And She Put on a Happy Face

Incredible really. The ability to carry on. I sit at my desk and answer emails with a 'cheers' and 'thank you' as tears roll down my face. I get up, wash my face and meet with new clients on the stage and provide advice, encouragement and tell them all that I'm looking forward to their events. And I am. I love the people who enter my theatre. Theatre of the absurd. All the while I know I should be counting my blessings. I have a good job. Am in relative good health. My children are brilliant, kind and wise. So why the tears? Damned if I know. Kinda feel like a magazine subscription that has not been renewed. Kinda feel discarded. Kinda feel as worthwhile as a dried up glue stick. Kinda feel like I wish I didn't feel anymore. But this is just maudlin.

My dad broke his ankle. He was walking and misjudged a step. Innocuous eh? But weeks before he had been complaining about his medication. It made him dizzy. Not himself. I remember thinking 'what will it take before his doctors take notice? Will he need to pass out on the street?' I got a phone call last month to say that he had passed out on a sidewalk while watching a parade. His medication was not changed even though the doctor at emergency told him he should. His regular doctor just lessened his dosage. Now he 'misjudged' a step and is in a cast for 6 weeks.

I visited friends last week. Their cat had liver disease. The cat came up to me and actually told me that it knew it was going to die. As I looked at it I knew and I knew what it was telling me. He died. Another spirit set free.

My pending divorce is still pending. Even when it finally arrives I have come to realize that I will always be stuck with Xman. The father of my children. The connection, for 'better or for worse,' will be there until 'death do us part.'

A person whom I trusted, more than Xman really, to not bring me pain, has through no fault of their own really. Why the trust? I dunno. Because I felt they understood how fragile I was. How insecure. That I needed to grasp onto things beautiful with all my might because of the ugliness surrounding me. I was asked once how it was that I could seemingly make the best out of any situation? The answer? Because the alternative was unthinkable. Too dark. I wish I could feel anger but I can't...except at myself. I am my own worst enemy. I feel toxic. Don't come too close. You'll only get hurt.

Why am I writing this? To try and get some of this out. I won't talk to you about this. I won't trust in you enough to share. When you meet me on the street I may even be singing as I skip along. A light little ditty with a smile on my face.