head case

I think it's a bad sign when you get in your car and bawl like a baby AFTER your appoitment with your therapist. And I don't think it's a good sign that while you are looking in your purse during the session for a note that you really wish you had a weapon of mass destruction stashed away so that you could blow the bitch up. As you can see I'm not so much liking my new therapist. I'd actually like to drop kick her. At one point she said and I quote "Well Anna, if you just keep doing what you've always done then things won't change." No shit sherlock! I'm glad I paid you $30 for that piece of knowledge. I want my old therapist back. She was so good to me and guided me through so hard stuff. Now, I just need to fire my new therapist. How exactly do you do that? I'm having a little anxiety about it. It's just all so counterproductive.




They say that your first year of teaching is the worst in terms of illness. Every time a child gets a cold, you get a cold. You slowly build your immunity to the point that after teaching for 10 or 15 years you don’t even sneeze anymore. Well, I’m still working on my immunity. It still seems that every time there is a runny nose in my vicinity, I will come down with a cold. And true to form, it’s the beginning of the school year and I’m being exposed to a variety of germs and I now have a head cold. It’s just that I love the kids and I have to work closely with them because of my job. And even though I wash my hands frequently, those little boogers somehow infect me. I hate being stuffed up. It’s like you head is stuck in a balloon, but the rest of your body is perfectly fine. At least I’ve taken up knitting again so that kept my busy last night. Now, I just have to suffer through a school day of screaming kids and then back to bed for me. Maybe a movie tonight and chicken soup. That sounds good to my runny nose.



a perfect day

My house is filled with flowers. There are snapdragons in my living room and Gerber daisies and tulips. There are vases filled in my bathroom, bedroom, guestroom, and kitchen. I don’t know the names of all of them, but they are beautiful. Vases filled with one single type of flower except for my dining room. The center of my dining room table holds my bouquet of pink and green gorgeous blooms.

My cousin B. is now a Mrs. She was beautiful as a bride, amazingly so. She was a princess bride and I was one of her princess bridesmaids. We walked before her down the isle and watched her husband tear up as she approached on her father’s arm. We stood and supported their union, smiling the whole time.

Then we ate and danced. Then we danced some more and more. The party was filled with great music and beautiful people. We said goodbye through a cloud of bubbles and as B. and R. pulled away in their white Bentley I waved although I’m sure they were looking only at each other.



defcon 5

Like a terrorist in my body it went from area to area wreaking havoc. I’ve beaten it once before, but this time the demon can back like it had a vendetta. Anxiety is not my friend, never has been. But, I can usually quell the familiar sensations, the racing thoughts, the knot in my stomach, the panic. There have just been too many changes, too many people getting married, school starting, and other things in life and my mind could not process it all. So, it just gave up and shut down. It will all be good. I’ve got my own little team of homeland security specialist on the case and we are waging a war. Sometimes, you just need to step back, slow down and take a deep breath. That is what I’m doing. I love my friends. J. in Texas who totally understands. J. in DC who calls to check in. And poor PK who’s bridal party is falling apart. And my cousins, B. and B. who have seen it up close and personal and who don’t shy away. They wrap their arms around me over the phone. And I love them.



no explanation

I haven't been feeling well, therefore the lack of posting. I apologize and hope to be up and posting soon. Hang on and send positive thoughts my way please.



night swimming

The night is calm and muggy, the salt air swirling around us on our walk to the beach. The sand splays out before us like a smoothed floor. The water is quiet and lighted by a full moon. We are so excited to see the sea, the Isle of Palms at night; this is what we are here for.

A few girls walk to the edge of the water. Suddenly a small group is undressing then the group grows bigger. Seconds later there are naked women running to the water, arms raised, voices calling out in freedom. The moon shines down to illuminate the silhouettes of bodies in the water, heads floating above the ripples, breasts barely touching the surface.

We are goddesses. We are magical nymphs. We are mermaids with iridescent scales. We bob and swim and relish the freedom of seawater skimming our bodies buoying us in the moonlight. Live sand dollars are buried beneath our feet. We free them and inspect them. They are brown in the moonlight. We let them go. We swim. We join hands and kick our feet. We do handstands, legs and pointed feet rising above the deep blue. We are children again. This is freedom. This is nine women in the calm of the ocean at their most natural. This is innocent, illicit, and perfect.

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