Tell the shitty truth
Here are the warrior moves I made today.
I despaired.
I looked at myself in the mirror and watched the life force drain out of my body, took in my pale skin and my wrinkles.
I felt sorry for myself.
I decided there’s no fucking point to any of it.
I confiscated all my kids’ screens and ranted about the infiltrator in my house who is trying to steal my family from me.
I took a nap.
I woke up and still felt the existential despair.
I left a voice text for a new friend telling the whole truth and nothing but the truth without censorship.
I went for a run.
I ran into my cousin in the graveyard (not planned). We stood 8 feet away from each other and said all the most raw things we were thinking.
We talked about how alive we both feel in the graveyard.
I said the F word a lot.
We gave each other air hugs.
I came home.
I made Thai peanut pasta while Phoenix peeled carrots and sweet potatoes.
I put on loud music and Phoenix and I smacked our own butts and danced in the kitchen.
Sometimes the only way to quell the fire is to let it burn right out your mouth.
Tell the truth.
Anne Lamott says when she’s feeling especially shitty, she calls around until she finds a friend who feels slightly less shitty because we can’t all feel shitty on the same day.
There will be shitty days ahead, friends.
This is just the way of it.
Don’t make it shittier by beating yourself up that you feel shitty.
Tell the truth.
Call a friend until you find someone having a slightly less shitty day.
Move your body.
Smack your own ass.
Eat rice noodles.
