I think my kids might get hurt and feel pain.
I think all my artistry will dry up and I’ll be left just a worthless blump.
I think my husband might cheat on me with someone smarter, kinder and more patient than me.
I think I should have more money by now.
I think I am not supported.
My mother is dead.
They are here in my arms.
I have been doing what I love for 15 years.
He told me the facilitation it would take to organize such a ruse is beyond his wheelhouse at the moment.
I have affordable and reliable 2- bedroom, 2 level, no rodent, clean and spacious housing.
I have lots of friends and family that would totally bawl their eyes out and maybe even beat their chests if I died.
I got to spend time with her and prepare for it rather than be blindsided.
You are not what you think.
The universe is so much more creative than that.
Your life is so much grander and gorgeous and twisty-turny than the shit inside your head.
Uncomfortable as it is (I know) you better learn to accept all this beauty because it’s going to keep coming for you.
You might as well try to feel the warmth.
But I’m used to it being difficult. I know how to feel pain.
Isn’t it funny how the most challenging thing really is to figure out how to hold all the light?
It’s almost too heavy to bear.
Because even with the pushing and flailing and arguing and commiserating…
I expect the worst and I keep getting the best.
God(dess) keeps proving me wrong.
How annoyingly incredible is that?