I'm all jacked up on pretend potassium over here.
I did cry a time or two, and I blame you for that. It was a collective outpouring of tears - the cummulative effect of allayall'zes kindness.
Being prone to over-thinking as I am, I feared for a moment that it was all too much. I shared to ease my own mind and maybe yours. I thought the sharing was the help. I somehow didn't expect to feel so much big, bad love from so many corners. I mean - I know you're awesome in every way. I should have known. I was probably just too blue to remember.
Anyway, thank you one million times over. Thank you for making me feel less troll-like and for not texting me numbers for psychiatrists or referring me to the Dr. Phil website.
I just partook of my much-belated Christmas dinner with Sarah. I had a New York strip (medium) and caramelized brussels sprouts with loaded mashed potatoes. And tomato kalamata bruschetta for appetizer.
Maybe food does help. Maybe so.
My eyeballs burned all through dinner and I wanted to rest my head on the seat of the booth. Sarah wouldn't have cared. But I was there, dadgummit. I went out and cleared my head. I howled at the moon (so to speak) with my best mate Missy Higgins. I laughed too hard - something about Sarah informing me that we were scandalously hussy-ish in high school, and by hussy-ish, I mean that we secretly pined for multiple boys at the same time. As I told her, we had no choice. We had to keep many irons in the fire, because who knew when someone might actually bite? No one ever really did. At least not for a long time. And when they did? Well, they were jerks. I'm sorry to say it.
Be honest, are you more concerned about me than ever? Are you finding me unstable? I understand. I do. I wondered myself.
But then I remembered that we are allowed our bad days, man. We're also allowed a hearty boomerang. Tomorrow's a crap shoot. It could go either way and that's okay. Because right now - in my eyeliner and my skinny jeans, I feel like I just might survive.
So know that you're not alone in the crazy. Know. It.
But when a glazed brussels sprout hits you in the face, I hope you'll see it for what it is. I hope you'll grab on to it and...eat it. Duh. But then I also hope you'll hold it up to the light and dance around with it a little. I hope you'll hold it to your heart and notice that it helps.
Admittedly, holding tiny cabbages to one's bosom feels slightly awkward. Push through.
One more thing: Yesterday after the Great Toilet Melt-Down Ruby came out dressed in this.
I'm not gonna lie. I laughed. I said, "Ruby!......."
She smiled kinda shy and it broke my heart clean through because I realized she wasn't trying to entertain me. Sister was dead serious. She said, "I really like matching."
Then the clincher, "I wanted to match like this so you would know how much I love you."
Just slay me now. Go on ahead.
She marched around like this all day and do you know what? I felt the love.
Now what I really want to know is this: What was your bright-shiniest boomerang moment today? What was your bosom brussel? I promise it was there, somewhere. Find it and spill it.
All my light for you tonight,