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  not a compliment to be called

*hard on yourself*

being hard on yourself serves as a barrier

you cannot access your own life forces

*Force Field*

the totality of your inherent energy

held just out of reach

*2 Stiff*

Cramped inside a vice grip, and the key words here are vice and grip. What happens when you stop gripping? Ahhh a rush of blood where there wasn’t. Mmm fresh enters the emptied.

I feel it leave my face. My jaw. Behind my ears, and then down to my ankles. I really rubbed into my ankles to get It out. Then buzzy warmness. I will look different as I continue, but like you, I am where I am. There is logic in being where you are. Data and information. You know what they morph into, right?

My right side, from deep under my shoulder blade up into my neck, was locked in a tug-o-war. Chin held high or shoulders shlumpy, weighed down? Which one will it be? Or let it go. Ohhh actually no decision. I know this pain will dissipate. Holding onto temporal discomforts was the decision.

The wave of fear that comes after my bath is overwhelming. I swear someone is in the house, and they are, or have been. Fear has lived in my house. All the violences and shameful storylines muddled by basic needs + always looking for the light.

Okay. I walk around to turn on lights and check behind doors. I’m holding a small white taper, burning, lit initially for a moody bath.

Okay, next, make some dinner. Scramble some eggs and top with nori, salt & pepper. A small sliver of Brie on the side. Tap water with lemon.

Eat. It's perfect.

I wash the dishes and then loop around turning off some of the lights. The coat closet door is ajar and I tense. Didn't see that earlier. I'm brave and open it to reveal the large cornhusk broom has fallen from the clip mounted to the inside of the door. That was the sound I heard when I was drying off.

Real.*