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Rescued from my dreams this morning. Woke feeling discombobulated.  

  

 

I flutter between anticipation and agitation and simply being OK because please can I just be OK.  

 

 

But I'm not OK today. I crumble on the table at acupuncture.  

 

 

Eight months seems like such a long time and not long at all. I simply don't know how to be human.   

 

 

And as much as I've given myself permission to not be strong still that is all I've tried to be. 

 

 

And I'm angry. And I'm not strong at all.  

 


I crawl into the hammock, grateful for warmer weather, and birds singing, and friends on the other side of a screen who will hold my feelings with tenderness. 

 

 

Ant man. Because this is part of being OK.  

 

 

I'm not going to chastise myself for how real and dark the list is today.