This stuff is so hard.

At the end of a long day, I feel a world deep inside my belly. It stirs with some excited and tired and angry feelings, mixed with the fact that maybe I ate dinner too early and I’m hungry again so late in the evening.

I guess I’m always hungry.
My belly is a fierce place to reside.

I’ve been feeling a lot of things there lately.

I don’t have to keep asking myself, “What am I doing with this life?” because I know what I’m doing right now. Only when I take a few steps back and really look — that’s when I start to panic a little. Like that time I sat with my dad in the New Orleans Superdome as a kid, hardly able to stand and cheer because we were so high up. That’s sort of what it feels like.

We’re only here for a little bit, right?

This is always a thought in my mind. Even as I mop the floor at the end of the day. Heart. Mind. Dirty water.

Deep down, I fear that so much of me is what scares people away. I fear my depth is seen too soon at times and people are weary of being around me for they may have to hear something difficult.

Sometimes it’s the same fear of people not wanting to cook for me because I’m a uh, chef? I guess.
My mom admitted to me recently that she gets nervous cooking for me, and all I can do is hang my head low. I laugh a little and tell people my need for hot food at the end of the day. And that any food that I don’t cook for myself is probably the best thing I’ve eaten all day.

I also told my mom almost jokingly, “Yeah, I just need someone to take care of me.”

I know that sounds a little pitiful.
It might be, just a little bit. But I’ll give that to myself to feel, just for a little bit.


It feels a bit like I’m trying to chew through rope, at times.
As my community grows again, I am allowing myself to be vulnerable. I allow people into my story, and they let me into theirs.

We get all tangled up again. And my jaw gets so tired of chewing.
I miss that lazy love. Auto-pilot love. Cruise control love.

Let’s just order Chinese food love.

I could use a good back scratch. Hugs that last longer than a second. (kind’a love…)

Look at me, being all vulnerable with my needs.

I’m okay with that.
I’m okay with being sloppy and having people make fun of me for sleeping in a twin size bed as an almost 29-year old. I explain to them how I’ve had to move my life around, and they digress. But still, I’m okay. (And I’m also looking for a bigger bed.)

I don’t deserve to feel humiliated because of my story, as dramatic as I make it seem at times. But that is just it, isn’t it? Life is dramatic. All over the damn place. People are doing insane things out of love and hate and some people find time in the day to really, really connect with another person.

Yesterday, I held the door open for these two older women, one who was much older and couldn’t walk very well on her own. She stopped before she passed me and looked up, “That’s just so sweet of you…thank you so much for doing that.”

To be honest, I wasn’t thinking much of it. Just that cracks and inclines and steps are hard for some older people. And yesterday I was feeling a little weepy, so I got a little teary and said, “Oh! Goodness. No problem at all!”

We just move too fast. I think.

And we just keep getting faster.

Stubborn cracks.

A to B can take some time.
some encouragement.
some space.
some body.

to hold the weight, for just a moment.

One response to “A to B”

  1. ohhhhh, my goodness. I wish I could find words to express to you how much this touched my heart. I relate in such a way. it’s as if you are speaking from MY heart… from MY thoughts. how poetic, how beautiful. how inspiring! thank you for sharing this, for baring your soul. this has made me feel better about how I feel and relate to the world. THANK YOU! from the bottom of my heart…. ❤

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