I don’t usually write when I feel like this. It feels too vulnerable, too much like at any moment I will be washed away. I’ve spent years building this castle and on days like this I am reminded that shit is built with sand. Maybe it’s the rain. Rainy days have a tendency to elicit these feelings.
I am driving home, in the middle of the day, your Mom has a doctor’s appointment and its raining hella hard. When I called her this morning I could hear the exhaustion, she got up with you this morning to comfort you back to sleep. She was tired and we didn’t have an umbrella at home. It doesn’t seem like a big deal but sometimes the smallest things can feel unbearable. It took me a little while but I eventually remembered I had an umbrella. I decided I was going to take it to her. When I pulled out of the garage the rain immediately blurred the windshield. It just made sense tears should blur my eyes. I pulled over and cried.
There is something in us. Something beautiful and burdensome. Sometimes it comes on with no warning. For me it’s always been around helplessness. I want to do so much. I know so much should be so different. It overwhelms me. I feel like I should be doing more, write better, work harder, make more money, fuck the world and get the revolution cracking. That’s usually when the dam in my throat breaks and the levy’s overflow. It suffocates you, but only when you fight it. Don’t fight it.
I dropped the umbrella off and got a text from your Mom: You are awesome. That was so sweet. I love you. Rain brings healing Zo Zo, mostly when we realize we are not in this alone. You are not alone. We are not helpless.