June 05, 2017

Muu muu muuu (how d’ya like it, how d’ya like it?)

It’s been a rough few days.

If there’s on thing I’ve learned about depression, it is that you do whatever you can to forge ahead when it fills you up. That water level gets high, you go higher—and you don’t try to swim. You float. You stay calm, and you wait for your feet to touch the floor again.

In the service of finding my inner... tube (/metaphor), I always wander into my closet, because it’s warmer than wandering in the fridge and it doesn’t have calories. Being surrounded by my clothes makes me feel better for some reason I have yet to unpack. Maybe it’s the colors, maybe it’s the quiet. I just feel like I’m in good company, especially since my grandmother recently allowed me to salvage whatever I wanted from my great-aunt’s wardrobe. There were so many winners, to wit:

The moment I put it on, I knew this would be what I needed today. Now, I generally smell of patchouli, cocoa butter, lavender, tea tree oil, and other new age potions. The smell of this caftan (muumuu? is there a difference?) is equal parts forgotten cupboard, Estee Lauder, coffee, and regret. It’s a complex trifle of experience, and it is intoxicating.

My hair is short (nay, gone) because my younger sister was recently diagnosed with breast cancer and it made her smile to shave my head. Looking like a nearsighted dandelion only completes the ensemble. At some point today, my husband may find me with my heels on a chair, singing Natural Woman.


Christopher Smallwood said...

Me thinks you could use that to go skydiving. Like the parahawks

Trgrgr said...

Oh how I love you.