoughts of my now. The journey that brought me to that very chair in the hospital room, discussing patient history, anesthesia options, and having blood drawn in case I need some during surgery tomorrow.

Never experienced serious illness before this journey.  The dis-ease they’ll remove symbolizes the dis-connection from pain and depression.  By the grace of God, we are strangers now, no longer intimate friends.  

Moms tried to refute my argument.  Probably a loving petition to take myself off the hook.  “Well, there are many people who haven’t experienced traumatic events…and they develop disease.”  This may very well be true.  But, I believe we underestimate the traumatic effects that prolonged anger, bitterness, unforgiveness, stress, and the like have on our bodies.  How do we respond and manage traumatic events?  The cells in our bodies aren’t hard of hearing, and they respond to every thought we have in our minds. 

I was researching psychosocial/psychological stress and its effect on health.  Stanford U has a very engaging site about stress & health…check it out.  Looks like the same physiological stress response early humans had while running from predators, is the same response modern humans have for taxes, divorce, or even public speaking.  The only difference is, when the predator is gone, our bodies return to a state of rest…we release the stress response.  Not so for stress in our daily lives.  Why do we keep the heightened state of madness going, changing, increasing?  Could it be cos our minds are so advanced, creative, imaginative now…that we’re smart enough to keep it going, foolish enough not to turn it off?

For me, this concept magnifies when I think about women.  We are creators, no?  The very essence of creativity, the center of life lies within us…our womb.  And when it comes to fibes, this goes triple for African-American women for some reason.  What happens when we carry seeds of unresolved hurts, pains, trauma…extensions of stress?  We do what we do naturally — we create!  We give life and bring forth chaos in our bodies. 

Moms asked me the other day, “Do you want to win?”  Health, peace, joyous life…insert any prize into the blank.  She’s never been to college, let alone read the Stanford U findings, but funny how they agree substantively.  After my resounding “Yes!”, she says, “Well, the battle begins in the mind.  Negative thoughts are like birds…you shoo them away before they land, don’t give them time to build a nest…that’s more than half the battle won.” 

Lord, help me to be smart enough to LET your mind be in me, and LET the beautiful birds of truth, love, purity, goodness, honesty, fairness, and praise dwell with me always.

Until soon….

I wanna…

…write.  do.  something.  create some music.  finish some lyrics.  read. sleep. run. walk. instead.  i’m sitting here. thinking. nothing. everything. i’m really going through with it. still a week out. and you’re already starting to trip, girl. living wills. durable power of attorney. insurance cards. anesthesia options. every # and address you have. yeah. the hospital’s called twice today.  pre-op registration. whateva. as much as i’d like to trivialize this thing. tell myself it’s really not that serious.  or better yet, high-tail it from reality. it’s starting to feel. serious. like the one who “hates” docs and hospitals and forms and needles and bed gowns. is really gonna go through with it. sigh. where’s my well? who moved the light switch? positivity. any minute now, faith. real substance. jump start. switch me. shift me. to perfect peace. a mind. focused. that sees only Creator God. a stare. frozen in time. melting away. the nagging angst………..

Feels Right in a Wrong Way

From maybe…to will.  Reality has a way of changing everything.

You know, you go through the might’s and maybe’s, passing them all at a safe enough distance, where they don’t attach themselves to you, you’re not encumbered by them, but you know they’re there…somewhere…barely.

Then, you get closer.  Things become clearer.  You gain a new perspective that transforms what wouldn’t have been, into what will be.  Depending on the issue at hand, this is not always an easy or pleasant process.  Reality-shifting. Self-renegotiation.

I’ve toiled here before about surgery, and today, with my pre-op and op dates set for next month, costs and deductibles researched and noted, making plans for family help during recovery — part of me feels confident that I’m doing the right thing.  Actually, most of me. I guess I sprung a leak today cos it’s like…..man, this is reeeeallly happening.  I thought back over the past 3 years like, “Is this how the final chapter ends?”   Wow.

Though my faith wobbles a bit every now and then, in my core I do trust that God is with me.  Though who wouldn’t choose the divine healing option (poof pow, all better lol!), I’ll be fine with the wisdom (and accuracy please) He gives doctors.  Now, it’s not like He needed my vote or approval or anything, but I think it was super smart of God to heal mind first, then body.  A healthy mind is a friend to the body, and can only help the body heal faster, completely whole.  A healing body left alone with a mind of toxic thoughts, unforgiveness, unresolved issues — now that’s a recipe for disaster.  Everything happens for a reason and in it’s time.

But still, man…ahhhhhh noooo yessss @#$^&* LOL!!!!!!!  Ok, girl.  Get it together.  Remember what prompted your reality shift:  Early detection and treatment is the best cure.  Wisdom is the beginning of healing.

Not My Refuge Too!

…said the former refugee.  “Yes, your expired refuge too!  It’s time to come back home.”

It takes on many different sizes, shapes, forms, scents, textures, flavors, entities — You name it, there’s a human somewhere who’s found refuge in it.

Refuge.  From the root word meaning to run away.  Ouch.  I could list several things we’ve all run to at some point or another to escape our realities.  I’ll  let your mind stroll that memory lane *smile*….

I am a former refugee.  Most dictionaries describe a refugee as a person who, by reason of real or imagined danger, has left their home country, and is unwilling or unable to return.  My home country, my birthright?  Simple — Abundant life.

So far, the year of my return, 2009, has been filled with gratitude, thanks, writer’s block , consumed time, and more life lesson reviews.  Right now, I’m in this space of learning where, or rather WHO my true refuge is.

I think the unwritten and unspoken goal for many, esp. abuse survivors, is to find safety…in everything!  Whether it’s hiding pain behind outgoing or shy masks, rejecting relationships for fear of commitment or being hurt, or shutting yourself up in your house for a year *wink* — people tend to find their formula for safety, however healthy or unhealthy, and lock onto it like  a rabid dog.

Yeah, I foamed at the mouth lol.  During that season a few years ago, you could barely pry me outta the house.  I can count on my hands how many times I went out somewhere, cos…my refuge was sooo nice and safe.  No one on the outside could look into my eyes and see all my pain and shame.  I didn’t have to exert energy pretending to be “Up”, knowing good and well I was looking up at the bottom. No way for anybody to see the chic who has it goin’ on…crumpled on the floor gripped in a silent scream, or shaking uncontrollably trying to grasp for breaths in yet another panic attack.  No thanks, I’m safe in here.

Now, so far removed from that time by the grace of God, I find myself at a special juncture this year.  Due to family demands, it’s time for us to find another home and move from MY place of refuge.  Huh?!

First, ya gotta understand — I LOVE my house.  It was a blessing from God when our family returned from a trying ordeal out-of-state…came back to the ‘A’, without a place to stay, and before long, God sent us this jewel.  For me, it all went down here…from the lowest, to the highest, to every revelation of me, every cry for help, every answered prayer, and ultimately my return back to myself…and Life.  Inscribed upon these walls are the story of my journey.

So, I found myself struck with sadness, one day, from the thought of moving.  I don’t know how many of you will get this, but…this move stuff was giving me separation withdrawals.  This house has been my friend, my blessing, my safety, my fortress — feels like my refuge is being snatched from my Kung-Fu grip *smile*.

But is it really?

After taking a moment to identify and be honest with what I was feeling, I recognized where I was placing sooo much of my trust and dependence — on the gift, rather than the Giver.  If God was able to provide such a beautiful place of refuge for my journey, what greater beauty lies ahead for new Me in this life and freedom I’ve been granted?

What happens when we overstay our welcome in our blessings? Wow, that’s another post.

So now?  I’m cool.  I’ve learned the lesson of seasonal blessings.  That even blessings, when their purpose is served, expire to make room for the better…we’ve never seen before.  As I live and breathe in my true Refuge, Creator God, I am always safe.  Where to now?

Need Anything from the Store?

Driving home from work is when I decided.  “Today has to be the day.”  Not tomorrow, not next week, not cos I’ve been too busy…ain’t a lie, but no more excuses will do.  Today, Today!!

No matter how much he looks like him, acts like him, sounds like him…no matter how much he brings up that name (“No, I don’t know how they’re doing…I don’t keep up with them much.”)…It was time to see him.  Today, today, today!!!

So, I called him.  Voicemail.  Every inflection in his voice screamed Daddy.  Funny.  The sound was unusually pleasant to my ears…no urge to hang-up and run lol.  It’s getting better, it’s healing.  “Hey Unc, how are ya…listen, I wanted to come by and see you tonight…call me back and let me know if it’s a good time…Love you!”

Not five minutes later, he calls back, “Ayye, couldn’t get to the phone in time…what time you comin’ by…that’ll be great!”  You know, one of the most beautiful, inaudible sounds in the world, is that of someone smiling through the phone .  He couldn’t wait.  Neither could I.

If there’s one thing my Mama taught me growing up, it’s manners and respect for the elderly.  So, there was no way I was gonna show up to Unc’s house empty-handed.  Call back.  “Hey Unc, you need anything from the store?”  “Ah, yeah baby, I’ll give ya the money for it…a dozen eggs, a bag of potatoes, and some Cola.”  I thought I’d play around with him a little.  Knowing full well, I asked, “What kinda Cola?”  “Well, Pepsii Cola..what else?…I like it ice cold.”  We laughed.  Just like his younger brother liked it..ice cold with the ice frickets in it, Daddy used to say.  Before we hung up, as if caught off guard by the kindness, he gave me a big, “Girl, I Love ya!”

See, Unc is 81 going on 30.  A true hustler and Macaroni Tony from back in the day.  Just call him an old G.  You could never tell him he ain’t got it anymore….even though he really hasn’t seen it since, well, you get the picture lol.   Unc is still all swagger…got pep in his step, and loves life.  Says his secret is vodka and pretty women.  Let him tell it during our visit, “I neva did ugly, neva liked it…If my money got ugly, I’d throw it away!”  LOL!!

You never know, when you just decide to Do It…what will actually come out Of It.  We laughed the entire evening, but the highlight of the visit was flipping through his oooold photo albums.  Wow.  I’ve never met or seen many people family on Daddy’s side, being the rolling stone he was and all….but that day, I saw for the first time in my life – My paternal Grandma and GrandDad.  Oh the stories, esp. about my GrandDad — night club owner in the 30’s, with some pretty interesting connections *wink*.  I plan to hit on some of the highlights in the book…scenes straight out of a Bumpy Johnson movie….

But, I wanted to share this…maybe for nothing more than to read my growth.  The so-called rock and glue of the family left everyone behind when Dad passed…total disconnect…even from his twin, Unc.  After a little over a year, it’s getting easier now…and I’m very grateful.

So, what was up with today, today, today?!  Well, let’s just say nothing jolts you into tying up loose ends, making mends, stop putting off today for tomorrow, stop talkin’ and get to doin’…Nothing suffocates procrastination and excuses — quite like Death.  God rest my co-worker’s soul…

Dodging Grief Balls

They had been bouncing and rolling all around me for about a week, I think…dreams (more like nightmares) and memories, all gathering for the one-year anniversary — today marks one year of divine rest for Daddy.  I watched this day on the calendar creep closer and closer.  Wonder how I’ll be?  Will I cry?  Will I get outta bed?  Will I eat?  Will I snap at everybody?  Will I choose to be ok, just being me?

The morning started off rough.  The cold, gray weather outside insisted I cover my head and stay in bed.  Don’t think so.  I got up fine, but was a little numb.  I felt odd.  Being a death-grief-virgin neophyte (been very fortunate to have few deaths in my family), I actually felt this void of knowledge, not knowing what to “do”.  Like a page I desperately needed was torn from the grief manual – “…and on the anniversary of the death you…”  Weird huh.

I had my cry.  I strolled memory lane.  I miss you Pops more than words.  And then, having every excuse not to go, I went to church in the wintery rain.  Left everybody home…I needed to get out the house, and couldn’t think of a better place than around contagious, uplifting praises to God.  What a joy to learn more about this prophetic season we’re in…where, when we speak/say what God (fore)saw concerning XYZ, no matter how challenging it looks in our eyes, we have the power and authority to create life in the deadest places in our lives.  If I lost you on that one, drop me a line…it’s ok *smile*.

Now, there is one thing that I debated doing today…doubted if I’d be able to do, and finally just didn’t get around to doing, I guess because it wasn’t time.  Let me explain.

Like yours truly, Daddy was giving birth to a book about his life before he passed.  I was his faithful scribe lol, trying in all my inexperience to wrap sinews around the bones of his story, the one who transcribed and remains the bearer of the cassettes today.   The Cassettes.  Was I ready to hear Daddy’s voice again? Would it freak me out lol?  Don’t laugh, this is serious.  Even when I mustered up the courage this morning, the batteries in the tape player were shot.  Yeah, I could’ve gone to the store to get more C’s, but it wasn’t urgent to me.   Or was that relief?  Nah, I honestly don’t think I’m ready for the cassettes yet…maybe next year, no pressure.

In the meantime, I’ll keep growing and creating life and goodness with my mouth….. instead of spending time dodging balls that, for the most part, I created in my own mind.  Felt good to finally release conformity, rules, and the grief shoulda’s…and just do – Me.

A New One, One, One

Over the past three years, this day has brought with it a myriad of emotional responses — Denial, I think,  was the first one on the scene… followed by its many cousins, like Pride, Anger, Bitterness, Self-righteousness, Unforgiveness, and a gang of others.

Eventually, that crew was evicted, and I couldn’t feel anything.  Just a deafening numbness piercing my heart and soul.  I was filled with emptiness, afraid to feel anything that had the wee chance of sending me back to start, or taking me out completely.

After this season, I gotta real whiff of its tenacity.  Just how long could Anger hold a grudge?  You’d be surprised.  And after witnessing the downward spiral of Anger’s health effects, not in the subject of my pain, but in Me…I said Uncle lol.  OK.  There are some pluses to humbling myself, and rescinding my throne of judgment.   “Here’s my choice to let it go — as seen in my actions”, and I showed my hand, like for real, and decided to reclaim my Joy and Happiness, which is my birthright.

Today, is the reboot of happy 1/11’s.  Cos now, when I think about His announcement, “It’s time for you to heal“, I don’t cringe, but Rejoice…knowing that overall, through it all, and for most, if not all of the hard parts…

I have .

On the Job Training

When I was a kid, I could work a rollercoaster.  Fearless.  The deeper the drops, the faster it moved, the louder the screams, the sicker my companions lol — the better.  Recently, it seems like the rollercoaster’s been working me…in a wild cat and mouse game of who’s ridin’ who.  Suffice it to say, I don’t like rollercoasters much anymore, especially the ones you can’t see, but your emotions can feel…the ups, downs, the looping arounds .  I’m beginning to get the big picture of how to deal with emotional rollercoasters:  Either develop a twisted affection for the anxiety….or get off.  Yeah, sounds simple in theory…doesn’t it.

So, in my quest to jump ship, I’ve checked myself into specialized training with an expert.  Yep, class is in session on how to handle the really painful events that leave a bruise on life…how can I view and respond to these events, without prolonged or re-occurring anger, bitterness, and without blaming and charging God with wrongdoings?  Seems like a pretty tall order, but my instructor has been there, and I’m sure I will learn alot from his example.  My instructor’s name is Job.

Funny, it never dawned on me to study Job, I mean like really read the whole story, until a ranting phone convo with Mama after the challenging Thanksgiving season.  Mama shared with me how her friend, who’s been suffering a long time with illness after illness, studies the book of Job whenever she feels at her lowest, and how the story encourages and lifts her spirit.

Allow me to go back a month to share how my drop began…

Remember the 6-month waiting period…the big month of November ‘08…is it cancer or not?  Well, I’ve got thankful news, and news to watch.  The pre-cancer cells in my womb are now NORMAL (Ahhh!!!  Can everyone say Thank God right there!!!!).  Oh how I wanted to really take my time and write about that experience, but life’s been too busy, so I have to go cliff notes for now .

The news to watch?  The same visit I get that great news, the doc tells me they’ve found polyps in another area of my womb, and that they’d like to schedule early ‘09 surgery.

OK…they clearly didn’t get the memo.  I explain to the doc that I don’t do surgeries well, and how wacked out anesthesia awareness is.  She understood, and offered surgery with an epidural to make sure I didn’t feel any pain.  Huh?  Man, last time I had one of those, birthing daughter, I almost broke hubby’s hand off lol.

So, back to the rollercoaster dip…

With this new news, my spirit just dropped.  Surgery?  This was too much.  Straight drama.  And for what?  Been in near perfect health my entire life, had a healthy womb that didn’t crash until I had to face my demons.  I became so angry at it all, went through all the ‘why did this happen’, ‘why did that happen’..till…I got even sicker, and my face broke BACK out .  When I recognized what I was doing…thinking, feeling, and took action to slowly readjust my thoughts, guess what…I started feeling better, and my face cleared up!  And herein lies my rollercoaster lesson….When you blame and harbor anger and bitterness, every cell in your body (esp. the womb) listens, responds, creates accordingly.  How many times will I have to cross this bridge, before I burn it?  All this junk was addressed in therapy…2 years of working my healing.  I can’t afford to go backwards, BUT…doctors weren’t talking surgery and cancer this and that back then either.

So, me and Job are gonna spend some quality time together..as well as some other readings I’ll be sharing in a few.  Yes, thoughts can still be trained and re-trained…even the ones that seem renegade.

And now, I’ll leave you with words that totally rock me…from my instructor Job (paraphrased in 1st person):

“…after losing my wealth and all of my children, still, I worshiped God, and not once did I blame Him, nor charge Him with any wrongdoing.“

Thanksfaking

The holidays will never be the same again.  Now that he’s gone.  But, neither will any interaction between her and his side of the family.  Not now.  Not after facing every drop of paternal poison, like popped pimples between her fingernails.  She figured the scars had healed by now, tricked by loose scabs just itching for a holiday picking.  See, that’s what happens when family oozes out the wood works.

The night before Thanksgiving, one of the daughters called.  Oh how she favors that one so much.  Krystal hadn’t seen her since the funeral, hadn’t spoken to her in months.  She missed her.  Just not enough to risk her frayed threads of sanity.  “You never know,” Krystal thought, “what if she needs a ride over.  You-know-who would be more than happy to oblige.”  Eyeballing the familiar number on her caller id, Krystal could hear it now, “WE thought WE’d drop by to see you…it’s been too long.”  Against her usual boldness, Krystal decided to take the coward’s way out.  Screen caller id the rest of the evening.  When the daughter called again, as much as she wanted to reach out to her, Krystal was conveniently too busy and too sore from a recent car accident to answer.  Before turning in for the night, Krystal sat on the side of her bed, and reviewed her call log  — three missed calls.

She felt him the moment sunlight announced it was Thanksgiving.  The first major holiday without her Dad.  Only time would tell if she’d make it through the day.

They ordered Thanksgiving dinner in this year, Krystal, hubby, the kids, and her Mama.  All it took was a 3rd grade reading level to prepare the meal.  “What do we put the spinach casserole on?”, her hubby asked.  “Here are the heating instructions…”, Krystal replied, pretending to be busy stirring the greens.  Actually, the greens were stirring her.  Collard greens.  Her Dad’s favorite ‘green’ to cook.  The scent of her Mama’s succulent collards triggered flashbacks so vivid, they almost took her breath away.  She’d avoided eye contact all morning, but now, she needed close contact before her knees gave out.  “If only I could make it to the half bath unnoticed”, she hoped in vain.  Passing her Mama on the way, Krystal fell onto her Mama’s neck, her body jolting through every silent sob.

“It’s OK, baby.  You missing him, huh?” Krystal grabbed a stray paper towel on the counter, equally dazed by the fact that she cried on her Mother’s shoulder –  “when’s the last time that happened?” — fatigued by the painful weight of family secrets swirling through her mind, and the frightening sound of ringing cell phones.  This time?  Uncle Reuben, her Dad’s older brother.

“Heyyy girl…where you been?”  She was cold busted.  It was easier to ignore one of the daughters’ calls — she wasn’t an elder.  She couldn’t do Uncle Reuben like that.  “Umm, hey Unc…how are you?” “Girl, you know I don’t ever see or hear from you….I got back surgery coming up in a few weeks……Hey, do you ever hear from….?”

Krystal’s heart stopped.  That name.  She wondered why hearing that name still made every cell in her body ache.  “No, I haven’t seen many folks since the funeral, Unc.  I…I just…it’s just that…” Krystal broke again.  “It’s just been too hard to be around family, Unc.  I know I owe you an apology, I’m so sorry, it’s just too much for me right now…”  “Don’t worry hun, if you don’t call me, I’m gonna check up on you, it’s gonna get better.”

The meal was beyond scrumptious.  Standing in the kitchen with her plate, contemplating Round 2, the cell phone rings.  Krystal’s brother.  She figured he was a safe ‘answer’, more standoffish and to himself than she has been lately.  No harm in answering…

“Wassup, man?!” “Hey big sis…we’re all over here at the house…”  “We’re?”, Krystal thought.  Immediately her heart began to pound like a jackhammer.  “Cool, well umm, tell everyone I said hello.”  “Hey, wait a minute, let me put you on speakerphone…”

Before her brother could press the button on his end, her mask slid effortlessly in place, right on cue.  Krystal’s voice, level and confident, floated through the receiver like the aroma of freshly baked bread.  She knew her Mama and hubby would pick up on her sudden emotional shift.  She didn’t care. For someone who can’t stand fake people, she was about to win an Oscar.  She had to protect herself, and survive the moment.  She could ftake it…

“Hey everybody!  Happy Thanksgiving!” Krystal’s Mama glanced up at her, then back at her plate.  Mamas always know, even when they don’t say.  Krystal carried on with that side of the family, never missing one witty beat.  The dodged daughter was in the room.  “Girl, where you been…I’ve been trying to call you.” Then without warning, that voice chimed in.  “Happy Thanksgiving, sweetie!”  Ain’t this some bull$#@!

Sweetie?!!  Sweet?!!  Ohhh, I get it….the taste of my innocence as a child, right?  Krystal didn’t know whether to vomit, go on a cursing rampage, tell every secret right there on speakerphone, or drop dead.  All viable options, except one.  The very sound of that voice awakened the nightmares, the sadness, the heartache.  Flashbacks of deeds left unspoken til this day, for a little girl who used to speak so highly of them.  “After all that hard work in therapy, hadn’t I forgiven?  When will their presence stop strangling the life outta me?  When will it just stop hurting?”

All of today’s questions would have to wait in line for now…take a number after the multitude of “Why’s”.  Now serving #354,466,498…..

—

i dunno what’s up with the 3rd person stuff.  it just started coming out of me like that, so i went with it.  i’m much gooder *smile* than last week…just…i dunno yet…workin’ it out, i guess .