Secret Ceremony

Who am I? What is expected of me? What do I expect of myself? The dogs are barking again. Is it the cats that live under our house they are barking at or is it the birds, squirrels? Or is it the cruel rapist or murderer that I keep a loaded pistol in my house for? Is it the negative energies I sense that hang out around the outside of my house always waiting to get in. To catch me unaware. Or worse yet to catch my children?

It’s those damn cats.

I find myself in a perpetual wheel of questions. My marriage, my motherhood, my friendships, my business, my value. Always questions. Are you doing what you are meant to? Where’s your drive? Where is your motivation? Why does your house look so bad? Why is your closet so cluttered? You are 35 years old. What the fuck? You know what you need to do. You know how to do it. You’ve done it before. What would the Bri of 24 think of you?

She’d be too busy dreaming of having her own business to pay attention to you. She’d be busy. Always busy with Chris’ work, with the debt, with Church, with family, with children, with house, to really notice you. Yes at 24 you never had time to stop and think. Someone always needed you.

Now you’re still needed but with different things. For different reasons and by different people.

Now you have time alone to think. To ponder. And it’ fucking sucks. Distraction is a beautiful bitch.

Dinner, house, husband, clients, dogs, sister, family, kids, Facebook, email, always calling. Those brief chances to step away. They are your longing. That’s why you like to smoke. It’s not the actual cigarette it’s the ceremony. To step away, to be outside, for just a moment. To inhale that forbidden fruit. Then to blow it out.

Then you have to hide the residue of your secret ceremony with the forbidden

Most of the time you call someone. Anyone. You really don’t have much to say. You just want the distraction. The ability to connect for just a moment. Only you are a really crappy listener and you end up doing harm to the caller. Or really you do them a disservice. Then the questions come back. The questions.

Have you showered? Have you ate? Have you exercised? You don’t even care about this beautiful gift of body and health you are given do you. After the questions come the bad thoughts. The self loathing. The hate.

Go outside. You need a break. Don’t forget the cigarettes.

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