Unraveling some head spaghetti…

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Do not look for rhyme or reason in this entry; I’m just unraveling some head spaghetti.

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Big things are happening. Milestones are being passed. And you’re missing it. Because a fanpage on Facebook was more important than our friendship. You reminded me to fear people. To not trust them. You taught me to question all praise. Because even when they claim to love you… you still matter less to some people than trivial things.

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IT’S OVER!!! SHE’S DONE WITH HIGH SCHOOL! MY BABY HAS GRADUATED AND WENT TO PROM! I am so proud of her. I am so relieved. Now we rest a bit. We’ve earned it. We all had to work very hard as a family to get her through this and she endured and persevered, even when it all seemed dark and hopeless, and she prevailed!

I wish I had the courage to take a Facebook break… until after the Brits figure out whether or not to Brexit the E.U., until after the American elections, until Americans stop shooting other Americans, until politicians stop being corrupt, until all human beings have food, shelter, health care and education… Yeah. I wish.

The endless crashing waves of ignorance, corruption, hatred, violence, stupidity… it’s pulling me down to the bottom and I see no hope for the future. My daughter says she doesn’t want kids and my autistic son is unlikely to ever have kids and part of me is glad about this. Part of me thinks it’s cruel and irresponsible to bring children into this mess of a world we live in. But then I think: one of these unborn children could be the one who turns it all around. And so they dance, the hopeful child and the hopeless old crone. They dance in my head, in my heart and in my soul. And I sit and watch them dance…

I wanna dance. I wanna sing. Somewhere in the bottom of my being, right about here, next to the wastepaper bin in the corner, there is a version of me that is a Broadway performer or a cabaret singer. It kinda smells here though, someone must have thrown food away in this bin. May as well not linger too long. It’s not like my achy breaky carcass and my self-conscious voice are gonna magically cooperate…

Why can I see the extraordinary beauty of the two people pictured below, yet so often see nothing but distorted ugliness when I look at my own naked form? I strive for a day where I can love myself exactly as I am. I strive to be able to enjoy the pride and tenderness I feel towards the vessel that carries me through life. For now I will simply try to soak in those fleeting moments when I do love my body exactly as it is and see its beauty.

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I’m still upset/obsessed about the thing. I need to let go. I need to trust that things will unfold as they will and I have no control over it and there is no point is making myself ill over it.

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