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Tuesday, September 16, 2014

Just Write 153.

I sit in the silence and feel myself exhale as if I'd been holding my breath.

It is morning, the kids just moments earlier strapped into their bus seats and off to school. I have a little under four hours before Tova will return and enough tasks and errands to fill that time, plus the time between her arrival and that of her brother, coinciding with my efforts to get ready for work.

I sit on the couch with my cup of coffee and feel it again. Exhale. My chest falls, my shoulders relax, and I allow myself to sit for a few moments, breathing.

I have many stories to tell, but I shy away from writing them down. I think I'm afraid of facing the truth, of being still enough to show but not tell, because what if everything just swallows me whole leaving no room for air?

If I feel too much I may not be able to stop and I'll lose my grip, lose my buoyancy, and be lost.

But there is good in those stories, beyond the obvious, the glaring, the sad. I have many good things happening, things I'd love to share in equal measure and yet, like many of the dark things, I can't. No matter where I turn the light and the dark muddle together and everything is shades of gray, none of it weightless enough to pass through my mental filters and beyond into my fingers to become the words that silently drive me through my days.

And you all know how I feel about not being able to use my words.

I have been, and probably forever will be, an all-or-nothing kind of girl.

In the last couple of weeks, I have dyed about half of my hair back to nearly-black, filed my fingernails into a "stiletto" shape -- claw-like points, if you will -- and painted them a deep plum, and have taken to wearing deep red lipstick practically every day. I hear the rumblings of the 90's goth look coming back and I can't very much hide my enthusiasm for that because I loved those fashions the first time around, but at 10-14 years old I wasn't able to embrace and participate as much as I would have liked. Being a grown-up now has it's perks, I suppose.

But all the black, the deep moody shades, these have always been me and it is mere serendipity that the fashion world is embracing the colors and shapes and textures that encompass my inner person, the place that I'm currently in. Bring me your dark florals and faux leather and heavy shoes and I will show you the beauty in this breakdown in tiny square pixels on your mobile phone.

Fall has almost always been my favorite despite nearly all of my life's traumatic events occurring within a few weeks of that same time span and I never know how to reconcile those two things, how I somehow forget all the triggers that come with the turning of the weather and the trees.

This year, they feel more subtle reminders that if anything, I always make it to the New Year, so go ahead and stop and take in the cool breezes and the bright colors contrasted against the shaded skies because this season, like everything in life, will be nothing but a vividly fading memory soon enough.

Hold on to it while you can.

Linking up to Heather's Just Write post today because it's a Tuesday and that's what you do on Tuesdays if you post.