day 100

One hundred days since I started writing.
How much has changed in one hundred days?

One hundred days ago,
I was working in a job that made me miserable,
I was in a relationship that wasn’t making me happy and I didn’t know what to do about it,
I was relatively healthy –
or at least I didn’t know how sick I was.

Now I am in a new job,
and I am struggling but I leave each day happy.
I left that relationship and discovered my propensity for cruelty
and my complete lack of empathy.
I started chemotherapy and had an ovary removed
and I have come to terms with the fact
that nothing will go back to how it was
and that’s okay.

One hundred days ago,
I decided to stop screaming into the void
and start whispering into a crowded room.

I learned to be my own summer.

resting smile face

I suffer from resting smile face.
At any given moment,
I will likely have
the slight upturn of the mouth.
The smile rarely slips,
unless there is something
festering in my brain
but even then it will
only be for a split second.
It is the perfect disguise
for when the butterflies in my stomach
start fluttering
and I get caught
smiling at my phone –
after all, it’s just my face!
Right now,
it is not a resting smile.
It is a genuine smile.
I am smiling a true smile
for the first time in a few months.

the joys of 9 to 5.30

“Monday again…
the weekend always seems to go so fast!”
This is a very common conversation
I overhear at work in the corridors.
I tend to laugh along,
join in the fantasies of
what we would do if we won the lottery,
but secretly I am glad to be here.

I feel normal at work,
I am with people who know me well –
my friends –
and I know exactly where I stand.
At work, I am not alone.
I am surrounded by people and files
and enough hustle and bustle
to keep my mind of certain topics
that I am in no state to think about.

We laugh and make dumb jokes
about stuff that ultimately does not matter.
We have work wives and work husbands
and so much work love that
for eight and a half hours a day,
we can forget all the garbage
that is going on at home.

The weekend always goes so fast,
and yet I wish it would go a little faster.

– to my work family. I love you all.