I am grabbing the sides of the bath picking myself back up. I have done a really great job at keeping myself moving forward. Because the moment I stop.
Is the moment I find myself buckling over in the shadow feeling weaker than the time before. So I go to the shower, put the overhead garden hose on and allow myself to be watered where my tears meet the wails of the ceiling.
I am diving deeply for the “go-tos” that I rehearse daily. Yet my body is not responding this time. It says shut up. It is like drinking. Just one thought, turns into being hammered by weakness.
The water drowns out the confusion of whose drop belongs to who; the water rises as the emotion drops. Diffusion of confusion fades away from the epicenter of the heart and I grow silent.
It will be okay. The storms are flushings of the archaic past, not meant to last.
I think a piece of being human is having to face these feelings and not drown them out with noise, busyness and nonsense.
I have to turn around and face it, them, whatever remains because like a virus it will not go away..just silently waits for you when you are most vulnerable.
Then attacks.
"verb. stream·line. ˈstrēm-ˌlīn. : to design or construct with an outline which makes motion through water or air easier."
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