A relentless, gritty piece of sandpaper continually grinds over my skin. Some days it smooths the surface, buffing up the beauty underneath to a beautiful shine, but today, the rough tool catches all the imperfections, bumps and knots, revealing ugliness within.
I'm worn down, as though the sandpaper slipped too far into a crevice and is grinding away at a particularly soft and sensitive spot. I'm withdrawn and bitchy. Despite getting ample sleep, my eyes feel so sunk in their sockets, I could easily scoop them out with soup spoons. My stomach continues to revolt. I'm tired of throwing up and feeling awful. I'm weary of being worried; and continually seeing it in the eyes of others. I'm not fit for man nor beast, and I want to crawl in a hole and hide.
Yet, I can't stop the sandpaper as it grinds on. Today I resign myself that it's working away on the soft, tender, underbelly of the piece of wood, but perhaps, its ministrations will create something unique, beautiful and unexpected tomorrow.
Tina
As crankified as you might be right now: your blog totally rocks today!!! A+ for baller writing!!!! nice work!
ReplyDeleteOf course, you're worn down. Anyone in your shoes would be. I don't blame you for feeling withdrawn, bitchy and weary of worrying.
ReplyDeleteThanks for this profoundly honest post. I hope you're feeling a bit "smoother" around the edges by now. Hugs.
Going to whip my nipples and rub with 220 grit
ReplyDelete