March

I dreamt I had a baby, but it wasn’t until the second day of having him that I realized I had forgotten to burp him after feeding. I felt terrible in the dream. I still feel bad, now, days later.

Watching the Handmaid’s Tale, I wondered whether some part of me would think, ‘Oh, no. What have I/we done?’ if I ever do have a baby to bring home.

Problems by Jade Sharma is the first good book I’ve read this year. These lines stuck like a shadow:

“A part of me was always aware of how painful it would feel after the happiness wore off. So I was never really happy, like, ever.”

Vulnerability makes me feel exposed and throat baring. Like a feral starving animal wanting the food left out by a do-gooder. Not knowing whether it’s safe or a trap. I’m challenging myself which I like in and of itself, but also this specific challenge, for me, in general, feels good. It feels good to pay attention and really try. It feels hard and awful, too. A type of honesty can shatter you to repulsion. I’m inching forward towards a future of walking free. An easy feeling of belief comes. Palms up, here I am — trusting.

I never like the feeling of spring as much as i like the smell of it.

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