Archive for May, 2016

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Everyday I hope.

May 12, 2016

How long has it been since I just let go, really?  Since I allowed the free fall of thoughts to tumble and find their own way into being without any sense of where I’m going to end up?

A long damn time.
I get caught up in the need to have a sense of closure before I begin. To know that the light at the end of the tunnel has a particular amperage, and will be bright enough to see me through whatever path I’ve stumbled onto.

But that’s not really how I roll. However, there is a definable quality to a day and though I don’t always know how the day will go, I do find it possible to qualify the end of it to some degree.
At the end of every day, I have a hope.

I have a hope that I will fall into bed and feel the cool of the pillow on my cheek and my eyelashes will take note because there is a gentleness to that feeling that eyelashes should probably emulate.

I have a hope that I will sit and then lie down and my muscles, tired from use, but not overly sore and exhausted, will be so grateful, both to have been used so appropriately and to be done, that they will sink into relaxation more capably than if I mindfully encouraged them to do so.

I have a hope that I will drift lazily, my mind considering all that it had encountered over the day, the moments that made me smile, made me pause, made me hold a sunburn tightened bottom lip between teeth because the tricks I use to make myself think I’m thinking about something include that. I hope that there are more thoughts in my brain that bring a sense of joy, of completion, of earned content than the alternative.
If the scales lean towards a sense of dissatisfaction, I hope my thoughts don’t decide to swirl into a maelstrom of blame and negativity, instead finding a resolute focus on what can be accomplished tomorrow.

Every day I fall into bed with a hope that it was good, and tomorrow will be grand.

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Every day is International Womens Day

May 3, 2016

I am forty years old.
I am not married and have no children but I am not considered an old maid or a spinster.
I can vote, I can drive, I can come and go as I please.
I can wear whatever clothing I want, do my hair anyway I like.
I can speak my mind and have my opinion be considered valid.
I can change my mind.
I can decide I don’t want to do this, and walk away.
I can work in any industry I like, so long as I’m qualified.
I can go to school and get qualified.
I can go to school.
I don’t live in constant fear of being attacked, raped, beaten for the simple act of existing.
I get to make my own choices.

Frequently, I forget about the women who I consider to be braver than me.

They fought for so much so I don’t have to.
They’re still fighting.

Gratitude is not enough. But for now, it will have to do.
Thanks ladies.

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