What’s for dinner?

It's three in the afternoon I’m draping my arm around yours as you push the shopping cart around the store. My legs feel like jello as I try to match your speed. You were blessed with legs that can cover over half the ground that mine can. I feel you pulling me in different directions, asking me what I want for dinner and I feel an overwhelming pit in my stomach. I can’t answer simple questions, not today. I feel like I can’t answer simple questions any day, my mind is bogged down and useless. Ask me one more time what I want for dinner and I might scream until the whole grocery store knows that I have no fucking clue. It’s not your fault, it’s not your fault I’m this way. You know I can’t make decisions and you see the crazy crossing over my face like a tidal wave. You stop the cart and stare at me. God why do you have to stare at me like you know all of my secrets? I’m an open book to you. You know me well. Next thing I know I’m in your arms and I’m in tears because I can’t make decisions and I’m failing to hide my crazy. Dammit, there’s a woman behind you staring at me and I want to ask if she’s ever had a breakdown over choosing what’s for dinner, if she’s ever been so overwhelmed that it all just wells up in her chest until it comes out in rage. These are rage tears. Rage, rage, rage. Rage for the damn question “what’s for dinner?” I know many women have been asked this before me and many have answered with I don’t know. I know many men have asked this question in frustration because we can’t answer the simplest question. There’s fucking memes about this shit. I feel the tears growing more into rage because life’s too filled with these little decisions that I must make. I’m overworked, over questioned, under qualified for this type of pressure. I make all these little stupid decisions all day everyday. My eyes lock onto yours and I can see it on your face, my crazy is showing. My hands are bawled into fists and my forehead is sweating. The tears have stopped now and you’re still holding me like you’re afraid if you let go I might explode like the ticking time bomb that I am. You finally release me when you realize I have gone limp. Defeated. Utterly defeated and exasperated. I’m a hot mess and I can feel it. Tears are seeping into my skin and smeared across your shirt. I feel embarrassed now not only for myself but for you. You, the glue that holds me together. You are just standing there telling me it’s okay, it will be okay bewildered about what just took place on isle 4. Me, a bawled up mess and you a sturdy rock to lean on. We stand there staring at each other, the lady who was staring at me has since found some other excitement, maybe it’s the sale on croissants that has caught her eye. I’m glad I’m less exciting now. Now I want to crawl back into the hole that is my flesh and drape it over me like a warm blanket. I needed something, someone to coddle me like the newborn I was being. I needed you and you were there, witnessing my downfall. I broke. The question what’s for dinner finally broke me into tiny little pieces and spilled my soul onto the floor beneath my feet. It was all too much. Being a woman feels like too much. Hell being a human feels like too much. There’s a lot of too much and not enough and now I feel empty. I wipe my tears off my face and stare up at you apologetically. How do we recover from this? You smile at me and tell me again that it’s all going to be okay. I sigh a heavy sigh of relief, thank god you haven’t given up on me yet. I lock my arm back into yours and we continue or grocery trip, you not asking me again what’s for dinner and me pretending that my breakdown was an answer to the question. Sometimes that is the answer to the questions isn’t it? Aren’t we all just one question away from a breakdown? One push, one slight tilt and we are falling overboard into madness. Im grateful I didn’t have to go through that alone. I’m grateful that you understand what it means to be a little unhinged at times. This life is full of questions and I won’t always have the answers and sometimes “I don’t know” seems like an acceptable response to me because sometimes we just don’t have a fucking clue. -M.D.L

Bear or man in the woods?

I don’t want to run into a bear or a man in the woods. I want to run into the way my best friend hugs me when it feels like things cant possibly get any worse. I want to run into an actual man, like the one I’m about to marry. The one who cherishes the ground I walk on just because I walk on it. One who has no motives but to love me. Let me run into the coffee shop down the street, the one who never fails to make my coffee just the way I like it. I want to run into hopes arms like she has done nothing but support me in all my endeavors. Let me run into any dark space, dark forest, dark alleyway like I’m the scariest thing in it because I am the bear, wild and unpredictable. -M.D.L

The luckiest day

Today is said to be the luckiest day of the year. A couple days ago i had my whole body submerged in the steaming water of a hot pot in the middle of no where while a beautiful soul of a woman said to be a channeler told me I have a great purpose on this earth and that felt pretty lucky to me. Last night i danced around the kitchen to the lime in a coconut song with powerful women who have supported and raised me my whole life, that felt pretty lucky to me. I don’t know really know what the definition of “lucky” is I guess if you google it the definition says “having, bringing or resulting from good luck.” Which is funny to me, the word I’m trying to define being in the definition. Today is said to be the luckiest day of the year but I have felt lucky before like the first time he kissed me and it felt like a storm washing over my body. Luck is said to be brought on by chance, not one’s actions but I feel like I have made my own luck. Luck feels like it’s been brewed inside me and instilled into my core since birth. I mean, look at this world, this beautiful, soul aching world I was given. It’s the luckiest day of the year but to be honest I feel pretty damn lucky in all these little moments that have made me. -M.D.L