Saturday, August 2, 2008

No Woman, No Cry (Revisited)

The question was put to me the other day (twice by different people): Who is taking care of you?

Me. I am. I think so. I try. I'm not sure I'd recognize being taken care of (by another person) if it appeared. I'm not sure I could accept it.

I'm a caregiver by nature, and clearly (at the moment) the poster child for the axiom: A quality is not always an asset.

I need refuge, shelter, a place to lay my weary head - a calm voice to say, "it's all going to be ok." Because just now? I don't feel like it is, and I am overly tired of clinging to the frayed strings this Universe keeps offering me.

Shit. I'm ok. I think I'll mow the yard. C'mon Gypsy... my little deus ex machina... *heavy sigh*... *deep breath*... I'm ok.

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