Short Rest

I feel momentarily like wallowing.  I would like to sit down and cry. Right Now.  For a very long time. Until my head hurts and my sobs come out in strangled gasps.

I would like to pretend I am Atlas, but I have less responsibility and am more delicate; my confidence and bravado a costume to be donned when necessary, like Wendy in Never Never Land, pretending my way into this life.  She was shot from the skies with an arrow, saved by a pretend kiss worn around her neck. 

I am tired. Don't believe for a moment that I don't love this life of mine. It is everything I want it to be; and when it isn't, I change it.  It just takes a lot of energy to make believe things into reality.

And sometimes it is hard, too. I am tired.
and repetitive.

But in my tired sadness and desire to collapse against a tree in the woods with a pretend kiss wrapped lightly around my collar bone, resting on my sternum, I want to thank each of you that walk along with me. 

Thank you for following, leading, pushing, prodding, waiting, watching, and resting with me.

1 comment:

Jackie Proctor said...

It's hard and exhausting to keep that brave front going all the time and it's OK to fall in a heap every now and then. I fell in that heap on the weekend, it is numbing but you feel so much better letting yourself relax for just a little bit. xxxxxx