I am falling apart today with no warm place to land. I miss Saint Eleta with all my heart. She was the magical therapist I went to in my twenties. My friend found her in the yellow pages. Everything felt like it was falling apart then too. But Saint Eleta took the pieces and dusted them off and held them up to the light. She gave me an instruction manual for how to use the glue gun and fit the shards back together like a jigsaw puzzle. The glue held for a long long time. But now, lying across my daughter's bed looking out at the snow, I feel like I might splinter again. Only there is no Saint Eleta to guide me back to wholeness.
I said to my friend, "I wish I didn't have all these feelings. Psychopathy must feel like blessed silence." She said, "That's tweetable!" But then I realized that I still had it wrong because it wouldn't FEEL like blessed silence to a psychopath. It would just BE blessed silence. I don't know what is wrong with me today. My eyes leak and leak. I feel all alone in the snow.