So, it is not helpful for me to use this space another day to freak out about my mom and her health.  I’ve spent the day cultivating a calm and I can’t tear it apart now for the sake of reaching my word count quota.  So, I won’t.

We spent today actually just being around the house and doing a bit of cleaning that needed doing and I have yet more to do tomorrow.

I am trying to get myself into a state of clear.  That the things I have to do have no barrier between myself and the act of doing them.  No hazy thoughts about procrastination and

But there will be procrastination thoughts and thoughts about my mom and dragging my feet when it comes to doing what I need to do.  The all or nothing, let’s get perfect shit is the antithesis of what’s effective for me.

I want to stay positive.  To stay at okay enough to keep going.  To not invite demons into my head without also counting on them to roll on out the same with every other thought I have.

“What you are strong enough to let in, you are strong enough to force out.”

I am, of course, thinking about you.  Consistently.  A lot.  A lot of the time.  It’s…well, it’s a bit frustrating, knowing exactly the kind of comfort from exactly the person you want it and not being able to have it.  Even I, who has an exhaustive history, of giving up ghosts and locking down feelings and just transcending most of her major junctures of desire, feel rather like the straws are just sliding out of reach.

I care, but it’s a selfish care.  And knowing that makes it a bit easier when schedules don’t align, or parts and pieces of the situation are, in their essence, untenable.  It’s okay.  It’s just an impulse to push the pleasure button when the world is pushing its bullshit button and even though I’m tapping at it readily, and the treat does not arrive, I’m not unable to sit with myself in the cool evening and just be in this body right now.

That’s sometimes the hardest thing in the universe, but I’ve listened to Amanda Palmer read Goodnight Moon to her son and there feels some inherent distance in that that helps.  Yesterday, she did the same and I couldn’t.  It felt like some conversion of Auden, just gusts of jet black sorrow and loss projected on a situation that doesn’t have those markers. That is not that shattered space. Instead, I watched it tonight while refreshing the page where your message, if you had happened to write it in the interim, would appear.  I thought to myself just don’t think about specific endings, but instead, just see it all as a graceful acknowledgment that the universe we love needs rest and we can bid it find that rest so it can rise up to meet us and tomorrow, stronger and clearer-eyed.

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