Every Wall is A Door
Someone I love gave me a metal paperweight that says “Every wall is a door.” It sits front and center on my desk. I forgot to take my thyroid pill twice in the last few days and it upset my equilibrium. I almost feel as if I am having my period – emotionally speaking. I’ve ridden the wave up and I’ve ridden it down. I truthfully do not miss my menstrual cycle one iota. That is the beauty of getting older as a woman. I’ll take these wrinkles and the redistribution of fat any day over PMS and cramps. A N Y D A Y.
I have to take my computer in today because it is not backing up. The Time Machine can’t find its file. I realized while walking the dogs that I’ve backed up too much in my own personal computer – my mind. I’m overloaded by thoughts that don’t serve me, memories that derail me, desires that are unfulfilling, as well as a myriad of slights that cut like tiny razors. And I want my joy back.
I have a smile where the light comes out and right now, it needs to be pried open to see my sunny self. So if you see me today, I’m hiding behind a second layer of fact, the one that knows I will be all right, but is skeptical that it will be in a way you still recognize me.
