confession: i was scheduled to be in therapy during this hour but the receptionist called to cancel my appointment yesterday, rescheduling for next week. i missed last week because i was in paris. three weeks between appointments loses momentum, desire, time, hope to heal what hurts before march’s trauma trigger anniversary. i reassure myself by saying, “that’s okay. your deeply held shame will hold until next thursday.”
question: who decides the standards by which “oversharing” is judged? if i discuss my eating disorder or incest the second or third time we hang out is that oversharing? and if so, why? because society shames us for our shame?
confession: my fingernails grew long in paris because i forgot to bring nail clippers. i habitually keep my nails cut short, an ingrained lesbian courtesy. i cut them this week. i wonder who i might be if i let myself have long nails, if i painted them pink, if i drank coffee everyday, if i went on a juice fast for a month and quit eating foods that require chewing. nevermind, i just imagined it–skinny, caffeine high, wishing i was prettier, anxious, and too weak to work out. i’ve done all that before, minus the long pink nails.
confession: kind actions intended but not followed through don’t add kindness to the world. for example, i considered going outside late last night since i wasn’t sleeping at 2am and scraping the snow off papi’s car so that it’d be done before he had to leave for work this morning. instead i sat on the couch and read.
confession: papi would’ve scraped the snow off my car if i had to drive somewhere this morning. i wish i would do the good i think to do, the good i can, since i want to live in a better-sweeter-kinder world and i know how to create that world if i’m willing to put on a jacket and go outside.
confession: i don’t want to put on a jacket and go outside today. i can think of a few things i can do from this chair to make the world kinder and i’ll start there.
confession: i feel like i’m in the sludgy muck of this trauma anniversary cycle, but it has barely begun. i know it gets worse for the next month before it gets better. i know i’m gonna want to quit eating. i know that alternating with not eating i’ll likely binge on junk food until i puke. i know i ought to avoid alcohol and coffee and diet coke and sugar. i want all those things, but listed them in the order from easiest for me to skip to most challenging for me to deny myself. i know i could go back to bed right now and sleep or not sleep for a couple hours to put off working today and the same amount of work will be accomplished before tomorrow whether i stay awake and do it now or get to it later because in spite of everything, i get my work done and work is only work, there’s always more. but one day there won’t be more. so today, while we are here, let’s do what is ours to do. mine to do is love you. i’ll keep at it, gently, imperfectly, without putting on a jacket or going outside, from this chair in my pajamas.