When You’re Handed the Moon



So I am, maybe, just maybe considering going to the doctor.  I don’t want to.  I’m petrified, really, and it’s not a petrifaction borne out of anything but the belief that someone will tell me something is wrong and suddenly, these river of worries will engulf me.  But I’m not comfortable and now my throat is sore again and I still feel warm, prickled about the face, and nothing seems to break it.  If there’s some prescription that would fix it, I wish someone would just give it to me.  I just try and think about filling out a medical form and my mind goes completely white, completely blank.

The boss mentioned her mother went to the doctor twice in her whole life and she lived to be quite an old age and I thought, yes, that is my goal.  I want that.

I wonder how it is I have the time to allow myself to just feel to uncomfortable to enjoy a free spring day when we pay so much at work for me to have a cheap way to feel better.  That it’s likely something incredibly simple.

This is what we were talking about around the time I stopped going to my last therapist, my feeling that I needed to go to the doctor, to be a sensible, grown-up woman.  My voice quavered and said I would consider talking about it, that I felt it was the next barrier.  I said I would think about it and then, well, someone was in the room, taking my spot the next time I showed up and it was just easy to never go back.  So often in my life, I just never go back.

I think again, and nope, can’t.  Can’t even play at imagining it.  Even if my arm fell off.  I’d just let it go.


I’ve spent the day writing one of the emails I ought to write, interspersed with video games and youtube videos about video games and now actual reading.  Actual, godforsaken reading.  I’ve been fangirling recently over Mrs. Victoria Coren-Mitchell, admiring her wit on QI and then, hearing one of the most romantic things I’ve ever heard: her husband, the quite clever David Mitchell in his own memoirs, talking about falling in love with her.  I find her to be sort of a role model.  Somehow today I wanted to think of something new to read that I wanted to read and ended up getting her book on Kindle and I’m really enjoying her writing.  Can you imagine? Me! Reading, of all things.


He says in the whole of his life he’s only seen nine youtube videos, but one of the random selections I had made to cheer him up (the literal music video of Total Eclipse of the Heart) was one of them, and yet, he didn’t boggle at the odds of that at all.


And now I want to read Anne of Green Gables.  I need some of that Anne Shirley spirit encouraging me forward.  And they’re in the public domain, even.  What a comfort those books were and might be again.

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