Demon Day

I’m a pretty independent lady. That’s the way I like it.

But sometimes

And I end up crying and walking 50 blocks at 11 o’clock at night because my future feels like 1,000 days that will feel just like this one. Endless and lonely and full of the word ‘no’.

No, you can’t eat that.

No, you can’t feel that.

No, you can’t lift that.

No, you can’t leave that.

No, you can’t tell anyone.

No, you can’t stop.

You’ve chosen this bed, now lie down and go to sleep.

And say thanks to god before you do.

Today the demons ate me and spat out a pile of bones to carry home. It wasn’t very helpful. And it seems there wasn’t anything any friend or I could do about it. Maybe I would have had more luck if I had asked more people.

But the embarrassment. The shame. The discomfort at needing instead of being needed.

Which means I’m the common denominator.

So how was I complicit in not getting the help I wanted?  And why does this keep happening? How do I do better?