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Just like my uterus.

Tears prick my eyes and my hand goes back to the door handle to close the door, but I stop myself.

Let the tears fall.

Don’t numb the dark if you want light.

Damn you Brené Brown for being so wise.

God, how I want the light.

I told Winter I chose him months ago, and he told me the same. But we haven’t done very well with that choice. We’ve numbed the dark, and Brené is so right: numbing the hard feelings ends up numbing all the feelings. We’ve lost joy. We’ve lost happiness. We’ve lost our way.

I let my tears fall and I refuse to run from my feelings. They all come rushing in; a tsunami I’ve been holding back for too long.

Time passes while I collapse to the floor and curl into a ball while sobbing my heart out.

An hour goes by, maybe two. I don’t know. I don’t care. I’ll cry until I’m all cried out. And maybe I’ll come back tomorrow and cry some more. I’ve got seven years of tears buried inside me.

A text comes through and then another, but I don’t reach for my phone. I hope it’s not Winter, but if it is, I can’t speak to him right now. I can’t speak to anyone. I need this time for me.

Winter’s right: I didn’t give my body time to recover before I went back to work. That’s okay; it recovered in time anyway. My soul, though, needed longer. It needed me time and I never gave it that.

You can give it that now.

It’s not too late.

My tears eventually dry up, but I stay here, in this ball, and just linger.

When do people ever linger anymore? We’re always so damn busy. It feels so good to just be.

I’m going to do it more often.

I finally sit up and reach for my phone.

I smile as I read the texts. They light my night up. Who would have thought a couple of messages could do that so easily?

* * *

Maddox: Yo, queen. That book you brought over yesterday fkn rocked. You need to give that library chick a high 5 from me.

Maddox: How old is she? Is she hot?

* * *

I go into the bathroom and splash cold water on my face before making a cup of tea and taking it to bed. Once I’m settled, I text Maddox back.

* * *

Me: She’s about fifty and not bad looking. You want me to hook you up?

Maddox: No fkn way. A 50 yo chick knows about these books?

 

; Me: We don’t lose our brain cells as we get older.

Maddox: I thought they fell outta your head once you hit 40. Oh wait, you’re over 40. My bad.

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