I'll tell you one thing, some days are just hard. There's nothing more to them. Today is hard. My bones feel like sand and I can hardly stand upright. These days are odd, because I am a strong woman, or at least, I'm supposed to be, and I can list things all day long that I can do for myself.
I can cook a pretty damn good meal; I can check the oil in my car. I can change light bulbs, clean lent traps, check air filters, clean the hair out of the drain, hold a baby the proper way, multi task homework, making a cake, and cheering up a friend. I can write most papers under 8 pages in no more than 2 hours, articulating clearly a point, which I may or may not care about, and get a good grade.
I can do a lot of things.
But, one thing that seems to allude me, on this rainy day, with my sandy bones, is not melting when a friend who is no true friend leaves a comment after not hearing from them for 2 months. I can't help but melt. I can't help but want to call, or at least comment back. I can't help but to want to forgive and forget that I've been used, abused, and treated poorly. All I can remember is the time he grabbed my hand, kissed it, and told me he was there. Because he's not. And I can't help but feel completely frustrated and devestated at it all.
Being a strong woman seems to crumble on days like this. On days where I stare out blankly on cloudy days and watch the sky cry like a waterfall and the only thing the stops me from crying too, is the fact that the phone rings at work, and I have to answer. "Kimberley Manufacturing" seems to be my only grace.
So, then, there's no direction for days like today. Inbetween days when I don't feel confident, sassy, and bold. Days when I don't even feel gentle, caring, and charming. Days when I feel something of an unresolved, syncopated poem. One that doesn't quite carry the beauty of it all, but at least isn't contrived. Cosmo fails me today. Bitch fails me today. Because I'm neither woman. I'm just trying not to fall apart because my bones are made of sand. And the only thing the rain seems to be doing is making my own tears turn my bones into something sort of moldable, and potentially beautiful if you have the knack for it. But, today I don't. Today I can't. Today, all I can do is wet the sand.
And I guess, that gives it a little more substance. And I guess, that's something.
4 comments:
Darling Whitney,
Maybe we are somehow connected for me to be experiencing the same kind of day as you at the same time as you. I'd certainly like to think so.
You are in my thoughts and prayers. That is all I can offer because you and I both know that God is there.
Even strong women should have soft hearts. A heart made of stone isn't the goal, or shouldn't be, for any confident, independent woman. I think all too often that is what leads to our confusion about who we are as women. We thin strong means hard but it does not. I think your hurting heart shows that you are alive. At least you can feel. At least you have a heart of flesh and not of stone.
Booo! just re-read that and women should be woman.
You and I will have to discuss him someday. I'm 100% sure I have some things that you and I could consume entire bottles of wine over together (but it would be okay because we have a guest room and you could stay over. My home is always open to you, and after all-the comraderie would be making our hearts merry...along with the wine...).
I'm not positive that I know who you're talking about, but I'm pretty damn sure...and I'm also almost(but not quite) positive that I too spent some time writing blogs(and poems..gross) about the same such man....?...hmmm...man...such a loaded word..
Gosh I wish you lived here. I would take you to Powells and after we had both loaded up on books we could sit at some coffee shop and discuss everything in the universe and wear scarves and pretend we didn't even notice that the world was wearing them too.
We're sisters I think, you just don't know it yet.
Loves.
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