Tag: moving forward
A woman I worked with is being abused by her boyfriend. I can’t help her. She came into work with an injured wrist and a bruised face. She laughed off the injuries with semi-plausible instructions, but when I saw her today, she had no excuse for her two black eyes. “I’m worried about you,” I told her. “I’m okay,” she said. But she’s not … Read More Help in an Abyss
“It does not matter how slowly you go as long as you do not stop.” ― Confucius I’ve been moving slowly for a very long time. But, I’ve been moving. The clock dawdles, or so it seems, when you’re waiting for change. If you’re watching and waiting, it may be times are hard and you’re looking for a better situation. Something that makes you … Read More moving slowly
“You’re going to leave me alone at Christmas…” “You’ll be okay. You said you had to work that day. You’ll be too busy to notice I’m gone.” That’s not exactly how it would work, and we both knew it. I’d had it. I had gone out of my way to get you really thoughtful birthday gifts just a week before, even though you’d been … Read More Over You
A million thoughts — a thousand regrets — a dozen things I’d change today to bring back the magic. Do you ever think of me? I dreamed of you the other night, and you were kind to me. I suppose I’m healing. And moving on. I’m dreaming about someone else these days, but scared to let him know, to open the door to heartache. A … Read More New Magic
I know the warning signs. I know when I’m on the edge and about to explode — or implode — emotionally. I’m close to that point now and doing everything I can to ward it off. It’s part of being bipolar, I suppose, and it’s not a fun part. The good news is I’m aware of what’s happening and I know what steps to … Read More Don’t Pull that Thread!
While living in my last apartment, I got to know an amazing variety of people, most poor, and several with stories that oftentimes seemed unbelievable. One of these woman was Cecilia, a bright lady with a distorted view of her role in the world. She had twin daughters, Chantal and Sabra, who had just turned 18, but were both emotionally much younger. Chantal was … Read More Help or Hindrance
I finished unpacking last night. My house is a home, but the one thing missing is you. I hear your laugh, see your smile, admire your new haircut in the faces of strangers. I can’t stop for a gallon of milk without recognizing your loping walk in another. The weight of my loss holds me in place, and I silently protest the need to … Read More The Threads of You