frazzled & frumpy

Her house is stifling.  The fan above her clicks a rhythm and she lays as still as she can, hoping for relief. She pushes herself up, forcing movement that reverberates in her head. Walking through the rooms, she checks windows, praying for the breath of a breeze. She loves this house. Here she nursed and nurtured her babies.  The walls show signs of life-- fingerprints and smudges.  Smiling faces, captured and framed, adorn the walls. But, the walls are closing in and she retreats to the sanctuary of her room.  The thoughts are pressing, intensifying the pain in her head.  She tries with all her might to force them out. You're not welcome here . Still, they come. Persistent, they are. The fan beats in time with the judgements- ' not e-nough, not e-nough, not e-nough'.   She puts out the welcome mat, hoping for sleep.  Instead, she cries, curled into herself. But, the day is like any other, demanding, not to be ignored.  Amazing how ...

I need to get something off my chest. I know, as 'unendowed' as I am you'd think I'd be happy to have something on my chest, but not this. I've been cynical and humorous, and I carefully considered whether to include a post that is serious. But, I feel like I need to. This blog is about my thoughts and this is where my thoughts are right now. So, here goes. Do you ever look around at the women you know and wonder what trials they're going through? You know everyone has them, but from the outside looking in, we have no idea the private challenges each other faces. They say that if you had to choose, you would pick your own trials over someone elses. But, when you're going through something, you start to think that other people's problems couldn't be any worse than yours. (I know it isn't true, but it feels true.) You see this woman, and her hair is always cute, her clothes nice and fashionable, her figure just right. Her kids are we...