My Party

There is in every true woman's heart a spark of heavenly fire,which lies dormant in the broad daylight of prosperity; but which kindles up and beams and blazes in the dark hour of adversity.

-Washington Irving

Truth is I am desperately fanning at the embers, panting out a breath, something between a gasp and a howl, wishing, hoping, praying to catch that pile of coals on fire. I hurt. Inside, outside, mentally, physically. I'm terrified (consumed) with the prospect of dental surgery on the doorstep. And I feel a weenie about all that. Logically I know that it's not that big a deal. I know so many others who are dealing with much more long-term, more debilitating or stressful things than that. And so I feel guilty about being consumed about such a comparatively little thing.

I spent yesterday wallowing in the fear. I was out of bed maybe a total of an hour. Which isn't good for the ear problem (reflux) that has kicked back in lately along with the mouth pain. Wallowing in the pain and fear let in a whole boatload of lovely self pity party guests who are rude bores and don't seem to know when to politely leave the premises. They joined me in bed. Made such a mess. Interrupted every nice thought I tried to force on myself. Left their smouldering ashes and wrinkled wrappers all over the bed. Got to the point where I couldn't stand to be in that company but couldn't bring myself to rise up and walk away. So I joined them. Took straight shots of sadness. Chased by chugs of loneliness and some disappointment on the rocks. I smoked some stupidity and didn't care which guests saw me.

My sweet little dog crawled under the comforter and became my designated driver. Took me away from the party a few times to walk him to the bottom of the hill. Then, when I insisted he return me to the pity party, came right back in with me and lay patiently by as I self destructed again. And again.

Today I am hungover. Paying the price for my over (self) indulgence. Wanting only to return to that party but somehow resisting the bed. For now. Standing beside those embers. Looking for any red glow that might indicate there is still fire to be made. To spark my soul.