2.5 weeks ago i started to give up and give in again. I told Ronnie i was afraid of the next 6 months bc i knew the previous 6 felt like i had been handled. i’d taken a beating and the wounds were never properly dressed. Bruises & welts lived just beneath my skin. If you looked at me real good, you could probably see them. I told him the truth because it felt like the responsible thing to do. I was only certain that something like this could very well end me because October already tried to.
For most of September i **pretended** everything was ok. I spent a decent amount of money on new crafts for a project this pain birthed. I was breaking but oddly, foolishly proud of my ability to perform through my turmoil for that 1st month.
I had an idea that i became obsessed with seeing through to completion. My sanity depended on it. I was out shopping for red this’s and that’s with bags half as tall as me.
Walking toward chipotle in the parking lot, i saw an Asian woman crossing the walkway toward me. Perfectly chiseled bowl haircut. Monochromatic red from head to toe. Red dress and jacket. Red brooch, red shoes. Sharp. As. Fuck. I instantly registered what i was looking at.
I was verklempt. By the time the wind forcefully tossed her hair about I had already come to a thorough halt.
Her existence affirmed what i purposefully set out to do on that day. I was building a red floral wall piece. I planned on working my way through the rest of the colors that correspond with the 7 chakras once my red project was complete.
So on this day I just knew God had kissed my forehead. Gave me a wink and a nudge. Had been watching me, observing my moves. Making sure i understood that i was cherished. Important. Loved. Embraced.
So i stood there in the middle of the parking lot and wept with my bags half as tall as me.