Handcuffs

I am like a person who was sent to prison for something I did not do, and after release wears a handcuff and chain dangling from one wrist. I wear the handcuff as some insane solution to the damage I have suffered. My reasoning is that the handcuff resolves the disappointment and betrayal and loss. It gives a shape to my faulty thinking, guilt, anger and helplessness. It dangles from my wrist and shows the world that I am permanently harmed.

Somehow in my mind it follows that what happened to me is so bad that I cannot think in such a way as to make good decisions for myself. I tell myself that irreparable harm and permanent weakness come from tragedy when the heavens are filled with twinkling stars of human transcendence. I lie to myself and wear the handcuff as some sort of protection that is no protection at all.

I know what the faulty thinking is. I know how a person is when they are unharmed and strong and no victim. I know I have only to accept a different reality full of strength and faith and good, self-loving decisions to be unhandcuffed and unhindered forever

Housekeeping

I clean house. I make the sink brilliant white. I take the stove top apart. I remove the cat litter on the bathroom floor, and I admire bright shining corners.

Most of all, I behold the wooden floor. It shines honey bright.

I do it for me – for the satisfaction and pleasure of cleanliness. Clean means I am in control of something. This is my place of relative safety.

Cleaning makes a statement of caring. I care about order and beauty. I care about my belongings. I care about my own comfort, and I love to work.