An “aw, girl” morning, January 20

Aw, girl. It’s a tough morning.

Maybe you are young enough, and lucky enough, that this kind of morning is new to you. Many of us here are neither of those things, so unfortunately, we have some experience. We know how hard some mornings are; the truth is, the hard ones never seem to get any easier. But you don’t live half a century without learning to endure some tough mornings.

Mornings that begin with tears leaking out of the sides of your eyes and falling into your ears as you remember on awakening that you did not dream it and cannot even say “at least it’s not cancer” to make yourself feel better because it is cancer and you cannot believe it and know you are supposed to Be Positive so that you can Survive and Thrive! but all you are is devastated and crying and you haven’t even gotten out of bed yet.

Mornings that your feet hit the ground with a discouragement that runs silent and deep, a private loss over something that you think should not be such a big deal but feels like a Very Big Deal this morning, and you know you’ll get over it in time, but dammit, you’re just so sad and disappointed, and also in being too rough with the coffee maker have now broken it which also feels like another Disappointing Very Big Deal and worse, you sadly know Serves You Right.

Mornings in which events in our families, our communities, and in our country expose sadness, injustice, and violence which is changing those families, those communities, and our country, and feels like it might be changing our very souls, making us feel unsafe, anxious, and angry With Good Reason and we just keep asking ourselves, What in the hell is wrong with people? and also, What am I called to do about it?

Mornings when we have dragged ourselves out of bed and hid in the bathroom an extra second as we face this tough morning, quietly indulging all of our sniffly, snotty ugliness, and then clearing our throats so that we can answer the calling children in that slightly-too-sing-songy voice that hope sounds upbeat and completely normal, that we will be down in just a minute, and to get the backpacks because it is nearly time to leave for school.

Mornings when women have pulled themselves together and kept going, not because they possessed great optimism or adequate coping or reasonable perspective but because there were vulnerable people to be cared for, and there was stuff to be done. 

Aw, girl. It’s a tough morning. But it’s going to be ok. We will make it so.

 

 

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