I’m in a very strange place right now, so please read this post with that understanding.
Earlier today I found out about the death of someone in our community, a fellow blogger, Morningstar. This news saddened me, for though I didn’t know her, we’d communicated. (I could go off on a tangent here to talk about how no one really knows another, especially in the way we connect here, but will refrain.)
Society doesn’t deal well with death. I confess that, though I don’t fear it myself, I don’t deal with the sense of loss that other people’s deaths bring to me. I’ve lost a lot of dear ones over the years. It puts me in a deep funk. I’ve been sober for over two years now, but if I drank, I’d probably revert back to my Scotch-Irish roots and get really drunk right now.
I got a different idea. I went to my lover in his den with a big wooden paddle in hand. I interrupted his work focus by leaning over his desk and making my confession.
“I need a really good, cleansing cry. I can’t get there by myself. Will you give me a hard paddling, please? I want nothing more right now than a cloud-burst of a cry…”
Bobby came through for me. He gave me what I wanted, what I needed, and then some! We started across the seat of my jeans, then he told me to take those down, and I got it across the panties, and then he took those down, too. While I was blubbering it all out, other feelings arose. I don’t feel like I’m a good friend to others, both in real life and here virtually. I don’t keep up with others as I would like to. I just kept sticking my ass out, asking for more. I won’t be sitting comfortably for some time! But like in AA (which I’m not a part of, but know about), you haven’t truly made amends until you’ve talked about it with those you’ve hurt. If I haven’t given you all you want from me, know that I’m doing my best, and that I’ve done a little penance.
Of course, being me, this gave me the idea for a short writing piece. I may pen and publish it soon, or it may take a while to process.