Constance…many of you may relate to me at times, and maybe more often not understand why or how things are so heightened, amplified.

Well, I don’t understand it either.  I have never.


I used to hide these things behind a stoic mask and teeth clenched so tight that my dentist is furious with me for ruining my teeth.  She wanted me to wear a mouth guard…but c’mon:  for someone who wakes up and feels like they are being smothered already, something in your mouth all nite??  No way.

But I am trying to find courage, posting my fears here, forcing them into poems (sorry, poems!!!!), trying to master them and if not them then master my own will.

I am done with being Pinocchio…I want to be a real person, of flesh and blood and not wood…not frozen ice.

Later today?  This time, this place, this feeling will be puzzling to me, mystifying to me (as you most likely are mystified by me then as well), and distant, like it happened to me in a play I was in long ago.  It might return tomorrow at 3 AM, it might not…I can never tell, and that in and of itself is sometimes as bad as its presence…its possibility.

Mama is here.  She reminds me that She never promised me reprieve from this world and its weight…but She did promise Her Presence…always.

Even when I cannot feel Her.

ESPECIALLY when I cannot feel Her.

So I will take hold, be thankful and hunker down.

Vulnerable…naked…seen…and choosing to be, here with my Mama.

Trembling but talking,



4 thoughts on “Vulnerability

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