Now that we got that out of the way.
Admittedly, I feel rocked and rough around the edges. Living in the guest bedroom of my mom’s Nevada home. Waiting for a letter from Unemployment. Missing my relationship and our cat and the dreams for our future.
Here’s the thing, nothing went drastically wrong. Life throws curve balls and your swollen heart must hobble to catch on.
To be honest, I’m pissed off. Not empowered. Not yet. I don’t feel like a phoenix rising from the ashes. My home torched down unexpectedly.
Flustered, frustrated, fuming.
Kicking about in the ashes.
To be honest, I’m also ok. Not great. Not really. I watch Brooklyn 9-9 and eat Yasso greek yogurt pops at 2pm. My wall covered by a piece of parchment paper with places to move, careers to start, tools to rebuild scrawled all over.
Supported, softened, stabilizing.
Feeling about in the feely-feel-feelings.
In the mornings I walk for an hour. Racing the raising heat. Sweating out the bizarre strands of processing dreams. Grunting. Letting ‘ugghhhhghghghhgh’ push and burst out into the dry air.
Sun dress and sneakers. Hair on fire.