Dear Lizzie,

Sorry, I clapped. I don’t mean that I’m sorry for clapping, I mean that I’m sorry that you didn’t want anyone particularly to clap, but I sort of disregarded your desires & clapped regardless. That’s what I’m sorry about, not taking your feelings into account. However, in my defense, when I read honesty & pain, I tend to applaud anyone who puts it out there.

Hey, if this shit was easy, everyone & their mother would be doing it. This is tough. It’s work. It’s therapy. At times it’s combination of both. Actually, now that I think about it, good therapy IS hard work. At least that’s how it should be. I always think, I don’t want to go there. Big, heavy sigh. That means it is the precise place I must go & examine.

And if you then write about it & put it on Medium … wow! Because I get sleepy. I mean it. The closer to the truth I get, the more sleepy I become. Until I am overcome by reality & take a nap. On the floor. In a fetal position. Sucking my thumb. Therefore, the opposite then works like this: the happier I am, the more I reject your reality & substitute my own.

But hard work & digging deep must be rewarded, therefore the applause. Keep writing. If the only thing you write is “blah blah blah..” so be it. Keep the hand & mind moving. You actually have no choice, you just think you do. 😳🤔🤪🤣😳

Written by

Writer and storyteller, immigrant, wife, mom, knitter, collector of jokes, lover of cheap, sweet wine.

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