All in Read
Like many others, I picked up a lot of beliefs about myself in childhood. Kids can be cruel, and from the outside, it seems like some people make it through unscathed, as if they have a nice Teflon coating.
I’m sure you’re curious as to when I finally succumbed to my adoration, and finally asked her out. See, that’s kind of the complexity about love, it’s rarely just about the feelings of love that allow you to be or be with an amazing partner.
Winter 2016, I decided to unfasten the parachute and use my wings to fly. It was right after work one day when I got a call from my boss asking why I was always signing out an hour early.
You see an island feels exactly like that. It’s a Simon and Garfunkel song in living color, with huge trees and a stretch of Quartermaster Harbor that lays placid like a challenge.
I always thought the term “mindfulness” applied to imaginary situations outside of real life; it was something that happened to an enlightened person next to babbling brook somewhere.
It’s maddening behavior like this that makes semi-hysterical depressives like me a particularly easy-to-love lot.
And then, I realized, I wasn't alone. I was greeted by another voice, one I’m already deeply familiar with.
A little, buried part of me had just enough romance left that the idea of living in an aluminum tube jimmied between ferns and large pines felt nice.
When my heart returned to normal, the world became quiet, and still. The phone didn't ring, the emails weren't coming in, and I was left alone with myself.
I want to go on the record and say that I, Sam Lamott, am a proud member of the tribe still alive, I find existing exhausting at times...
Without wasting time, she turned to me, mouth wide open, mostly in the shape of a smile. I looked away, I wanted no part in this, but I could feel her bright blue eyes on me.
I wanted to report her to whatever board manages therapist's licenses. This was ridiculous; clearly, she was a hack.
I bear hugged her so we were chest to chest, and slowly walked backward down the stairs. She had her footing on some stairs, and could help carry her weight, while on others her feet floated across like a ballerina.
She then came barreling out of her room, rattling off times he had abused her. I held her back, why he listened stoically, like Dexter Morgan.